The building of the Provo Tabernacle started with a groundbreaking in the fall of 1881, and was fitted with "luminous jets of electric lighting" on 6 May 1891. It was finally finished and dedicated on 17 April 1898 (Salt Lake Tribune, April 18, 1898). The black and white photo here is taken from 1902, before the city condemned the middle tower as too heavy for existing support, and before the stained glass windows were added. It was unique, the only structure in the territory to have seven totally separate entrances, plus a west one (back door) for access to the choir seats. I used this entrance the last time I attended Stake Conference with Katie & Matt's family. General Conference 1886, was held here, even though the balcony seating hadn't been installed yet. For a transcription of multiple sources describing its history and use, try this link: Provo Tabernacle
One of the great things about the gospel is the vision of the future that each of us may have as we study things out and invite the Holy Ghost to attend our ponderings. My great-grandfather, George Brewitt Milner, was one of the blacksmiths that put in long hours on this structure. His stories tell of an independent sort of man who excelled at his work and had a great sense of humor. A future president of the church, George A. Smith, frequented his blacksmith shop on Center Street in Provo as a boy, fascinated with his ability. My father tells of a time that a plow broke when they were living on West Mountain (Utah Valley) and Grandpa Candy took him along to an old crony's place in Provo where Dad watched as he hammered the metal as though it were putty to re-form the tool. Grandpa Candy would have been 90 years old at the time, but he barely broke a sweat. (He picked up the nickname because he always carried candy in his pocket--his way to quit smoking--and the kids loved it!)
As I ponder the vision that he must have had during his daily labor on the Provo Tabernacle, I remind myself that my daily labor has vision too. Every day is important; every day has something in it that contributes to my life's building. I want to build something everlasting--and I guess that's why the artist's rendering of the second Provo Temple gives me hope. We leave a legacy, and what will that be?
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