Reverend Richard Emmanuel
And The Church on East Main Street
March 5, 2025
By Bing McGilvray
“The past is a mystery. The future a memory. The now is eternity. What's for dinner?”
—Phileas Fug, Adventures in Paradox
Reverand Richard Emmanuel (Jan. 2, 1946 - Dec. 28, 2024)
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All images ©Bing McGilvray
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In 1968, at age 20, when Richard Emmanuel first opened the doors to The Church, his center for the exploration and discussion of all things theological, diagonally across E. Main sat poet Vincent Ferrini in his famed Frame Shop, a scene for all sorts of philosophical intercourse, literally and literary. These two vibrant portals of alternative religion and avant-garde art became inextricably intertwined in the decades to follow and continue to this day. Richard was an extraordinarily gifted artist and Vincent liked to preach, so there was considerable overlap. Each man had an oversized ego and orbits of influence that spread out around them. Sometimes they connected, often they clashed. Everyone was young. Richard threw lavish solstice parties still talked about today by the few old enough to remember. “Being 20 in the ‘70s was more fun than being 70 in the ‘20s” as the meme goes. A long time has passed. Vincent Ferrini left us in 2007. Today his Frame Shop is the Gloucester Writers Center.
The Church on East Main Street, Gloucester, MA.
Rev. Richard Emmanuel died on December 28, 2024, a few days short of his 79th birthday. Richard was without doubt one of the most brilliant, scholarly, spiritual, and hilarious people I've ever met. With his encyclopedic mind, analytic acumen, and expertise at communication, Richard could expound on a vast range of topics with the central theme being human consciousness. In the early 60s, Richard was a theology major at Catholic University during a brief window when Pope John XXIII opened the Vatican archives to divinity students. After 56 years on E. Main he became the longest serving minister of any church around by a long shot. Rev. Emmanuel's mission was to inform whoever would listen that if you are searching for God look no further than yourself. The Divine is within you, within all of us. Once you realize that, the question becomes what do you intend to do with that power?
The Irreverent Reverend
In March 2019 I first came to The Church on a Friday night which was always open house. I liked Richard immediately and knew I’d met a kindred soul. He was a jolly Buddha of a man, and the depth of his wisdom was clearly evident in the presentation of his thoughts and the vibrant environment he had created in this sacred space. The Church had no parishioners. There was no dogma, rituals, oaths, hymns, or prayers—just travelers on their individual walkabouts. No priest, rabbi, guru, or what have you and there was never a sermon. Rev. Emmanuel was more interested to hear what his visitors had to say. It was a place for people to come and compare notes. “I’m just another roadside attraction,” he would joke. But he took his ministry seriously regardless of whether anyone else did.
Chris Munkholm and Richard Emmanuel.
As time went by, I attended more often. I met some fascinating people at these meetings, including a few locals who were regulars, the occasional tourists, many young people who were told as kids “that’s the Satan church” but eventually had the curiosity to venture in and find out for themselves. Adding spice to this mix, a shifting cabal of characters would occasionally arrive. They seemed involved in the highest levels of government, education, finance, media, and international intrigue. Everyone was treated equally. During the fairer seasons, a crowd of up to 15 could gather but in winter it dwindled to just a few. Often there would be only the Rev and me. In time, Richard began inviting me over for a meal or just to chat. He was a gourmet chef. That was when we had the most memorable, profound conversations which on one occasion brought me to tears. Where else can you smoke in church? I began inviting people over, many from the Writers Center which I also frequented. Chris Munkholm, publisher and editor of Cape Ann COSMOS, adored Richard and never declined an invitation to one of his dinner parties. These were good times. All the while, life out on E. Main passed by, as uninterested or oblivious to The Church as ever.
A Deep Friendship
Six years we were friends; we became close and for the last two we were constant companions. That left the previous 50 years of which I knew nothing about so there was much catching up to do. Being with him was always “fun time.” I loved the guy, and it was mutual. Since my life has been wildly amazing in its own way, Richard loved hearing about my adventures too. We both were blessed with the gift of gab and connecting the dots. He'd often stop me and say “Oh, this is just like My Dinner with Andre.”
No topic was taboo, and we discovered we had much in common. We talked about everything: Greek mythology, Roman gods, Egyptian hieroglyphs, the Mayans, the Aboriginals, the Royal Family, archeological sites, cosmology, extraterrestrials, illegal aliens, MKUltra, Coca-Cola, emperors, dictators, favorite authors, great books, entheogens, nuclear energy, angels and demons, movies and manifestos, gender issues, Transhumanism, science, alchemy, apps, artificial intelligence and how these things and every other thing in the universe are all connected. We discussed the Occult which is simply defined as the Hidden. Lost Knowledge. Secret History. Alternate Belief Systems. We'd go back and forth debating the details but basically, we were in agreement. Rather heady stuff but Richard had a way of making it all lighthearted. Nonetheless, there was a growing anger just below the surface. Another thing we had in common.
Sacred and Profane
From the outside The Church had a gothic, ominous appearance having been built, according to the Rev, by Freemasons in the late 19th century. Yet the courtyard is decorated with several large, identical, steel sculptures of Mickey Mouse holding the Vatican “Key to the Heavens” welded together by Richard, wonderfully witty.
Among the Conclave of Deities.
The first-floor interior of The Church was a dazzling showplace, theatrically lit, chock full of large sacred statuary, thrift store oddities and Richard's own paintings and sculptures, like an esoteric antiques emporium. A large glass table was in the middle of the room, but guests were encouraged to move about, explore and examine everything. Richard would watch to see which object would attract them. In turn this would trigger a discussion. Stacks of books and piles of paper were also everywhere. Some would call it hoarding but it never bothered me, in fact, it all seemed perfect.
On the second level was The Installation. Here Richard's artistic genius was on full display. Again, we are in a roomful of sculpture, this time dimly lit, ethereal trance music plays, we walk through an apocalyptic psychedelic dystopia; skeletons, dolls, old televisions and TV cameras, flags, collages, and canvases, flashing lights and Day-Glo colors, sensory overload. Our Lady of Not So Good Voyage is a surrealist masterpiece, Richard's lifelong work. It was meant to shock and then lead us to question how we actually process reality and willingly block out the things too uncomfortable to consider. I often thought it should be in the Museum of Modern Art for the world to see. To date it’s been seen by relatively few. Whether it will ever be seen again remains to be seen.
When I told the Rev he could have made a good living being an artist he said, “If I didn't become a minister, I would have been a terrorist.” Last 4th of July he wanted to put a huge sign out front on E. Main ... KA-BOOM! Always joking, with intent.
Artists Michael C. Thorpe (r) and Ben Nelson (l) inside The Installation.
All That Remains
Richard Emmanuel was The Church. It was all him. He was completely unique, irreplaceable. The moment he died the fun was over. I was left holding the keys to the place. Suddenly, I was thrust into a Kafkaesque supernatural thriller. Characters I'd never met were calling in from around the globe. None of them were from Gloucester. While trying to absorb the sudden loss of my dear friend, I was having to deal with something called The Trust, the legal inheritors of all that Richard left behind. The Trust was taking over. One morning I woke up cursing Richard, but I soon got over that. In the end, the Rev had given up in disgust on the human race. I couldn't blame him. He'd told me often that he ultimately didn’t care what happened to his art but just as often he changed his mind. He just never got around to caring enough. “It is all a play,” he'd say, “and everything is happening perfectly.” Regardless, my life had become nightmarish. None of this was why I went to The Church.
I wanted to get far away from The Trust as quickly as possible. So naturally, I went across the street to the Writers Center, that other portal in a storm. This was where my old pal Peter Anastas had illuminated me to the storied literary history of Gloucester. Where writers, poets, artists, and creatives had been meeting for decades. Here is where I was introduced to the work of Gerrit Lansing, who once owned Abraxas, an occult bookstore downtown on Main St. Gerrit was also a shaman but not a showman like the Rev, preferring to remain invisible as opposed to being center stage. At the heart of the Writers Center lies Maximus, the great poet Charles Olson, who loved Gloucester as much as Richard and was also dismissed by local power brokers with indifference and scorn. The two met once but Charles was near his end and The Rev was just revving up. They didn't hit it off.
What I've written here barely skims the surface of what I want to say about Richard Emmanuel and The Church. As I regain my senses, I realize I've got one phenomenal Fish Tale to tell. While I'm at the Frame Shop, might as well write a book.
Now and then I'll cross over E. Main and wander up the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, peek in the door and remember when. I'll never meet the likes of you again Ricky. It was a treasure knowing you. Now you belong to the ages.
Namaste.
For more information on Rev. Richard Emmanuel visit thechurch.org.
In 1968, at age 20, when Richard Emmanuel first opened the doors to The Church, his center for the exploration and discussion of all things theological, diagonally across E. Main St. …