The town that gave the world its sleigh song heats through real winters — in Victorians stacked with flues, clipper-era squares of brick, and two-families that have burned a century of fires. We sweep, point and rebuild all of it, and the phone has no closing time.
Old squares of clipper-era brick, tall Victorians, sturdy two-families — Medford's chimneys come in every vintage, and the manifest below covers the lot without a subcontractor in sight.
Rod by rod down the flue until the walls come back clean, with every gram of soot pulled into a sealed, filtered vacuum on its way out of your life.
The no-cost look at the whole system, with a camera pass down the flue when a sale or a stubborn mystery wants its evidence on screen.
A stack past saving comes down to brick that still rings true and goes back square, level and weather-tight — matched to the house it crowns.
River damp and long freezes empty old joints early here. Tired mortar gets raked back to sound depth; what replaces it is matched for color, texture and give.
An open flue takes in whatever the sky and the squirrels offer. A measured stainless cap with tight screening closes the account — bolted for the wind that runs up the Mystic.
A stain near the chimney breast names a suspect but not the culprit. We run the water down to its true entry — crown, flashing or joint — and close that door for good.
Cracked tile and bare-brick flues belong to the clipper era; the exhaust running through them doesn't. One continuous stainless run per flue settles the matter.
Where the fire actually lives gets the most wear. Burned-out fireboxes relaid in heat-rated brick, smoke chambers parged for honest draw, hearths brought back to daily duty.
Chimneys rarely fail without warning — they wire ahead. Read the telegram early and the repair stays modest.
Simple passage, no squalls: you call, we look, the figures get set, the work gets done properly.
Day, night, Sunday, snowstorm — the same number answers. Describe the chimney and pick your window.
Whole system, hearth to cap, checked over free — and the verdict walked through with you in plain words.
Every needed repair carries its own number, urgent items flagged first. The figures hold while you weigh them.
The work done to standard, the site left cleaner than found, and the craft guaranteed in writing.
When the first real cold slides down the Mystic, the booked-ahead households light up without a second thought. One call — at whatever hour suits you — puts yours among them.
(781) 628-7846A spread from the watch log — brushwork, crowns, cowls and fresh brick courses between the river and the hills.
The shop keeps its ladders on High St, steps from the Square; the trucks work both banks of the Mystic and the towns pressing in around them.
A street we missed? Call (781) 628-7846 — the trucks read maps better than lists.
There isn't one to find. The tech checks over the hearth, damper, the full run of the flue, crown, cap and the brick outside, then walks you through the verdict right there — no bill, no obligation, no pitch waiting at the end. The single thing on this page with a price is the paper copy: findings typed with photographs for sales, insurers or your files, $149, made only to order.
Every hour, every day — weekends and holidays included. A smoky smell at midnight, a cap gone in a storm, a damper stuck fast before a cold morning: call while it's happening. If flame shows anywhere it shouldn't, or carbon monoxide is even suspected, everyone out first and 911 before us.
Only if somebody treats them as one flue — which they never should. A tall Medford Victorian often stacks the parlor fireplace, a bedroom hearth and the old furnace passage into a single chimney, each aging on its own clock. We check and sweep them one by one in a single visit, and when lining is called for, every flue gets its own correctly sized stainless run.
The Mystic keeps the low side of town damper than the hills, and damp brick loses harder to every freeze. Mortar softens sooner, faces flake earlier, crowns crack a season or two ahead of drier streets. The remedy isn't exotic — tight joints, a sound crown, a proper cap — it simply has to happen on time.
A season of regular fires earns a sweep, and a flue that sat quiet since spring deserves eyes before its first flame. Furnace and boiler flues take a yearly once-round of their own — their trouble arrives as fumes, without smoke's courtesy of announcing itself.
Sales cut to the head of the schedule. The free check-over lands inside a couple of days, the camera makes its pass when the deal wants proof, and the $149 paper copy with photographs is finished one business day after the order — arranged so every party at the closing finds their part fast.
Our own crew, vetted before their first ride in the truck, and fully insured — the certificate reaches your inbox ahead of the visit whenever you ask. Nobody you didn't hire appears on your roof under our name.
Not an ounce of it. The path gets covered, the opening sealed under a shroud, and a filtered vacuum pulls the entire visit — roughly an hour for a standard sweep. The soot leaves with us, and only with us.
No forms, no callback lottery. The voice that answers can read a flue, quote a range and open the schedule — at 2 PM or 2 AM alike.
Describe the smell, the stain, the lean, or the closing date bearing down — and hang up knowing whether it needs a truck and roughly what the cure will run.
(781) 628-7846 Tap — Someone's ThereAnswered around the clock, every day
Clipper crews stood night watch; so do we