The Straight Path Less Followed

By Jeromy Grant Murphy, AIA, RAS, ICC

I was certain that I was going to be the next famous architect.

When I was about eight years old, my church in Port Arthur, TX, started construction on a new sanctuary. In the moments before, between and after church, I would sneak into the construction site and explore the ever-evolving space. My father was quite a talker so his after church coffee routine afforded me plenty of time to disappear into the architecture.

The sanctuary was a contemporary design but with proper and orderly Presbyterian restraint. The soaring PLAM trusses rested upon tan bricks. The floors were practical slaughter-house tile selected primarily because spilt communion grape juice wouldn’t leave stains. A stained glass clerestory above would cast light upon the congregation, migrating across as the seasons changed. On some occasions, the central aisle would be perfectly light in rainbow light. A single split tile under one of the pews marked the solstice. Overall, it was a beautiful example of how architecture can be both inspiring and practical.

That church building was demolished in 2016 to make way for a new development. So it goes.

That promised development has still yet to develop and it remains a vacant lot to this day. https://maps.app.goo.gl/5F3eRVK9rm2VnKm6A

This is just one of many buildings that I have watched as they were designed, constructed, occupied, abandoned and destroyed. Friends are sometimes surprised at my ambivalence upon seeing old buildings demolished. You would think I would be more concerned about preservation but truthfully, I have learned that like everything we know, architecture is temporary. When you build a stone wall, you think to yourself, “That’s going to last forever,” but no matter how good your masonry skills are, someday it will fall and those fallen stones will turn to dust.

I’m not being nihilistic. My viewpoint is that architecture needs people, and without those people who take care of it, utilize it and rebuild it, the architecture will deteriorate and eventually blow away. So, when I see a lovely building being demolished, I don’t mourn the glass, concrete and stone. I grieve for the people who let the building die.

This early experience of watching the sanctuary be constructed along with my vast LEGO collection, inspired me to be an ARCHITECT.

Again, I was certain that I was going to be the next famous architect.

It was 1992, Lubbock, Texas. Progressive Architecture magazine was my bible. Texas Tech didn’t have as many trees back then, but I found it to be an inspiring yet bland, brick environment conducive to learning and fun. Architecture school was amazing, and I would go back in a heartbeat*. Especially with the fancy tools they have today. Architectural education in the mid-90s was almost indistinguishable from the previous fifty years. We still drafted with rapidograph pens on vellum using a parallel bar and learned to letter like proper architects. We knew CAD was the future, but it wasn’t quite the design tool it is today.

I was a wiz at model building and my delineation was above average (my own children have quickly surpassed me). I was enthralled by the romance of architecture school. I remember the late hours in the studio as being more fun than work. In my first year, I traveled with the college over spring break up to Chicago and back. We got to tour Bruce Goff’s Shin’enKan (Price House), a home that inspired me to have more fun with architecture. A few years later it burned to the ground. So it goes.

The first few years were a blur of school and experience. I experimented with architecture and with hair. I had more success with the architecture.

I worked as a cook and driver for Pizza Hut. I later worked as an assistant at the City of Lubbock Planning and Zoning Department. Job responsibilities included calculating the area of odd-shaped lots, preparing physical presentations for planning commission meetings, and running dozens of copies on an actual blueline machine located in a vault. The ammonia was sometimes overwhelming. I learned valuable skills at both jobs…more so at Pizza Hut.

In the second half of my third year, I met my life partner, Lori. When I graduated in 1997 with a Master of Architecture, we announced our engagement to our families. Her mother was quite concerned until I explained that we would wait another two years for Lori to graduate before we would set a wedding date. Unfortunately, this would mean living apart during that time. I moved to Houston alone.

For a third time, I was certain that I was going to be the next famous architect.

Do you have any idea how little an architect with a master’s degree got paid in 1997? I had a job offer for $28k a year in Dallas but my family was in Houston, and I knew that my good friend Chad had been offered more for the same job, he like runs that place now, btw. After numerous false hopes, I was finally offered a job at American Construction Investigations reviewing plans for compliance with the Texas Accessibility Standards, a relatively new State law based on the ADA. The job paid $10 an hour with no benefits, but I needed work and thought of it as just a temporary job. Each month, I would somehow manage to mail $100 back to Lubbock to help Lori out. It wasn’t much, but was a great way to remind her that I was waiting for her and loved her.

Two years later, she graduated, moved to Houston and immediately got an offer for more than I was currently making. We got married, bought a house in what is now a cool part of town but in 1999 it was considered to be dangerous, nicknamed Gunshot Heights.

I left ACI primarily to finish out my internship so that I could start the Architect Registration Exams (so much effort for such little money). By 2004, Lori and I had both become registered architects. We are probably the only architect couple that has sequential registration numbers. We were having fun raising our kids and renovating our house. I jumped between a few different jobs, even attempting to go solo at one point.

Instead of seeing booming success as a design architect, I got an offer to return to ACI in a management position. The money was good, and I began to remember the nice things about working at ACI. Since I became a registered architect, I no longer had that feeling that I was wasting time at a non-design firm. Management turned into ownership. Not bad for a guy that started at ten bucks an hour and wore a pager.

The job ultimately took me as far west as Hawaii and as far east as Riyadh. I have been to both Portlands, Key West, Los Angeles and most places in between. I have worked on amazing and mundane projects and none of them seem to be able to get their accessible toilets right.

In 2016, Lori and I moved to Meyerland, a neighborhood that was much better for our elementary and middle school daughters. We purchased a ranch style home that had been poorly flipped and worked our architecture magic on it. We added a two-story addition and fixed the floor plan. We had been in the house for less than a year when Harvey dumped 48” of rain and we flooded. The original portion of the house had about two feet of water. Fortunately, we had the elevated addition and sheltered there overnight with our neighbors, about 13 of us in total. All of our work on the renovation was a waste. So it goes.

We rebuilt and it’s really much nicer.

In September of 2020, I had just returned from a business trip and was walking hurriedly through IAH when I got a call from my partner’s eldest son. He told me that Henry was dead. In one moment, my mentor, friend and business partner, was gone. I owe so much to him. He taught me to be honest in work, generous to others and patient in everything. Most importantly, he wanted everyone to know how important it was that they take care of themselves. Although he was never known as a design architect, he was a great influence in the industry and respected by all.

Carrying forward his legacy, in 2024, I sold 90% of the company to my coworkers. This has been a real relief.

My children went off to school, one of them is even studying architecture. Woohoo!

Lori retired from architecture to open a distillery where I help out with mowing grass, brewing beer, wiring process controls, fretting over boilers, and yes…making pizzas. I have come full circle.

Now, I’m not so certain that I am ever going to be the next famous architect.

PS: If you ask me if you should go study architecture, my short answer is, YES! Just be ready for it to be something other than what you expect.

Jeromy, Brewer, Teller of Dad Jokes, Pizza Cook, Still an Architect,