There were once at least three Catholic churches in Cairo, and St. Joseph’s was located somewhere near its grade school, which still stands; you can see in these photos.
St. Patrick’s survives, and you can see it in this post from the first time I visited; apparently some of the furnishings from the closed parishes ended up there.
The old hospital is the major sight to see.
Its eastern wing was demolished, but we were told by a local resident who lives across the street whose name is Brent, that the building had so much asbestos that there wasn’t enough money in the demolition budget to finish.
He remembers the day it closed, back in 1985.
There is another medical center on the edge of town now.
Brent had all sorts of interesting stories to tell; he worked at the oil refinery in Wood River at one point, the paper mill in Wickliffe across the river, but with the impending closure of the bridge over the Ohio River, he took a job at Bunge in town, which you can see below.
We made our way back to Washington Avenue, passing more houses.
This church, which I had photographed before, looks like it may be abandoned now. Its auxiliary buildings, which include a matching house and school, certainly are, unfortunately.
So sad. It is almost criminal how Illinois neglects everything in the state outside of Chicago.
Cairo was once a pretty river town.
I was born in Cairo over 66 years ago.
Not long after, we moved to St. Louis,
but every summer, I came back.
Those visits meant everything—
time with my grandparents,
running around with friends and cousins,
feeling like I still belonged.
I haven’t been back in years.
I think the last time was around 2001,
just to get a copy of my birth certificate.
Driving through town that day was hard.
The place I remembered felt like a shell of itself.
That old hospital—St. Mary’s, I think—
that’s where so many of us were born.
It used to stand for something.
A lot of things led to Cairo’s decline.
But the real damage started decades ago—
when decisions were driven by ego,
when racism and corruption took root,
and when the people in charge
cared more about themselves
than the future of the town.
It was never a perfect place.
But it had heart. It had hope.
Now, it just feels like all of that’s been lost.