One of the amazing things about him is that his art work always seemed to survive his other projects. Soon after moving up from New York he built a temporary studio out of glass cold-bed frames and there began a monument for North Carolina of the first soldier killed on the Southern side in the War between the States. He also started a creative “pipe dream” in marble called “Orpheus and Eurydice.” The boy who had been guiding the oxen for much of the heavy work on the place was asked to pose for Orpheus. His wife’s remarks, as repeated by Bill the husband, were striking. When she was informed of his new and startling occupation she demanded, “Did you have to stand in your underwear?” “No,” he said, “I just had to take everything off.” She prefaced her critique with a ladylike sniff. “Well,” she said knowingly, “you must have been a sight.... Just a perfect sight!” At this time a location for the permanent studio was chosen across the Rippowam River, nearly half a mile from the house. The corner rock was christened in champagne, accompanied by a stirring speech from Colonel Whitman. For years the only way of reaching the studio by carriage or automobile was through a cement-based ford, devised by Gutzon. There was a swing bridge for pedestrians. At the very outset of the work Gutzon had brought out his architect friend William Price of Rosedale, near Philadelphia, who had helped him with the Newark Lincoln and other work. On the river, at some distance below the ford, a group of campfire girls used to have a summer camp under the guidance of Mrs. Lanier, whose husband was the son of Sidney Lanier, the poet. On Sunday mornings the sculptor used to give the girls talks on art and life which are still remembered. The studio was built entirely of stone from huge, pinkish granite boulders which Gutzon had located within a few hundred feet of his location half buried in the soil. These were dug out, cut and scraped by a crew of Italian stonecutters who came from a neighboring town the first of every week and returned on Saturday, camping out in the woods near the work. The fireplace was unique. It was made to accommodate six-to eight-foot logs and was open to a height of ten feet from the floor, where sandstone blocks formed the mantel. The size of the building was forty by sixty feet, and the style was Tudor Gothic. When it was time to lay the sills of the studio doors, before the roof with its heavy steel was up, Gutzon invited the officers of the Masonic Grand Lodge of both Connecticut and New York, together with members of his own Howard Lodge, to take part in the dedication. It was a grand affair although something merely on the rim of the arts. Gutzon was gradually increasing his interest in other matters. For one thing, he was being inducted into a knowledge of the working of an elected group in a community, chosen to govern the finances and public interests of the electors. This was his conception of the meaning of politics.