photograph by lily bear traverse
Dear Vance: While walking around the Cooper-Young neighborhood, I came across this small church on Tanglewood. The property seems to be abandoned, with no name visible. What’s the story behind it? — L.B.T., Memphis.
Dear L.B.T.: As soon as you shared the photos of the old church, I was immediately attracted to the unusual stonework. It’s a tiny house of worship, that’s for sure, and even though it lacks an impressive steeple or bell tower, the builders put love and care into its construction. Note, especially, how they set red bricks into the grey stones to form the cross above the entrance.
Also visible — just barely — are what seem to be large letters carved into the granite blocks, but age has made whatever they once spelled out too hard to read. More about that later, though.
I must tell you that as soon as I determined the exact address of the building — 775 Tanglewood, just south of York — my research showed that it certainly had a tangled history. Constructed almost exactly a century ago, this little church has served as home to almost a dozen congregations and more pastors than I could name (though I’ll mention some of them).
Cedar Grove Baptist Church opened its doors on Tanglewood in 1920. The early years are a bit confusing. The city directories don’t list a minister. Sometimes they spell the name as two words and other times as “Cedargrove.” And they can’t even agree on the precise location of the property, many years listing the street address as 783 Tanglewood, which would have placed it smack in the middle of the old Beltway Railway, which at one time ran alongside the south wall of the church.
Even more confusing? Those same directories sometimes claim the church was located on the north side of that rail line, and at other times, they say it was on the south side. I seriously doubt the church, or the railroad, moved back and forth over the years, but I can’t make sense of the inconsistencies with the address.
photograph by lily bear traverse
The stonework wraps around all sides of the old church.
Although the tracks were pulled up decades ago, that same railway crosses over South Cooper, just a block to the east. In fact, it carried trains along the well-known trestle that’s decorated with silhouettes of Cooper-Young landmarks.
In 1932, records show that the Rev. William Carothers served as pastor of Cedar Grove. Surely others came before him, but he’s the first one I could find listed. City directories from that time say his occupation was a postal carrier, not a minister. That’s probably correct. The tiny church, barely 25 feet wide and 50 feet long inside, couldn’t have had more than a couple dozen members. Serving as a minister of such a small congregation would not have been a full-time job, and almost certainly wouldn’t have paid the bills.
Over the years, the ministers changed. Among those serving Cedar Grove were the Rev. Robert A. Morris (1935-1939), the Rev. Illinopolis Jackson (1940-1947), and the Rev. Hugh Blacknall (1948-1955).
In 1961, a new congregation arrived, and they left their mark on the church — quite literally. The members of Mt. Bethel Missionary Baptist Church carved the name into the stones above the doorway. Some of these large letters — especially the “MT” — are still visible today. The minister during this time was the Rev. Clemmie Mickens Jr., and the church remained a stable part of the neighborhood for more than 20 years.
Then, change came again. Sometime in the early 1980s, Mt. Bethel moved to a larger facility on Deadrick, a few miles to the south. It was apparently a smart move; that church is still there today, and maintained very well. After being vacant for a while, Trinity Church of God moved into the building on Tanglewood. I presume at this time, they removed (or tried to fill in) the lettering that had spelled out “Mt. Bethel.”
The interior, basically just an open room with worn red carpet and very little religious adornment, still contained its original pulpit, light fixtures, and 13 old wooden pews. In the back was a tiny kitchen and two bathrooms. The rows of old windows were just plain glass, but Jill said, “Somebody years ago had put some kind of red film on them, which turned everything inside very red.”
No disrespect intended, but I’m surprised they went to the trouble, because just two years later, the church changed hands (and names) again. In 1986, it became home to the Tanglewood Church of Christ, with the Rev. John DeBerry serving as pastor.
When that church closed its doors in the late 1990s, yet another congregation bought the property, the Abiding Faith Church. Over the past 20 years or so, it’s also been home to True Glory Ministries, Word of Truth Missionary Baptist Church, and Glory Life Ministries. My goodness, all the names are confusing. Even though I studied the Shelby County Assessor’s page until my eyes crossed, I couldn’t make sense of all the warranty deeds, quit-claim deeds, and other transactions involving this tiny place of worship.
Sometime around 2017, though, a local musician — he doesn’t want his name mentioned here — came across the property, in a state of disrepair after all these years. “I was so in love with that building,” he says, “but I was never able to take a deep dive into it.”
Last year, he sold the church and land to my pals Jill and Ken Steinberg. The price was — now look, do you really have to know everything? I won’t tell you how much it’s worth. Jill, originally from Chattanooga, moved to Memphis in 1985 to work as an attorney with Baker Donelson. Ken, a native Memphian and proud graduate of White Station High School, is a bond broker with Duncan-Williams. Those are just their day jobs, though. They also own more than a dozen properties in Memphis, which they refurbish and then rent out as Airbnbs.
The church was another matter entirely. “It’s hard to explain, but we had always wanted to buy an old church,” says Jill. “And that’s especially strange, considering that we’re Jewish,” Ken adds, laughing. At any rate, they admired the wonderful stonework and decided it would make a good investment.
photograph by jill steinberg
Red film applied to the windows makes the interior very, uh, colorful. This view, looking towards the front of the church, shows the rows of old pews and other furniture left behind. Note the hole in the ceiling. The doorway leads to a small kitchen and rear entrance,
The interior, basically just an open room with worn red carpet and very little religious adornment, still contained its original pulpit, light fixtures, and 13 old wooden pews. In the back was a tiny kitchen and two bathrooms. The rows of old windows were just plain glass, but Jill said, “Somebody years ago had put some kind of red film on them, which turned everything inside very red.”
“We thought it was the coolest place ever,” says Ken, and though they certainly had no plans to use it as a church again, “we thought we might convert the interior into three separate living spaces.”
Well, that was before a careful inspection revealed the church couldn’t be saved. Not all of it, anyway. Beneath the stones, the building is basic wood-frame construction. “So the plan is to save the stonework, remove the rest of the structure, and somehow incorporate the façade into some form of residential property,” says Jill. The Steinbergs also purchased the empty lot next door to the church, where they plan to build three houses.
A father-and-son team of local developers, Frank and Clayton Kemker, recently unveiled plans to build Central Yards, a 350-unit apartment complex just around the corner at York and South Cooper, complete with retail and office space. Jill and Ken are confident this once-dormant neighborhood, with so many empty lots and forlorn buildings, is about to boom. They hope the old Cedar Grove Baptist Church — and all the other names it’s carried over the years — will be an attractive addition to the new development in Cooper-Young.
So, what does the rest of the building look like? Would you like to take a walk around it? Here’s a nice gallery of photographs provided by Jill Steinberg.
1 of 10
2 of 10
3 of 10
4 of 10
5 of 10
6 of 10
7 of 10
8 of 10
9 of 10
10 of 10
Got a question for Vance?
Email: askvance@memphismagazine.com
Mail: Vance Lauderdale, Memphis magazine, P.O. Box 1738, Memphis, TN 38101
Or, if you have nothing better do to, visit Vance on Facebook from time to time.
