My Facebook news feed recently coughed up a post from Congressman Jim McGovern, pledging a commitment to the revitalization of the Worcester Auditorium as a cultural center. The historic, stately and vacant hall has been gathering dust for years, and the Architectural Heritage Foundation has ideas about breathing life into this massive structure.
My affection for the Auditorium reaches back to my childhood, when my great aunt Mae took me to the annual spring concert for youth. It was a time when white gloves and patent leather shoes were de rigueur, when any trip to the “downtown” area warranted Sunday best. Climbing the stairs to the front doors felt like a visit to the White House. In 1974, I would once again climb those stairs, wearing a white robe and mortarboard as a South High senior. The Worcester Memorial Auditorium inspired civility. No rowdiness, no balloons, no shout-outs and certainly no flip flops, T-shirts and shorts. The Auditorium demanded decorum.
Decades later, I worked as an English Language Arts teacher in the bowels of the once magnificent hall. The Worcester Juvenile Resource Center was a Worcester Public Schools program created to assist troubled kids who had exhausted the juvenile courts. You, Inc. partnered with the WPS to offer both an education and counseling for high school students who had run afoul with the law and couldn’t cope within the traditional classroom setting. The program needed a home. The powers that be decided that the basement of the “Aud” — a nickname I despised for its lame attempt at sounding trendy — was a good fit. A ton of dough was poured into the program for materials, staffing and any work needed structurally to ensure safety. This included the replacement of the heating system. If I recall correctly, 500K went into a furnace that quit working at least a half-dozen times during the WJRC’s first winter.
On my lunch break, I wandered into the great hall. The empty floor where chairs had been removed was filled with boxes of case files. At the time, the new courthouse was under construction, and files that would eventually be brought there were being stored across the street from the old courthouse. I walked among the boxes, and I couldn’t help but think that this was a slipshod way to handle sensitive documents. One might say that Worcester’s Auditorium was the Mar-A-Lago of its day. Ahem.
Eventually the WJRC was moved to a more suitable location. Because many of its students had been involved in gang-related activity, the Highland Street entrance was a magnet for outside influences flexing their muscles, and safety became a concern. I left the now-defunct program and joined the faculty of North High, but curtains I hung in the window of my classroom were still visible the last time I glanced at them, while sitting at the Highland St. red light.
The Worcester Memorial Auditorium deserves to be revitalized, particularly when one considers that its construction in 1933 was first and foremost a tribute to the soldiers of Worcester County who served during World War I. Three murals created by renowned artist Leon Kroll grace its walls, two of which depict soldiers and sailors in combat. One shows a soldier ascending to the heavens, rising above a crowd; Worcester residents were Kroll’s models. Best known for painting nudes, the artist thankfully clothed his subjects. The Kimball pipe organ that made my jaw drop as a kid when it rose from nowhere was brought back to life several years ago. The Auditorium’s acoustics alone warrant appreciation, with seven-second reverberation that according to historians “rivals that of many cathedrals.” I can attest to it: I let out a “WHOOP!” on my lunch break, and it was impressive.
When the “non-structural demolition of basement partitions” is completed, I hope my curtains go into the dumpster with an appropriate salute. After all, I risked life and limb standing on a chair to hang those things.