"IS NOTHING SACRED?" (...NOT IF IT'S IN CLEVELAND...)

Cleveland, Ohio, shamelessly continues in its full-speed-ahead determination to do all it can to eliminate all its historic buildings, and even its once-proud history, for the sake of new buildings (or, heck, sometimes even new parking lots!).  The Cleveland Clinic likewise continues in its role as the Monster That Ate Cleveland, making the City's mission even easier.  After losing another historic church ('devoured' by the Clinic) only months ago on what had been Cleveland's storied Euclid Avenue, one more church built on that formerly-prestigious avenue to accommodate the religious needs of a segment of the wealthy class is soon going to vanish.  Built in 1902 as the Euclid Avenue Episcopal Church, it has had City Of Cleveland Landmark status for many years, which will be of course "taken care of", as usual, by the Cleveland De-Landmarking Commission.  "The fix is in", already, apparently, as one can surmise from the demolition fence now surrounding the building, seen in the recently-taken accompanying photograph.  Not having been used for a number of years, the Episcopal Diocese, who still owns it, will be demolishing it so that the Cleveland Clinic can purchase the land from them so that they can add in some way to their ever-expanding campus that is already the size of a small city, in itself.  (It shouldn't be long before Cleveland, Ohio, is transformed into Cleveland Clinic, Ohio.)  This church is the oldest of three churches extant in Cleveland known to have been designed by firms headed by Boston architect Ralph Adams Cram (in this example, it was Cram, Goodhue & Ferguson).  Cram's work, the bulk of which was churches, is considered by many architectural historians as being of national and/or international importance.  Time Magazine did a cover story on him in 1926.  But even the possession of this distinction will not save this building from the wreckers in the uncultured atmosphere of Cleveland's modern-day return to the Dark Ages.  In Cleveland, the only thing that gets respect is money -- of which the Cleveland Clinic has unlimited quantities.  Money can't buy you love, but it sure can buy up (and throw out) all of a city's built history.