“Stonecutters were to building what doctors are to health care. You couldn't build without them, and they never received the credit they were due.”

So says Mr. Larry Mills, an architectural enthusiast, whose interest in Bermuda stone and how it was cut was piqued some years ago through watching a friend chiselling block.

“From then on I was hooked,” he says. “I am interested in the properties of stone simply because it is dying out and my children would not have known about it if I didn't expose them to it.”

Indeed, stonecutting has a proud history, which was not always appreciated. The public assumed that the men toiling in the quarries in all winds and weathers were simple labourers who lacked the academic acumen to do anything else, but as any stone cutter will tell you, the truth was very different.

In fact, the men who worked the quarries were skilled artisans whose trade was an art. Not only could they “read” virgin land and know instantly how the stone was running, but also by tapping the face of quarry stone they could “sound” out its properties. If it sounded “boxy” (hollow) they knew it was no good. They also knew how to “read” an old quarry site. If the cutting was neither deep nor extensive, they queried why previous cutters had stopped. They could also look at the strata of stone and know its properties. Stone in various areas of the Island is different. Parts of Paget, Warwick and Bailey's Bay, for example, have some fine veins of good stone running through them, while at Dockyard the stone is very hard.

Certainly, Bermuda limestone has always been a temperamental mistress.

“Understanding stone comes from experience,” retired cutter and mason Robert A. Lee says. “It can change within an inch.You can quarry four to six feet into a hill and then when the block falls it crumbles. Any little fool can't go in and say he is a stonecutter. You really have to know what you are doing. You would be amazed at the amount of common sense and skill men used in the quarry.”

Mr. Mills agrees.

“Stonecutters have to be a mixture of things: they must understand mathematics and have a mechanical mind. It's not just brute force,” he says. “You couldn't build without them.”

From the moment the first hand cut was made until the huge block finally fell from its base, each step of the process was carefully calculated. Careless mistakes could - and did - cost lives, and if a block fell incorrectly and crumbled, it could also mean a complete loss of revenue for the cutters, for they were only paid for what they could sell.

Getting a huge block of stone to fall correctly was a science. Chiselling was crucial, and when it was nearly done props with ropes were placed against the stone face. Then, a big bed of broken stone was positioned in the path of the projected drop to cushion the block's fall and avoid breakage.

“If they dropped a big block and it broke that meant no pay, possibly for the whole week,” stonecutter Mr. Jonathan Cumberbatch says. “Also, you got paid by the slate that came out of the quarry, so it was very important that nice areas were cut. Stone has a grain, and depending on how it was running you would know how the stone was running. Grains run differently, and you can tell whether it is going to be good or bad stone. Also, if you do cut, you have to know where to stop because stone can be hard on top and get progressively worse lower down.”

Once the big blocks were dropped, they were cut into building blocks of specific sizes as well as roof slate, which, until the arrival of trucks in the late 1940s, were then delivered all over the Island by horse and cart.

“About 25 ten's was a load, and today it's 225 by truck,” former stonecutter and retired mason Mr. Robert A. Lee notes.

So expert were some of the stonecutters, in fact, that their work was like a signature. Mr. Lee's father, for example, was renowned for the quality of his block, as were Joe Roque, “Heads” Edwards, John (Philly) Philpott, and “Bysie” Burchall.

Until the early 1950s stone was quarried and cut by hand using the simplest of tools: a long, large-toothed saw, a long-handled chisel, and a rake or “jigger”. The process was long, arduous and tedious. In winter the men shivered, in summer they were scorched by the sun with their eyes constantly dazzled from the glare off the brilliant white stone. Six days a week, from dawn to dusk, the stonecutters would patiently saw back and forth, or pound away with the chisel, and of course they were supremely fit.

“Stone cutting required the whole body, and people wanted to know if we were pushing weights,” says Mr. Lee.

“My father taught us when chiselling that you released the tool otherwise it put too much pressure on the heart. If you were left handed, the right hand was the power and the left was the direction.”

In fact, he doubts today's young men could handle such hard work.

“When I was coming along they made wooden boats and iron men. Now they make iron boats and paper men!” he says.

Like any craftsmen, the stonecutter's tools were an integral part of his art. Saws and chisels were sharpened to perfection, and their use was jealously guarded.

“My father wouldn't lend his tools to anyone,” Mr. Lee says. “He'd say, ‘Doctors don't lend their tools, so why should I?' And he always knew if someone had messed with them.”

Stone was always quarried in a specific way, and as the cutters sawed they would occasionally call for others to rake away accumulated sand and bits of stone which impeded progress. Children regularly turned up after school and in the holidays to clear away debris and small bits of stone from the site. The work of quarrying big blocks of stone was dangerous, so it was imperative that the area was kept clean to allow for a quick exit in case of an emergency.

Invariably, whole families were involved in the quarrying process, even the women and children. Mr. Lee is a case in point.

“I started in the family business. For as far back as I can remember we children had to go to the quarry with our daddy. It was our job to keep the quarry clean and make sure the tools were kept in their proper place. As a little fella, when the stone was light and it moved as my big brother cut it, he'd say, ‘Sit on this,' and my weight would help keep it steady. That made me feel real big. I also used to cut up little pieces of stone with a hand saw to learn the trade.”

In fact, the retired mason went on to become a very successful contractor who built houses for each of his six children, as well as some for himself in the Turks & Caicos Islands, where he also incepted and taught construction to high school students for five years. In fact, Mr. Lee is hoping to see a similar programme included in our schools to give young men a trade and thus see the traditions continued.

Jonathan Cumberbatch is a third generation stonecutter who also grew up around quarrying. He is

proud of his profession, and the fact that he is carrying on a family tradition.

“I come from stone cutters on both sides of the family, including the Thomas side,” he says. “As a child I went to the quarry all the time. The small children picked up the pieces, and as we got older we took on more responsibility. I realised at a young age that I liked to work and I could do it very well, and I knew that whatever I chose to do in life had to require a lot of physical exercise. Everybody cut stone at some point. It was a big family thing, and everyone did their part. I think that is why we are still so close today, because we learned at a very young age to help one another and to work together.”

When Mr. Cumberbatch was 19 his father, who had a thriving trucking business, also bought a quarrying business, and it is that which his son continues to run today. The quarrying methods are, however, far removed from the hand tools used by Mr. Cumberbatch's forebears. Today, gas-fuelled machinery gets the job done quickly and efficiently. Even so, stonecutting remains a difficult job.

That such machinery exists is thanks to the late Rex Horsfield, a British born engineer who retired to Bermuda. He was shocked to see how stone was quarried for building and resolved to improve upon the method. His inventive mind eventually came up with a device combining a large, four-stroke Wisconsin engine mounted on something akin to a lawnmower chassis, with a chain saw blade. The device became one of the first patents in Bermuda, and Mr. Horsefield founded the Bermuda Stone Company, which he developed with his son Colin. The company had 35 employees and throughout the 1960s and 1970s was a major supplier of stone on the Island. When concrete block appeared on the horizon, however, Mr. Colin Horsfield knew the glory days of stonecutting were numbered, so he sold the business and became a school teacher.

Today, his son Kevin recalls the family business.

“I grew up around stone cutting and spent all my holidays cleaning stone cutting saws and doing odd jobs in the quarry. I knew all the characters in the quarry in those days,” he says. “The equipment Mr. Cumberbatch uses today is a derivative of my grandfather's invention.”

An important by-product of broken stone was lime, and 88-year-old Joseph Simons owned two kilns.

“I lived in Southampton and I would get up at 4.30 a.m. By 5 a.m. I was on the road with the horse and cart delivering lime to sites in time for the masons' arrival at 7 a.m.,” he says.

First, however, Mr. Simons had to make the lime.

“I would collect rubble from the quarries with the horse and cart, and put the stone in the kiln layered with wood and coal. The harder the stone the better the burn. You got lump lime from the hard stone. Each layer was about three feet deep, and you repeated them right to the top of the kiln, which was about 12 feet deep. There was a flue, and you set the fire at the bottom, which then worked its way through the layers. Some kilns would burn out in two days, others in three weeks. If the fire went out you would have to unload the kiln and start all over again. Half lime and half stone was called ‘half chilled,' which meant the kiln wouldn't burn any further. You really had to know what you were doing, and it had to be properly ventilated,” he says.

Dry stone walls were also made from quarry rubble or the residue from blasting, and Mr. Mills says because the stones were not formally cut their character was distinctly different from today's modern versions. In addition, the different rock strata throughout the Island contributed to differences in appearance.

“Stones in random walls were sized up and dropped in place as they were,” he says. “Today, if the stone is selected it looks different and is not a random wall. The character of modern walls is also different because the stone has been cut by machine, so the cuts are a lot more precise. If stones are too organised they don't look right.”