The Carving of Mount Rushmore

by Rex Alan Smith

Well, the Ziolkowskis dined that night with the Borglums, but they invited Christine and me to come up for supper on the next evening. It was a crude cabin with no running water, and the supper was just a lap-supper. Just the same, when they greeted us Ziolkowski—a most handsome man—was wearing a beautifully embroidered shirt with great flowing sleeves and he had on a white sash, and Mrs. Ziolkowski was wearing an elegant evening gown. He said, “Would you like a drink?” And I say, “You bet!” Well! He started mixing up Manhattans, and after about six shakers of ’em we really were getting acquainted! With that there began a friendship that was to remain firm and warm until Emil’s death some thirty-eight years later. Ziolkowski and Borglum quickly became good friends, also. They were much alike, these two—strong-minded, opinionated men who heard their own drummers and marched to them, each driven by a creativity