your efforts earlier in the design process so you catch mistakes when they are still just drawings, rather than when they are already under construction, and you will save time, money—and your reputation.
Enforce financial metrics—yes, creative professionals need them too—and this book contains clear, simple ones you can adapt.
I spent 50 years at HOK, working my way up from junior designer to CEO—where else can you do that?—so this book also contains a dash of memoir and opinion. I observed the transition from drawing on paper to designing by computer and from one Midwestern office to a global practice of many offices. I was there for the evolution from a pure architecture firm to a highly diversified practice spanning architecture, engineering, interior design, graphics, consulting, and more. I watched as HOK architects went from being generalists—who could and would design anything—to specialists focused on health care, hospitality, aviation, sports, justice, and more. In other words, I witnessed the majority of the firm's history and learned most of its lessons directly.
However, despite being there, rest assured that I did not just rely on my own memory to write this book. I spent two years and interviewed more than 40 HOK colleagues to gather material. I accessed reams of internal documents and scores of external articles about HOK. I put in the time because I appreciate all that HOK did for me and because I believe that what I learned is worth sharing with others. If, after all this effort, there are any errors in the book, they are mine and mine alone.
This book is best read from start to finish, rather than as a reference book. After all, it's a story, and each chapter builds upon the last. That said, as I recount pivotal moments in HOK's history, I make a point of calling out the business lessons we learned that others can benefit from. At times, I may overexplain terminology an architect would already know, but have done so in hopes other creative and service professionals can get something out of the book. To reinforce information that may be helpful to readers, at the end of each chapter you will find a section called “To Design a World-Class Firm” with bullet points recapping the takeaways found in that chapter.
Architecture is a passion, not just a profession, and my own passion for the field extends to the business side. Just as designers delight in finding elegant solutions to design challenges, I came to love finding elegant solutions to business challenges. I hope that what HOK and I learned can help you design your own world-class firm.
Note
1 1 “ENR 2018 Top 500 Design Firms,” Engineering News Record.
Coming to HOK
In the spring of 1967, I was finishing graduate school in architecture at the University of Illinois at Champaign–Urbana. Graduation was approaching in June, and my fellowship was running out. I was excited to get out into the world and see what I could do, and I needed a job right away. I was born and grew up in Alton, Illinois, located on the Mississippi River a few miles upriver from St. Louis. Having grown up near St. Louis, I was eager to go somewhere else to begin my career.
Looking for My Place
Determined to find a firm that felt like a good fit, I drove my Volkswagen Bug—the car of choice for college students of the mid-1960s—to Chicago, for an interview at Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM). Their offices were in the iconic Inland Steel Building at 30 Monroe Street. Designed by Walter Netsch of SOM in the 1950s, the building featured perimeter columns and a side core for stairs and elevators, leaving the interior floors open. The SOM office was completely modular, in the international style, with long rows of drafting tables lined up under banks of fluorescent lights. I received a job offer at SOM, but the cold, rigid look of the place didn't feel right, and I declined. It may sound crazy to turn down a job offer, at what was perhaps the most prestigious architecture firm in the United States, because of the sterile look of its offices, but I was a budding architect looking for the right place to learn and grow. My search continued.
On spring break, I loaded my portfolio into the Bug and drove to Boston because design magazines regularly featured Boston firms. I interviewed with a lower-level staffer at a firm called Cambridge 7, who said my work was good but that they couldn't hire me that day. “Would you like to become an unpaid intern until we have an opening?” he asked. I needed a job now—and turned him down.
Closer to Home
I began to think about interviewing with Hellmuth, Obata & Kassabaum (HOK), a young firm in St. Louis. In architecture school my professors required me to select and critique a modern building, and I chose the James S. McDonnell Planetarium in St. Louis, designed by Gyo Obata of HOK and completed in 1963. I had visited the planetarium several times and was fascinated by the elegance of the design.
The defining form of any planetarium is the dome under which images of the night sky are projected. However, in most planetariums, the dome is almost invisible after adding the lobby, restrooms, exhibition spaces, and offices. Instead, Obata placed the McDonnell Planetarium dome as a freestanding element inside a thin-shelled concrete hyperboloid, a graceful curved shape that tapers in from the base to a narrow waist before increasing toward the top. The hyperboloid is light, elegant, and appears to float above its prominent site in a corner of Forest Park.
Inside, an open lobby and exhibit space surround the planetarium, allowing unobstructed views of the dome. A working observatory is located within the open top of the hyperboloid shielded from city lights, making live observations of the sky possible. As I reflected on the brilliance of the McDonnell Planetarium design, I began to think it would be a great experience to work with Gyo Obata.
Source: Photo by Robert Pettus. Photo Courtesy of HOK.
Bill Voelker, one of my friends from my undergraduate days at Illinois, was working at HOK as a designer under Obata, and I called him for advice. “How did you get to HOK?” I asked Bill. “What's it like?” “HOK is a great place, like a big family, and we're doing dynamic work,” said Bill. “I can get you an interview with Obata.” By now it was May, and I was on the verge of graduating. I got back in the VW and this time drove the short distance to the HOK office in St. Louis.
The Interview
The receptionist took me to meet Gyo Obata for my interview. He was in his mid-40s, slight of build, with a graying crewcut and dressed in a white shirt with a narrow black tie. Obata was filled with energy. His first question was “What are your ambitions?”
“I love architecture and feel I may have some gifts. I want to do great work,” I said.
Although he looked through my portfolio, Obata seemed more interested in who I was as a person. After some conversation, he looked me in the eye and said, “This firm is going places. We just won the largest high school project in the country to design five new high schools in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to replace all the high schools in the city. It's a big, challenging project and you can get in at the beginning. I will oversee that project and want you to work directly with me. How about $650 per month?”
My father had schooled me in how to handle this question. “Always say you were hoping to get more,” he had told me. “I was hoping for more,” I said. “Okay,
