Frederick M. Hueston, PhD

I woke up to another cold morning here in Florida. I think it was something like 60 degrees F. Please, no comments from you Northern folks who think 60 degrees is shorts and flip-flop weather. I moved here 40 years ago, and that old saying that your blood thins is true. I remember wearing shorts when it was in the 40’s up north, but now I freeze to death at any temperature below 70. I know, I know it’s the humidity not the temperature (LOL!).  I peeled myself out of bed, got dressed and headed over to my favorite greasy spoon for a quick cup of joe and perhaps some waffles. It felt like a waffle kind of day.

As I got out of the Woody to head into the restaurant, I heard a large cracking sound down the street. It got my curiosity up, so I started walking down the street to investigate. I passed several buildings and saw nothing until I noticed a large block of ice in an alley. It looked like one of the businesses had thrown a large block of ice out the back door. As I walked up to the block of ice, I heard the cracking sound again. I guess the acoustics in the alley amplified the sound. Little did I know that this would be a clue to my next inspection. I headed back to get my waffles.

Before I got back to the diner, my phone rang. I answered it as usual: “Stone Detective here. How can I help you? The voice on the other end greeted me with, “Hello, SD, this is Bob from Maine.”

Well, Bob from Maine started rambling on and on as if we were best buds. Then he mentioned that he had attended several of my seminars, and had met me at some trade shows, too. Then it hit me. Oh yeah, THAT Bob from Maine. Now I remember. 

I let him talk. He was telling me about a moose he nearly hit a few days ago and other humorous aspects of life in the frozen North. I was beginning to wonder if he was calling with a question, or he was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Finally, he said he had a problem with some granite slabs. He told me that several of his slabs had crumbled to tiny little pieces overnight and he couldn’t figure out why. I asked him if he was vandalized and he said, “No, they are in a gated yard with several large Dobermans patrolling at night.” 

Eventually, Bob asked if I could come investigate. Well, it’s winter in Maine, and if you’re not used to cold, it’s really cold. I reluctantly told him I could be there next week. I opened the door to the diner, greeted Flo, and took out my phone to look at flights to Bangor while I waited for my waffles.

Next week had arrived and I landed in Bangor, Maine. When I got off the plane I passed a little gift shop and noticed a display of T-shirts and mugs for sale. My first reaction is that people in Maine are self-centered. All their T-shirts and mugs say “I (heart) ME”! Then, I realized that’s just a play on how you abbreviate Maine. I wondered if there was another way to abbreviate it, or was it just ME? (LOL!) Okay, I’m done with the Maine jokes. 

I walked out to baggage claim and Bob was standing there waiting for me. He guided me to his Subaru, and we headed to his shop.  It was kind of sleeting and raining. His car thermometer said it was 33, almost ready to freeze. I zipped up my jacket and asked if he could turn the heat up. Thankfully, his shop was only a short drive away.

As we pulled into Bob’s facility, I noticed he had a fairly large inventory of slabs. He walked me over to a sad pile of crumbled, expensive granite. The rain had stopped, but the temperature seemed to drop rapidly, and I was getting colder and colder. Bob didn’t even seem fazed. He was wearing a light jacket and shorts. Yes, folks it was winter, in Maine, and he was wearing shorts. 

I took a closer look at the crumbling slabs. Some had some pieces missing on the corners and others were cracked down the middle. That’s odd, I thought. I turned around to look at another slab and heard a familiar sound, similar to the cracking sound that I heard with that block of ice. I quickly turned toward the sound and saw a piece of granite just explode off the corner of one of the slabs. At that moment I knew what was causing the granite to crumble. 

I looked at Bob, pointed to the slab that had just exploded and told him the following. “This type of granite is very porous. When it rains, the stone gets soaked with water, and when the temperature drops quickly it forms ice in the pores, causing internal pressure and then – Boom! You’ve got exploding granite. My suggestion is you find some way to store these slabs indoors. That should prevent or eliminate this problem.”

Another case solved. Now to head back to airport and hope we don’t hit a moose on the way.


The Stone Detective is a fictional character created by Dr. Frederick M. Hueston, PhD, written to entertain and educate. Dr. Fred has written over 33 books on stone and tile installations, fabrication and restoration and also serves as an expert for many legal cases across the world. Fred has also been writing for the Slippery Rock Gazette for over 20 years. 

Send your comments to fhueston@stoneforensics.com .