For example, he was a member of the New York City Parks Association for a dozen years, and until the day he quit he was a factor in keeping the parks free from injurious exploitation. He organized a bus company in Stamford. He somehow became a leader of the Progressive party in Connecticut. He conducted an investigation of airplane manufacture during the First World War. In the same war he gave the use of his grounds and what money he could raise for the recruiting of a Czecho-Slovak expeditionary force. He designed roads and reconstructed historic old buildings. He contrived waterways and beautified highways and rivers. He designed coins and medals. He invented projection apparatus and hoisting machinery. He wrote magazine and newspaper articles and built up an amazing file of information about sculpture. He invented an airplane. He laid out a breakwater for Corpus Christi, Texas. He experimented with dynamite so long that he could calculate stone removal in ounces. And as he continued his work of mountain carving he made himself an engineer in a new and difficult trade. It is interesting to note that he did all of these things well. Some have said that he had a touchy temper, but those of us who knew him, say, over forty years didn’t think so. He could never understand that money might have a different value to other people than it had to him. He would get annoyed when the treasurer of one of his projects would hesitate to empty the treasury for a power plant or some other machinery at the moment he needed it. He got genuinely angry only at people he suspected of being dishonest. Neither did he make many enemies. One man, long a member of the executive committee of the Mount Rushmore National Memorial Commission, probably knew him longer in irritating circumstances than anyone else on earth. Once he came down from Mount Rushmore to Rapid City frothing at the mouth. “All he knows about money for this business is that somebody has to dig it up,” he roared. “He thinks I make it out of something just because he needs it. He’d bust the whole state of South Dakota in two weeks just because he needs some dynamite or an A-rig.” “But,” someone inquired, “do you think he’ll get this memorial finished?” “Hell, yes!” he roared. “And nobody else could do it either!” One is surprised that such a diversified character could have had much time left to spend in sculpture. As a matter of fact, he probably did more of it than any other individual in his profession and time. He was a prodigious worker as well as a talented dilettante in fields where he thought his influence needed. His paintings between 1890 and 1901 seem to have been virtually numberless. Many of them are appearing now and then, more valuable than ever.