Share your story with us.
The School of Architecture at The University of Texas at Austin is celebrating a centennial year!
In honor of our 100th anniversary, we’re inviting you to tell us how the School of Architecture has impacted your life. Share memories, anecdotes, successes, and inspirations. Our only request is that you keep it clean and be respectful of others.
To give you some ideas, we’ve posted a few stories that have previously appeared in Platform magazine.
Use the form below to share your own story.
University of Houston School of Architecture, 1969 – disenchanted, disengaged, demonstrating, building geodesic domes, inflatables, 4 story towers of peeler cores, sleeping in cargo nets hung in trees to stop development, throwing out the dean.
Doug Michaels and Ant Farm come to town, and we bake a cake of our beloved City of Houston, complete with freeways, and feed it to the mayor and the assembled dignitaries- they didn’t get the joke. Paolo Soleri comes to speak and sell sand cast bells, taking 20 percent of our class away with him to build his Utopian Vision in the desert.
Not much Architecture being learned. I moved to Oregon.
The University of Texas at Austin School of Architecture, 1984 – time to finish the degree.
Disciplinary suspension stamped on one transcript, decent grades on the other, but no portfolio. Some “art” some “craft,” but no evidence of competency in architecture, and somehow Larry Doll let me in anyway. Of course, he was only 2 years older than me at the time, maybe he thought he needed to fill the ranks of the “mature” students.
Post-modernism. What a terrible time to be in school. Michael Graves comes to town to speak and sell himself. There were quite a few buyers, but I thank my lucky stars for professors like Lance Tatum, Larry Speck, Eric Schmidt, Howard Davis, and others who encouraged independent, conceptual thinking, a respect for materials, the importance of context, of site specific design, of learning how to build.
And how to resist the seductive, easy way out – mimicking whatever the current “ism” is.
I’m not going to be overly verbose and gushy. Something I’ve always thought overdone by architects. Its not what you say…, its what you do and get built. Generally the client would prefer action over pontificating.
I was the first in my family to go to college. UT was a wonderful place to be in 1961. I was going to be an electrical engineer, but architecture attracted me as soon the second year.
Being low on money I worked for Fehr and Granger and the Jessens during my college years…wonderful experience on many University Buildings and other big projects in Austin. Opportunities not fully appreciated until later.
I was married just before third year. Grades were good. Inducted into Sphinx. Great friends whom I still see. Managed to stay on the Dean’s list.
After graduation I took a job with Marmon and Mok in San Antonio where I became an associate and stockholder.
In 1970, I started my practice…, Bradley Architects, …doing Kthru12 schools (115 built), college projects (about 12 built)…, with the occasional high-rise office building and of course…, residential.
38 years later, I’m retired, and my son is an architect. I couldn’t be happier with the breaks life brought me…, and UT Architecture school profs. and classmates were the best.
I once asked the late Charles Granger the definition of architecture. He replied, “Architecture is a highly competitive hardsell game of prostitution…, plus, there’s a downside.” Thanks for the memories UTSOA and the best of success for everyone in the future. Happy 100th.
David Bradley
License #3882 Texas
TRACES of a LONG TRAJECTORY
I knew early on that I wanted to be involved in design and by logical extension, equally in building. As a teenager I sketched automobiles as a hobby, but I was interested in the appearance and functionality of all things. Before graduating from high school in 1960, I made a decision that to stay in Texas I would forego any thought of automobile or industrial design because that would inevitably involve studying and working out of state. Even though segregation was still a fact of life in Texas and to a great extent at UT, I knew that changes were coming and that as a young black Texan a bright future would still be possible. My decision to study architecture at UT, then, was a compromise based on what would keep me in state, what I could afford, and what would allow me to pursue my interest in functional design.
When I entered UT in 1960, I enrolled in Architectural Engineering. Though unclear after the passage of so much time, my thinking must have been that Arch E would involve more of the technical aspects of design. One semester in Arch E and the counsel of a friend in architecture convinced me to change to the School of Architecture. The attempt to make that change was thwarted initially by the lack of a prerequisite which I made up as a non-credit course, and then by a failure to maintain the grades I was advised were necessary to enroll in architecture.
After three years the cumulative toll of life in the early 60’s and academic troubles arising from not yet being in the SOA resulted in my leaving school and enlisting in the army for a three-year period. Initially drawn to the physical and mental demands of the military, I briefly considered an army career, but a series of scheduling setbacks for an officer career track and the build-up in Vietnam convinced me to return to school at the end of my enlistment.
Back in Austin in early 1967, I quickly found work in an architect’s office as a draftsman and I returned to school for one ill-fated semester that fall. The combination of being a returning veteran, newly married, and older than most other students proved to be too much of an adjustment for me. Disillusioned with school, I decided to work full time and earn my license through equivalent work credits.
I continued that plan until 1971, when a reevaluation revealed that the shorter route would be to return to school for a degree. I reenrolled in 1971 and entered the School of Architecture for the first time.
By now, most if not all, racial barriers had, whether by law or enlightenment, fallen away. Finally in my element and feeling more welcome and relaxed, my academic performance improved greatly. It also helped that my military and veteran experiences were altered by time and events. I completed my degree requirements in the summer session of 1974.
An indelible memory from one of those latter years in school was one exhibit in the SOA building lobby. A student took a photo of an END CONSTRUCTION sign and added a caption to it which read “wishful thinking”. As one who always wanted his to life to be about building, I never understood how that idea was formed in a school of architecture. I still wonder if it was just sophomoric illogic or a paradoxical expression of something deeper from those troubled times.
After a two year apprenticeship, I took and passed the licensing exam in 1976. By then, wanting and needing a change, I declined a partnership offer from the local firm where I had now worked for nine years and decided to move to Los Angeles. There, I worked initially for KDG Architects and Planners headed by Robert Kennard, a pioneering African-American architect in Southern California, and then for Gruen Associates. At Gruen I worked for Norma Sklarek in their production office. She was a pioneer as well, being the first black female licensed architect in the U.S. At that time Cesar Pelli was the head of Gruen’s design group. I worked on several of his projects, including medical facilities in an LA suburb and lease spaces in the Pacific Design Center (“The Blue Whale”).
In 1978, missing Texas and not seeing a long-term future in LA, I accepted an offer to move to Dallas and open an office with two upperclassmen mentors who graduated from UTSOA in the early 60s. I headed that office until 1994, when I accepted an offer from UT Southwestern Medical Center to become it’s University Architect. I retired from UTSW in 2008. Almost literally, I consider those last active 30 professional years as coming full circle.
As important as the UTSOA was to my professional life, the entire university experience was more so holistically. The experiences, exposure to ideas, and perspective gained in university during my extended stay gave me base and form. Who I was entering in 1960 was certainly not who left in 1974. The significance of that change is what I appreciate and will always treasure.
UTSOA delivered highly valuable life’s lessons during student days and as an alumnus. This is my experience.
MENTORSHIP
Harwell Hamilton Harris, internationally recognized architect and Dean in 1953, showed unearned courtesy and respect to us entering Freshmen. Dean Harris made it clear that he was committed to our success in school. He knew and we did not know then that we would one day have opportunity to extend similar courtesy and encouragement to other young professionals. His thoughtful action then has had that effect.
DISCIPLINE
The coursework in the degree program demanded a level of discipline not required in prior high school academics. UTSOA proved once again that showing up was a big part of success and hard work was not optional. Critical choices would then and through life, be required.
TALENT
UTSOA clarified that each person brings different assets. Some have exceptional design talent. Others excel in other ways. There is value in each. UTSOA taught the lesson “Celebrate the value of each. Do not lament that all are not equal.” Some people are just better than me in some things.
TEMPORALITY
I was a grader for Prof. Robert Leon White in the “Professional Practice” course he taught during his latter years on the faculty. Mr. White, the architect responsible for the building of the “Main Building/Tower,” had enjoyed a distinguished career on the faculty and in the architectural profession in Texas. As a student and as his grader, I knew Mr. White in his failing health, in his marginal teaching assignments and in his remembered past accomplishments. He was a great man and even great men get old, as you and I one day will get old.
GOOD FORTUNE
As a part of the student body at UTSOA during the “Texas Ranger” years we students witnessed the ferment, conflict, tension, and challenge resulting from the young, bright, energetic faculty descending on the staid, “old guard” SOA system. Having no point of reference, some of us figured this was what every college was supposed to be. Luckily our classmate Alex Caragonne was perceptive enough to “take notes” and write the book about that remarkable period of UTSOA history. All of us realized (some more quickly than others) the great value of the remarkable education which came as a result of that exciting time. Take good fortune as it comes. It is not always recognizable at first.
PERSEVERANCE
Of the 220 entering Freshmen in 1953, five years later in 1958, 22 graduated with the B.Arch. degree. In that span of time, all 22 likely had some doubts about their success. UTSOA demanded a commitment to continual step-by-step progress. Even great goals are achieved by smaller milestone accomplishments.
FRIENDSHIP
UTSOA has given me dear friends and life-long colleagues. It has been those in student days and in alumnus days who have joined with me in the School of Architecture adventure that have given me a fulfilled life.
John Nyfeler, ’58
In September 1966 I arrived at the School of Architecture at the University of Texas. I came equipped with a decent high school education, a portfolio of drawings, and an iron skillet, which my mother said I would need no matter what happened. As I embarked on a five year odyssey to become an architect, I had great expectations and not a little uncertainty. Would I become an architect with my own studio complete with admiring apprentices and a full-time cook or end up as a bitter failure forced to seek work as a product representative for a toilet room partition manufacturer in some grim rustbelt state?
Like many of my classmates, I came from small town Texas and was in awe of the campus, its grand buildings, and the concentration of people all about the work of advanced education. After enduring registration in Gregory Gym I found the School of Architecture a welcome refuge from the chaos of the campus. There appeared to be civility and purpose in the place. Little did I know that I would find a home away from home, sleep deprivation, and adventure. Once we were able to draw and design, we were going to save the world with enlightened designs for buildings that would make unenlightened people better.
But beneath the idealism and altruism I found a rough and tumble enterprise where competition for grades and prestige was the rule. Grades were publicly posted in the lobby and a jury system was the high court of success or failure in design. After two years it became evident that success in academics, drawing, and design allowed one to join a select group of favored students. After the third year it became more difficult to enter this elite group. Sphinx, the architectural honor society, was the home of this elite group of students. Success was a result of what you knew, who you knew, and how you performed – exactly the measures of success we were to encounter in the real world of architectural practice. While working the system, dealing with favoritism, and professorial preferences were looked down on by academic purists, learning how to operate in the school of architecture prepared us for the business of architecture.
My own record in the school of architecture was mixed. While I did well in architectural history, drawing, and design, I struggled with physics and math. I began to do well in jury presentations by my second year and was elected to the Sphinx Honor Society in my third year. Along with five other students, I was selected to participate in an exchange program with the University of Virginia School of Architecture. Dean Taniguchi was selected as the Thomas Jefferson Visiting Professor in Architecture and we spent six weeks at UVA where we studied manufactured housing, the beers of Virginia, and were able to meet and visit with Kenzo Tange, the Thomas Jefferson Medalist.
Most of us had no sense of the history of the School of Architecture or of the various political, social, or philosophical influences that shaped our professors and curriculum. The Beaux Arts influences that shaped our campus and the Spanish Colonial Revival influences that shaped our buildings were unknown to most of us.
Our experience with the International Style was limited to the “modern-looking” buildings in our home towns. Our context was the simple tract houses built after the war and the Ranch Style houses in our neighborhoods. We suspected that there was something big out there beyond our experience. Little did we know of the forces that moved architecture – the development of the technology of concrete and steel, the influences of collectivism as seen in European Socialism and American Progressivism, and the distinctly American designs of Frank Lloyd Wright. We may have been dazzled by Corbu’s massive apartment buildings but we did not make the connection (until much later) with the failures of American public housing or Urban Renewal. While these movements were all around us we were intent, at the beginning, on learning to draw and design buildings and make them stand up.
Growing up in an extended family of East Texas story tellers, I absorbed the situations and characters that I saw and heard in this new and rarified environment into which I came.
At an age when many young girls were playing with Barbies and piling small mountains of stuffed animals around their rooms, Tracey Overbeck Stead found herself drawn to the spaces that surrounded her, rather than to the rambunctious activities within.
At the ripe age of six, she was more apt to be rearranging the bedrooms of her friends than toying with the miniature replicas of furniture found within Barbie’s dream house.
In a child’s world of playful havoc, she found peace in creating harmony.
“My grandmother owned one of Austin’s icons, Nau’s Pharmacy,” said Stead. “She was very proud of the fact that she designed the first horseshoe soda fountain in Texas. I guess that means the desire to create a harmonious setting is in my blood.”
“I learned from an early age that I could manipulate environments to make them better. It was a remarkably rewarding experience to see the positive changes I could make in my surroundings.”
Stead, now married and mother to two young sons, received a bachelor’s degree in interior design in 1997. She freelanced during her years as a student and in the first few months following graduation.
Her work was publically recognized just a few months after graduation when a single- residence office she was working on was featured in a tour hosted by the American Institute of Architects.
Shortly thereafter, she was offered a position at Page-Sutherland-Page and after a 2 year stint with the firm, decided to open her own business in 2000, Tracey Overbeck Stead Interior Design.
“I truly enjoyed my experience with Page-Sutherland-Page,” said Stead. “The experience I gained during those years was invaluable. However, I was ready to move on and invest in my own business.”
One irony of opting to become her own boss, Stead admits, is that, rather than having one boss as she did at Page-Sutherland-Page, she now has 20 to 25 bosses at any given time.
“When you own a business, your clients are your boss,” said Stead. “I have around 20+ people at any given time that I am accountable to.”
Going into business for herself has brought rewards that Stead finds tremendously gratifying.
“As a mother of two, I am very happy to be able to work flexible hours,” said Stead. “I can fit my family in during the day and spend a few hours in the evening working with clients.”
“By far, one of the biggest rewards of owning my own business is that I have a wonderful personal connection with all my clients. I become entwined in their lives and become a ‘part of the family’ during my many one-on-one sessions with them. It’s an extremely gratifying experience.”
Although the economy has affected many small businesses, and many firms are being forced to downsize or cut back on salaries and personnel, Stead says her business is thriving.
“Although the economy is changing, it doesn’t necessarily affect the bottom line of my business,” said Stead. “What is does affect is the type of projects I’m working on. In years past, most of my business was in new construction, especially in the commercial realm. Now I work mainly on residential projects and most, if not all of my projects, are remodeling jobs.”
Stead is adamant that it is her degree from UT that has helped buffer the effects of the economy. While at UT, she learned to be flexible in her skills and to expand her portfolio to include everything from commercial and residential design to remodeling and new construction.
“Not only does my interior design degree from UT carry a lot of clout, but with it came the ability to be diversified in my field. My business is booming right now because I can engage in various projects and work with a variety of assignments.
“Business is expanding every year as individuals become more aware of the importance of their surroundings in their daily lives. I have many single women that are just starting off in their businesses and they want to make a good impression on their clientele. I still look at my work as a luxury item, but my clients see my services as a necessity.”
When asked if she had any role models during her years at the university, Stead said she was most influenced by Phillipe Starck, the renowned French designer, and New Orleans native, Ann Dupuy.
“I have been blessed to meet both of my role models and it’s been quite an honor,” said Stead.
As for any advice she might have for interior design students, Stead reflected on her own modus operandi.
“Interior design is a very rewarding experience. It can also be an extremely lucrative business as long as you keep in mind that your job is to make peoples’ environments better. Always keep your integrity. By staying honest in your business you will be highly recommended and receive referrals from your clients. That’s how my business has grown—simply by word of mouth.”
Hank Dittmar has twenty-five years of leadership experience in the fields of urban design, transportation planning, and development. An authority in the issue of new urbanism, Dittmar’s expertise transcends both conventional wisdom and modernist theory. It is, rather, a marriage of evolution and revolution.
As chief executive officer of The Prince’s Foundation for the Built Environment, and former president and CEO of Reconnecting America, Dittmar’s expertise spans the Atlantic Ocean.
He was chairman of the board of directors of The Congress for New Urbanism from 2004-2008, and was previously appointed to the White House Advisory Committee on Transportation and Greenhouse Gas Emissions by former President Bill Clinton.
As a lead authority in urban design, transportation planning, and development, Dittmar has provided expert testimony and advice to the international Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development, and to the United States, U.K., Australian, and New Zealand governments over the past two decades.
Reflecting on common, deficient mainstream attitudes towards green building endeavors, Dittmar optimistically notes that there are propitious models of effective urbanism to be found.
“If you scratch a green builder, you will find lots of enthusiasm for gadgets and very little enthusiasm for urbanism,” said Dittmar. “We are not getting the story out about the many successful, vital, walkable, mixed-use communities being built around the world, largely by new urbanists. The answer of reducing carbon emissions, combating higher fuel prices, and dealing with the squeeze in household budgets is to plan more walkable communities and connect them with transit—and if we do that we can improve, not reduce, quality of life.”
In a momentous move to reduce carbon emissions, the U.K. government has, according to Dittmar, made a commitment to zero-carbon buildings by 2016 and has begun to tackle planning eco-towns as well. Dittmar believes that the standards set in the U.K. by the Building Research Establishment and in the U.S. by the U.S. Green Building Council are, at least, shifting the market. “The new LEED-ND standard developed by the United States Green Building Council with the Natural Resources Defense Council and the Congress for New Urbanism is a big step forward in recognizing that greener cities are just as important as greener buildings.”
“The tools and techniques for creating sustainable communities can be cross-cultural, and the principles of walkable, mixed-use communities and legible beautiful places are universal,” said Dittmar. “Truly sustainable places derive from a connection with local identity, culture, building ethos, climate, ecology, and materials; and this local adaptation needs to be reflected in architecture and urbanism.
“Unfortunately, for the most part, we have built places hard-wired for a world of cheap energy, limitless economic growth, and abundant resources, where we can throw things away when we are done with them, whether they are soft drink containers, major appliances, shopping centers, or entire neighborhoods. I fear that most of these places are going to fail in the next twenty years, so we must dedicate ourselves to doing better in the next fifty years.”
Transportation, of course, plays a huge role in the sustainability equation and as director of the Washington-based Surface Transportation Policy Project from 1993 to 1998 Dittmar oversaw one of the nation’s leading advocates for transit policy reform. He managed the coalition’s campaign for the Transportation Equity Act for the 21st Century, a historic movement to increase federal funding for public transit.
“Transportation systems are the skeletal framework, the bones upon which regions and metropolitan areas grow. We’ve got to get the bones right; for the last fifty years, however, we’ve been getting them wrong by building roadways and channeling all traffic onto a limited set of high-volume roads. New urbanism has to be built around a viable, integrated public transportation system.”
Regardless of the methodologies used to help achieve a more liveable, sustainable planet, Dittmar believes one of the crucial requisites for success is in educating architects, planners, and engineers to work in a collaborative interdisciplinary way. The Prince’s Foundation has developed new tools and templates for urban design and community engagement, offers continuing professional development, hosts workshops for practitioners, and offers both a graduate fellowship program in London and building craft apprenticeships.
“We need to start talking about environmental issues in human and family terms,” said Dittmar. “Economic security is what pushes people’s buttons these days, and we have to begin to translate issues like air pollution, climate change, and loss of biodiversity into terms of household budgets, public health, and economic vitality.”
Dittmar has a bachelor’s of science degree from Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and a master’s degree in community and regional planning from the School of Architecture at The University of Texas at Austin. His new book, Transport and Neighborhoods, was released in last summer by Black Dog Publishing.
In May, Dittmar received the 2008 Outstanding Graduate Alumnus Award from the Graduate School at The University of Texas at Austin.
I received a Master of Landscape Architecture degree from UT Austin. Initially inspired by sustainable development policy in Southeast Asia, I pursued the study of law, receiving a J.D. from the University of Miami School of Law and then an LL.M. from the University of Hong Kong in international investment and development.
After around six years of practice in the United States and Japan, I found that the practice of landscape architecture played a critical advocacy role in the vision, design, and stewardship of both the developed and undeveloped landscape, “natural” and urban, and that my training as an advocate could play an important role in realizing that.
Upon graduation from UTSOA, I moved to San Francisco to work with Marta Fry Landscape Associates (MFLA ). San Francisco was a logical choice to begin a career in landscape architecture—not only did I serve an internship with Peter Walker and Partners in Berkeley, but it was here that the practice had some of its greatest proponents from within the United States.
My interests in landscape architecture were closely tied to the broad portfolio of MFLA’s work, which challenges and pushes the edges of what the practice is. MFLA is a landscape architecture studio whose practice encompasses the larger physical scales of urban design and master planning, to commercial, hospitality, park, and residential design to temporal urban, retail rebranding, and product design.
My interest in sustainable development policy, while initially rooted in the developing world, remains strong, although I find that its application in urban environments in the United States is equally critical to issues facing the increasingly urban character of the country and the crisis of identity that plagues many communities. The challenges are similar.
So many people at UTSOA had influences on how I approach my work now. Undoubtedly, Simon Atkinson instilled, if not reinforced a boldness in our approach not only to scope but also to the imperative visionary roles landscape architecture does and must play in our culture and society. Hope Hasbrouck ensured that we ask the right questions and that we ask and answer them well. This was a critical point of connection for me in my advocacy training as an attorney, and translating that to the language of design and its choice making continues to be invaluable. Fritz Steiner imbued me with the understanding of our profession as a true threaded community.
I see that each of us plays the role of mentor to others and that our decisions have cascading effects—they impact the course of events and potentially valuable legacies in society and culture.
Differing in scale, projects I have been a part of have presented different kinds of challenges. Our work in crafting the Transbay Redevelopment Project Area Streetscape and Open Space Concept Plan in collaboration with the San Francisco Redevelopement Agency and Planning Department is a good example. The collapse of much of the raised freeway network in downtown San Francisco after the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989 provided the city with an unprecedented opportunity to redevelop approximately 40 acres south of Market Street. The goal of the Concept Plan was to guide critical public realm improvements to what is to be the city’s densest emerging urban neighborhood. Once realized, the streetscape and open space improvements will fulfill a critical function of knitting together a mix of architectural project types and dominant transportation infrastructure elements that occurs across the twenty block area, while making the streets more inviting for walking and biking. To accomplish this, we aimed to develop the most advanced streetscape concepts that melded sophisticated design with sustainable strategies. Ultimately, the intent was to create a unique identity for the Transbay neighborhood visible in the design of its public sidewalks, parks, and alleyways.
Another interesting project is the redevelopment of the decommissioned military post at Fort Baker, which sits at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge. In collaboration with the Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy, we are participating in restoring this urban national park, specifically its beachhead, surrounding habitat, and recreational facilities. This project will serve to complement the new Lodge and Institute at the Golden Gate, whose mission will be to advance the health, sustainability, and protection of the environment. Our intent in this project is to marry habitat restoration with the cultural legacy of Fort Baker as a military outpost and the need to serve an active Coast Guard presence on-site. Of particular interest to me has been the role of the landscape architect in the incremental funding process that these redevelopment initiatives are dependent on. We play an important role in crafting strategy and vision in garnering both public and private support for these long term endeavors.
At a very different scale, our partnership with Old Navy in its rebranding effort has been exciting. Collaborating with HMKM, an architectural practice based in London, we were asked to craft a strategy to introduce an interior “garden” into the new concept for Old Navy stores. Our approach was to develop synergistic scenarios where the garden took on different forms depending on qualities of light, exposure to exterior climate, and spatial variation, while retaining a coherent set of attributes that would reinforce brand identity. Working toward a national roll-out of these concepts on over 1,400 locations has required innovative solutions, and the design process has morphed back and forth multiple times and continues to change as the concepts are tested in prototype locations across the country. Interestingly, I am often asked what retail rebranding has to do with the practice of landscape architecture. I explain that all sites possess a layered narrative that forms the basis of identity, whether or not it is manifested in legible forms, processes, or phenomena. Rebranding is a recharacterization, reorientation, or rereading of this narrative that speaks to its social and temporal context.
The biggest challenge for landscape architecture today is the same as it was 100 years ago—resource management. Today’s challenge, designing within the context of scarce oil and water resources, is more acute than it was in the past, however, and requires more than coping strategies or “green” design where development is inappropriate. Today we must all be advocates for crafting intelligent policy and development principles. ASLA has made great strides through its Advocacy Network. Support of that and similar initiatives is essential if we are to create a viable map for the future.
On June 7, 1950, John Saunders Chase made history when he enrolled at The University of Texas at Austin.
Just two days prior, the United States Supreme Court had voted in favor of desegregation of graduate and professional schools and The University of Texas at Austin became the first major public university in the South to open its doors to African Americans.
Born in Annapolis, Maryland, Chase received a bachelor of science degree in architecture from Hampton University in 1948.
“After graduating from Hampton I took a job in Philadelphia as a drafter,” said Chase. “It was at that time that I began to realize just how few black architects there were. Almost all of them were either in New York City or California.
“When I was offered a job in Austin at the Lott Lumber Company, which was owned by an African American family, I jumped at the opportunity,” said Chase.
Realizing his only hope to become an architect lay in earning a graduate degree, Chase enrolled at the university and two years later became the first African American to graduate from the School of Architecture at The University of Texas at Austin.
Upon receiving his master’s degree in architecture, Chase was offered a position as an assistant professor at Texas Southern University (TSU) in Houston. He and his wife, Drucie, moved to Houston with great expectations of seeing his career as an architect blossom into a reality.
However, in interview after interview at architectural firms, Chase was denied employment. When he showed up, résumé in hand, to apply for a job, he was told there were no available openings.
So he started his own business.
“I passed the state examination and in 1952 founded my own architectural firm. I didn’t know anything about bookkeeping or tax laws or how to coordinate designers, draftsmen, and engineers. Basically, I didn’t know a darn thing about running a business.”
However, in just a matter of years, Chase achieved a number of impressive “firsts.”
Chase became the first African American to practice architecture in Texas. He became the first African American to be accepted into the Texas Society of Architects. And he became the first African American to be accepted into the Houston chapter of the American Institute of Architects.
In the 1960s, Chase helped lead efforts to expand TSU. He designed several buildings on the TSU campus, including the Thurgood Marshall School of Law, the Education Building, several dormitories, the Martin Luther King School of Communi cations, and the student center.
In 1971, after the national convention of the American Institute of Architects (AIA), Chase and twelve other African American architects founded the National Organization of Minority Architects (NOMA), which has chapters in 18 states.
In 1980, an appointment by President Jimmy Carter made Chase the first African American to serve on the United States Commission of Fine Arts.
In 1992, Chase was honored as the first African American to receive a Distinguished Alumnus Award from the university’s Ex-Students’ Association (now referred to as the Texas Exes). Just six years later, and almost a half-century after his historical acceptance into the university, Chase made history yet again by becoming the first African American to serve as president of the association.
In 1994, his lasting presence became immortalized in concrete at the ribbon cutting of the $7.4 million, 750-car garage he designed and built on the university campus, at 25th and San Antonio streets.
Over the years, Chase has earned numerous awards and honors, including Fellow of AIA (1990), the AIA Whitney M. Young Citation for Significant Contributions to Social Responsibility (1982), the Distinguished Black Alumnus Award from the UT Black Alumni Task Force (1989), and the NOMA Design Excellence Awards four years in a row (1984-1987).