If you've watched "Mad Men," you've had a glimpse of the social mores of the 1960s, including the hierarchy that existed in large corporations at that time. It wasn't easy for women to succeed in business. Although the U.S. Equal Pay Act was enacted in 1963, and gender was added to the anti-discrimination provision of Executive Order 11246 ("affirmative action") in 1968, sexual discrimination in the workplace was the norm, rather than the exception.
The 1970s brought tumultuous change. We lived through the Hippie Era (1967 Summer of Love) and the Vietnam War Era (1955-1975). "Question Authority" (attributed to Timothy Leary) was the mantra that began to appear on bumper stickers.
We take up my story in 1974. Although SOM was a wonderful learning experience, I wasn't completely happy there. The economy was booming, and it was possible to look at other opportunities.
In the back of my mind, I could hear the closing line from one of my favorite poems, Archaic Torso of Apollo by Rainer Maria Rilke: "You must change your life."
In the early 1970s, I had been part of a group that started a chapter of the Architectural Secretaries Association in SF (now called the Society for Design Administration, promoting education and best practices in management and professional standards for design firm administrative personnel). We had an active group, and we got to know each other's offices. One day, a chapter member called to say that she and her husband were moving to South Africa, and she was looking for a replacement. She worked for a small start-up, and I was trying to think of someone who might be interested in her position. When she told me the salary range, I realized that she was earning more than I was, and not surprisingly, I told her I was interested.
In 1974, I became the Business Manager for Robinson and Mills Architecture and Planning, a 15-person firm founded in 1970. David Robinson and Matthew Mills had been classmates at the University of Pennsylvania. David had come to SF and worked at SOM, and Matthew remained in Philadelphia, working for Kling (now Kling Stubbins) and GBQC (later acquired by Cubellis). At R&M, I was responsible for everything that wasn't architecture, and for the first time in my life, I did accounting — with pencil and paper, since few firms had computers.
R&M was a community-based design firm with three "anchor" clients: Time Inc., which owned the China Basin Building (for whom we did tenant improvements), Borel Development (suburban office parks), and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (housed in the Veteran's Building next door to the Opera House). In addition, they were designing the Mill Valley Public Safety Building. (Public safety was a big issue due to the Vietnam Era protests.)
Unfortunately, just a few months after I started work, the 1974 recession hit. The office building work evaporated, and the museum work slowed down. We tried to get more projects, but without anything on the horizon, the partners decided to reduce work hours, and after letting a couple of people go, the rest of us went on 80% hours and salary.
In the 1970s, the AIA's Code of Ethics prohibited advertising and other forms of self-promotion. "Marketing" was a gentlemanly activity, based on personal relationships and conducted on the golf course or at a business lunch. One's work could be featured in a magazine, and one could respond to inquiries, but there wasn't a lot of "proactive" positioning, and certainly no solicitation.
In our effort to develop more work, we discovered Weld Coxe, whose seminal book Marketing Architectural & Engineering Services became the standard for the industry (and ours). The Society for Marketing Professional Services was created in 1973, and in 1975, Weld spoke at the SMPS National Conference in SF. I went up to talk to him after his presentation (which was eye-opening), and he invited me to join him for dinner. (Wow!) That was the beginning of my relationship with Weld as a mentor.
R&M tried to become more proactive in marketing, attempting some pretty crazy things (like mailing an expensive brochure to a list of banks). Matthew began to teach architecture at the new SF campus of CCAC, and David continued to network with his contacts, primarily in the art world. (David was an active member of the Board of Trustees for the SF Art Institute, and he consulted with the Western Association of Art Museums.)
It was a long couple of years. Then one fine day, we had an inquiry from a local tugboat company that was interested in new offices. Previously unknown to us, Crowley Maritime Corporation was on an upward trajectory, changing from a local tugboat business to a "marine transportation and logistics services company" that had just received the contract to supply the Alaska Pipeline project. The new offices were in One Market Plaza, and the design included the first installation of task-ambient lighting on the West Coast, working with lighting designer Sy Shemitz. Sy had great PR contacts, and the next thing we knew, the project was featured in Fortune magazine. The phone started ringing.
Robinson and Mills was now in the interior design and architecture business, and it was booming. Andrew Belschner joined us to lead interior design. Andrew and I had worked together on the Bank of America Headquarters Building and at SOM, and I was delighted to welcome him. The firm began to grow in earnest — from a low of 12 people in 1974, we were up to 45 people in 1976 and then to 65 people in 1978. David and Matthew conferred, and they decided that the time was right to bring in a "world-class" architectural designer as a partner — Dave Williams, another former classmate from Penn. They also brought in a management consultant, and nine of us (three partners, five associates, and a consultant) went on a retreat to plan our future. We became Robinson Mills + Williams (RMW).
David and Matthew committed to an ownership transition process, and at the age of 31, I became a partner in an architectural firm. (Weld told me that I was one of perhaps 50 people in US architectural firms who were non-architects in an ownership position.) Each of us took on an area of responsibility in the firm: Marketing, Finance, Design, Production, Research, Staffing, Human Resources, and Administration. I continued to be responsible for HR and Administration, and in addition took on responsibility for all of the firm's legal affairs, including professional services agreements.
As we had grown in design and technical staff, we had also hired more administrative and financial staff. By 1979, we had begun working with Weld Coxe as a consultant, and we added our first marketing coordinator, Gail Gabriel, whom I had first met in 1970 when we founded the Architectural Secretaries Association chapter.
RMW continued to grow and develop, working with clients in a variety of corporate and institutional sectors, with a balance of architecture and interior design projects. By the early 1980s, we reached a peak of 85 people. We had transitioned to a computer-based accounting system, and we experimented with General Managers, first hiring a Stanford MBA and then an architect with an MBA. Tom Gerfen, whom we had initially hired as a designer, became the Director of Professional Services (and today is RMW's President). Matthew Mills had taken over the Managing Principal position, and David Robinson continued to be focused on marketing and business development. I had gotten involved with some business development, and I liked it, but of course, I wasn't an architect or designer, so I couldn't be a "closer/doer."
When the next recession hit in 1982, I was ready for a major change. I was 35 years old, and I had done pretty much everything that could be done in an architectural firm. Our attorneys were encouraging me to consider law school, but I wasn't sure. Regardless, I knew that it was time to listen to the poet.
Tally: from 15 to 12 people in six months (1974), then from 12 to 85 people in seven years (1975-82).
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