Clean Sweep : Chimney Trade Brings Good Luck, and a Nice Income, to Jovial Pair

The Anaheim housewife, a mother of five, was sneaking around behind her husband’s back--with two men, no less.

Her covert visitors arrived wearing top hats and tails. They greeted her with handshakes.

“That’s supposed to bring good luck, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Play the lottery this week,” one of her guests answered.

Considering the secrecy of their mission, the men did not show great surreptitiousness. One of them immediately went about hoisting a ladder alongside the house and, in broad daylight, climbed to the roof. He attracted so much attention that curious neighbors requested his business card.

“My husband is out of town,” the wily wife confessed. “He doesn’t know I’m doing this.”

Without her husband’s knowledge, consent or blessing, Karen Soper had gone and hired a couple of chimney sweeps.

“He insists that we don’t need to have our fireplace cleaned,” she said. “He thinks it’s a waste of money. We’ve had this house since 1978, and we’ve never once had the chimney cleaned. Every time we make a fire I hold my breath. I read about all these house fires that got started in the chimney. Can you imagine trying to evacuate five kids?”

Soper squirreled away cash she earned as an Avon representative and waited for her mate to go fishing. She cryptically initialed their calendar c.s. to conceal from him her date.

But won’t he find out eventually?

“Nope, he’ll never even notice,” Soper replied, then nonchalantly spelled out her name for print.

“You’d be surprised how many wives have this done without telling their husbands,” chimney sweep Tim Doran said. “A common attitude in Southern California is: ‘Oh, we don’t use our fireplace that often. It doesn’t need to be cleaned.’ But you burn five or six fires over the holidays, and it will add up in a few years.”

“It” is creosote--the coarse, black deposits that accumulate inside a chimney flue like stalactites inside a cave. A mixture of the tar and soot that go up in smoke, the substance is highly combustible. A mere one-eighth-inch layer of villainous creosote could ignite into a fire more roaring than intended.

Right now, during the busy season, Doran runs through this spiel at least 50 times a week: “Sit down here, ma’am, and look up the chimney. Do you see that stuff that looks like coffee grounds? That’s creosote. Creosote can become very dangerous.”

“Yuck. Get me out of here,” said Ida Wesseln, a grandmotherly woman with more dignified things to do than to stick her head inside a grimy fireplace.

Actually, not that grimy. The creosote buildup is still in its early stages, Doran said. They’ll check back next year.

“Are you sure?” persisted Wesseln, a resident of Orange. “You don’t think you need to knock off that yucky black stuff?”

It doesn’t pose a risk yet, Doran reassured. No charge for consultation.

“Powerful, powerful,” Doran’s sidekick, Jeff Cullen, remarked once out of Wesseln’s earshot. “Now she’ll tell all her friends about us. What we lose in consultation fees we make up for in referrals.”

Doran, who owns Anaheim-based Master Sweep, is the straight man of the pair. Cullen, his pal/employee, is the comedian.

And Cullen likes to talk, to whomever his captive audience may be at the moment. Often it’s a housewife. Often she offers him coffee and, perhaps, a sweet roll. “By the end of the day, I’ve had eight cups of coffee, and I’m buzzed,” he said.

On a recent sunny November day, too hot for thoughts of a crackling fire, the men had nine stops scheduled on their chock-full schedule. But they have the task down pat--they are in and out in 45 minutes.

Doran took to the roof. Cullen remained earthbound in the living room. The bottom half is the toughest assignment.

“What do you think?” Cullen said. “Of course I’d rather be on the roof. I’ve got the dirty job. But Tim’s the boss--he calls the shots.”

Step No. 1: Cullen taped a plastic sheet over the fireplace opening, to contain the soon-to-be loosened creosote. Meanwhile, Doran toted a long, spindly broom across the roof.

“OK, buddy!” Cullen shouted up the flue after securing the temporary shield.

On that cue, Doran poised himself atop the chimney and inserted the steel-bristled broom, an extended version of a bottle brush. A few vigorous strokes against the chimney walls, and his part of the task was complete.

His partner’s work, though, had just begun. Cullen donned a surgical mask. “Scalpel, please,” he cracked. An unattractive pile of ashes and creosote awaited him behind the plastic curtain.

“Creosote contains 26 known carcinogens,” Doran said in explanation of the mask. “We inhale toxins all day. Chimney sweeps probably cut five or 10 years off their lives.”

“That’s it--I quit,” Cullen said.

But first he finished the job at hand. Using newspaper, he lit a small fire in the fireplace. “Heat creates a natural updraft that carries the dust particles out the chimney so that they don’t fly around the house,” Doran said. “One speck of creosote can leave a two-inch black mark on furniture upholstery.”

Flames under way, Cullen shoveled mounds of mess into a trash can, then scrubbed out the inside of the fireplace with a nylon brush. “Sometimes we end up with two trash cans full of stuff,” he noted.

As a final touch, he sprayed the fireplace damper with oil to lubricate its hinges.

Before departing, the sweeps make sure to shake each customer’s hand. Neglecting the custom is bad luck. “If she doesn’t want to touch my hand because it’s dirty, she can just touch my arm,” Cullen said.

It’s also bad luck to surmount a roof bareheaded. And from a practical standpoint, Doran said, “The top hat keeps soot out of my hair.”

Chimney sweeping is steeped in superstition. “Remember last month’s Friday the 13th?” Cullen said. “We had 20 jobs that day. Everybody wanted a chimney sweep in their house for good luck.”

“What are you talking about?” Doran interrupted. “Nobody said they were calling us because it was Friday the 13th. Every day in October is busy.”

Well, Cullen’s story was more interesting.

Onward and upward to the next roof. “Top o’ the morning to you,” Joy Perry welcomed them, with an amused smile. “You actually have to work in those outfits? How did they originate, anyway?”

“In the 1800s, before child labor laws, orphans were used in England to clean chimneys,” Doran told the Tustin woman. “The local tailors and funeral parlors donated top hats and tails so that the children would have a little protection from the soot.

“Now it’s just tradition. And it’s good luck.”

More than good luck, it’s good business, Cullen later confided: “The top hats draw neighbors like flies.”

Top hats or no, garnering business is not all that much of a problem for Doran. “Orange County could use another 20 or 30 chimney sweep companies,” he magnanimously suggested. “We’re overloaded. Sometimes we even refer customers to other companies.”

Not that he sits around passively hoping that the telephone will ring. “We actively recruit customers,” Doran said. “We go to homeowners associations. We advertise.”

“We bribe,” Cullen interjected. “During the summer, we keep business up by offering discounts.”

If you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, the black-collar job pays off. Master Sweep brought in half a million dollars last year.

Doran’s staff consists of five sweeps, including himself. Divvy up the profits, including a generous portion to the company’s commander-in-chief, and you can figure that he is doing all right.

“It’s an extremely lucrative business,” Doran confirmed.

Who needs an MBA? Doran certainly didn’t. A native of Long Island, he ran away from home at 13. “My father and I didn’t see eye to eye,” he said.

And he indeed has an “Oliver Twist” quality to him; appropriately, in view of chimney sweeps’ history, Doran looks a bit like a 19th-Century waif--big-eyed, spunky, elfin. One almost expects to hear a cockney accent when he speaks.

At age 17, Doran started sweeping on the East Coast. “I worked for someone else just long enough to learn the business, and then I started my own company,” he said. Nine years later, in 1984, he moved his craft to Orange County.

Before you decide to take up sweeping for a livelihood, consider the job requirements. “You have to be small and agile and unafraid of heights,” Doran said. How tall is he?

“Four-foot-one,” Cullen volunteered.

“Jerk,” Doran said.

For the record, he is 5 feet, 7 inches, 133 pounds and 31 years old. Cullen is 5 feet, 11 inches, 162 pounds and 34 years old.

You also need good balance to teeter on the brink of a chimney, three stories above the ground. “It’s additionally dangerous, because a whiff of creosote can make you lightheaded,” Doran said.

“Just say no to creosote,” Cullen deadpanned.

Cullen joined Doran’s company three years ago. They have become best buddies. Doran, his wife and three children will bring Cullen along on their annual ski trip next month when Master Sweep closes down for two weeks.

They don’t get tired of each other’s company? “We never mix business and pleasure,” Cullen said. “He only yells at me on the job.”

Until their Christmas break, the sweeps will work six days a week, at least 12 hours a day. “We don’t even have time for lunch,” Cullen said. “I eat a big breakfast every morning.”

Their route on this particular day took them to an elegant house in Newport Beach. “I only want to hear good news,” said its owner, Bobbi Walker. The good news was that the fireplace in the living room looked fine. The bad news was that the fireplace in the den didn’t. And both chimneys needed caps--at $95 apiece, plus the $87 cleaning charge.

California law requires the use of a chimney cap, wire netting that fits over the opening. This key safety feature blocks wayward sparks from alighting--and lighting--nearby roofs. It also protects the chimney from rain and nesting birds.

“Everybody should have a chimney cap. It keeps out rain, wind, animals, mothers-in-law and Santa Claus,” Cullen said.

The friends relaxed a moment before moving on to their next appointment. Leaning against their truck, they both pulled out cigarettes.

What? They breathe soot all day long and they smoke?

The straight man reasoned, “If the tobacco doesn’t get us, the creosote will.”

The comedian joked, “We smoke like chimneys.”

CHIMNEY SWEEPS A-Blaze Chimney Sweep 1086 Glenneyre St. Laguna Beach (714) 494-4890 One- or two-story: $50/$60 ($50 charge for local chimneys; $60 for places as far as Rancho Margarita.) Years in business: 5 A Lucky Chimney Sweeping (714) 953-9855 One-story: n/a Two-story: n/a Years in business: n/a Aaron’s Chimney Fireplace Cleaners 10102 Perdido St. Anaheim (714) 972-2609 One-story: $60 Two-story: $80 Years in business: more than 20 Blodgett’s 423 S. Brookhurst St. Anaheim (714) 530-5330 One-story: $60 Two-story: $80 Years in business: 32 Clean Sweep Chimney Service 350 E. Bishop Drive Laguna Hills (714) 661-7476 One-story: n/a Two-story: n/a Years in business: n/a Don’s Chimney Sweep 211 Lido Drive Santa Ana (714) 542-7019 One-story: $50 Two-story: $50 Years in business: 7 Grimebusters 1908 Kirkwood Ave. Orange (714) 633-1950 One-story: $65 Two-story: $75 Years in business: 13 H R Chimney Sweep 4811 W. Acapulco Ave. Santa Ana (714) 775-6367 One-story: $60 Two-story: $75 Years in business: 8 Master Sweep 9776 W. Katella Ave. Anaheim (714) 539-6446 One-story: $67 Two-story: $77 Years in business: 14 Red Hot Chimney Sweeps 3501 W. Flower Ave. Fullerton (714) 973-7543 One-story: $80 Two-story: $85 Years in business: 10 Sears all stores: Brea, Buena Park, Costa Mesa, Laguna Hills, Orange, Westminster (800) 537-3600 One-story: $89 Two-story: $99 Years in business: 20 The Chimney Doctor 126 Esplanade San Clemente (714) 492-3391 One-story: $55 Two-story: $65 Years in business: 7 Thee Old Fashion Chimney Sweep 2731 Via Casa Loma San Clemente (800) 634-7165 One-story: $70 Two-story: $80 Years in business: 11 Source: Individual companies. Prices subject to change.