Building by Mark Ellison

Author:Mark Ellison [Ellison, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2023-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

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We proceeded with the project; the lawyers and insurance companies worked out the details of the disaster; Modern Boss continued to support us in our progress.

I loved sorting out the technical requirements of the most innovative aspects of the apartment. One area I should have avoided as a neophyte was the fireplace. There aren’t a lot of these in New York and this was my first. This was not just an ordinary fireplace. It was small, but the architect wanted the gas to make a single line of dancing flame.

It’s fine to be gung ho about taking on challenges, but there are reasons why so many cities’ building codes address fireplaces in depth. Fireplaces are dangerous. Professionals make entire careers out of building them. Their hard-won knowledge should be respected. Call them if you want contained fire in your home.

I entertained all sorts of solutions—Bunsen burners, gas jets—and finally settled on a conventional gas-burning artificial log unit that had all the required certifications. I tossed out the fake logs and I customized the burner with a steel baffle that forced all the flames through a long thin slot. The architect came to look at my mock-up; the line of flames was lovely, but could I make them twice as high? Back to the shop I went. I decreased the slot in the baffle to a tiny slit, welded all the edges closed to increase the pressure, and a thin sheet of flames fairly leapt from the thing.

We installed the surrounding steel firebox and finishes. I called Chief Sycophant and asked whether the old wood-burning chimney had been scoped and cleaned during demolition. He assured me that it had. My custom leaping line of fire was complete.

There is so much to do as a job is wrapping up—buffing, polishing, adjusting, and fixing—the last 5 percent is often half the battle. The owners scheduled their move-in; they were an Austrian couple in their forties with two boys, five and seven. They raised their kids following the European model, blithely going about the business of changing households, while leaving the kids in the apartment with our crew as we finished up.

The work was nearly done; we were checking that all the appliances and fixtures worked properly, and it occurred to me that I should check the fireplace as well. Mom and Dad were out of the house, and as carpenters are by nature entertaining, the boys trailed me as I worked, peppering me with questions and getting underfoot. I found the remote-control fire starter, turned on the gas, and gave it a few clicks. Wonderful! The flames leapt in a thin line nearly filling the firebox. They licked the back wall clear to the smoke chamber; it was elegant and hypnotizing. A minute or two in, a distinct roaring sound came from the chimney. I turned off the gas and got down on my knees to have a look.

The smoke chamber was engulfed in flames. What I had taken to be asbestos fireproofing was creosote.

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