Among his early helpers were Marian Bell, daughter of the inventor of the telephone, and her friend Alice Hill of Washington. Gutzon probably enjoyed making the pair of them sweep up the studio and mix clay. Once he made them dye untold yards of muslin until their hands were completely discolored. Art was difficult, he told them, because it was made up of so many different, disagreeable things. But, somehow, they liked his instructions, and they looked on the studio as a second home. Alice was married there to Frank Harris, a musician and inventor of an electronic pickup system to transmit music over the telephone. It was demonstrated successfully before an audience in the American Museum of Natural History in New York.
Other helpers developed into sculptors with independent studios of their own. Among them were George Lober of New York; Merrill (“Bud”) Gage of Santa Monica, California; “Bob” Garrison of Denver and New York; M. F. Malin of Salt Lake City; and William Tolentino of the Philippine Islands. Tolentino had been recommended by Mrs. Woodrow Wilson.
Malvina Hoffman, though never a studio helper, was a familiar practitioner in it and often a guest of the Borglums. Gutzon gave her occasional technical advice, beginning with her first attempt at carving. She had modeled a head of her father on the end of a piece of lead pipe with no proper armature, and was copying it in marble. Another New York sculptress, Ethel Hood, whom he met later, impressed him so much that he invited her to work with him in the Black Hills, but by that time she was too busy in the East.
Perhaps the most indispensable worker and helper was Robert (“Bob”) A. Baillie of Closter, New Jersey. Gutzon repeatedly called him “the best marble carver in the United States.” He started in the Thirty-eighth Street studio to work on the carving of figures for the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and remained there steadily for ten years. When Gutzon began to be called away more and more from New York on distant commissions Baillie’s work for other sculptors increased, and in time he was one of the most sought-after assistants in New York.
The models, too, were interesting, but only a few are remembered now. There was a man with a white beard who had posed for many sculptors, including Mr. Barnard. There was Lord Methuen’s former valet who had lost the weekly payroll while returning from the bank. Best of all was sweet, gentle Julia Percy, who posed for some of Gutzon’s best marbles.
She married a sculptor who had worked in the studio and went with him to California. Unfortunately the marriage was not happy and ended in divorce. Long afterward, in 1947, she wrote a few recollections of her life in the studio:
During my youth while working as a model for Mr. Borglum, his talks to students talented enough to be invited to the studio were always of a constructive nature. He gave advice as to their outlook on life and conduct of living. The younger ones were told that they could set an example in their schools and be a help at home. His reverence and respect for womanhood were well known by all who were acquainted with him.
Talent and sincerity were what he looked for. He had no use for plagiarists—“cribbers,” he called them—especially in the field of architecture. He had a keen sense of humor and many a laugh we all had at the way he would tell of an amusing incident he had seen. One of his sayings when referring to someone who lacked initiative was, “You can’t pick up custard with a hook.” He also could tell a man’s character by a look at his clothes. If worn for any length of time, he said, they seem to take on the lines of the body.
When making a statue or a portrait bust in marble, he would first model it in clay from life. Then a plaster cast from the clay figure was made by the studio help. The stone cutter used the plaster figures to measure from and, with the aid of a pointing machine (with three points), he would cut the stone to within an inch of the finished surface in some parts. Then Mr. Borglum would take over, working with mallet and chisel direct from the model upon the marble. If a defect in the marble showed up (which in my experience occurred only in the cream-colored Maryland marble), he would cut deeper and set the whole figure back or change the pose slightly to escape the flaw.
To do the finishing he used fine tools and sandpaper, every now and then wetting the marble with a sponge to help bring out the lifelike effect he was striving for. His high ideals inspired me to do my best to express in the pose the spirit of the idea he was portraying in the marble. I consider it an honor and a great privilege to have worked for him.