To the Tabernacle

It's old news now, but two days ago the Provo Tabernacle was destroyed by a massive fire. I've been thinking about it a lot more than I would have expected.  I don't know how to describe the feelings that have overwhelmed me since Friday, except to say that it feels like a piece of my childhood--and my heritage in Provo--has been destroyed.

All the reports about the meaning of the building and its loss have been true: that it was the heart of the community, that it was Provo's most significant historical building, the most truly aesthetic building in Utah County, an important place for gatherings whether religious, performance, ceremonial, civic, or cultural.  Actually, Provo is not a huge town, so I think that its existence alone made Provo feel like it was an important and meaningful place.  At least it did to me. 

Tonight I went to a Christmas musical program at the Grace United Methodist Church in downtown Wilmington.  I couldn't help but sit there during that program and think about the Tabernacle.   Grace Church is the kind of church building where the Gothic revival architecture, with its massive exterior stone work, vaulted ceilings, pointed arches, and intricate interior carvings, is itself a type of divine worship. While the Tabernacle had elements of Gothic revival and a huge pipe organ, of course I can't compare the two buildings entirely. Each was built as a product of its community and environment.  The Tabernacle's Victorian-era stylings and the yellowish-orange brick (which I truly love) found on so many 19th century buildings in Utah might seem so homely in comparison.  And we Mormons are far too pragmatic even in our architecture to waste valuable space on ribbed vaulting when it could be turned into a wrap-around balcony with seats for another 1000+ people.  But in that huge space of Grace Church with the incredibly moving music--a full choir with strings, harp, oboe and huge pipe organ--and truly phenomenal talent, it became my own private memorial service for the building where I gained probably most of my education in musical appreciation. 

For years and years of my childhood my parents purchased "Family Season Tickets" to the Utah Valley Symphony.  Say what you will, but it was fantastic opportunity.  I want to know how many other cities the size of Provo had their own symphony? And for pennies really. Maybe the tickets were only $50 for the whole season for the whole family, but if more, probably not much.  I was too young to really assess the quality of the orchestra, but I did learn about music and its characteristics and structure (symphonic movements, orchestral dynamics, the concerto, etc.) about the formalities of an orchestra like the conductor or concert mistress, about concert manners (proper dress, behavior during performance, etc.), about instruments and their different sounds and roles in an orchestra.  However, I'm sure that more than anything, my parents were just taking us to gain some exposure to music and (hopefully) an appreciation for it.  At least, if I were to do the same thing as a parent today with my own children, that would be my goal.  I want to let my parents know right now that they succeeded in that with me.  Thank you.

Certainly the Provo of my childhood (and nostalgia) is more homey and small town than it is today, but how great is that. I admit, there were some performances where we got restless and my parents would allow us to go wandering around the building a little. After all, the balcony was never full and there were always other families up there with restless little kids doing the same things that we were.  So, we would climb into the big window ledges or walk up and down the spiral staircases in the corner turrets. And I realize now that largely that's because the Tabernacle wasn't a symphony hall or another expensive concert hall--it was a place to be shared and enjoyed by the whole community. And the community did use it.  I attended more than one holiday concert and Messiah sing-a-long, I attended musical recitals and performances both for church, school and private events. It was the place for stake conferences (where once I even spoke), Seminary graduation, convocation, etc.  I'd argue that there are not too many buildings in any city that can rival it in this capacity.  Something truly great has just died.
 
Rest in peace, Tabernacle.  The next time I visit Provo, it will be hard to drive by your block without you there and wonder what it is that now makes Provo special (because it's certainly not the NuSkin building).