The location where the church once stood can be found, in an 1881 atlas,[3] at the south-east corner of Columbus Ave. and then Girard Ave. on the east bank of the Cuyahoga river in the flats.

Irishtown Bend Archeological District, where many of the parishioners lived, lies to the west, across the Cuyahoga river in what was Ohio City.

Malaria was common in the area the church was built, but drainage was improved during the 1830s as Cleveland evolved into a major lake shipping port.

The 1830s and 1840s brought continued prosperity to the port of Cleveland, but communicable diseases such as cholera were widespread in the low-lying Flats.

[4] The number of Irish immigrants increased after the Great Famine, and many worked as unskilled laborers and dockworkers, and on the excavation of a new channel and mouth for the Cuyahoga River.

In the 1850s, the area of Irishtown Bend was established and dominated by the winding Cuyahoga River with its swampy flood plain.

[8] That same year, 1826, Erie Street Cemetery opened and all bodies, including early Catholics, were removed from Cleveland's original burial ground, at the intersection of Ontario Ave. and Prospect Ave., to the new location.

;[1]: 9, 25, 382–383, 639  both are now in the Diocese of Youngstown By this time, Cleveland was the 67th largest city in the United States, according to data compiled from the 1840 census, with a population of 6,071.

[1]: 18, 34–35  Monsignor George Francis Houck, Chancellor of the Diocese of Cleveland, quoted an article, from the June 20, 1840, issue of The Catholic Telegraph, describing the event: Rt.

At Fairport, 30 miles from the last mentioned place, they were overtaken by a violent storm, during which the vessel, which was very heavily laden, labored a great deal and made but little headway, so that they did not reach their destination for many hours after the usual time employed in making the trip.

They were both, as were nearly all of their fellow-travelers, gloriously sea-sick and soaked with surf from the swollen waters, and the good Bishop of Nancy was moreover at one moment in imminent danger of serious injury from the falling of a high and heavy pile of cases of merchandise in a sudden lurch of the ship.

The Bishop of the diocese was agreeably surprised to find that all the work which he had directed to be done at the new church by Mr. Golden, the architect, had been not only faithfully performed, but that the altar and the plastering, etc., had likewise been very neatly executed.

The zealous Bishop of Nancy, who seems to have never known what it is to be weary in well doing, kindly consented to dedicate the church, which he did according to the Roman ritual, and in full pontificals, after which he celebrated High Mass, which was wonderfully well sung in plain chant by the choir.

The church measures 81 by 53 feet, having four well wrought Doric columns in front, a light but substantial gallery, or organ loft, handsome ceiling, etc., and conveniently situated on Columbus St., between the two [?]

Farmers, and others having horse-drawn vehicles, rode from Euclid and Collinwood, to the east; from Dover and Rockport, to the west; and from more distant points; over bad roads.

The earliest known case of local sacrilege took place on July 7, 1845, when burglars stole a chalice, a ciborium, a monstrance, and two sets of candelabra after taking down and disassembling the tabernacle.

[12] For their pastoral care, English speakers west of the river, out of the eastern section of St. Patrick parish, organized under the patronage of St. Malachy, were given the use of the church from November 1865 to December 1868;[1]: 196,265 Rev.

[1]: 294 Their parish church once stood on Arch St. (E. 35th Place) near Woodland Ave. By the 1870 census, Cleveland was the 15th largest city, with a population of 92,829.

It was a typical winter's day, with plenty of snow and ice covering the interior of the building, open for long to wind and weather.

Two years previous a ruthless storm had blown down its much decayed spire, and the cold blasts had full sway in the church through broken roof and almost paneless windows.

The forlorn looking edifice was packed to overflowing with an interested audience, composed largely of the old Catholic settlers of Cleveland, who had worshipped within its sacred walls in earlier years, when they were in the prime of life and the church attractive in appearance.

The old mother church of Cleveland's Catholics then looked tattered and torn, while her daughters, decked in splendor, were carrying on high in every part of the city, the Sign of Redemption on lofty tower or graceful spire.

A pedimented gable was surrounded by simple moulding enclosing a tympanum decorated with a Latin cross in relief.