In a country brimming with spectacular ecclesiastical architecture, the NMP church on Solidarności 80 looks anything but special – but unique it most certainly is…
In a country brimming with spectacular ecclesiastical architecture, the NMP church on Solidarności 80 looks anything but special – but unique it most certainly is…
Constructed between 1682 and 1732, in the 19th century the adjacent monastery was temporarily used to imprison political agitators. One of only two active churches inside the Warsaw Ghetto, it survived the outright destruction that befell much of the city centre towards the tail-end of WWII – though looted even of the ashes of its former monks, the church just about held firm, albeit now missing its roof.
Taking ten-years to repair, a new threat emerged in the early 1960s when the decision was made to widen the traffic artery connecting western Warsaw to the Praga district. The church, however, was an obstruction and presented planners with a major problem standing as it did right in the way.
Aware that its demolition would be construed as an attack on the Catholic church, other factors also came into play. According to researchers, the NMP had been designed by Augustyn Wincenty Locci the Younger, the acclaimed architect that had authored Wilanów Palace. Erasing such a landmark from a city that had already faced such destruction would have courted controversy. Then, final, there was the financial cost to consider – estimates suggested that levelling the church would cost authorities somewhere in the region of PLN 14 million.
Instead, a daring and cheaper alternative was found. For just over PLN 6 million, architects hatched a plan that involved towing the church back a distance of 21-metres. Hoisted onto six tracks and 420 rollers, the operation began fifty-four minutes past the stroke of midnight on December 1st, 1962. Moving an average 93 millimetres per minute, several engineer were employed to manually winch it back. Although the project had been officially kept secret, news of the proposed feat had been leaked and the action quickly attracted radio reporters and curious onlookers.
No-one could be quite sure if the 6,800-ton church would withstand such an effort, but after 227 minutes a pair of flashing headlights signalled that the action had been a success. This was the first time a European house of worship had been moved in such a way – in fact, only twice previously had such a project been undertaken: once in Pittsburgh in 1915, and another time in Chicago in 1929.