They Say Elephants Never Forget—And We’ll Never Forget Making These
There are some projects a stonecutter never forgets— like the elephants we carved for Morton Lapides and his wife, Pam.
Mr. Lapides ran a company called Allegheny Beverage Corporation, and when we met in the early 80’s he was well on his way to turning it into a billion-dollar enterprise. He and his wife certainly lived like billionaires. Their estate sat on 11 acres, most of it surrounded by the Chesapeake Bay. There were formal gardens, swimming pools, tennis courts, a guesthouse. You get the idea. The house was full of the details and workmanship that people “just don’t see anymore.”
The Lapideses were adding a space for formal entertaining. It had a kitchen and bath, but the main area was a dining room. It must have been 45-feet long, with French doors lining the walls on both sides and framing one of the most breathtaking views of the Chesapeake Bay that I’ve ever seen. Overlooking the space was a small balcony, where musicians would entertain guests. What made it even more impressive was the ceiling—more than 30 feet high. The room just soared.
Morton wanted a focal point--a limestone fireplace leading all the way to that ceiling. Its oversized Indiana limestone mantel would seem to rest on the shoulders of two huge African elephants, their faces looking into the room—and, the Lapideses commanded, those faces could not be the same.
After our initial meeting, I gave them my quote. They had met with a few other groups that could do the work, but I don’t know if any of them truly understood what the Lapideses were after. Morton called me one day and told me that my quote was significantly higher than the others. I just told him there was a good reason for that. He never asked what the reason was; he just asked if I could have it finished by October 1st. It was early July when we were talking. I told him I could finish by the first week of October. He hired me. And sure enough, we were there October 7th, wiping down the last stone with a wet sponge.
The Lapideses had high standards for workmanship. When the kitchen exhaust fan didn’t move a tissue on the stovetop, Morton fired everyone involved. Pam was the same. She had the ornate wood floor reinstalled at least a few times. Looking back, I think we were the only contractors they did not replace.
Our timeline was too tight for a full-size model, so we used a clay one not much bigger than my hands and we got to work. As you see in the pictures, we drew lines on the stones, and carved them freehand where they lay. It was Constantine Seferlis, Frank Opperman, Ray Canetti—three of the best carvers in the business—and me.
We got a little help from Mr. Lapides too, especially when the faces began to appear. He wanted the expressions to be just right, so his driver would bring him to the shop every other day. We’d hoist the elephants upright, and he’d join us in that dust, pacing back-and-forth in his custom-tailored dark suits and designer silk ties. He’d say something like, “Change this eye just a little bit . . ,” so we’d work with him directing. I think Morton was even more proud of those elephants than we were.
Of course, we couldn’t let any weight actually rest on the elephants. The mantle and cladding would’ve crushed them. So, we built a steel framework to support the stone and hung pieces as they were finished.
You might be surprised, but the most difficult part of the job was moving the elephants—they weighed at least a ton apiece. We rigged up a chain fall using an I-beam and scaffold bucks. We’d move each one five feet or so, then rig up another buck to move it a few more feet, over and over. Installation took nearly two weeks.
The Lapideses were thrilled. We stayed in contact, and the next summer they invited me and my wife, Carolyn, for a sail up the Severn River. Over drinks, they told me how much their guests admired the work and how often people asked if they’d brought stone carvers in from Italy. Morton told me , “Dennis, no one believes Americans did this work.”
Elephants are majestic creatures—smart, powerful, and graceful. Capturing that in stone was demanding—physically, intellectually, and creatively. It was a truly memorable experience.
Dennis Rude
Stonecutter & Owner of Cathedral Stone Products
