A vast white-marble fountain of stacked basins and a hundred and nine carved spouts, its center jet built to leap a hundred and twenty-five feet. Dry behind fences now, mid-restoration, with the water due back in 2027.
That pale giant rising behind the fences off to the island side is the James Scott Memorial Fountain — and what a thing it is. White Vermont marble, basin stacked on basin, a hundred and nine carved spouts: lions, dolphins, turtles, even human faces, water meant to pour from every one of them. When it runs, the center jet throws a column near a hundred and twenty-five feet into the air. It's often called one of the largest marble fountains in the country. And it was no budget job — the city ran a nationwide competition for the design and landed a famous hand, the architect who later gave New York its Woolworth Building, so this terrace cost real money and took years to rise. Right now, though, it sits dry. The whole plaza is fenced and mid-restoration — a six-million-dollar second life, with the water due back on in twenty twenty-seven. So we stay on the road and admire it from a distance; the plaza's closed to us today. Fitting, really, that this one's getting such care — because the story of how it ever got built at all is one of the strangest in Detroit. The man who paid for it nearly had his gift thrown back in his face, and his own statue ended up where you'd least expect it. Boone's been waiting for this one. Ease off the gas, let it roll by slow, and let him tell you who James Scott was.
