Divine Stone

“That’s my stone, I’ll be able to say to my grandchildren”

Carol Hazel was never meant for “women’s work.”

As a stonecutter at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, Carol said, “This is a good job for a woman. It’s not like being a secretary, scratching eyes out to get to the ‘Suite.’ I don’t have to sit behind a desk and worry about my bosses’ coffee or wife or getting hemorrhoids. I’m a stonecutter. I put on my jeans, boots and hard hat if I have to go up top. When I got this job, my mother and my grandmother said this was a man’s job. I said, ‘Pickin’ cotton was man’s work, too, only you have nothing to show for it.’ I made my mother see the light. And I do fine with the men. They respect me, I respect them. Come over at lunch and you’ll find us playing dominoes together.” Carol’s comments came from a 1987 issue of the Cathedral newsletter entitled “Me and Stone.”

The Bronx native came to the Cathedral through the Non-Traditional Employment for Women program, which continues to train women for jobs in the construction fields. “I wanted to paint the Brooklyn Bridge,” Carol thinks back, but in 1984 Frank Walcott, the Stoneyard manger, offered her a job as an apprentice stonecutter.

“The stone got me. It fascinated me the first time I saw it,” Carol continued in the newsletter article, “I saw the guys working there and thought, ‘I can do that.’ Frank Walcott and Alan Bird had confidence in me. And before I knew it, I’m sitting in front of this stone.

“It (the stone) comes from the sea, from layers and layers of sedimentary rock. It smells when you cut it from all the dead fish and everything that’s settled inside. It has the odor of ages coming to you from way back in time. And now I’m married to my stone. I talk to it. I pray over it. I say, it’s just you and me, stone.” 

Carol lives in the same apartment in the University Heights section of the Bronx where I photographed her and her children, Pearl, John, “Peaches” and Kevin, almost 40 years ago for that article, and where we recently reconnected. Both times I had to lug my heavy camera gear up several flights of stairs of the five-floor walkup building. Carol spends some time in the Bronx but also shuttles between her apartment and family in North Carolina.

Seated in her living room, Carol talks about the “music” in the stone, “We (all) have our own style. I used to watch Eddie (Pizarro) and José (Tapia). I always loved the way José did his boasting pattern; if you listen to it, it’s like a beat; almost like a song. Each one had its own song, had its own rhythm. I always ‘heard’ boasting patterns — I didn’t just see them.” Carol remembers, “I could hear someone boasting and know who was doing it just by the rhythm of the beat. It would make beautiful music and you dance to the beat of the pattern.” 

Although it’s been many years since she picked up a mallet and chisel, “If I attempted to do it now (boasting), my sound would change based off things that I’ve gone through.” There would be new and different sounds “based on our ages — but it would still play music.” She still has her mallet and a set of chisels in her living room should she want to test her theory.

In her years at the Stoneyard, Carol was a young working mother of four children. In the same Cathedral newsletter Carol wrote, “Born in New York, thirteen when I got pregnant with my first, sixteen with my second, nineteen with my third, twenty-one when I had the fourth—a baby raising babies, all by different fathers… And I’m raising my children well, lifting myself up, doing it without public assistance, all because I’m here in this church cutting stone.”

Carol managed her work and family responsibilities with a strict routine and help from her mother who lived nearby on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. Carol would pick up the children after work from her mother’s apartment and sometimes, Carol says, they were latch-key kids. Her daughter Peaches “was the boss of the house” and made sure all her siblings stayed in line, Carol recalls. “You do what you do as a parent.”

Her oldest son, John Jones, sometimes gave her problems and “the remedy was to take him with me (to the Stoneyard),” Carol remembers.

John recently said, “I was explosive, very emotional when I was young. Going anywhere with just my mother calmed me down.” He was the only one of Carol’s children to regularly visit the Stoneyard. “I knew I was walking into something important. I was on my best behavior. I didn’t give her no problems,” he added.  “She had a mission and I wasn’t going to act up. Mom figured out the ‘formula’ (with John).”

He recalls, Frank Walcott (the Stoneyard manager) “gave me a job on the first day.” Walcott would give John a few dollars for any odd jobs to keep him busy. 

“If there was nothing to do, I would go through the Cathedral – every crevice.” John adds that the church was “so majestic.” 

John became good friends with some of the Stoneyard crew. “Eddie Pizarro and José Tapia were all receptive to him being there,” according to Carol, adding that Frank Walcott was like a “father to us,” and Dean (James Parks) Morton “was very good to me” and took a special liking to John. 
 
To Carol, the “Cathedral had a family feel – we were family, too. I loved the job, I loved the work, the people. She calls apprentice stonecutter Dwayne Crawford a “little brother.” 

Because of her hard work and diligence, Carol was selected for a training program at City and Guilds of London Art School along with fellow apprentice Joseph Chifriller. The art school has a long and deep history of teaching architectural stone carving dating back over 130 years. According to Joe, he and Carol studied there from September 1987 to May 1988.

The Cathedral newsletter profile also made Carol a minor celebrity. The article was reprinted in an Aug. 1988 issue of Reader’s Digest magazine and also in the Non-Traditional Employment for Women newsletter. And the local news media frequently interviewed the family, according to John.

In 1988 Carol felt it was time to move on. She wanted a few more construction-related jobs under her belt, and she had a desire to start a women’s painting company. She worked as a laborer for Tishman Local 59 and still considers herself a role model for women in construction. 

She became part of Harlem Fight Back, a local community-based organization aimed at getting construction jobs for Blacks, Spanish-surnamed, and other minorities in New York City. Carol also took on the role of arranging “shaping” at construction sites. 

As Carol explains, “shaping” is an organized group of workers visiting construction sites in search of work. Years prior, Carol and a group from the Non-Traditional Employment for Women program “shaped” the Cathedral Stoneyard which led to Carol eventually landing a job there. 

After a few years Carol changed direction and decided to go back to school. “One door closes, another door opens,” she relates about attending Mercy College in Westchester for an associate’s degree with an emphasis on alcohol and substance abuse, and a Bachelor’s of Science degree in Behavioral Science. Carol says that certain aspects of her degrees were “practical — just like stone.”

Carol later worked with special education children at the Young Adult Institute, now YAI, an organization serving people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. Her last job before retirement in 2011 was at the Nelson Avenue Shelter, where Carol was a Youth Enrichment Coordinator. 

Over 20 years after she put down her tools and left the Cathedral, Carol was an inspiration for a children’s book, Me and Momma and Big John, by Mara Rockliff and published in 2012 by Candlewick Press with illustrations by William Low.

Author Mara Rockliff explains, “I first got in touch with Carol 20 years ago, after I read about her in a book about New York. I’d been interested in the Cathedral and the stonecutters ever since I went there on a sixth-grade field trip, and I thought it would be fun to write a story from the point of view of a child whose mother was helping to finish building the Cathedral. Carol and I talked on the phone once or twice, and she shared some wonderful details (the sounds of the tools, the smell of the stone) that ended up in the book.” 

Carol and her sometimes “problem” son, John, are the main characters. The book relates John’s visit to the Stoneyard to see a stone his mother has been working on and wants to show him. The rich illustrations show the young boy stepping into the busy Stoneyard and initially being confused and disappointed that his mother’s painstaking work on a single stone isn’t visibly marked. 

According to John, the book did convey his feelings as a boy watching his mother’s work. “With my young eyes, I didn’t understand the process,” he says. His mother’s stone “looks like the others – how will people know it’s her art?” he thought. “I remember the piece my mother made, the work she put into it to get those dimensions.”

While John feels the book embellished and perhaps idealized his mother’s work, he says, “I love the way they broke it down.” In John’s view, the book caught the essence of Carol and her family.

In the book, and now to the adult John, the young son eventually understands the pride in contributing to something larger than himself and his mother’s single stone. John realized that the Cathedral’s magnificence lay in all the pieces coming together as one great whole. 

The book won a Golden Kite Award from the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. 

For her recent birthday Carol had a multi-generational Zoom with her four children, 12 grandchildren and one great-grandchild. They played an online version of Deal or No Deal and Carol, no surprise, was a big jackpot winner.

“I feel proud of where I am and where my children are and my grandchildren,” said Carol. “The Cathedral is part of my legacy. As long as there’s a stone up there with my number, my boasting pattern and my name on it, then that is part of my legacy.”

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• Cathedral Newsletter Vol 2 Number 3 June 1987
• Me and Momma and Big John – Divine Stone

 

Reredos – The superstructure at the back of an altar containing images. Reredoses – plural in case you were wondering. A reredos is a decorative screen above and behind the high altar. The reredos was structurally separate from the altar ( as compared to retables, a similar paneled, decorative screen attached to the altar back). Highly carved stone or wood panels provide niches for statues and the religious iconography.

Listening to a Cathedral presentation recently, an audience member asked what happened to the reredos. The answer given was that the statues were retained and kept (they are now in the crypt), but the reredos was plaster and was removed.

It was indeed not plaster but of a very fine stone called Pierre de Lens, a French limestone from the quarry in Mouleon, France. This creamy white Oolitic limestone has a compact grain structure very suitable for carving and sculpture. We even have the names of the architectural stone cutters that did the work. The firm of Barr, Thaw & Fraser employed Charles Jensen, J.G. H. Hamilton, C. Price, W. T. Scott, L.Lentelli and O. Burdett on the Cathedral’s ornamental stonework during this period. The reredos was underway in 1909.

After the entire length of the Cathedral was opened in 1941, the scale of the reredos was considered inappropriate. If Heins and Lafarge’s plan for the Cathedral would have been realized it may not have been considered so. Cram’s nave was extended 100 feet longer than Heins and LaFarge’s design. Around 1945, Canon Edward West led a movement to remove the reredos and Bishop Manning agreed.

The statues were moved to the crypt and the stone screen was demolished.

Now an interesting story emerges. During the early 1980s, when the Stoneyard Institute was at work on the southwest tower, St. Paul’s tower, a young apprentice stonecarver was taken with a pile of stone at the east end of the field adjacent to the north transept. This pile was the remains of the reredos. How they stayed on the Cathedral grounds for almost 40 years is a mystery. Joseph Kincannon took a piece to carve. He researched and began to carve a misericord. These have been used since the 11th century. It is a small wooden ledge, often intricately carved, on the underside of a hinged church stall seat. It acts as a subtle support for monks or clergy to lean against while standing during long liturgical services.

Joseph Kincannon presented this misericord to his good friend and colleague, Master Mason Stephen Boyle. While still an apprentice carver, Kincannon considered it a breakthrough carving. He went on to be head carver and is now Chair of Stone Carving, teaching the next generation at the American College of Building Arts.

The misericord may be all that is left of the early reredos.

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• Previous Divine Stone story “Where Did The Reredos Go”

(This is the final story in Robert F. Rodriguez’ deep dive into the Portal of Paradise, the stunning sculptural work of Simon Verity and assistants.) – RM

Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni finish work on the Portal of Paradise

After completing the 14 carvings for the upper-rank figures of the Portal of Paradise, Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni still had much to do before they could finally pull down the scaffolding for the last time.

There were still several pedestals below the major-rank figures to carve, a decorative band on the top capitals needed carving and some naughty secrets and tributes required attention. Simon and Jean-Claude also decided to add color to the 3 ½-foot-tall upper-rank figures.

Senior Cathedral docent Tom Fedorek explains that in the Middle Ages, it was customary to paint the portal sculptures in bright colors. All the stone carvers working on the portal project employed the tools and techniques that built the great Medieval Gothic cathedrals, and painting was another way they carried on the traditions of their predecessors.

Simon made the paints himself, the colors derived from minerals. “I take the mineral crystals that are mentioned in the Book of Revelation,” Simon once said, (I use) “chrysoprase, malachite, beryl and work them into pigments to paint the figures. One should always use beautiful and rare materials in the creation of anything of honor.”

Twelve minerals are listed in Revelation, Book 21. Among them are jasper – usually red, yellow, brown or green in color; sapphire; chrysoprase – normally apple green to deep green in tone; amethyst; emerald, sardonyx – with shades of red to brown; and beryl – which is colorless, but often reveals hues of green, blue, yellow and pink.

Binders are the second component of paint, holding the pigment particles in a concentrated suspension and then keeping the color in place after the paint has dried. Historically, binders have included natural substances such as egg yolk (tempera), linseed and poppy seed oil, tree resins, animal glues, saliva, milk, gelatin, and even blood. Simon used casein, a derivative of milk, as his binding agent. 

Simon exchanged hammers and chisels for pigments and paintbrushes as he mixed his palette of colors into small paper or plastic coffee cups to paint the figures, adding deep colors of purple and emerald to the flowing robes, softer hues for the figures’ hair and even adding bright colors for the eyes. The paint is water-soluble and the once vibrant colors have softened and faded over time. The colors are more pronounced on the portal’s south side since it is out of direct sunlight most of the time.

Over the course of their work, Simon and Jean-Claude placed a number of tributes and secrets throughout the portal carvings. 

In at least two places, illustrations of carnal lust are carved in hard-to-locate spots. Simon and Jean Claude artistically incorporated these naughty scenes into the overall design, making them difficult to see without binoculars or a telephoto lens (or knowing exactly where to look).

Two other special carvings are visible on the north side of the portal. Tucked behind the left shoulder of the major-rank figure of Elisha is a tribute to stone carvers. A solitary figure with a large mallet and chisel toils away at a rough block of stone.

Directly across, just above Samuel’s right shoulder, is a moment frozen, a time stamp – a rendering of the unfinished Cathedral as it looked in the mid-1990s with the southwest tower rising – and the way it still looks today. The upper-rank figure of Samuel has one more secret. Jean-Claude Marchionni disclosed that his rather prominent schnozz served as the model for Samuel’s nose.

With the upper-rank figures all completed, there was still more carving work to be done. While the Stoneyard apprentices and Simon had carved most of the base pedestals and columns, three were either uncarved or unfinished. Jean-Claude took on the task of carving the pedestals beneath the major-rank figures of David and Amos/Hosea and finishing the carving below the figure of John the Baptist.

The pedestal beneath the major-rank figure of David shows him and a number of women celebrating the arrival of the Ark of the Covenant. Twelve musicians “making merry before the Lord with all their might, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals” also mark the scene. (2 Samuel 6:5) Elsewhere on the pedestal, we see a young David holding the head of the slain Goliath along with a Star of David.

The next pedestal shows the northern kingdom caught in a downward spiral of lawlessness and civil disorder. Following the Renaissance tradition of placing Biblical scenes in contemporary settings, Jean-Claude has transplanted the scene to modern New York City. It is a terrifying representation of the words of the prophets of doom. A bus and cars plunge into the water as the Brooklyn Bridge collapses.  Further, along this downward spiral we see the New York Stock Exchange (perhaps after a financial crash) with snakes, spiders and skeletons depicting malice, evil and destruction.

Jean-Claude also had to complete the unfinished pedestal capital under the figure of John the Baptist that D’Ellis “Jeep” Kincannon started. Jean-Claude added oversized ears and hands to the honeycombs and carob trees on the column shaft carved by “Jeep,” who had to leave the carving midway to do drafting work for Cathedral Stoneworks. The combined work instructs us to listen to the preaching of John, which foreshadows the coming of Christ.

A June 29, 1997 New York Times article proclaimed, “It took almost 10 years, $500,000, half a dozen artisans and some 40 million blows. But tomorrow, work will end on the Portal of Paradise, the central entrance on the west face of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.”

Asked his feelings when the project was finished, Jean-Claude replied, “Mixed, mixed emotion,” adding, “You feel great because it’s done but you miss (all the carvings on) the arch.”

Jean-Claude had several items on his wish list to continue working on the portal and beyond. To fully complete the Portal of Paradise, 46 archivolts would have to be carved above all the figures and above the central tympanum of St. John the Divine. An archivolt is an ornamental molding or band following the curve on the underside of an arch.

According to the Commission of Stained Glass and Iconography of 1927, in the archivolts, “46 small figures of angels singing, in adoration etc.” were indicated. In all likelihood, James Park Morton, Dean of the Cathedral, and his advisory panel would probably have opted for something more in line with Simon Verity’s execution of the portal. 

And, to further extend his time working at the Cathedral, Jean-Claude could also envision carving the eight major-rank figures for the Preacher’s Portal or south portal below St. Paul’s tower. Dean Morton initially wanted Simon to carve here.

But Jean-Claude’s dream of more carving on the west façade would not be realized as the cathedral had to shift dwindling finances and resources away from new construction. Major funding from The Florence Gould Foundation and the Overbrook Foundation allowed the portal project to finish even though construction of the southeast tower stopped several years earlier due to a lack of money. 

A March 9, 1997 New York Times article stated: “the Portal of Paradise, the central entrance to the west façade, should be finished in June, after which no new construction on the unfinished 105-year Episcopal cathedral is planned. Upon completion of the portal, emphasis will shift for several years to conservation and preservation, Mr. Farrah (Jere Farrah, the Cathedral’s executive vice president) said. These include repairs on the cathedral’s leaky roof, restoration of the Great Organ and the conservation of the 12 17^th-century Barberini tapestries.” The cathedral clearly had other pressing concerns.

With the scaffolding finally removed, visitors flocked to see the finished work.

Senior docent Tom Fedorek says that Simon and his crew were very fortunate to work with a Dean (James Park Morton) who gave them wide latitude to exercise artistic freedom. 

Joseph Kincannon, a long-serving stone carver at the Cathedral, observes, “I would say that initially the carvings on the west front were not well received. We had plenty of cheerleaders at the cathedral, but many in the community were highly critical of the statuary. It was such a contrast to the work of John Angel and his team, that there was a lot of opposition to such a stylistic departure from one portal to the next.” Sculptor John Angel’s more traditional and classical carvings of saints and scholars are seen on the nearby north portal.

“Fortunately,” Joseph adds, “the further Simon and Jean-Claude took the work, the more it was embraced by the public. It was a brave move on Simon’s part to forge ahead and not compromise his vision under pressure.”

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In case you missed earlier parts of this series or wish to revisit them, below are the links:

A Son Visits His Father’s Masterpiece – Johno Verity Visits the Portal of Paradise, one of his father’s major works.

The Portal Project Begins – Stoneyard apprentices contribute solidly to the first phase.

Dry Bones and Tiny Towers – Apprentices tackle portal bases on the South side.

Carving The Major Rank Figures – Simon Verity as a medieval image maker.

Small Carvings Play a Major Role – A closer view of the often-overlooked work behind the major figures.

French and English – How Could They Work Together – The bonds of friendship and teamwork grow between Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni.

Sources: 

• Tom Fedorek: Virtual Tour of the Portal of Paradise
• Portal of Paradise: A Guide to the Sculptures
• New York Observer June 4, 1997
• New York Newsday, July 6, 1994
• New York Times June 29, 1997
• New York Times March 9, 1997
• Gemological Institute of America
• Wikipedia

The bonds of friendship and teamwork grow between Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni

Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni were hitting their collective strides while carving the upper-rank figures of the Portal of Paradise at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine.

However, Jean-Claude Marchionni confides, that was not the case when they first started working together in 1993. “I know it was not easy in the beginning…because of our personalities.” 

Jean-Claude, called Simon’s “irreverent French sidekick” in a NY Observer article, explains the early differences as the “English side and the French side.” 

Speaking from his stone carving studio in Midland Park, NJ, Jean-Claude remembers that as they worked together, the bonds of friendship grew. “We complemented each other. I learned things that I didn’t know from him and he learned things from me…you share things.” Later, Jean-Claude says, “we kind of appreciated each other.” Jean-Claude’s cramped studio is lined with fireplace mantles, small statues awaiting the final touches and other stone projects he is working on.

Mutual trust and respect also developed as they worked together. “Simon trusted me,” Jean-Claude says, “we would switch carving the other’s work.”

In an essay titled Cathedrals, Simon remarked, “I climb up and shake hands with Jean-Claude. How does he get up so early after such drinking sessions? (Perhaps another indication of their early differences.) Half my age, he has taught me so much. The French concentration is ferocious, and nothing is too difficult for him. From a family of stonecutters, he can visualize how the finished work will look at a glance and has an instinctive grasp of the tools to get him there.”

Jean-Claude’s father and two brothers were stone carvers and his rigorous training came from the Compagnons du Devoir (Companions of Duty), a French organization of craftsmen and artisans dating from the Middle Ages. Their traditional, technical education includes taking a tour, the Tour de France, around France and doing apprenticeships with masters. (Not to be confused with the well-known Tour de France bike race.)

In his essay, Simon added, “the French training as compagnons is more medieval than the English. They may start at fourteen and will lead a semi-monastic life for years. They travel extensively to get a grasp of different aspects of the trade so that by their twenties, they are superb craftsmen, even if arrogance keeps them from learning what they could from foreigners.” (Perhaps another dig on French culture by Simon.)

But, Jean-Claude needed to get away from that restrictive environment and he found himself in New York City, where he saw scaffolding around the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church. As it happened, Michael Davidson, Director of Restoration for Cathedral Stoneworks, was leading a major rehabilitation of the church’s exterior and Jean-Claude’s expertise fit right in. He soon joined the team with Jean-Claude working on various restoration jobs with Stoneworks before collaborating with Simon to work on the portal.

The entire portal project was a departure from previous sculptural carvings in the Cathedral’s history.

Simon and Jean-Claude employed direct carving on the portal project. There were no plaster models, no pointing tools or enlarging machines. They worked primarily from sketches and their own creative instincts. This contrasts with the style of John Angel, a British-born architectural and ecclesiastical sculptor, who created various works at the Cathedral from the mid-1920s through the 1950s. Angel used the Renaissance technique of creating clay models for other carvers to execute the work. He started by sculpting a small model in clay, then enlarging it to full size in clay. A plaster cast was created and handed off to a stone carver with Angel putting final changes on the piece as needed.

One of John Angel’s major works at the Cathedral is the trumeau, or center post, of the Portal of Paradise depicting St. John, the namesake of the Cathedral. The 8-½ foot tall carving, situated between the Bronze Doors, was dedicated in 1935. 

In addition, John Angel carved the eight major-rank figures on the north portal dedicated to St. Peter.

Simon and Jean-Claude carved mostly idealized faces and details on the Biblical figures of the major-rank figures. However, for the upper tier, they involved numerous locals from the Cathedral staff, friends and people from the neighborhood to serve as models for the upper-rank figures. Many of the faces are clearly recognizable.

The upper-rank figures, on the third level of the portal, measure 3-½ feet versus the behemoth 8-foot blocks of the major-rank carvings.

According to the 1927 Cathedral Commission on Stained Glass and Iconography, “a frieze of small figures, six on each side,” were originally planned as the 12 Sybils. The commission’s recommendation also reports, “according to ecclesiastical tradition, each (sibyl) prophesied some event in the life of our Lord.”  

This was completely overhauled with Dean James Parks Morton’s committee that brought more biblical characters – men and women – to the portal opus.

The first figure on the north side is Noah, carved after James Parks Morton, Dean of the Cathedral at that time, who led the third building phase. Wearing long flowing robes, he seems to step back, as if to have a better look at the Cathedral in front of him. In his hands, he holds the unfinished ark. Since ancient times, the ark has been the symbol of salvation within the Church.

At Dean Morton’s feet, we see his pet Corgi, Pepe, frolicking with a long-snouted dragon-like carving on the periphery. This little corner of the portal is another link between John Angel and Simon, as Simon carved the friendly Corgi gazing at John Angel’s curious-looking creature. 

The carving next to Noah is the most unusual of the upper-rank figures. It depicts Hagar and Ishmael. The maidservant Hagar was given to Abram by his wife Sarah, who was old and childless, to provide him with an heir. Through a covenant with God, Sarah later conceived, bore Isaac, and then insisted that Abram (now Abraham) cast Hagar and Ishmael into the desert. Simon’s interpretation of the story shows a crouching Hagar enveloped in spiraling swirls, a cyclone of grief, and the baby Ishmael protected under a bush. Ultimately, God hears Hagar’s prayer and sends an angel to lead them to safety. Using a Tibetan woman from the community as his model, Simon created an analogy between Hagar’s banishment and the flight of the Tibetan people from their homeland.

Also on the north side is the figure of Deborah, carved as Pamela Morton, wife of Dean Morton. Just as Pamela Morton was always a steady and dignified presence on the Cathedral’s close, the Biblical character of Deborah was known for her patience and good judgment. Before the people of Israel had kings, they had rulers known as judges, with Deborah the only female judge.

Pamela recalls that Simon would occasionally stop by the Cathedral gift shop, where she was a buyer and manager, to make sketches. “He didn’t tell me what it was for,” she says. Perhaps Simon was trying to keep this carving a surprise until it was finished…but, apparently, Simon never told Pamela about the Deborah carving.

For the first time, she recently viewed detailed photos of her carving and that of Dean Morton as Noah and was pleased with the likeness and the poses.

Most of the upper-rank carvings on the portal’s south side can be traced back to specific individuals–and one canine– from Simon’s orbit of acquaintances. 

Solomon, the Biblical king with great wisdom, is carved after Robert Pirie, a friend of Simon and a patron. Solomon built the first temple in Jerusalem, which is visible atop the scepter he is holding. He became legendary not only for his great wisdom and vast wealth, but also for his 700 wives and 300 concubines.

Simon used an English friend, coincidentally named Naomi, for the character of Naomi, who shares the second block with Ruth. Naomi is Ruth’s mother-in-law and a strong bond grew between them, even though they were from different tribes that were often in conflict. Following the deaths of their husbands, Naomi started to return alone to her home village of Bethlehem and urged Ruth to move on and remarry. However, Ruth loved Naomi dearly and could not bear the separation, exclaiming, “Whither thou goest, I will go.” Here, in Simon’s composition, Ruth and Naomi clasp hands and their bodies virtually merge with one another, expressing the deep connection between them.

When Simon and Jean-Claude needed their morning coffee, they usually went to the nearby Hungarian Pastry Shop, long a fixture in the neighborhood. One of the workers there was George, who Simon immortalized by using his likeness for the carving of Simeon. In the New Testament Gospel of Luke, the Holy Spirit revealed to the elderly and devout Simeon that he would not see death before he had seen the Savior. Simeon was at the temple when Joseph and Mary presented the infant Jesus and upon seeing the Messiah, Simeon exclaimed, “Lord, now let your servant depart in peace.”

Many visitors gazing at the Portal of Paradise ask, “Who’s the dog with the camera around its neck?” The simple answer is “Cooper,” but the backstory is more layered. While Simon was photographing Cooper’s owner, Jessica, for the figure of Esther, the black and white dog wandered into some of the shots. Simon opted to incorporate the dog’s likeness onto the stone. Coincidentally, at the same time photojournalist Martha Cooper was documenting Simon and Jean-Claude’s work on the portal. So, Simon decided to add a camera around Cooper’s neck as a nod to both Cooper the canine and Martha Cooper the photographer. 

Simon did not have to go far to find a suitable model for the face of Daniel. He found Daniel Alcide working in the Cathedral gift shop. As told in the Book of Daniel, Chapter 6, the faithful prophet Daniel was miraculously saved by God after being thrown into a lion’s den for defying a decree that forbade prayer to anyone but King Darius. Simon not only sketched Daniel Alcide but also had the young man sit atop the scaffolding so Simon could capture his likeness next to the stone he was carving.

The unusual shape of the Jonah carving provides several unusual stories and interpretations. 

Briefly, Jonah is the prophet who was swallowed by a giant whale and spit out three days later. Simon’s model for this carving came from the Cathedral’s Development office

The pointed oval shape comes from Simon’s repeated references to the overall “Sacred Geometry” of the Portal of Paradise. Here, the shape is created by taking two circles of equal diameters and overlaying them so their circumferences touch each other’s epicenters, thus creating the strong oval.

Early and medieval Christians read the story of Jonah’s three days inside the whale as a precursor of the resurrection of Jesus Christ after three days in the tomb. In Simon’s carving, Jonah is seen within an oval tomb-like enclosure and wrapped in linen cloth to symbolize his “death” while in the belly of the whale. This was later a popular symbol of resurrection during the Middle Ages.

We see Jonah emerging from the whale’s mouth, rendered here as the pointed oval. This shape, created by the Sacred Geometry of two intersecting arcs, was also known to ancient Christians as the ichthys symbol, or Jesus Fish. Ichthys is the Greek word for fish.

At one point during the portal project, money was tight, which could have put the project in jeopardy – until a chance conversation with Paula Jennings in the Cathedral’s Development office.

She approached several foundations for funding to keep the project going, caught the attention of the Gladys Brooks Foundation, and quickly wrote a grant proposal.

Shortly afterwards a check from the Brooks Foundation came in and Paula went to the work site to inform Simon and Jean-Claude. While Paula could not exactly hear what Simon and Jean-Claude were saying from high up on the scaffold, she remembers them pointing to the uncarved block of Jonah. “They had decided to put me in that statue,” she says. “I love it.”

Paula calls Jonah a “resurrection figure…very meaningful.” And, in a sense, Paula resurrected the program. 

Asked if the carving captured her true likeness, Paula demurs by saying that her “straight hair curled around her ears and little bangs” were accurate, adding that Simon’s gesture was “one of the nicest things that (ever) happened to me.”

With the new funds, Simon and Jean-Claude could continue working on their carvings with their audience of tourists and local people watching from below.

In his Cathedrals essay, Simon once remarked, “Our viewpoint of the street from the scaffolding is the best in the world, the pluralist collection of races because of Columbia University: the rich, the poor. There is a connection with every other cathedral in the world that is a pilgrimage site and a connection with medieval stories.”

Of his and Jean-Claude’s labor, Simon added, “So we hammer and scrape smooth, keep an eye out for beautiful girls, live and breathe this extraordinary life that stone gives us.”

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Sources:

• New York Times – FYI 3/9/1997
• New York Times – The City: Morningside Heights 6/29/1997
• Simon Verity “Cathedral” essay, undated
• Archives of the Episcopal Diocese of New York and Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine
• NY Observer June 4, 1997
• Country Life – Patriarchs that Live in Stone, March 11, 1999
• Simon Verity – Master Sculptor (1945-2024) – Divine Stone
• From John Angel to Simon Verity – Divine Stone
• John Angel, Sculptor – Divine Stone
• Marta Cooper photographs
• A Guide to the Sculptures – Nicole Di Paol
• Tom Fedorek’s Guide to the Portal of Paradise

A closer view of the often-overlooked work behind the major figures

(Senior Cathedral Guide Tom Fedoreck contributed to this piece)

Without a doubt, the elegant and elongated 8-foot-tall carvings of the major-rank figures form the centerpiece of Simon Verity’s Portal of Paradise at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine. But Simon, with Jean-Claude Marchionni, created a veritable garland of stories, some fantastic, some bizarre, that sits on capitals above and behind each major-rank figure to complete that character’s narrative.

We start with Melchizedek, the king of Salem, the first figure on the north side that also begins the chronological story of the portal.

Almost resting on Melchizedek’s shoulder is a dove tending to a nest with two eggs that is a symbol of the holy spirit of creation – “The spirit of God was brooding over the face of the waters.” (Genesis 1:2) The literal meaning of the Hebrew word translated as “brooding” is “to hover like a mother bird over her young.”  

Just above the nesting bird are six long-necked faces covered in foliage, almost like flower petals, and seemingly sprouting from stalks in the earth. Some are open-mouthed, as if taking in fresh air; some have their eyes closed, seemingly squinting in the sunlight. These are Green Men – ancient pagan symbols of fertility and rebirth. They often appear on English cathedrals as symbols of resurrection. There are at least two interpretations of Green Men – and Green Women – on the Cathedral’s unfinished southwest tower

The carvings of two women above the heads of the major-rank figures of Abraham and Sarah depict the same woman at two very different moments – Sarah. 

God’s covenant with Abraham promised that he would be “the father of a multitude of nations.” And, for Sarah, “I will bless her and moreover I will give you a son by her.” (Genesis.17:16)

The carving to the left is Sarah, laughing at the notion of an old woman, such as herself, bearing a child. Previously, Sarah had consented to her having her Egyptian maid, Hagar, bear a son, Ishmael, for Abraham. However, once her son Isaac was born, Sarah resented Ishmael and wanted him and Hagar exiled. This explains the carving to the right, which depicts Sarah, angrily pointing her finger as she casts out Hagar and Ishmael.

However, to fully understand the narrative, one needs to look carefully behind Abraham’s left shoulder where two small faces are assumed to be the infants Isaac and Ishamel. After Abraham reluctantly agrees to Sarah’s demand, Hagar and Ishamel nearly perish in the desert, as depicted above in the upper-rank carving.

The third figure on the north side is Jacob, the younger son of Isaac and Rebekah. Above Jacob’s head there is a ladder representing his dream where angels are going up and down a ladder between heaven and earth. He built a pillar of stone where he had the dream and called it Bethel, which means “house of God.” The ladder signifies the divine connection between God and the earthly realm, specifically Jacob’s family. 

Between the figures of Jacob and Moses, the wide mouth of the portal narrows as it nears the Great Bronze Doors. This pushes the carvings to a different angle, with the geometry and layout changing.

Three slender columns separate the last four major-rank figures. The columns were virtually encased by the raw limestone blocks for the major-rank figures. At the very top, the capitals for these columns met the uncarved jambs, practically creating one continuous surface of stone. Simon and Jean-Claude used that area for extraordinary carvings that literally create a bridge of carvings behind the major figures. 

The viewer sees a fluidity of carving that either moves a story forward or serves as a transitional point. On the first small capital (the top of one of the narrow columns), between Jacob and Moses, there is a transition – hands holding a pyramid. To the left, the palm trees of Jacob’s land of Bethel are visible and, to the right – moving closer to Moses’ figure — we see frogs, the second of 10 plagues inflicted on the Egyptians to convince Pharaoh to free the enslaved Israelites. “Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.” ( Exodus 8:1–4)

Next, moving closer to the major figure of Moses, we see the continuation of the drama of the Exodus.  A swirling pillar of smoke or fire appears which led the Israelites out of bondage. It is said the pillars guided the Israelites through the desert during their rushed departure from Egypt. The pillar of smoke provided a visible guide for the Israelites during the day, while the pillar of fire lit their way by night. Many faces, likely Egyptian soldiers, are barely visible as they are engulfed in the maelstrom.

Above the cyclone of fire and smoke a small figure, likely Moses, raises his staff to part the Red Sea. One carving seems to be an Egyptian soldier engulfed in the tsunami that ensued after the Israelites had made a safe passage on dry land across the Red Sea: “The waters returned and covered the chariots and the horsemen and all the host of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea. Not so much as one of them remained.” (Exodus 14:28)

While the Egyptian soldiers all perish in the giant waves, the fate of the fleeing Israelites becomes clear in the next transition point. Simon’s interpretation of this moment is an example of his exceptional carving skills. Two figures sit somewhat securely on the next small capital (on the top of the slender column), receding waters visible behind them. We also see the extraordinary image of these characters stretching their arms to incredible elastic lengths to reach other Israelites — their arms also greatly extended towards their rescuers as they are pulled to safety.  

A three-part tableau unfolds above the heads of Elijah and Elisha.

A flock of birds believed to be ravens surrounds a small figure, Elijah, on a capital. Elijah lived during the reign of Ahab, a king of Israel, who worshipped the Canaanite gods Baal, a storm god, and Asherah, a mother goddess. Elijah rebuked Ahab and called down a famine and a drought on the land. Elijah then traveled into the wilderness to hide alongside a brook, where he survived on food delivered by ravens.

Tongues of flame appear above the major-rank carving of Elijah, recalling the story of the contest between Elijah and the prophets of Baal. Elijah tells the prophets of Baal, “you will call on the name of your god, and I will call on the name of the Lord, and the God who answers by fire, he is God.” The prophets of Baal call on their god to no avail. When Elijah called out to God, “the fire of the Lord fell, and consumed the burnt offering.” The miracle is followed by a massacre of the 450 prophets of Baal in attendance. (1 Kings 18:20-40).

The horses that appear closer to the head of Elisha (and perhaps the flames, as well) relate to the chariot of fire that takes Elijah to heaven in a whirlwind, a narrative also illustrated on the pedestal below carved by Jessica Aujero. (2 Kings 2:1-12).

There is a peculiar figure on the column between Elisha and Samuel – the back and buttocks of a man whose arms have no hands and whose head is upside down.

During a war with the Israelites the neighboring Philistines captured the Ark of the Covenant, carried it to Ashdod on the Mediterranean coast, and placed it next to the statue of Dagon in the temple devoted to his worship. The following morning, they found that Dagon had toppled over during the night. The Philistines righted the statue but the next day:  “Behold, Dagon had fallen face downward on the ground before the ark of the Lord, and the head of Dagon and both his hands were lying cut off upon the threshold, and only the trunk of Dagon was left to him.” (1 Samuel 5:3-4)

The battered carving of Dagon is held up on one side by a horse and on the other by a ghoulish hound. 

The last figure on the north side is Samuel and above his head are two figures, one holding his head in his hand, the other strumming a harp. They are Saul and David.

Samuel was called by God to anoint Saul as the first king of Israel, but Saul later proves himself unworthy of the throne. “I repent that I have made Saul king, for he has turned back from following me, and has not performed my commandments.” (1 Samuel 15:10)

Later, during Saul’s reign, God leads Samuel to anoint David as Saul’s successor. (The very next passage describes how Saul was tormented by “an evil spirit from the Lord.” The evil spirit manifests itself in episodes of depression and paranoia. Saul’s servants seek out a man with skill in playing the lyre and find David.  And whenever the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, David took his lyre and played it with his hand, so Saul was refreshed and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him. (1 Sam. 16:23)

Almost hidden on the last capital, to the right of  the major-rank figure of Samuel, is a child standing next to a box. The child is Samuel, son of Hannah and her husband, Elkanah. Hannah, unable to conceive a child because “the Lord had closed her womb.” (1 Sam. 1:6). While visiting Shiloh, where the Ark of Covenant was housed, Hannah made a vow that if God would grant her a son, she would “give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head.” (1 Sam. 1:11).  God answers Hannah’s prayer and Hannah keeps her vow. The image in the portal relates to the calling of Samuel to be a prophet of the Lord, with the box being the Ark of the Covenant. 

A wide array of carvings, showing many different faces, line the south side of the portal above the major-rank figures.

Above the head of David, we see a sheep next to a lion and the head of a boy next to a sheep. This is a reference to the young David tending his father’s flock of sheep and using his slingshot to kill a lion that had come to ravage the flock.  The story is also a foreshadowing of David’s slaying of Goliath. From this incident, David persuades Saul to let him (David) meet the Philistine giant in one-on-one combat.

A pair of wild-looking creatures, their faces indistinct, seem to be caught in a swirl of clouds above the heads of Amos and Hosea. Their meaning has yet to be determined.

Four faces, seemingly with wings behind their heads, line the capital above Ezekiel. 

Ezekiel was known for his visions and prophesies, including that, Jerusalem would be captured and the Temple destroyed. One vision describes four creatures, each with the face of a human in front, a lion on the right, and ox on the left and an eagle on the back. They also had two sets of wings.

This same vision appears below in Jessica Aujero’s base carving of the four four-faced creatures. But on the capital carving, they could be linked to the four gospel writers – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

The capital carvings above the major-rank figure of Elizabeth tell of the life and death of her son, John the Baptist. The figure with outstretched arms is John preaching and likely baptizing as well, since he is dressed only in a loincloth. The chains represent his imprisonment, as does the image of the man behind bars, and the head on the platter, the manner of his execution.  It is unclear whom the mournful female face represents. 

The last carving, above the major figure of John the Baptist, shows a lamb with its forelegs bound for sacrifice. A hand cradles the lamb as well as a dove. Here, it represents the Holy Spirit that hovered over Jesus in the form of a dove after John baptized him. When John lays eyes on Jesus for the first time, he cries, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). The sacrificial lamb has been a fundamental symbol of Jesus since ancient times. As for the hand, it is the hand of God the Creator. Hence, John stands beneath symbols of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit — the Trinity.

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