I 



Now in his 70s, the self-taught 

 Baltimore native lives a quiet life in 

 Wilmington, where he continues to 

 work. In his studio, his fascination 

 with the art is obvious as he holds a 

 fragment of ruby-colored glass in his 

 hands, explaining its beauty. Despite 

 his age, LeCompte remains that 

 young boy at heart. 



Dressed in gaily striped pants 

 and a blue shirt that matches his eyes, 

 he leaps to his feet to bring a prop for 

 a novice who has trouble understand- 

 ing how someone with no formal 

 training in stained glass could scale 

 the heights of the country's grandest 

 churches. 



"I cared passionately about the 

 art of the thing," he explains. "I was 

 not interested in becoming a busi- 

 nessman, turning out church win- 

 dows. I wanted to do what would be 

 creative and inventive and not a copy 

 either of ancient windows or of other 

 modern windows. I wanted it to be 

 sincere and from the heart." 



The West Rose window is a 

 classic example of LeCompte' s 

 inventiveness. An abstract play on 

 light, the rose contains innumerable 

 bits of chipped thick glass and old- 

 fashioned handblown glass. The 

 effect in sunlight is a rich, sparkling 

 brilliance. 



The son of a middle-class family 

 in Baltimore, LeCompte learned to 

 trust his enthusiasm for art. From the 

 beginning, he was intoxicated by 

 color, music, architecture and 

 painting. He remembers that day in 

 1939 when he first saw Washington 

 National Cathedral as clearly as 

 lovers recall their first encounter. 



"It wasn't even half built at that 

 time, but I was absolutely bowled 

 over by it," he says. "I was obsessed 

 by it and thought of nothing else after 

 that. It was the first church of its size 

 and certainly of its impressiveness 



These windows appear side by side 

 at Church of the Servant in Wilmington. 



and beauty that I had ever seen." 



On subsequent visits, 

 LeCompte says he noticed the effect 

 of the windows already installed. 

 Enthralled, he set off to the library to 

 borrow books on the art and craft of 

 stained glass. Then, with supplies 

 from a local glass shop, he began to 

 assemble his first work, which he 

 now recalls was of "hideous 

 crudity." 



"As a 14-year-old I learned 

 very quickly — everyone at 14 does 

 — the mind is open," he says. "For 

 my own pleasure and for family 

 friends, I made piece after piece after 

 piece, and each became a little more 

 adept in design and technique." 



Two years later, luck struck. 

 A mutual friend introduced him to 

 Philip Hubert Frohman, architect of 

 Washington National Cathedral. 

 LeCompte presented a sample of his 

 work that so impressed Frohman 

 that he offered to show LeCompte' s 

 designs for a small window to the 

 Episcopal cathedral's building 

 committee. 



"Just before he went into the 

 building committee with my 

 drawings ... he asked me my age, 

 and I said rather hesitantly, 'I'm 16, 

 Mr. Frohman." He said, 'Good God! 

 I thought you were older.'" 



Nevertheless, the committee 

 approved the design, and LeCompte 

 made the window. When it was 

 finished, Frohman was delighted. 



"He praised it very highly ... 

 and that gave me great joy, but 

 also it was bewildering because 

 I'd never received, and I certainly 

 never expected to receive, such 

 praise as that." 



By the time LeCompte turned 

 17, America's involvement in World 

 War II was in full swing. Seeking to 

 leave his mark before going to war, 

 he approached the clergy of a 



14 HOLIDAY 1998 



