from the first cut of the chisel to this final finial, every stone bears witness to the shared history of stonecutters, carvers, and masons.

Dennis Rude recalls Jahn’s “Coming to America” story, Part II: how we ended up taking Jahn back to the world.

I’d used a lot of different repair materials, but I’d never experienced anything anywhere near as good as Jahn Mortar.

I called around and soon learned that the laborers had gone on strike. Well, it was no wonder that the cathedral was a ghost town. Without laborers, you can’t get anything done. You can’t mix cement. You can’t make mortar for setting stone. You can’t build a cathedral. Nothing gets done without labor.

He was at the shop every morning by 6AM—and he didn’t drive. I’d arrive, and he’d be sitting in the shop, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes—without fail. Except for three weeks a year, Frank never drank. He was sober as a judge for 49 weeks.

By the 1970s the Watts Towers had become a cultural heritage site, and later a hybrid state park—with the City of Los Angeles responsible for its maintenance. In the mid 80’s the city began conservation work, but the repairs failed almost as soon as they went up. That’s where I came in.

As a headquarters, the church’s four entryways were manned by sentries. These young soldiers literally made their mark on Pohick Church, and that’s where we come into the story.

There are some projects a stonecutter never forgets— like the elephants we carved for Morton Lapides and his wife, Pam.