some years ago when the A-frame tipi structure at the top of the mountain collapsed, sending the tram (and cable and A-frame and platform from above) hurtling to the floor of the canyon. Borglum was waiting to ride on the tram that day—he was always zipping up and down or hovering in it, studying some aspect of the work or hauling up VIPs—but the tram had just been loaded with casks of water, so Borglum waited and watched it fall. He still rides it daily.
But few of the other workers do, especially after a second accident earlier this summer in which the loosening setscrew had let go some two hundred feet from the top, sending the tram with five men aboard hurtling down toward the hoist house below. They’d rigged a hand brake since the first accident years ago, but the brake quickly overheated, so the only way they could slow the tram cage was by coming down in a series of spurts and jerks, pausing to let the brake cool, thenspurting and jerking their way down again. Then Gus Schramm, who must weigh 225 pounds, pulled on the chain so hard that the brake arm broke off completely, sending the cage hurtling down the last hundred feet or so. Luckily, Matt Riley in the hoist house had the presence of mind to brace a fat board against the cable drum, which slowed them slightly, but the five men still went flying out of the tram cage at the end, three landing on the loading platform, another on a roof, the last man in a tree. Lincoln Borglum, senior man on the site that day, sent the five men to the hospital for observation, but six men ended up spending the night there. Glenn Jones, the man assigned to drive the others to Rapid City, decided to get a good night’s sleep and some painkiller at the hospital.
In the summer, the workers are expected to be at work at 7 a.m. (7:30 in the winter), but Paha Sapa and the other powdermen are usually there by 6:30, since they have to start early in preparing the dynamite charges that will soon be placed in holes being drilled that morning. The first blow of the day will be at noon, while the drillers are off the face having lunch. Paha Sapa knows that “Whiskey Art” Johnson is already up there with his assistant, cutting the dynamite into smaller segments—sixty or seventy short sticks for each shot—and that Paha Sapa’s assistant will be there soon.
Reaching the halfway point on the 506 steps, Paha Sapa looks up at the three heads.
It has been a productive year so far, with more than 15,000 tons of granite removed—enough to pave a four-acre field with granite blocks a foot thick. Much of that rubble came from Washington’s chest, which is taking shape nicely, but they’ve also cleared out many tons from beneath Jefferson’s chin (where he now takes shape in his new spot to Washington’s left, looking out from the Monument) and in roughing out Abraham Lincoln’s forehead, eyebrows, and nose.
The majority of the rubble, though, came from the frenzied work on Thomas Jefferson’s face, which Borglum is rushing to get ready for a possible visit and dedication in late August by no less than President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
The presidential visit has been rumored for months, but now it seems certain to happen in just over a week—on Sunday, August 30.
Still climbing with the heavy box on his shoulder, Paha Sapa wonders if this should be the time for him to act.
Paha Sapa has no wish to harm President Roosevelt, but he still has every intention of blowing the other three presidents’ heads off the face of the Six Grandfathers. And would it be more symbolic, somehow, if he eradicated these
wasichu
excresences while the president of the United States sat in his open touring car below?
Paha Sapa knows that Borglum is planning a symbolic blasting as part of President Roosevelt’s dedication ceremony. His son, Lincoln, has already been directed to find the best way to drape the huge American flag, now in storage, over Jefferson’s face, the flag to be swung to one
But few of the other workers do, especially after a second accident earlier this summer in which the loosening setscrew had let go some two hundred feet from the top, sending the tram with five men aboard hurtling down toward the hoist house below. They’d rigged a hand brake since the first accident years ago, but the brake quickly overheated, so the only way they could slow the tram cage was by coming down in a series of spurts and jerks, pausing to let the brake cool, thenspurting and jerking their way down again. Then Gus Schramm, who must weigh 225 pounds, pulled on the chain so hard that the brake arm broke off completely, sending the cage hurtling down the last hundred feet or so. Luckily, Matt Riley in the hoist house had the presence of mind to brace a fat board against the cable drum, which slowed them slightly, but the five men still went flying out of the tram cage at the end, three landing on the loading platform, another on a roof, the last man in a tree. Lincoln Borglum, senior man on the site that day, sent the five men to the hospital for observation, but six men ended up spending the night there. Glenn Jones, the man assigned to drive the others to Rapid City, decided to get a good night’s sleep and some painkiller at the hospital.
In the summer, the workers are expected to be at work at 7 a.m. (7:30 in the winter), but Paha Sapa and the other powdermen are usually there by 6:30, since they have to start early in preparing the dynamite charges that will soon be placed in holes being drilled that morning. The first blow of the day will be at noon, while the drillers are off the face having lunch. Paha Sapa knows that “Whiskey Art” Johnson is already up there with his assistant, cutting the dynamite into smaller segments—sixty or seventy short sticks for each shot—and that Paha Sapa’s assistant will be there soon.
Reaching the halfway point on the 506 steps, Paha Sapa looks up at the three heads.
It has been a productive year so far, with more than 15,000 tons of granite removed—enough to pave a four-acre field with granite blocks a foot thick. Much of that rubble came from Washington’s chest, which is taking shape nicely, but they’ve also cleared out many tons from beneath Jefferson’s chin (where he now takes shape in his new spot to Washington’s left, looking out from the Monument) and in roughing out Abraham Lincoln’s forehead, eyebrows, and nose.
The majority of the rubble, though, came from the frenzied work on Thomas Jefferson’s face, which Borglum is rushing to get ready for a possible visit and dedication in late August by no less than President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
The presidential visit has been rumored for months, but now it seems certain to happen in just over a week—on Sunday, August 30.
Still climbing with the heavy box on his shoulder, Paha Sapa wonders if this should be the time for him to act.
Paha Sapa has no wish to harm President Roosevelt, but he still has every intention of blowing the other three presidents’ heads off the face of the Six Grandfathers. And would it be more symbolic, somehow, if he eradicated these
wasichu
excresences while the president of the United States sat in his open touring car below?
Paha Sapa knows that Borglum is planning a symbolic blasting as part of President Roosevelt’s dedication ceremony. His son, Lincoln, has already been directed to find the best way to drape the huge American flag, now in storage, over Jefferson’s face, the flag to be swung to one
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