Give the man room

by Robert J. Casey; Mary Montgomery Borglum

He then told me that he had recently enlarged a tunnel through a ledge of granite only a few inches, and that by arranging his drilling and adjusting the charges of dynamite, he was literally able to cut off six or eight inches of the main ledge as cleanly as if it had been channeled.

Of course anybody who knows anything about granite knows that it splits easily in some directions and in others is stubborn and cranky. I spoke of this and he said he had found means of overcoming that trouble.

“Where I cross the grain of the granite,” he said, “I put my drill holes closer together. While I drilled my holes to the same depth I did not place my dynamite at the bottom of each one, but scattered the charge, zigzagged it up and down the wall. Then I measured my charge carefully, kept it so light that the six-inch shell often only cracked the stone loose and sometimes a hand bar would be required to release it.”

If ever I had that gentleman’s name and address I have lost it, but that night in the lamp room I projected the photographs of my models of Lee, Jackson and Davis on Stone Mountain, which was a little over eleven hundred feet from our location. The slide was small enough so that I could hold it in the hollow of my hand, but the picture projected without distortion over nearly an acre. We studied it together. It was this traveling engineer who gave me the assurance and impetus that resulted in the practical use of dynamite in the carving of gigantic figures, in dimensions to harmonize with the colossal thought and life of our day.

I spoke of this experience to a great friend of the mountain memorial idea—the late Coleman Dupont—and, following his suggestion, I communicated with the Dupont powder people at Wilmington, requesting that one of their experts be sent to Stone Mountain to instruct me and my assistants in the use of explosives. They responded very graciously and sent a man who, I believe, was on special duty in Florida. So it was that the amazing, almost fantastic idea of carving with dynamite came into being.

A charming letter from the Belgian engineer has recently come to light, written after the visit referred to above. His name was Jean Vanophem, and he appears to have been summoned back to Belgium. He did not have time to visit Stone Mountain again.

Mr. Tucker remembers that the Dupont man was recalled after a few days at Tucker’s own request, because he insisted on using too large a charge—one or two sticks of half-pound strength—whereas Mr. Tucker had found out that a half ounce was a successful charge. Mr. Tucker, after much experimenting, trained one of his crew in the use of dynamite so that the man, Cliff Davis, became such an expert in this artistic form of blasting that he was known as “Dynamite Davis.” Cliff could place a row of charges, draw a line on the rock under them and make bets that the result of the explosion would not be more than three inches from the line.

It soon became apparent that the women of the Atlanta chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy alone could never raise funds for the tremendous undertaking, estimates for which ranged from two to three and a half million dollars.

The first voluntary contribution had been $5,000 from J. S. Cobb, a North Carolinian as was his friend W. W. Fuller, both of whom were connected with the American Tobacco Company. Forrest Adair, one of the first and most loyal supporters of the memorial, succeeded in raising a few thousand dollars for the most pressing necessities—lumber, compressor, electric motor, etc. Venable and Gutzon both advanced large sums for materials, the sculptor going even more deeply into debt. His Stamford property was heavily mortgaged. It was characteristic of him not to ask pay for services until creditors were making such insistent demands that he was obliged to take action of some kind. This led to misunderstandings. Unfriendly persons called him mercenary. He resented the charge and was called irascible. And, bitterly denying it, he proved that he was.

It was decided to invite some of the bankers and businessmen of Atlanta, as well as other prominent Southerners interested in the Confederate cause, to serve on the executive board of the Stone Mountain Confederate Memorial Association. Neither the name nor the constitution of the original organization was changed in any way, and the United Daughters of the Confederacy continued to comprise the main body of the membership, annual dues for which were fixed at five dollars. It was distinctly understood that the men were to help only in financing the design and plan created by Gutzon Borglum and adopted by the Atlanta chapter. It was not a question of a civic committee engaging a sculptor to carry out a design made by someone else.