Here's the church house, here's the steeple, open the doors and there's Chad Munns checking the specs to make sure his steeple meets safety codes and conforms to the architect's vision.
"The first steeple I built took 200 man-hours to finish," says Munns, who heads Munns Manufacturing in Garland, Box Elder County. "After that, I knew I could build one in three days."In the bigger cities, church steeples tend to get dwarfed by office complexes and high rises these days. But in small-town America and in suburban neighborhoods they remain a major landmark. Some members of the clergy feel the pointed spire is a way for a community to keep its focus pointed toward heaven. Others see the steeple as a security symbol. Anywhere, at any time, a citizen of a small community can look up, see the steeple and know that God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.
Their prominence also makes them a topic for poets and songwriters. Fervent songs talk of flags waving "over land and sea, over church tower and steeple." And William Carlos Williams was just one American poet who set them in "high relief" in a poem about balancing the moon on the tip of a church steeple during a late-night walk.
Still, the main thrust of steeples is spiritual. And Munns is the first to admit that there is, indeed, a reverent component to the steeple-building business. But he prefers to keep his notions to himself. All he says is "without a steeple, a church house is just a building."
What he will talk about is history, facts and figures.
Munns began steeple chasing several years ago when he was asked to help with the spires on the refurbished Brigham City tabernacle. In 1989 he decided steeple making was a lofty profession and threw himself into it heart and soul. He took over the old Garland City maintenance shop and went to work.
It's a busy place. The steeples are aluminum but can be covered with wood and othe metals. So the clang and clink of metalwork, rivets and staples - not the woody sound of saws and hammers - fill the shop. Munns, who prides himself on professional work, takes any mistake personally. He is as focused on his work as, say, pro golfers are on theirs.
"Today when my kids play with blocks they don't build houses," he says, "they build steeples."
On the wall of Munns' office hangs one of his toddler's drawings. It's not a house. It's a church steeple. Even the family's rural mailbox is a steeple.
And all of the dedication has been paying off. These days the 10 workers at Munns Manufacturing turn out a steeple a week. They made 47 last year and have produced more than a hundred overall. The steeples range in price from $5,000 to $20,000 and can be anywhere from 20 feet to 52 feet tall. The preferred color is white, though copper and even red put in appearances.
Church steeples go through fads and phases - like most forms of architecture. For years the tall steeples anchored to the ground in front of the buildings were popular. And some experiemental congregations go in for designs that look like Picasso sculpture. But most of the steeples Munns makes are traditional, with louvers, windows and an almost New England feel. Most stay in Utah, though others have mede their way to Minnesota, Kansas, Texas, California, New Mexico and Canada. And though the Lutherans and Presbyterians are clients, Munns says the lion's share of his work is for the LDS Church.
"It took more than three years for me to get approved as one their steeple makers," he says. "they're very particular."
Today the Munns operation still has a mom and pop feel to it. The owner drives the truck that delivers the steeples to the work sites. He shepherds the building of the braces for the insides, checks the angles and the finish work. And, interestingly enough, he makes sure each one has a good lightning rod. Eventually, if things keep going well, he may back off more and more into design and architecture.
"My dream is to build a large one, one of those $50,000 steeples, like the one on the Brigham City tabernacle," he says. "And I'd like to come up with some of my own designs."
Currently the company is considering a move. The shop is getting a bit cramped, and if Munns is going to tackle one of those $50,000 monsters, he's going to need more elbow room.
But he'll cross that bridge in time. Right now he's just hoping to produce a steeple a week in 1994. In fact, if he keeps up the pace, in 20 years he will have produced . . . well, he will have produced quite a legacy.