Stan got a brief interview. Casimir said that now that the face was done (dedicated in 1998), the next phase has been to move material away from the horse's head, creating stone benches to step back the massive mountain to within feet of its ultimate shape. Certainly not as exciting as blasting and burning eyebrows and eye balls on the nine-story face, but necessary to the final outcome. . . whenever that might be.
Exactly five years later, Stan made exactly the same hike, this time with Kathleen, and there, at the same chain link fence at the summit, at exactly the same spot, stood Casimir Ziolkowski, having a smoke.
"Hello, sir!" is how Stan greeted the quiet, unassuming man in work clothes, not trying to pronounce Mister Ziolkowski. "We spoke here five years ago . . . and you haven't changed a bit."
"Well," the tanned, wiry stone carver grinned. "I do have a new hat!"
Doing some quick calculating, Casimir figured that since that day five years ago, they had moved 200,000 tons of rock off the mountain. For comparison, a typical loaded highway dump truck carries 15 tons. From a distance, it sure didn't look like 200,000 tons were missing.
But when Stan got home, he looked at his old pictures. At first glance, it appeared that the monument hasn't changed any more than Casimir has in the past five years. But comparing two photos (above--click to enlarge it) you can see they've cut away a big part of the mountainside, removing the rock that doesn't belong in the Korczak sculpture. Go the the web site to read about the drilling and blasting process.
When he arrived at Crazy Horse, Korczak, almost 40, willingly had dedicated the rest of his life to keeping his promises to the American Indian people. About the last thing he expected was to get married and have 10 children. The turn of events made him equally happy and proud, and Crazy Horse became a family story.
Several of the children -- five boys and five girls -- have names reflecting their Polish ancestry of which the Boston-born sculptor was very proud.
Later, when there were so many Ziolkowskis in school at one time, Korczak decided the practical thing to do was to open his own school. So he moved a one-room school house to Crazy Horse, where several of the youngsters got their grade school education from a certified teacher.
The self-taught sculptor also was a teacher at heart, and he schooled his family in every aspect of Crazy Horse, including the special skills of mountain carving.
The boys grew up helping him on the mountain, the girls assisting Ruth in the ever expanding visitor complex. Everyone helped with the big dairy farm, the lumber mill and the multitude of other year-around activities at Crazy Horse, where, since 1947, the construction has never stopped.
As they reached adulthood, the Ziolkowski sons and daughters demonstrated that Korczak and Ruth imparted to their family not only knowledge and skill, but also a deep love of the Crazy Horse dream. All have been free to leave, but seven remain involved in the project today, working under Ruth's direction. Grandchildren now help, too.
The second generation of Ziolkowskis began writing a new chapter of the unique Crazy Horse story when Korczak died October 20, 1982. His parting words to his wife were, "You must work on the mountain-but go slowly so you do it right." The torch was passed, and Ruth and her sons and daughters, together with the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation board of directors, now are guiding Crazy Horse and the ongoing progress.
