The failure is structural, and it was planted in
A Bradford pear does not blow apart because a storm was unusually bad. It comes apart because of how it was built. The cultivar grows a crowd of limbs off nearly the same point on the trunk, and where two branches press together at a narrow angle, bark gets trapped in the union instead of wood. That trapped bark is a seam, not a joint, and it has no strength in it.
The seam holds fine while the limbs are light. Somewhere around twenty to twenty-five years, the crown gets heavy enough that a wet snow or a straight-line gust finds it, and half the tree peels off down the trunk. White House planted these by the thousand alongside subdivisions platted from the early nineties onward. The trees did not fail early. They ran their whole designed lifespan and arrived at the end of it, several streets at a time.
What is actually left in the ground
A pear that split rather than uprooted leaves an awkward stump: often a tall, ragged spar rather than a clean cut, with one side of the buttress torn and the other intact. First job is usually a saw, not a grinder, because a wheel wants a flat face at a workable height, not a splintered column.
The wood itself is moderately dense and grinds at a middling pace, faster than white oak, considerably slower than pine. What makes the job longer than the diameter suggests is the buttress. Callery pear puts out a wide, low flare that hides under turf, so an 18-inch trunk can measure 26 or 28 inches across the ground line. Measure at the soil, not at chest height, or your quote will be wrong before anybody arrives.
Suckering, and why depth matters more here
Cut a Callery pear down and leave the root system alive and it will fight back. Shoots come up around the old base and out along the laterals, sometimes eight or ten feet away, and the seedlings that this species now produces carry real thorns. Grinding is what ends it, but only if the grind chases the heavy roots out from the flare rather than just skimming the trunk.
So on a pear we go wider than the stump. The trunk itself only has to drop far enough under for turf; the laterals are the part that gets chased outward and cut below the surface as well. If shoots have already appeared around the base before we arrive, mention it, because that tells us the root system is still active and the job is bigger than the photo shows. Any thin shoots that come up afterwards should be cut or treated while they are soft rather than left to harden into saplings along a fence line.
The money, plainly
A typical White House front-yard Bradford pear, 16 to 22 inches at the trunk with a flare in the mid twenties, open access, chips left and raked, sits in the $175 to $350 band. Push the flare past thirty inches, put it behind a thirty-six inch gate, or add haul-off of the grindings and it climbs toward the upper end.
The number that surprises people is the multiple. Streets planted in one build-out fail in one window, so it is common to have three or four on a block ready at once. Priced separately those are three or four minimum service calls. Priced together as one morning's work, the per-stump figure drops a long way. If your neighbour is looking at the same problem, it is worth one conversation over the fence before either of you books.
The short version
Measure a Callery pear at the ground line, not the trunk, because the hidden flare is what sets the price. Grind the laterals out as well as the stump or the roots will keep sending up thorny shoots, and if others on your street are the same age, book them together.