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ARCHITECTS like to think they should control pretty much everything about every building, but we only touch a building during the time of design and construction. What happens after the architect is gone is usually what most buildings end up evidencing, despite the architect's inclinations.
This can end up being quite humorous. In every community, there are buildings that have a final result no architect ever could have anticipated: the building gets renovated into absurdity, or its context changes around it.
New Haven has a few of these anomalies, and because I am an architect they have a level of irony and humor that never ceases to make me chortle.
When the present Church of St. Paul and St. James was built in 1829, it had two relatively modest towers framing its gabled front entry on Chapel Street. In 1893, one of the towers was removed and the westerly tower was rebuilt. It was beautifully renovated about 15 years ago to match its original copper roof.
Up close, that single tower may appear to be somewhat awkward, given its truncated easterly bookend. But as seen from as far up Chapel Street as College Street, that single...




