CLINTON, Iowa - Dorothy Freund built her life around St. Irenaeus Church.

For nearly 50 years, she was a fixture at Sunday Mass, her children were baptized under its stone arches and she spent countless hours preparing funeral dinners in its basement kitchen.

But memories could one day be all that remains of St. Irenaeus, which along with three other Roman Catholic churches in this eastern Iowa city are tentatively set for the wrecking ball.

"I love everything about this church," said Freund, 78, standing outside its front doors. "I even just loved being here alone in the middle of the night, just scrubbing floors."

Earlier this month, demolition began on St. Patrick's, a century-old, Romanesque-style building that for decades served Catholics who lived in downtown neighborhoods.

Although demolition dates have not been set, St. Irenaeus is expected to be next, followed by St. Boniface, built in 1905, and St. Mary's, erected in 1884.

Church leaders say they are open to exploring alternatives, but Freund and others claim diocesan officials have been ignoring their suggestions while planning a new, modern church on the outskirts of Clinton, about 90 miles northeast of Iowa City. A spokesman for Davenport Bishop William Franklin denies that the prelate has brushed aside parishioner concerns.

But critics say if the diocese moves forward with the demolition, it would erase some of the city's most important cultural icons, damage the integrity of surrounding neighborhoods and add to frustration in a parish they say has been losing members for the past 10 years.

"Basically they are destroying the rich Catholic history here in Clinton," said Leonard Pease, 69, who was married in St. Irenaeus. "These buildings are gems in this city."

Dioceses around the country have been facing the same challenges.

No national statistics exist on demolished or closed churches, but in the past 30 years, Catholics have increasingly traded urban life for the suburbs. Membership in inner city parishes has plummeted, bleeding resources for maintaining the buildings and leaving many churches at the center of blighted neighborhoods.

Many bishops have opted to close churches rather than pay steep refurbishing costs. In some cities, church leaders have decided to tear them down and sell the land to fund multimillion-dollar clergy sex abuse settlements.

"Parish realignment is going on all across the country," said Sister Mary Ann Walsh, a spokeswoman for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. "And more than anything that reflects changing demographics. So you're seeing parishes merged, or some even closed. That's just part of wise stewardship of personnel and resources."

In some cities, preservationists have fought the church closings and won.

In San Francisco last month, they saved St. Brigid Church when a city advisory board granted the 101-year-old structure historic landmark status.

On Chicago's South Side, preservationists saved 81-year-old St. Gelasius after convincing a Catholic religious order to reclaim the church and raise money for repairs.

No such solution has been found so far in Clinton.

For decades, the community had five parishes. But as the city lost manufacturing jobs and population, church membership dropped and donations dwindled.

Former Davenport Bishop Gerald O'Keefe approved a plan to consolidate the five parishes in 1991, creating Jesus Christ Prince of Peace Parish.

That decision created a rift between diocesan leaders and a small group of traditionalists concerned about the loss of ritual and rapid change in the church, said Prince of Peace pastor, the Rev. Anthony Herold.

"The churches are just a lighting rod for other, deeper issues in their lives," Herold said.

He said most Clinton Catholics support the new church, giving $3.4 million for its construction in the first year of fundraising.

Plans for the new church building, on 23 acres, include amenities the older buildings lack, such as air conditioning, space for parish offices, athletic fields, seating for more than 800 and ample parking. Construction is set to begin in two years.

The last Mass at St. Irenaeus, named for a French saint and built in 1864, was held last fall. In its early days, it served the city's Irish Catholics, many of whom hauled limestone blocks on horse-drawn carts to build it.

Across the street from St. Patrick's, Jack Boysen watched with mixed emotions as the crane slowly demolished the red brick church he attended as a child. However, he said he accepted that a change was needed to serve the city's Catholics.

"It doesn't matter to me as much as some people," said Boysen, 57, who was married at St. Patrick's. "We've got a lot of memories in there. But this community needs a bigger church and sometimes you just have to move on."