Since graduating from the University of Oregon in 1981, I have been through a number of recessions and economic downturns and have experienced the underbelly of the architectural profession. Kelly Rodriguez, our most empathetic editor, asked me to share a few of my war stories to give us all some perspective and maybe a little hope.

1982
Right after I graduated from the University of Oregon, our country was in the midst of one of the biggest economic downturns of the century. The American car and lumber industries were particularly hard hit. Flint, Michigan and Eugene, Oregon were competing for the highest unemployment rates in the country; both cities were hovering at around 15%. For some inexplicable reason (a woman), I decided to stay in Eugene to beat the odds and find an architectural job. After a month of searching, I ended up as a draftsman for a house builder, which only lasted two weeks. Not only could I not find another architectural job, I couldn’t find work anywhere, even at a fast food restaurant.

Luckily, I had bought my car from a friend for $50, was crashing at a buddy’s house for almost free and had no college debt at the time (college was still pretty cheap in those days!). After running out of ideas, my friend suggested selling drawings and paintings, and I became a door-to-door house renderer! Yes, I swallowed my pride and walked the rich neighborhoods of Eugene offering to do drawings of houses. I would draw big houses, small houses, beautiful houses and ugly ones. I really didn’t care. I just drew them as fast as I could and charged $50 a rendering—framed! Doing about two or three a week, I barely made enough to keep my Pinto Station Wagon on the road and food in my belly. This business lasted for several months until I finally gave up and did the only respectable thing a young architectural intern could think of: I quit the profession and moved to Spain.

1986
After living the Latin life, I decided to return to the states and architecture. But it was just my luck that I came back right at the beginning of another economically stressful time. I did find a job as a draftsman/blueprint runner/receptionist for a firm in Seattle. I’m not sure if any of you have ever attempted all these tasks simultaneously, but take my word for it that they are tough to juggle. I still remember being on a deadline and getting a call from Martin Selig. I guess I didn’t answer the phone with enough pleasantries because he complained to my boss that the receptionist was grumpy. Since I knew it was Selig, it didn’t bother me too much. This job paid so poorly that when I finally did get laid off, I felt like my unemployment benefits were a raise.

After searching for work for several months, I landed another job with a small firm, but the work dried up within a month. I still recall coming in every day wondering how many Architectural Records or Sweets catalogs I could read before the boss would notice I was doing nothing and fire me (no Internet in those days). It was almost a relief when he finally saw the writing on the wall and let me go after a short three-month stint.

1991
If you drive north on 1-5 past Burlington, you will see what I did during this recession. I am not proud to point out that the Target strip mall just north of the town is all my doing. I mean everything – the parking lot, architectural design, working drawings and construction administration – was my work. As a matter of fact, I was so desperate to keep my job I did several strip mall designs until one day I had an epiphany. I heard two people in the office talking, and they referred to me as the “strip mall” expert. Now from day one of my career I had always had one important philosophy: You never want to get good at things you don’t like doing. It was at that very moment I decided I had to chart a new course for my design life, and I am proud to say I have never designed a five stall/1,000 square foot parking lot again!

As December approached the economy was still in shambles, and to cut costs, our firm decided to do a very simple holiday party at the office. Our office manager suggested using her middle school-aged, harp-playing daughter for the event’s music. With our families huddled in our work spaces sampling potluck holiday vittles as heavenly music plucked from this girl’s earnest hands, I felt strangely like I was in corporate hell. After an hour of this, I did what no one else had the cajones to do: I fired her and mounted a boom box with some funky holiday sounds.

After New Year’s our staff whittled away to about half of where it was six months before. I could feel the impulse of a strip mall relapse but stood my ground and weathered the economic storm.

2002
It was post 9/11, and the country was in a state of grim shock. Again, I had to will myself away from the temptation of a retail reversion. One of my few projects that year was designing a new arts center on the Edmonds Waterfront. Jon Rader and I poured our hearts into the design, donating literally hundreds of hours to make it a truly signature project. Of course, in our eagerness to push ahead, we neglected to get a contract signed.

Everything started to unravel the day I presented the project to the art organization’s board of directors and realized that they had no idea the president had given us the go-ahead to design the project. It was then that they also admitted they were essentially broke. The president was eventually canned, and the board made a deal with me I couldn’t refuse. They offered to pay our firm half the money they raised each month or $200, whichever was more. This was great until after several months a pattern emerged: The checks were never more than $200. One day our accountant sat me down and did the math. She showed me that at the rate the checks were coming in, it would take the nonprofit almost 30 years to pay us for our work to date. Eventually the checks stopped coming at all, and I became the butt of a sea of business jokes that continue to this day.

2009
So here I am again. I don’t want to admit I’m slow, but I am writing this installment of Side Yard during office hours. Yeah, it’s this or the March 2004 issue of Architectural Record. The stress in the architectural profession is palpable. No job is certain, no project is a given. As bad as it is, the last economic downturns have taught me that we always get to the other side. We may have scars to show, but we also have past-tense stories to tell.

It’s the underbelly of this profession. It’s as ugly as a strip mall parking lot. Maybe even one that I designed…