Recently, I wrote a story about Dutchy, the ill-regarded Confederate statue in Elberton, Georgia.
For more than a century, Elberton has been the home of a large and prosperous granite industry. I present herewith the tale of another granite-related oddity in Elberton, “the Georgia Guidestones.”
Frankly, I am not sure I believe this tale. The story of the Guidestones may be as fabricated as the monument itself. On the other hand, if that is the case, the perpetrators went to an awful lot of trouble.
Decide for yourself…
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On a Friday afternoon in June 1979, a well-dressed, articulate man entered the office of Joe Fendley, President of Elberton Granite Finishing Company. The man identified himself as R. C. Christian, and he wanted to know the cost of building a large monument dedicated to conservation.
He told Fendley that he represented a small group of loyal Americans from various states who wanted to erect a monument that preserved 10 “guidelines” for the conservation of mankind and the earth.
In 1979, the Cold War between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. was at its height. Mr. Christian said that if a nuclear holocaust occurred, the monument would advise future generations, if anyone survived, how to rebuild society.
Christian produced a detailed blueprint of the proposed monument. It would be 19 feet tall and consist of six granite blocks in a precise arrangement.
Four upright stones would point outward in a paddlewheel arrangement, oriented to the limits of the migration of the moon.
The center stone* would contain a hole at eye level, so that the North Star was always visible, and a window slot that aligned with the rising sun on the Summer and Winter Solstices.
The capstone would feature a small hole through which a beam of sunlight at noon would strike a line etched into the south face of the center stone. Thus, at noon each day, the beam would indicate the day of the year as the sun advanced in its travel cycle.
On the four sides of the capstone would be the statement, “Let These Be Guidestones To Reason” inscribed in Classical Greek, Babylonian Cuneiform, Egyptian Hieroglyphics, and Sanskrit.
But the pièce de résistance of the monument would be the guidelines themselves — 10 maxims that addressed peoples of all nationalities, religions, and political persuasions. These would be carved into the stones in four-inch-high letters.
The 10 maxims:
Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.
Guide reproduction wisely — improving fitness and diversity.
Unite humanity with a living new language.
Rule passion — faith — tradition — and all things with tempered reason.
Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.
Let all nations rule internally, resolving external disputes in a world court.
Avoid petty laws and useless officials.
Balance personal rights with social duties.
Prize truth — beauty — love — seeking harmony with the infinite.
Be not a cancer on the earth — leave room for nature — leave room for nature.
The 10 maxims would be carved into the four upright granite slabs in eight languages: English, Russian, Arabic, Hebrew, Hindi, Chinese, Spanish, and Swahili.
Mr. Christian said the men he represented wished to remain anonymous forever. Further, they insisted that all plans and blueprints be returned after the project was completed. They would provide funds for the perpetual maintenance of the site.
Fendley agreed to all terms and stated a price for the project, which Christian accepted.
Next, Christian met with Wyatt Martin, President of Granite City Bank, and placed the necessary funds in escrow.
For the next few days, with Martin’s help, Christian scouted possible locations for the monument. He selected and purchased a five-acre pasture, the highest point in Elbert County, seven miles north of Elberton on Georgia Highway 77.
Work got underway in June 1979. The monument was dedicated in March 1980. It remains open to the public today.
Today, ownership of the Georgia Guidestones is held by Elbert County. Local tourism publications promote the monument as “America’s Stonehenge.”
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As far as the maxims are concerned, most are sensible ideas, even fairly benign. It’s hard to argue with “just courts” and “seeking harmony.” The one about “useless officials” would be popular in any society.
However, the first two, regarding population and reproduction control — that kind of talk usually doesn’t go over well. Thanks to the Nazis, eugenics got really bad press. I’d say those two maxims were a misfire.
As for the veracity of the tale itself, I am conflicted.
I’m a skeptical guy. I pride myself in having an internal bullhockey detector that is finely-tuned and highly accurate. Even so, I can’t decide whether the Guidestones are the real deal — a sincere message to the future — or old-fashioned boosterism by local business interests.
When I visited Elberton recently, the folks at the Granite Museum gave me a copy of the Elberton Graniteer, official publication of the Elberton Granite Association (EGA), from Spring 1980. That issue has an article and photos about the construction of the Guidestones. Very informative stuff.
I note from the masthead of the Graniteer that Joe Fendley, whose company constructed the monument, served on the EGA Board of Trustees. He also was Chairman of the EGA Advertising Committee.
It’s easy to imagine that he also was affiliated with the Chamber of Commerce and perhaps served on the boards of a local bank or two.
And it’s easy to imagine Joe and his associates having a toddy after work and brainstorming ways to publicize the town.
I’m just sayin’.
Nevertheless, the Guidestones, out standing in their field in Elbert County, are quite interesting and worth the time to see.
BUT — there is one unexpected fly in the ointment that locals and tourists alike find very depressing: a problem of vandalism.
In the last couple of years, the Guidestones have become subject to periodic defacement, usually with spray paint.
The monument has been cleaned numerous times, but the granite never remains clean for long. The vandals always return.
A couple of months ago, 24-hour security cameras were installed at the site. Maybe now the sheriff can identify and apprehend the little creeps responsible.
It almost makes me want to reconsider that second maxim about reproduction control.

Placing the capstone, 1980.

The monument in 2007, before the vandalism began.

Detail photo, 2010.

Detail photo, 2010.
* The center stone of the monument is also called the “gnomon stone.” A “gnomon” is the part of a sundial that sticks up and casts the shadow. The word is ancient Greek for “indicator.” I’ll bet you didn’t know that.
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