The sculptor came out of the war and the aircraft investigations heavily in debt. Fortunately he received some large commissions for carving public memorials, but the sponsors of these projects wanted to have his exclusive attention. There was the customary trouble of the setting for one finished piece, and the creation of another, the Wars of America group, was a matter that seemed impossible to finish. As a result Stone Mountain, which seems to have become his most important interest, was a long time hearing from him. Jesse Tucker, back from the wars, paid a visit to the old workings and made an earnest report. “The stairs and scaffolding need immediate repairs if they are to stay where we put them,” Captain Tucker said. “In fact, I should earnestly ask you to come down here if you don’t want to lose everything you accomplished before the war.” There wasn’t much more money available. People digging down in their pockets to support a world war didn’t have much change for a memorial to the Confederacy. That had waited until now; it could wait further. But lack of cash did not delay Gutzon after he had heard from Tucker. There never had been any cash anyway. When Borglum arrived at Stone Mountain in the summer of 1921 he was filled with new enthusiasms, new ideas that had come to him during the war years and during his struggles with headstrong committeemen who couldn’t decide what they wanted. The sculptor looked at the granite mountain and took a deep breath. After all, this was home. This was one place in America where he could never have harsh words with anybody. Here were people who thought as he did--people willing to sacrifice anything they had, to glorify the spirit of those who had gone. Something more than a tremendous picture of the Confederate Army was to be left here, Gutzon decided. He needed a studio in this area; so he would build one at the foot of the mountain--a huge one made of permanent materials. And when the project was finished this building could be converted into a vast art school of a sort much needed in the South. The students, he declared, would be able to learn about sculpture by looking at it, by being a part of a great work as they did in medieval Italy. He designed a great hall to be cut into the rock below the marching statues. This was to be a memorial to the women of the South and a depository for their records. In addition to that he was planning an open-air amphitheater at the base of the mountain. He gave this some tests. Marie Tiffany of the Metropolitan Opera Company came down to sing for a select few and demonstrated the perfect acoustics of the place. This will be a shrine to gladden the soul, said Gutzon. And it looked as if it might be. For a year the sculptor was forced to commute between Stamford and Atlanta. But with Tucker looking after the work on the cliff it began to progress. Sam Venable and Forrest Adair took up the assignment of raising more money.