This intermittent series focuses on individual Utah towns and cities by observing and remarking on their respective urban planning, architecture, history, and culture. Each article is a hodge-podge of observations, criticisms, facts, and anecdotes. We may live in a nation and state, but we seem to be most defined by the first few lines of our addresses—the town or city, neighborhood or street, we call home. In recognition of this, we want to take the “polis”—the neighborhood, the city—more seriously. We hope to make each installment a virtual field trip of sorts. As we describe a walk through the town—highlighting buildings, natural features, and historical happenings—we hope readers come to know, even in a small and mostly inconsequential way, these communities a bit better, perhaps even leading a reader to future forays into the urban (or suburban, exurban, or rural) “jungle.”
This article is the second and last installment of a two-part account of a walk through Spring City.
After we had our visual fill of the Old School, we turned to walk back to Main Street. Before we got very far, though, an interesting building on the corner of Center Street and 100 East caught our attention. The structure was a modest one, beautiful in a plain-spoken way—with a pyramidal roof, wide arches over the entryway, and oblong windows—so what really caught our attention was the inscription above a small brick buttress-like form, with the words “Bishop’s Store House Spring City 1905.” This visual reminder of the community’s religiosity and their commitment to material consecration felt important—yet another facet of the community that needs to be fathomed. Apparently the storehouse was part of a larger tithing yard “with a granary, cellar, and barn.”
As we made our way back to Main Street, we glimpsed yet another gorgeous edifice. This one was constructed with huge blocks of hewn stone that gave the house an impressively impregnable appearance. On a snowy day it also looked quite cozy. The house is in the Greek Revival style, and features more of the beautiful Oolitic limestone used in the Spring City Chapel and in the Manti Temple. Apparently, the structure is known as the Redick Newton Allred house, and was constructed in the mid-1870’s. He has a fascinating history—as he was originally from Tennessee, joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and “served as an officer in the Nauvoo Legion and Mormon Battalion.” It’s hard to imagine what stories this house has heard, but we can do our best to try.
Walking to Main Street we passed by many historic structures we wished we could have loitered by longer, but did not (in our defense, it was cold, and we were getting hungry). Yet Spring City’s Main Street delayed our inevitable departure and distracted us from our hunger with its quaint charm.
As we walked by the church again, I noticed a small metal plaque. My dad always stops at these, and so I do too—this must be some sort of inheritable disorder. Anyways, historical plaques are always interesting, not only for the history they relate, but the way they relate that history. Throughout Utah, I’m always especially curious of how they mention Native Americans, and any conflicts the settlers may have had with them. In this marker, the Native Americans resembled some sort of phantom menace (hopefully this isn’t violating some sort of Lucasfilm trademark) that razed the settler’s goodly fort for no good reason. This wasn’t the case, and luckily history is not taught solely by monuments and historic plaques.
Main Street has living treasures as well. The German restaurant (a homage to the city’s Northern European pioneers), “Das Cafe,” is supposed to be quite delicious, and we stopped for a brief bathroom break at “The Soda Fountain,” a cute small-town-meets-artsy-hipster grill—while just across the street is a well-kept art gallery that featured a few pieces from Georgia O’Keefe. There are also a plethora of wonderful artist shops—Horseshoe Mountain Pottery, Jock’s Windsor Chairs, etc.—along this main drag. The town’s history was vividly told by the small buildings fronting the road—the old city hall, fire station, dance hall (later a WPA library)—all silent witnesses to the swift passage of time.
Urban Planning
Spring City is one of only two cities in the entire United States in which the entire city is included on the National Register of Historic Districts—the other is Williamsburg, Virginia. I don’t imagine there’s too many verbalized ideas that would include Williamsburg and Spring City in the same sentence—and they are starkly different—yet the caliber of historical preservation and significance is at least comparable between the two. According to the “History” page of the “Friends of Spring City” website—the historical significance of due to two reasons: “1. The town graphically documents the techniques of Mormon town planning in Utah: and 2. Architecture in Spring City is remarkably well preserved with an abundance of religious buildings, homes, and small commercial establishments that predate World War I.”
Zooming out from a structures-based perspective, we can begin to describe the general town planning of Spring City—but first some context.
When the area was re-settled in 1859, the Saints’ forced removal from Jackson County, Missouri—intended to be the built up as a headquarters and gathering place (Zion)—was only twenty seven years distant. The institutional memory of seeking to establish Zion was clear and strong, and surely too were many individuals’ personal memories and nostalgia. Furthermore, Zion was not merely to be a normal mid-19th century settlement with more Mormon churches than usual—Joseph Smith’s vision of the city of Zion in Missouri was incredibly detailed, representing, perhaps, a theology of place.
Spring City, then, is a faint echo of the city of Zion—thousands of miles away from the original location, in a harsh and unforgiving high desert valley. It is one of many such echoes, built according to the “farm village” system that has many similarities to Joseph Smith’s plan for the city of Zion. According to this system, “houses, barns, vegetable gardens, and orchards would be contained within the boundaries of the village. The large town lots, just over an acre, accommodated these buildings, domestic activity, and encouraged self-sufficiency. Farmland lay outside the village, with farmers commuting daily to their outlying fields.”
This system was highly organized, communal, and contrasts starkly with the alternate settlement patterns of the American West—isolated homesteads and chaotic mining towns. The “farm village” system reflects the ideals and desires of the early Saints—faith and community—that in many ways contrasted from the “typical” American pioneer. It is interesting to note that a community’s priorities and passions can be inferred from something as “technical” as urban planning.
What really sets Spring City apart, though, is not that it was constructed according to the “farm village” system—it’s that it survived in a remarkably well-preserved way.
Spring City’s survival as “crown jewel of Sanpete County” is due to equal parts luck and hard work. In the late 19th century, the precursor to U.S. 89 bypassed Spring City. This disadvantaged Spring City relative to its neighbors in the valley, and its population declined every decade between 1900 and 1970. Though this economic disadvantage was unfortunate, it reduced any need to destroy older structures, as demand for new homes slackened. Nonetheless, hard work and local pride played a significant part as well. In the 1970’s the beautiful chapel off of Main Street was slated to be demolished and replaced. The residents came together and persuaded Church President David O. McKay (the decision was ultimately kicked to him, allegedly) to keep the church, and instead of razing the chapel a historically consistent addition, housing a gymnasium, was added. Residents have similarly come together to raise funds to renovate the Old School—a renovation only recently completed.
This may be a slightly over-dramatic comparison (I am prone to make them), but in learning about the story of Spring City’s preservation I’m reminded of the miracle of the blue planet—the perfect tilt, distance from the sun, orbit, gas make-up, etc. Though the preservation of this small town surely seems less significant as we begin to consider the weight of our own existence, in many ways the preservation of this town is miraculous.
Lessons and Questions
Each community seems to ask us at least few questions—as well as give us a few answers. Following are a few of each (please feel free to respond in the comments below with your lessons or questions).
The noted environmentalist and author Bill McKibben has long advocated for “local-based enterprises'' as an alternative to the ‘growth economy.’ Spring City looks as good a model of “local-based enterprise” as any—with its variety of delightful small business focusing on creating unique handicrafts in a personal and intimate way. Besides being a quiet relic of the past, could Spring City be a model for the future? We’ve seen World Fairs and countless technology exhibitions, but could it be the future we’re grasping for is hidden in plain sight?
Can we begin to fathom, in the outlines of the “farm village” system, a more communal and sustainable version of property?
How would it feel to grow up in a small town? Being an obnoxious skeptic (and long-time resident) of modern suburbs, I’m sentimentally attached to small towns and coherent urban planning. But doesn’t everyone leave small towns? Don’t practically all the young adults leave town while slowly mouthing to themselves, as their dusty hometown fades in the rear-view mirror, “there never was anything to do”?
There were a few questions, however, that were definitively answered during our visit to Spring City. First, “Does Spring City deserve to be one of two city-wide additions to the National Register of Historic Districts?” My response: an emphatic “yes.” Second, and only slightly less important, “Is every resident of Spring City formally encouraged by city government to own a gun?” Though not “top of mind” for me when visiting, this query can also be answered in the affirmative.
Walking Utah's Towns: Spring City - Part Two
Very interesting article about a town with which I was not familiar. Thank you for the history. And, I agree, wherever and whenever you can, pause and read those historical markers. And keep in mind that they are a few words intended to draw you into the larger story behind them.
This is wonderfully written and so informative. "A faint echo of the city of Zion" caught my attention, as do all epic efforts to keep the children of God bound up together in harmony with themselves, God and His creations.