Stories in Stone: The Journey to Publishing

A journey that began several years ago has recently reached its end. That journey has led to the publication of my new book – Stories in Stone: Travels Through Urban Geology. A copy of it arrived in the mail the other day and it should be in book stores soon. The publisher is Walker & Company.

My interest in building stone began in 1986, when I first wrote about the sandstone used at my college. I realized I could make a connection between two passions of mine, geology and architecture. Furthermore, building stone was a way to tie together people and rock into compelling stories, what I later decided was John McPhee in reverse. Instead of going to the wilds to find geology, as McPhee did, I would go downtown to find the rocks and develop my stories from there.

Over the next ten years or so, I continued to seek out building stone stories, particularly in Seattle, where a series of rock-rich tunnels were built for public transportation. The stone was not only diverse it was beautiful. During the decade, I didn’t limit my geologic gazing to urban spaces. Living in Moab, Utah, I happened to notice that some rather stunning stone outcropped in the region. The red rock landscape made me even more fascinated with and passionate about geology so when my wife and I moved to Boston, I went into rock withdrawal.

I quickly turned back to my long interest in building stone and began to study the rocks that clad buildings in the Hub. I found sandstones, granites, slates, marbles, and travertine, and all of them had great geologic, as well as human, stories to tell. In 1997, I sold my first article on building stone, to the Harvard alumni magazine. Over the next few years, I wrote additional articles for in-flight magazines, newspapers, and kids magazines. Finally in 2005, I decided I either had to write a book or give up my interest in building stone.

I began by sending an eight-paragraph pitch to an agent a friend had recommend. She responded a day later and by the end of the week she had agreed to represent me. And then the work began. Ten, very long and often challenging months later my agent began to shop around the 57-page proposal she had helped me to write. About a week later we got our first response. Walker & Company liked the proposal. Within a few days several more publishers had expressed an interest. On September 28, 2006, we accepted Walker’s offer and I began work on the book.

Writing Stories in Stone has been a wonderful journey for me. Along the way, I have met architects, historians, librarians, geologists, quarry workers, and stone masons. I have been fortunate to work with a supportive, helpful, and encouraging editor. People have gone out of their way to help me track down papers, to take me out in the field, and to show me the inner workings of the quarry business. Over the next few weeks, I plan to write a series of posts about the book. I hope to include photos and maps, background on the chapters, and links to more information.

National Park stone: Mt. Rainier

I recently spent a very sunny weekend up at Mt. Rainier. We stayed at the Paradise Inn. Built during 1916 and 1917, the historic lodge is on the national register of historic places. It is an A-shaped building, a shape necessary to withstand the average of over 600 inches of snow per year. From a geologic point of view, the most impressive features are the three massive fireplaces, two in the main lobby and one in the kitchen.

Fireplace in Paradise Inn at Mt. Rainier

Each fireplace is made of various sized rough blocks of what appears to be granodiorite from the Tatoosh pluton. The pluton ranges in age between 26 and 14 million years old. I could not, however, find any information about which rock was used. The stones reportedly came from a local quarry.

One feature that stands out on several blocks is the row of drill holes. They show how the quarrymen made blocks by drilling a line of several-inch deep holes and dropping in two metal shims, each of which was bent at the top so the shims wouldn’t disappear into the cavity. He would then drop a wedge of steel between the shims and pound the row of plugs until the rock split on the perforation.

Close up of Mr. Tarbox’s plug and feather quarrying method

Quarrymen call this the plug and feather method. It has used by stone masons for thousands of years though it has an interesting story in the US. According to quarry historians, a man named Mr. Tarbox introduced the method in this country in 1803. His work was noticed by a member of the commission to build a new jail in the Boston area, who tracked down Tarbox, hired him on spot, and got him to teach the method to other builders in the region. That knowledge spread quickly and soon the price of cut stone dropped appreciably.

The plug and feather method is still in use though it has been modified significantly with hydraulic air drills and hydraulic expanders. In places such as the Indiana limestone building district, quarrymen no longer need to swing a hammer.

Down lower on Mt. Rainier, at Longmire, another building makes use of the local stone, too. The visitor center is built of large boulders that must have been collected from the nearby river. The boulders are andesite, granodiorite, welded tuff, and rhyolite. Builders even used the boulders to make the chimney.

Longmire visitor center at Mt. Rainier

These buildings are two of many wonderful national park structures that use local rock, most often with rough cut faces or as boulders. Does anyone have any other favorite national park buildings with local materials?