The re-opening of the park and re-dedication of the Jacob Wrey Mould
fountain is scheduled for noon tomorrow.  Several weeks of long days,
screaming contractors, overworked mechanics, angry engineers, and the
looming shadow of the Mayor have capped this year long effort.  A week ago,
when the candelabra were still on the ground a week after delivery as no one
could figure out how to mount them, the fountain didn't hold water, none of
the mechanicals had been tested and the contractor team were spread from
Alabama and Ottawa, I was not confident that today I would see the inviting
glow of flickering gas jets through beveled glass picking up the highlights
of cascading water over polished granite and from gilded and patinated
bronze.  Somehow, as it always seems to, things pulled together at the end
and the morning's light found flecks of gold leaf floating in the basins
from the nights finishing work and hints of smiles appearing on weary faces.

The fountain, on axis with the porches of City Hall and Saint Paul's Chapel,
truly on hallowed historic ground, acts as a pivot around which the
enveloping buildings bloom, commencing a rhythm of gilded globes topping
towers all the way downtown. The flow of water drowns the traffic enough to
create a sense of privacy within that busiest of intersections.  The
fountain structure holds its own well within the setting, surprisingly
robust despite is Victorian decorative motifs and golden flourishes.  The
new granite elements blend well with the cleaned and restored originals.
Mould's drawings, careful renderings lovingly protected in city archives,
served in this reconstruction as well as they had nearly 130 years ago when
it was first built.  Only modest tweaks were needed to remanufacture and
install the pieces.

The craftspeople who fashioned the carvings, tilework and bronzes, R.J.W.
Stonework and Allen Architectural Metals, came from Talladega, Alabama; and
Ottawa, Canada, far from the city for whose heart they labored.  They worked
under conditions of intense pressure, short deadlines and skimpy budgets
yet, each, when I met with them, remained entranced and enthusiastic about
the project despite rejected submittals and bureaucratic bungling.  They
kept finding images of the fountain when it first installed that had escaped
me, the first photo of Peter Jennings "The Century" which shows it hiding
near City Hall at midnight, Dec. 31, 1900.  "I want to be there this New
Year's Eve" they said, "I want to show it to my grandkids."  I do too.

Come to see it when you can.

Mark