Give the man room

by Robert J. Casey; Mary Montgomery Borglum

In paying other bills that he thought to be legitimate the sculptor had already used all available funds while he himself worked for nothing because, as he wrote to Mr. Lum in 1926, “This monument must be put up if I have to keep on paying for it to the end of my life and mortgage all I possess.” Confronted now by demands that he thought unjust but could not carry to court, he borrowed money to pay them and gave several of his small marbles as security.

Troubles never come singly, says an old proverb. Gutzon was at Stone Mountain, absorbed in another work, when word came that all the bronze casts had at last arrived in Newark, where no one had the slightest idea of what to do with them. By keeping the wires hot the sculptor located his old friend Bob Baillie, who dropped his own work and hurried to Newark. There presently he was joined by Villa. At the hands of these two, and by what the sculptor gratefully accepted as an act of Providence, the great work moved swiftly to its climax. Several years later Mr. Vignali asked the sculptor if he had found a case of champagne in the neck of one of the horses. Gutzon said he hoped that the welders made a party with it.

The unveiling at Military Park on Memorial Day, 1927, was thrilling enough to efface all memory of the years of waiting. The mayor of Newark, Thomas L. Raymond, had formally proclaimed a public festival; he eulogized, among other things, “the excessive generosity and spirit of self-sacrifice of the sculptor Gutzon Borglum, who has given without limit of his genius, his time and effort.” Because the memorial was national, not local, invitations had been sent to the President of the United States and his Cabinet, to all governors, to senators, congressmen and persons of distinction in national life, scores of whom responded and were present in festival spirit with tens of thousands of New Jersey citizens.

The orator of the day was Secretary of the Navy Wilbur. Over the inspiring scene floated silvery captive balloons. At a bugle signal they rose, lifting the flags which had been concealed in the monument, and out flew forty-eight pairs of carrier pigeons to speed the message of good will to every state in the union. The sculptor’s contribution had been to scatter poppies over the green around the memorial as an expression of his own feeling for the soldiers and sailors who had given their lives for the United States. When it was his turn to speak he said:

It would be impossible for me to express the pleasure I feel and the gratitude to God that I am able today to deliver to you and through you to Newark and to America this memorial monument to the people who have founded and protected a new freedom of the world.

The design in its dramatic sense is conceived as a moment of crisis when the life of the state is threatened and depicts America’s manner of meeting such a crisis. It is a memorial to soldiers and sailors. It is a monument to the fortitude of the American people. It is located here because here Washington stood. Here he many times assembled his troops. Here Lafayette was received by your forefathers, and the building of this monument was prophesied. Here Jackson met your citizens, as did Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt and the other great leaders. All these staunch souls foregathered here on the very ground whereon this design is set, to discuss their course or part or, if necessary, pay sacrifice to national service.

The design itself represents a great spearhead, consistent with the character of Military Park. Upon the field of this spearhead we have placed a great Tudor sword, its blade the pool, its hilt the monument representing the American nation at a crisis, answering the call to arms.

As news of the unveiling spread through the country, with descriptions of the impressive ceremony in the newspapers, a flood of congratulatory letters came in, some from old friends, some from strangers, many from distinguished sources. All criticism of the sculptor who had undertaken two big jobs at once was now forgotten. He was assured that such a work of art was well worth waiting for. One of the letters was from Robert Baillie, most valued by the sculptor because of its human quality and because the writer had worked in the studio and understood him and what he had been trying to do. Baillie wrote:

Mrs. Baillie and myself want to say how much we thought of the group and the unveiling ceremony. It was simply glorious in spite of the rain. I liked what you said, and Mr. Lum’s acceptance was well worded; but what appealed to me most was the message from the governor of Georgia. I think that was the most sincere tribute to your efforts that I have heard at any time, and well it may be so since they now know what they have lost. You certainly have made a warm spot in the hearts of Newark’s citizens and one that will not be forgotten by them. I am sure that you have had many letters of congratulations but none, I can assure you, more sincere than ours.