A Sense of the Past

Designed by the architect Robert Mills, Monumental Church sits on East Broad Street, in Richmond, just below Old City Hall. Erected in 1814 through an effort led by then-U.S. Chief Justice John Marshall, the church stands on the site of the Richmond Theatre, which, before it burned down in 1811, was one of the largest auditorium spaces in the city. Just outside the church’s entrance, in the shape of an urn embossed with funerary symbols, is a monument memorializing the victims of the fire, with each victim’s name etched in its smooth marble base, the arrangement of names reflecting the social hierarchy of the period. 

That’s a lot to take in at once, but Historic Richmond’s Executive Director Cyane Crump ’87 offers this information up like a greeting card as soon as I enter the high-ceilinged church. I notice the windows from the cupola above us casting a white blade of sunshine on the pews, and Crump begins talking about the architectural distinction of the structure — with its cupola attached to a dome, which is in turn attached to an octagon. Equally unique is that this is one of five auditorium-style domed churches Mills designed, a technique he learned from Thomas Jefferson, and it’s the only one still standing. As Crump speaks I feel something deeper than the sensation of goosebumps; currents of the past begin reaching the shore of the present, where we’re standing, and the room and the figures that used to inhabit it feel intensely alive. 

In a way, the practice of history is the practice of fighting against amnesia. “Over time, there are so many stories that we’ve forgotten,” Crump says. “Some of those stories are complicated and challenging. But all of these stories get woven together and become the fabric of Richmond’s history.” Dressed in a crisp blue jacket blooming around a white turtleneck, she tells me that the pew we’re sitting in was occupied by Chief Justice John Marshall every Sunday he was in Richmond from 1814 until the end of his life, and that, in the pews behind us, sat Edgar Allan Poe and his adoptive parents John and Frances Allan. “The story of this building and the Richmond Theatre fire tells some of the worst of Richmond but also some of the best of Richmond. Its construction was borne out of Richmond’s collective grief for those lost in the fire. It is an architectural masterpiece and an asset to the community, but it also recognizes each and every one of the victims who died here centuries ago by name.” 

But she also reminds me, in her calm, contemplative voice, sometimes rippling with measured enthusiasm, that the work of Historic Richmond transcends this building. Since its founding in the mid-1700s, Richmond has harbored and been home to events that have shaped the trajectory of the country. Like a family’s photo album, every characteristic of the city weaves together different perspectives from different decades — and not all of it points to halcyon days. While Richmond’s story is a fundamentally American story of the search for freedom, the city’s 19th century history is complicated by its role as a key hub in the domestic slave trade and the capital of the Confederacy. Richmond also was not excluded from the 20th century’s formal and informal practices of racial residential segregation, such as redlining by the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation, which classified areas populated predominantly by African Americans as risky, limiting lending by banks and investment. The city still bears the scars of the past, and, as citizens occupying the present, it would be irresponsible to ignore those scars. 

Part of the organization’s intention is to simultaneously preserve and build on the city’s history. The path forward is illuminated from behind us. “We’re a little bit history, we’re a little bit housing, we’re a little bit architecture and we’re a little bit economic development,” she says. Collaborating with local government, neighborhoods, businesses and organizations, Historic Richmond works to preserve, restore and find adaptive uses for historic buildings in the city with important stories to tell. “Many historic buildings and places can continue to produce some sort of viable economic use and be useful to the community.” In the right hands and with the right eye and mind for history, a tobacco factory can maintain its form but function as apartments or offices. 

It’s a job Crump serendipitously fell into but is well suited for nonetheless. After working for 19 years at Hunton & Williams, where she focused on corporate and securities transactions, she realized her life, up to that point, had been a sprint, allowing for very little time to connect with any community. Like a passenger on a train, she watched the world streak past her. “I worked my butt off, and there was not a lot of time to stop and smell the roses,” she says. “It was only after I made partner that I was able to get more involved in the community through a number of nonprofits. And I realized that the important, fulfilling and rewarding things were the hands-on work in the Richmond community.” One of the nonprofits she was involved with was Historic Richmond, and she is grateful for the opportunity to now work more closely with the organization as Executive Director. 

The work marries her love of detail and history. The foundation’s advocacy efforts involve strategizing and negotiating with state and local lawmakers, outlining why a building should be saved and how it can bring value to a community. Some of the work involves historical digging. Sifting through land records, reviewing deeds, studying maps of the city. As if watching sand pass through an hourglass, Crump can see properties disappear and others rise up in their place. To tell the story of the city, her job involves stitching those often invisible rings of time together and making them visible. 

“My background in corporate law of putting deals together and developing strategies or plans for getting a project done is helpful now for developing or redeveloping properties,” she says. “A lot of what we do is problem solving and partnering and really thinking about what the community needs.” 

Founded in 1956 with the intention of saving the Church Hill area surrounding St. John’s Church, Historic Richmond has since had an impact on more than 300 sites and buildings. With a seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of the city, Crump is a shepherd of the past, making sure it has space in the current moment. “Understanding all of a city’s history and all of the various threads that go into that history is really important,” she says. “That helps people fully experience a place.” 

Placed on one of the exit doors in Monumental Church is what Crump calls a reveal, a large piece of transparent plexiglass that displays the condition of the original faux graining. From this reveal, you can see the evolution of the building’s decorative paint scheme — from the very first layer of faux graining behind the reveal to the later, less sophisticated faux graining to the most recently completed graining, which replicates the original. These doors, hand carved two centuries ago and painted by the hands of several artists over the intervening centuries, bear the marks of history, and, similar to the painted surface, Richmond is trying to build on its past, holding the two poles in balance. A vertiginous sensation, seeing the past presented as it once was. I register a little glint of pride in Crump’s smile as she explains this, happy with her involvement in this preservation of history. “These historic places help tell us who we are as a community,” she says. “By reconnecting with those who came before us and understanding their struggles and achievements, we can better understand where we came from, who we are and where we can go. Connecting to the past connects us to the future.”