EDITOR’S NOTE The Global Village

When the world began to lock down in the spring of 2020, the ease of communication through technology remained. This also reinforced the notion that we are a global village in many ways even when we don’t act like it.

The less desirable human tendencies reinforced xenophobia, alienation, prejudice, and selfishness. While these are not new problems, they have the ability to spread more rampantly in the meme age of social media.

However, the pandemic also challenged us to become more resourceful and resilient. It has given us the opportunity to listen and learn from our neighbors. A village must rally its people to work together in recognition of their strengths and despite their weaknesses.

A community’s architectural vernacular demonstrates what makes it special. Architects have a responsibility to understand the stylistic influences of a region in their design; they can also mimic solutions from afar resulting in better built environments.

In this issue of Columns, we explore the role of North Texas in a global community and the impacts architects can have locally and afar. The topics range from unpacking Dallas’ desire to be a world-class city to examining the evolution and impact of fire lanes on modern city development. The magazine also explores the subject of security through thought pieces on the emotional impact of safety and the role of technology in a post-pandemic world.

In Dialogues we delve into the role of local and remote architects in shaping Dallas and the perspective of architects who have migrated to Big D from other parts of the world. We also profile Dan Noble, FAIA, chief executive of HKS Inc., one of the world’s largest global architectural practices.

We hope you find value as you read through the content. As always, we welcome your feedback.

James Adams, AIA Editor in Chief james.adams@corgan.com

By David Whitley, Assoc. AIA

ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE. DALLAS, WHAT’S YOUR ROLE?

To many, the term global city conjures up images of diverse, cosmopolitan hubs of activity and commerce — the important places on the world stage that are key connecting points of trade and culture. Without these cities, links in the international economic system break down, gears grind inefficiently, and our collective economic well-being degrades. That’s not to mention the color of our world would be dulled without these repositories of culture.

To be a global city is to be inextricably and integrally tied to the well-being of our planet, to be a crucial part of what makes world societies hum, and to define the tenets of our existence as a civilization. Clearly, achieving this status is no small feat, nor is holding this status a small responsibility.

The Brookings Institution, a renowned public policy think tank, launched its Global Cities Initiative in 2011 in partnership with JP Morgan Chase. This effort seeks to help cities and metropolitan areas to more effectively hang their shingle in the global marketplace. These experts outline guidance on how to distinguish yourself in the world market, define your competitive advantages, and maximize the benefit to your local economy.

A quick assessment of Dallas’ advantages yields a treasure trove of assets put into place over several generations. Step back and take them in as a collective portfolio, it is clear that the tracks laid for Dallas and our region over the generations have led to a pretty direct path to becoming a global city.

As Dallas jetted up the ranks of large American cities in the last part of the 20th century, it began to nudge into queue as a global center. But the groundwork was laid in the early 1870s, when a series of deft decisions and a little cajoling by city leaders resulted in Dallas being at the convergence of railroad lines. The primary north-south and east-west rail lines through the state — the Houston & Central Railway (now Union Pacific) and the Texas-Pacific Railway — crossed each other in Dallas, solidifying the city’s place as a hub for commerce.

This was essential because most bustling metropolises relied upon port access as points of origin for their commerce. Being landlocked, Dallas needed intersecting railroads as an inland tactical advantage to get itself on the map. In 1914, Dallas won another major coup by landing the headquarters of the 11th Federal Reserve District, wrangling it away from clear favorite New Orleans. Dallas’ banking and finance industry were in growth mode, whereas NOLA was on cruise control. The choice to place the Fed in Dallas ensured the city’s place as a financial center for generations and served as another asset driving growth and development in the region.

By the middle decades of the 20th century, America shifted its focus on transportation infrastructure to the development of an interstate highway system. The region successfully attracted strategic infrastructure investment, and today may be the only metro in the nation with four interstate highways crisscrossing the region, providing multiple direct connections to trade throughout the continent.

By 1974, the city turned its eyes to the sky and joined with Fort Worth to build Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. This milestone was decades in the making, going back to the early 1920s. Today, DFW has routes to nearly 260 domestic and international destinations. The annual economic benefit to the region is in the tens of billions of dollars, plus an untold benefit in corporate relocations.

Investment in the Inland Port in the southern reaches of Dallas has continued to boost the region’s logistical advantages. To understand the scale and economic benefit to the area, just look at the line of trucks emblazoned with the Amazon logo stacked up on the Interstate 20 service road in southern Dallas. The Inland Port is a continuation of a series of investments taking advantage of the city’s central location in the country.

Many generations of arm wrestling squeezed out more than our share of growth to become the roaring bastion of commerce springing from the Blackland Prairie of Texas. The sheer size of the population and economy has grown into a metropolitan area that is certainly global in scale and has a gravitational pull that continues to attract growth and investment. According to the North Central Texas Council of Governments, the population of Dallas-Fort Worth is about 7.5 million, making it larger than 37 states, including nearby Louisiana, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Arkansas.

Dallas-Fort Worth makes up 30 percent of the Texas economy at 4.8 million jobs. By 2045, the North Central Texas Council of Governments forecasts, the region will have 11.2 million people and 7 million jobs. The metro’s GDP in 2018 was nearly $470 billion. This would outrank all but 26 or so countries in the world.

So here we are. These data tell us that we have pulled ourselves up onto the global stage, and we are not likely to be knocked off anytime soon. However, we cannot rest on the laurels of the many advantages that our region has accumulated over the generations. We cannot expect to maintain our position in the world without continued effort.

So now what? How will we use this platform not only for our benefit, but for the benefit of others? Like those generations that came before us, are we going to lay groundwork for the generations to come? The way in which our political and corporate systems address these questions will serve as leverage to keep us climbing up the ranks of global cities not only as an economic engine, but also as an engine for cultural innovation and equitable opportunities.

Dallas has reached a stage where it needs to be “full of wise saws and modern instances,” to pull from Shakespeare. Dallas can position itself as a leader that balances experience with innovation to improve justice and equity among its population. In driving our economic strength forward as a global city, we cannot focus only on the next big thing, but also on economic access at the individual level. By stretching our aspirations to not only the overly ambitious and borderline impossible projects, but to enable the very least of us to have opportunities, we can provide an egalitarian example of what a global city should be. And where the economic data are not only measured in the billions of dollars, but also at the level of balancing a monthly household budget.

There is a clear sense that the trajectory of today’s civic policies is to broaden the perspective through which we make public investment decisions. Single purpose investments are inefficient and ineffective at truly addressing public needs. Public expenditures should be graded and prioritized by their performance across a broad spectrum of criteria to ensure that the dollars are spent wisely and to the maximum benefit. Key plans and policies must not only pile on large-scale investments that increase our logistical advantages within the nation and among our peer cities to pay dividends for generations to come, but also to deepen the impact within our local communities.

The Connect Dallas: Strategic Mobility Plan developed by the City of Dallas sifts transportation investment decisions based on how they perform under six key principles:

• Aligning with economic and workforce development goals.

• Supporting diversified and affordable housing options.

• Leveraging the innovation economy.

• Being kind to the environment.

• Improving equitable access to jobs, services, and opportunities.

• Improving safety for all transportation modes. Transportation metrics are no longer solely about minutes of delay and level of service. Looking at transportation investment through this broader lens, a different picture emerges of how we should approach infrastructure development over the next generation. The small-scale project that solves how best to connect individuals to grocery stores and jobs by foot or by bike ranks well against the major investments that have regional or national implications. Better yet, it pushes us to pursue projects that do both. An example: How can the Inland Port immediately benefit its surrounding community? How can streetscapes in the Medical District be reformatted to improve public and environmental health?

The freshly minted Comprehensive Environmental and Climate Action Plan developed by the City of Dallas also holds equity and inclusion as core values. Poor air quality and other environmental challenges disproportionately affect vulnerable communities within our city that are least able to battle these detrimental conditions. Further, the linkages of the environment, equity, access to sustainable transportation options, and improving public health underpin the goals and objectives of the plan. Addressing our city’s environmental challenges also means addressing our city’s social and economic challenges.

As we approach the middle of the 21st century, how can we think broadly and demand comprehensive, inclusive approaches to shaping our city through thoughtful and equitable planning and investment? Looking at the horizon, how can we address the challenges to maintaining our global relevance? As we plan for the future, our expectations will and should change. It is not about how we will keep up as a city, but how we will lead.

As a global city, we have a responsibility to chart the course for others to follow. Today’s decisions and investments should advance an agenda that is increasingly ambitious on multiple levels. Are we making Dallas a more just and equitable city? Are we making Dallas a more sustainable city? Are we making Dallas a more innovative city? If we continually ask ourselves these questions and critically reflect on the progress, the answer to whether Dallas is a global city will take care of itself — or may even be irrelevant.

By Lance K. Josal, FAIA & Thom McKay

The 1980s were a heady time for Texas architects. The great titans of the industry — firms like HKS, CRS, and 3DI — were bustling at a pace not seen since the 1950s, thanks to a post-Vietnam economy fueled mostly by, well, the fuel industry. Dallas boomed and set the stage for the largest expansion, and international diaspora, of architecture practices the country had ever seen.

We had the great fortune to be among the many that surfed the crest of the wave, and it’s easy to draw parallels with what the industry faces in our peri-pandemic COVID-19 world.

First, a bit of background.

Throughout the 1970s, turmoil in the Middle East caused oil-dependent nations like the United States no small measure of political and economic discomfort. In 1979, OPEC reduced the flow of oil into North America, and suddenly the evening news was filled with images of Chevy Caprice station wagons lined up bumper to bumper at gas stations. Inflation and sky-rocketing energy costs sent the country, especially the Northeast and more industrial Upper Midwest, into malaise.

By the time of the coin flip of Super Bowl XIV in January 1980, the country was in a rough place. In Iran, a major oil producing nation, 52 American diplomats and citizens were being held hostage. Amid economic uncertainty, unemployment had begun creeping toward double digits. (It reached 10.8% in December 1982.) People found themselves out of work, including President Jimmy Carter.

But things were different in Texas. The price of crude went from $3.39 per barrel in 1970 to $37.42 in 1980, more than quintupling the bank account of anyone even remotely related to the oil industry. While the Sun Belt saw unprecedented growth, Texas was by far the greatest beneficiary. Houston nearly doubled in size between 1970 and 1980. Early in the decade, Dallas added residents at a staggering clip of as many as 1,000 per month. Most of them were young, upwardly mobile, educated professionals — tagged yuppies — seeking affordable housing and the adrenaline rush of opportunity. They found it in Big D.

As the decade churned forward, Dallas rose from its stepchild position as “regional center” to seventh in the nation in corporate headquarters, fifth in total assets in commercial banks, fourth in airline passengers, and, by the end of the decade, the undisputed leader in commercial construction. Cranes filled the skyline, and it was hard to drive more than two blocks without encountering a construction barricade.

While all the construction noise was certainly music to the ears of every architect, developer, and contractor, it was the cultural and demographic shift that made the lasting impact on our industry. Dallas had lacked the sophistication of New York and Los Angeles, not to mention the architectural heritage of San Francisco or Chicago. But this influx of human capital and creative currency brought a welcomed swagger to the architectural community. And boy, did it need it.

Back then, the city had no architectural identity. Sure, Reunion Tower and Thanks-Giving Square had made an impact, but the skyline was empty and the drawing board felt barren. In the cover story of the May 1980 issue of D Magazine, David Dillon, then one of the few full-time architecture critics in the country, wondered, “Why is Dallas architecture so bad? … When Dallasites talked about their sublime skyline, it was more from wishful thinking than direct observation. Reunion and the Hyatt changed all that by giving the city a genuine landmark building, a civic symbol that expresses visually many of the things Dallasites like to think are true of the city as a whole.”

The influx of talent was the needed spark. Oil money fueled a pro-growth municipal mindset, and there was a great airport, plenty of land, bullish developers, and that young, burgeoning population moving toward the ambient heat of “what is bad for the rest of the nation turns out to be good for Texas.” Dallas boomed. And architects rejoiced.

RTKL opened a Dallas studio in 1979, and Lance Josal was the office’s first hire who did not relocate from the headquarters. The firm’s strategy was to target local commercial developers, who seemed in abundant supply, as well as health care institutions (ditto) and a growing roster of corporations fleeing the far more expensive, tax-intensive Northeast and West for a business-friendly climate. The strategy was iron-clad and foolproof as long as the local economy kept up its robust growth.

It didn’t.

By the mid-1980s, oil prices started a downward slide and Dallas was so overbuilt that entire towers sat unleased, becoming unlit behemoths looming in the dark Dallas nights. From 1983 to 1984, when the economic fuel gauge slipped toward empty, the city added a mind-boggling 30 million square feet of office space — this, to an already bloated inventory of unleased space that stretched from downtown through Oak Lawn to LBJ Freeway and Preston Road over to Las Colinas. Suffice to say, there was a lot of frayed nerves.

Gradually pour into this beaker of nitro the glycerin of the savings and loan crisis, and, by 1986, the region’s architecture firms came to essentially a dead stop. Many of us were used to the whiplash peaks and troughs in the market, but this was terrifying. Layoffs came as every firm in town competed for the smallest crumb of opportunity.

About this time, a fax machine in RTKL’s Baltimore headquarters whirred awake in the wee hours.

To say that international projects were not on our radar would be misleading and unfair. A number of U.S. practices spent the 1970s working in the Middle East, and there was no shortage of opportunities for those willing to make the effort. At RTKL, we had a small taste of it, including embassy work and other federal commissions. Securing the work was difficult; doing the work was even more difficult; and getting paid for the work was the most difficult. (We learned quickly that getting sued was a low-risk threat and that getting paid was where the real exposure lay.]

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The fax that arrived requested our credentials in large-scale commercial development — mixed-use developments that felt more like city-building than architecture. We assembled a portfolio and sent it via courier — PDFs and email didn’t exist. The request came from a large Japanese conglomerate, the owner of over 30 sites in Japan. The construction industry there was going through a similar boom to the one Dallas had, but with more staying power and government backing. And the numbers were larger — much larger.

In the early 1980s, under Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone, Japan had begun to formulate a master reconstruction plan. Its purpose was to frame a comprehensive vision and a set of goals for national development to boost domestic demand. It worked. Land prices shot up, and suddenly what seemed like the entire country was under renovation. Architects, especially those experienced in large-scale development and urban regeneration, were in high demand.

Only later did we discover that the fax we’d received in Baltimore was sent to a number of practices — in fact, many of our competitors. But we were told that we were the only firm that responded.

The timing could not have been better. The Dallas market and virtually the entire U.S. economy had come to a standstill, and our teams needed work. We had scooped up some of the best talent in the profession, recruiting from the best schools in the country, and we worked with some of the best clients in the region, but the work simply was not there.

And so we hopped on planes. As did, eventually, every one of our competitors because that’s what you do when you have an office of over 100 professionals without work. It was not a grand strategic vision that led us to going global — it was survival.

Those early years were challenging, largely because we were unfamiliar with conducting business internationally. We learned quickly that we needed training, so we hired consultants to advise us on basic practices, everything from the exchange of business cards to the appropriate seating arrangements in meetings. While it seems silly now, especially in the pandemic, work-from-anywhere mode, the fact we made the effort impressed our clients.

But we also discovered we had to adopt an entirely different mindset within the organization, one that is not too dissimilar to what seems needed today. Back then we called it entrepreneurialism, but these days we call it agility — the ability to spot an opportunity and act quickly. Or to see that something isn’t working and pivot to something else that is.

It took quite a bit of time to settle on an operational model that worked for us and our clients. The initial approach was to go into the verdant regions of the world (Japan, Korea, Southeast Asia, and Eastern Europe — China would come later) to harvest the work and then bring that bounty home to be distributed. But our teams spent most of their waking hours on airplanes and in hotels, not a sustainable solution. We burned out staff quickly, often took our best people out of the game for weeks and months, and wrestled with the frustrations and delays of time zone differences, translations, and mysterious cultures.

We also realized that we needed an entirely different administrative infrastructure. From legal and finance, HR to marketing, we needed the right professionals and protocols to play on a global chess board. But our biggest eye-opener was technology. We were smart enough at the time to understand the value of hardware — those giant Intergraph 2700 workstations still haunt our dreams — but we could not have imagined the implications of working and communicating seamlessly across international boundaries. The lessons learned in those early years still apply today.

The decision to go global was the right one at the time, and many firms of our size did the same thing. The experience drove home the importance of diversity not just in markets and project types but also in geographies. There were times when our non-U.S. revenue outpaced our domestic income, and vice versa, but having a broad, diverse base was the correct strategy. We also discovered, perhaps later than we had hoped, that it was easy to become too reliant on the international gravy train. The projects were meaty. The fees were big. But it is essential for any firm to maintain a presence in its local community and nurture relationships with the clients down the street.

The world opened up to us in the 1980s largely because we had the right people in the right places in the right times, and Dallas happened to be one of those places. We pursued the work aggressively because we had to — not because that’s where the money was, but because it provided expanded opportunities for our people and our company. It made us better professionals and better architects. It challenged us on multiple levels. And when you’re an architect in Texas, it’s hard to walk away from a challenge like that.

Lance K. Josal FAIA is CEO emeritus of CallisonRTKL and founder of 11AD. He has lived in Dallas since 1979 and has worked throughout the world. Thom McKay is a marketing and communications strategist who opened RTKL’s first international office in 1990 in London.