Retiring Partners
November 2016
I think it was at the first coffee break that people were discussing getting tickets to the baseball game in Minneapolis, and as walked down the stairs, Harold caught me and said, “You know, they won’t be able to serve beer at the Twins game.” I looked at him, puzzled; as a life-long Cub fan, I was accustomed to beer, hot dogs, and baseball always going together. So I said to Harold, “Why?” He said, “Because the Twins lost the opener,” and walked away. I had to think about that for a bit, as Harold said it with a straight face, as he always does. I finally got it.
Dry humor was kind of an indicator of what I learned was an endless supply of calm that Harold projected outwardly. He was always the professional, even on the office’s softball team; when I was having a hard time making good throws from my position at third to first base (meaning over Steve’s head), Harold walked over and calmly said, “We really need your glove in short center field,” relieving me of the long throw but doing it in a way that wasn’t demeaning. That’s Harold. He’d always find a way to accomplish a greater good without stepping on anyone in the process.
I modeled a fair amount of my behavior (the good parts) on Harold: when I find a way to turn a problem person into a team asset, and my lovely wife notices, I tell her it’s the North Dakota way---always be as nice as you can: there’s a positive in most every negative. I think I learned that from Harold. Something maybe the country could use…maybe in retirement Harold needs to run for Governor or higher office!
As an architect, Harold was a consummate professional. Clients came first; good work in the office made for good work in the field, which made for good outcomes for the client. He asked the same from the people who worked on his projects. But again, quietly, persistently. Harold wasn’t the kind to storm out of his office and throw a spec book across the drafting room. No. Harold would redline the correction that needed to be made to the drawings, and if a person improvised and changed the design, he’d redline it again, and again, and it would ultimately get done right. His buildings stand across the upper midwest today in Fargo, Whapeton, Moorhead, and many small towns where today older people live in decent places thanks to his projects. He is a good architect.
But Harold didn’t buy into the eccentricities that many architects seem to clothe themselves in. No perfectly round eyeglass lenses for him, no all black sports car (unless we count the Fairmount). He was a regular guy when I knew him, easy to talk to, a good listener, and you knew he valued your conversation.
I’ve missed all of you up there in the North; the solid grounding you all share in doing the right thing is what made my years in Fargo so important to my life. Harold, Judy, Steve, Joanna, Mark and Remar, Kerry and Sue, Chuck and Judy, Dave and Diane, you were my community and I think of each of you often. I’m glad you’re gathering to celebrate Harold’s retirement, I’m glad Steve has found his church, and that this holiday season, you’ll all be surrounded with family and grandchildren.
I’m thankful to have been a part of it for a few important years in my life.
Take care of each other. Be good to each other. Do good work.
enough