PEORIA, Ill. – When Max Carson watched his bride Nancy walk down the aisle at St. Ann Catholic Church at their 1974 wedding, organ music was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of balls crashing into bowling pins.  "I said 'I do' and bowling balls were flying," says Carson, 62, who didn't know then that the St. Boniface Bowling Alley, built in 1945, was in the church basement. Now he plays in the Has-Beens League every Wednesday morning in the four-lane alley.  "I always joke that if I preach too long, people go downstairs and start bowling," Pastor Terry Cassidy says.  St. Ann's little bowling alley is almost as popular now as it was after parishioners created the hideaway, which has a bar and dining room. It was rebuilt after a fire in the 1960s. Two leagues, one for men and another for women, play on Wednesdays, and parties are booked for almost every Friday and Saturday night, manager Jim Seppelt says.  Church bowling alleys are disappearing fast. There are probably fewer than 200 left , says Neil Stremmel, of the U.S. Bowling Congress.  By Nick S Adams for USA TODAY  A sign shows the way to the St. Boniface Bowling Alley underneath St. Ann Catholic Church in Peoria, Ill.  Doug Schmidt, author of the 2007 book They Came to Bowl: How Milwaukee Became America's Tenpin Capital, says that city once had at least 13 church bowling alleys. "They came with German immigrants in the 1860s," Schmidt says. "Most closed in the 1980s or '90s."  Milwaukee's St. Martini Lutheran Church built its eight-lane alley in 1954, says church secretary Trudi Groth. In 2004, four lanes were dismantled to make space for a lunch room. Two years ago the final four lanes were replaced by classrooms.  The last time Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church in New Haven, Conn., organized a bowling night at the four lanes in its basement, nobody showed up.  "I don't know if it's the times, the location," parish administrator Pat Sundermann says.  It's particularly sad, she says, because the bowling alley was refurbished a few years ago in memory of Eddie Vanacore, who grew up in the church and died in the World Trade Center on Sept. 11, 2001.  The space is used mostly for meetings now, Sundermann says. She isn't certain when the bowling alley was built, but by the 1950s it was hopping, she says.  "Everybody wants to go down and look and smile and joke, but nobody wants to bowl," Sundermann says.  It's a different story at the Church of St. Francis de Sales in St. Paul, Minn. Its six-lane bowling alley, built in 1939, is in the basement of a school building it rents out and is used for gym classes, league play and parties.  Since another church bowling alley in St. Paul closed recently, church administrative assistant Pam Gripman says, "I think we're the only one left in the area. It's kind of a legend."  The six-lane bowling alley operated by St. John's Catholic Club at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in Kansas City, Kan., also is prospering, president Kenny Yarnevich says.  The lanes, built below a church gym in 1923, are used by four leagues and for parties and fundraising events. "We have cheap sandwiches and beer … and we're family oriented," he says.  Many of the 20 or so retired men who gather for Wednesday morning league play at St. Boniface Bowling Alley don't belong to St. Ann Catholic Church. They come for the good company and the relaxed atmosphere.  "Everybody roots for everybody," says Gary Heinz, 63, a former Caterpillar Inc. worker. "Despite age, aches and pains, everybody comes," he says. The two oldest participants, Billy Whaley and Oscar Means, are 85.  Billy Purcell, 69, and George Rothan, 70, bowled here together in high school, then lost touch for a half-century. Now they bowl together again in the Has-Beens League. "It's the camaraderie that keeps people coming back," says Purcell, a retired railroad engineer.  Purcell calls the alley a "proving grounds." That's because no one has ever bowled a perfect 300 game here, Seppelt says.  If he had $22,000, Seppelt says, he'd install new synthetic lanes and approaches, which could bring scores up. The alley, which charges $75 for parties, won't be able to afford that any time soon, he says.  Sharon Bailey, 68, who helps run the women's league, long called the St. Boniface Mother's Club, has been bowling here for 43 years — though, like many bowlers here, she also plays at big commercial alleys. "It's all women, talking about kids and now grandkids," she says.  "We have some younger ones in the league," Bailey says. "I hope they'll continue the tradition."
From the 1920s-50s, many churches built bowling alleys, but few remain in operation as players shift to big, glitzy lanes