Joumana Kayrouz is watching more than just billboards

Joumana Kayrouz never liked looking at her billboards.

Only recently has the 58-year-old attorney started locking eyes with her image, which looms over metro Detroit’s main arteries, “always watching” and producing a mystique that drums up business for her Southeld-based rm.

“Who knows?” Kayrouz said of her hesitancy to embrace the billboards. “Maybe because I’m like a lot of women. We feel that we are frauds. I don’t know…”

Some of the insecurity stems from her unlikely rise to success in a male-dominated eld. Her newfound con dence comes from pausing to appreciate her journey from a Lebanese immigrant with broken English and one-time courtroom laughingstock to one of the most proli c personalities in the local law industry.

“I’ve come to a place where I’m very comfortable now, because behind that picture is a lot of blood, sweat and tears,” Kayrouz told Crain’s during a recent interview inside her palatial Bloom eld Hills home. “I didn’t inherit that rm from dad or from my uncle.”

Now, Kayrouz is confronting a new challenge. e size of her rm has been reduced by more than half since the COVID-19 pandemic began three years ago to around 30 employees and 10 lawyers. For years, the rm was burdened by unpro table departments and ine cient operations.

Kayrouz, a practicing attorney and self-described “brilliant rainmaker,” admits she knew nothing about running a business.

“Did you know that running a law rm is a business? ey didn’t teach us that in law school,” Kayrouz said while having her photo taken. “ ey don’t teach you numbers, they don’t teach you forecasting, they don’t teach you management. I don’t know what they teach you, but they don’t teach you any of that.”

Kayrouz looks back toward the camera and turns a warm smile into her stern, trademark gaze.

On any given day, Kayrouz said she is in her o ce 10-14 hours, poring over case les and meeting with clients. But on this particular day, she is starring in a video shoot. e ad company’s owner packs up his equipment, and before heading out pledges his loyalty to Kayrouz. she said. “I didn’t know then what I know now. You don’t need to be spending that kind of budget to grow your business.

In the spirit of trying new things, Kayrouz hired a local advertising company to produce a new social media campaign. e plan is to roll out short video clips with geofencing and other highly targeted strategies.

She declined to name the ad agency, for competitive reasons.

“ ere are a couple of lawyers in town who watch me like a hawk, who try to copy and sabotage,” Kayrouz said.

“I appreciate that,” she replies. While Kayrouz has become the wallpaper of metro Detroit with just shy of 200 billboards, the attorney has no TV or digital presence — at least of her own doing.

Kayrouz is planning for a sub-$2 million ad spend this year, but that would change if she goes on TV, which she is considering, and if she takes her billboards beyond Michigan, which she might. e new local billboard campaign features her familiar done-up face, with the words “always watching” alongside.

“I felt it re ected who I am and who I am coming more into,” she said. “Aggressive, unapologetic, doesn’t care about ru ing feathers or what people think.” wants to meet, she accommodates. When they call, they want to talk to Kayrouz personally and she obliges. Personal service is important to clients, especially those in the Middle Eastern community.

“It’s so easy as the lawyer of the rm to get sucked into it because you have a passion for it,” she said. “Spending 110 percent of the time tending to the les without paying attention to the operation at the o ce, that is a very, very big mistake.” generates revenue by bringing leads to that rm.

Kayrouz said she will also branch out further by litigating a case or two in the near future, which she hasn’t done in 20 years. Most cases are settled out of court and other lawyers in her rm normally litigate the rest. Taking on more attorney duties runs counter to digging out of the daily grind, but at this stage in her career Kayrouz wants to soak up everything she’s been missing.

Her ever-present billboards have earned her a near cult-like following on social media, with clever memes shared from Twitter and Reddit to TikTok. Some have dubbed her the “Queen of Law,” and there was even a “Saint Joumana” candle being sold on Etsy and talks of Joumana billboards in the Metaverse.

Her new digital campaign aims to plug into that engagement, and Kayrouz said she is planning a way to “honor and thank” her fans but was not ready to share details.

“It has surprised me, and I am so humbled by these wonderful people, these very creative people who are constantly giving me free publicity and pushing me forward,” she said.

In 2014, with an ad budget over $4 million, Kayrouz secured her spot in local lore when she bought 750 bus wraps and 250 billboards from Outfront Media, marking what is believed to be the largest outdoor media ad campaign in Michigan history.

“Looking back, that was overkill,”

In the past, Kayrouz may have been more sensitive to criticism of how she portrays herself — and there’s been plenty of it — but the cutthroat world of personal injury law has hardened her. Plus, she has more important things to do, like revamping her business. Personal injury cases remain the bulk of the rm’s work. Kayrouz recently eliminated criminal defense, family law, worker’s compensation, Social Security and bankruptcy. Meanwhile, she is looking to grow her immigration law practice, which she started ve years ago and regrets not having from the start.

Most of her clients are Middle Eastern, an audience she caters to on her radio show, which airs Tuesdays and ursdays on CINA FM 102.3. She offers legal advice and answers questions on the show, which like her billboards helps generate leads.

Recently, Kayrouz bought an advertisement near the exit of the Ra c Hariri International Airport in Beirut. Soon, she said, she would like to advertise across the U.S. in a bid to re-create her metro Detroit magic and get a foothold in other markets.

“ ey have ignored maybe 50 names to put their trust in me,” Kayrouz said of her clients. “ at’s a big responsibility.”

Perhaps Kayrouz’s greatest attribute as an attorney has been her downfall as a businesswoman.

She spends nearly all of her time entrenched in les. When a client

She has tried to wean o case work to give herself a bird’s eye view of the business, but she needs help. Kayrouz, the sole owner of her rm, is on the hunt for the “perfect” managing partner and a chief nancial o cer. Her rm has relied on consultants for that work, but Kayrouz has realized that won’t cut it anymore.

At the same time, she is looking to add sta and attorneys, and she is reworking the pay structure by rewarding high performers and incentivizing more productivity. She said she is hiring for up to seven new lawyers but doesn’t expect the rm will ever be as big as it once was.

“Unless the systems are very tight and foolproof, it’s dangerous to grow very big because God forbid one error, one mistake, a bad review …” she said.

Kayrouz is looking at other ways of generating business, such as associating with larger, outside law rms.

She declined to name names, again for competitive reasons, but she’s working with at least one other law rm that has a breadth of specialties so she can assist clients who have needs beyond her rm’s scope.

“ ere is more to life than car accidents and immigration,” she said.

For example: plane crashes, helicopter crashes, Tesla car res, amusement park accidents, Camp Lejeune water contamination health issues, medical malpractice, general negligence, sexual abuse, plant explosions, police brutality and more.

“I get so many leads that have nothing to do with what we do here,” Kayrouz said. “I am able to help now even more people.”

She said the business arrangement with the other law rm allows her to co-counsel on certain cases and it

She will always remember one of her rst trips to court, about 22 years ago when a Wayne County judge, still in that position today, questioned whether she was a lawyer and demanded her P Number, which is used to identify lawyers.

“Normally, you don’t get asked questions like that. I felt extremely, extremely humiliated,” she said.

Kayrouz was a single mother of two daughters, fresh out of law school at Wayne State University. She had earned her undergraduate degree from Yale University and moved to metro Detroit with her then-husband. She was trying to make her way on her own when the judge cut her down.

“I remember looking at him and thinking: ‘I’ll make sure you will never forget my face,’” Kayrouz said.

If that judge drives to work, odds are he hasn’t.

While Kayrouz is embracing opportunities with other rms and looking for help managing her own, she said she does not intend to sell the rm or give up control, nor does she plan to retire soon.

Outside of learning the ins and outs of running a law rm, Kayrouz also dabbles in the restaurant business. She and her business partner Moni Ghosn own Bloom eld Hills patisserie Chez Pierre et Genevieve, named after two of her French bulldogs. In the works next door is Bistro Perrot — named after her third French bulldog — expected to open in the coming months.

Kayrouz no longer second-guesses her merits as a lawyer and expects that before long, she will have the same con dence running her rm.

“It’s all hard-earned,” she said. “Now I drive by my billboard, and I say, ‘You go girl.’” e rm’s goal appears to be claiming as much of the $56 billion personal injury law market as possible, and metro Detroit is a target. at has ratcheted up the pressure on local personal injury attorneys in one of the most lucrative and cutthroat segments of the industry.

While big billboards and ashy ads don’t win cases, they do win client leads, and leads are the lifeblood of personal injury law rms.

“Successful advertising here has to be authentic,” said Mark Bernstein, president and managing partner of e Sam Bernstein Law Firm PLLC. “ is town smells out bullshit really fast.”

Bernstein’s Farmington Hillsbased rm has among the largest advertising budgets in the local law industry, spending tens of millions of dollars each year and steadily increasing its presence to stay top of mind among accident victims.

Crosstown rival Mike Morse, whose relationship with the Bernstein rm was severed a decade ago, is upping his multi-million-dollar ad budget 20 percent this year, with more billboards and commercials with his mom on the way. He said he’s not worried about Morgan & Morgan.

“ ey’re coming into Michigan, trying to represent our clients with no presence here, no lawyers here,” Morse said. “ ey are a Florida rm trying to be the biggest in the country so that they can go get sold o for a billion dollars one day when people start buying big law rms. at’s their play.”

Morgan & Morgan could not be reached for comment for this report.

While many metro Detroiters have unwittingly memorized the names and phone numbers of local rms, their ramped-up ad budgets and one-upmanship by one another and out-of-towners is clearly making an impact.

“I think that we are in a new, much more competitive environment than we’ve ever experienced,” Bernstein said. is, of course, is great for the billboard business, which thrives when its clients compete.

“It’s a very ‘me, too’ business,” said Jodi Senese, CMO of New York Citybased Outfront Media Inc., one of the nation’s largest outdoor advertisers. “ ey see some big brand up and getting a lot of presence … and suddenly they’re kind of like, hey what are they doing? What do they know that I don’t know? And our phone rings.”

Outfront Media owns more than 60 percent of the outdoor ad market share in the Detroit area with 1,900 displays. ose consist of 900 billboards on freeways and major thoroughfares, 900 slightly smaller posters on surface streets and more than 70 digital billboards, plus bus wraps in Detroit and Ann Arbor.

A large chunk of the ad space inventory is sold to lawyers, said Mike Short, sales director for Outfront’s Detroit market.

“We’ve certainly seen an uptick in this category in the last couple of years,” Short said. “I think all of these are very smart marketers. ey pay attention to what their competition is doing.”

Outfront’s uno cial Detroit poster child is Joumana Kayrouz, or the “billboard queen” as some have dubbed the South eld-based attorney.

Kayrouz made a splash in 2014 when she spent more than $4 million on advertising, buying 750 bus wraps and 250 billboards from Outfront, marking what is believed to be the largest outdoor media ad campaign in Michigan history.

Kayrouz has since dialed back her ad budget and refreshed her campaign, with new billboards featuring her familiar, stern pose and the words, “Always Watching,” an idea hatched by Outfront, which also does some of the creative work for Bernstein, Short said.

At the same time, Kayrouz is considering TV commercials and jumping into digital advertising for the rst time. She said she also recently began associating with outside law rms to grow business.

“I get so many leads that have nothing to do with what we do here,” Kayrouz said. “I am able to help now even more people.”

She declined to name the law rms or o er further details, for competitive reasons.

“ ere are a couple of lawyers in town who watch me like a hawk, who try to copy and sabotage,” Kayrouz said.

Kayrouz is an outlier in that her advertising has been almost exclusively on billboards. Despite the rise of digital, and TV continuing to dominate the ad spends of Bernstein, Morse and other competitors, billboards remain a xture in most of their budgets.

Maurice Davis, founder and managing partner of Detroit-based Davis Law Group PLLC, said he gured out early in his career that advertising would be key to his success.

“With personal injury, it’s all about visibility,” Davis said. e attorney started his rm in 2012. Inspired by the larger-than-life ads of other attorneys, DIAL DAVIS was born. e rm has about 10 billboards in metro Detroit and does TV and digital advertising, spending upward of $800,000 annually. Its budget has steadily increased in line with competitors.

“Competition is sti ,” Davis said. “It’s all about having that name recognition, that phone number that someone can easily remember if they’re involved in an accident.”

Senese said passersby often develop a sort of attachment to billboards, making them a strong marketing tool.

“It’s not just law rm advertising. We’re creating a brand for law rms,” she said. “People become hyper aware not just of the medium but of advertisers in their exact vertical.”

One of the most recognizable is Morse’s towering “vertacular” board at the busy intersection of Eight Mile Road and Woodward Avenue, which is believed to be the tallest in the market at 60 feet tall by 32 feet wide with a traditional 14-by-48-foot billboard underneath.

Morse said he has a deal with Out-

Billboard lawyers

Metro Detroiters are inundated with ads for personal injury law rms on billboards, the sides of buses and more. Here are some of the most frequently seen and their slogans:

The Law O ces of Joumana Kayrouz:

Always watching

Mike Morse Law Firm: 855-MIKE-WINS

The Sam Bernstein Law Firm: The Bernstein Advantage

Carl Collins III: 855-CAR-HIT-YOU

The Cochran Firm: Wronged? (313) The Firm

Davis Injury Lawyers: Injured? (888)

Dial Davis front to pay for it permanently so it’s not taken by someone else.

Law rm advertising has come a long way since it was legalized. Lawyers were barred from advertising until 1977, when the U.S. Supreme Court essentially struck down the prohibition in Bates v. State Bar of Arizona. at opened the oodgates in Detroit, with attorneys including Bocko and Zamler PC and Larry Korn leading the way. Sam Bernstein, patriarch of the Bernstein law rm, was also among the rst to start advertising. e Bernstein rm started advertising outdoors about 25 years ago and has 30-60 billboards in the market at any given time, Mark Bernstein said. Unlike TV and digital advertising, it is tougher to tell how well billboards are working, but he won’t risk getting rid of them.

“We try to be much more gut than money-balling in our advertising because it still remains more art than science,” he said.

Kayrouz has fewer than 200 billboards in metro Detroit and said she is aiming to keep her ad budget below $2 million this year, though that could increase. Morse has about 100 billboards and an ad budget over $2 million. e attorneys declined to disclose speci c budget gures.

Morse, who used to rely on auto crash referrals from the Bernstein rm before going it alone, said he isn’t hawkish when it comes to analyzing the competition, Bernstein or Kayrouz.

“I know that she must admire my stu because she put up an o ce half a mile down with the same exact font of a sign and colors of a sign,” Morse said.

Kayrouz said that while she did draw inspiration from Morse’s sign, the copycatting goes both ways.

“I put billboards, he put billboards,” Kayrouz said. “I get a toll-free number, he gets a toll-free number. I start putting safety tip messages on my billboards. All of a sudden, he starts doing exactly the same in his billboards ...”

For all the local law rm drama, the more formidable threat may be the outsider. Morgan & Morgan reportedly wields a yearly ad budget in the hundreds of millions of dollars and appears to be making inroads locally, or at least has had more staying power than other out-of-market rms that have come and gone.

“I don’t think they will ever be a dominant player in Michigan because they’re not Michiganders,” Morse said. “No matter how much they spend, no matter how many billboards they put up.”

Contact: knagl@crain.com; (313) 446-0337; @kurt_nagl

Approvals pending

Construction of the plant in West Michigan is on hold until a host of permits are approved, including from the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes and Energy, for wetland mitigation and moving land.

“We’ve had long conversations with EGLE and we have a tentative agreement for the site layout based on minimizing any wetland impact,” elen said.

e company is also still awaiting approval of $715 million in state incentives. elen said he expects “ nal discussions” to take place next week.

Additionally, the project hinges on the ability to bring power and water to the newly con gured footprint. elen said he is in discussions with Consumers Energy Co. about securing utilities on the site.

Water hookup remains a hurdle, as the original plan relied on buying 115 acres from Big Rapids Township with a water tower and a pair of 12-inch, ready-to-use wells. Some in the township expressed concerns that the plant would suck up all of its water, but elen said that is not the case.

e executive said he believes he can eventually allay worries.

“I do owe them some more conversations about some of their concerns,” he said. “I think their concerns about water use might be misplaced.”

Construction, operation

If the plan moves forward, construction could start in the second or third quarter of this year, with a build duration of roughly two years.

“We wish to start quickly. It’s all dependent on the state and local governments,” he said. “But we do not have a nal obligation from either side yet.” elen, who worked at Bosch for more than 20 years before joining Gotion, would serve as the plant manager. He recently moved from Oakland County to Mecosta County. e plant would ultimately be overseen by parent company Gotion HighTech Co. Ltd, whose C-suite and board members are based mostly in China. elen said he is in charge of hiring managing directors at the plant, which he hopes to complete by the end of the year. He said the goal is to have primarily American workers, with an emphasis on local recruiting, but some key positions will require multilingual speakers to coordinate with sites in China, Germany and India. elen did not detail the company’s overall U.S. investment plans or say if Michigan could be in play for future investments.

He said it is not known whether workers at the factory would be represented by a union.

Most of the product from the factory will be supplied to Gotion plants that make nal batteries, and the rest would be supplied externally, elen said. e company’s battery plants are in China, but it recently built its rst foreign plant in Germany.

“We are looking to be an international player, bringing the expertise that’s already been de ned in the China market to the rest of the markets,” he said. “A lot of wonderful work has gone into many patents, not just for product but also process. We plan to bring that expertise and high-quality workmanship to the United States.”

Contact: knagl@crain.com; (313) 446-0337; @kurt_nagl

‘A way to make money’

On earnings calls throughout last year, Rocket Companies CEO Jay Farner said the company’s strategy would be to maximize pro tability over volume.

Rival UWM had something of a di erent approach.

Starting last summer, UWM launched its so-called “Game On” pricing initiative, dropping mortgage lending rates by as much as 1 percent, or 100 basis points. CEO Mat Ishbia has described the maneuver as an investment in growing the company’s market share and the broader network of brokers.

To that end, it seems to have paid o .

UWM’s earnings report last week said it had achieved 54 percent market share in the wholesale channel and had 5.8 percent market share in the overall industry, just two-tenths of a percent behind leader Rocket Mortgage, according to data from Inside Mortgage Finance.

Cecala, the Inside Mortgage Finance executive, described the strategy like this: UWM cut pricing, kept up pro tability by selling o mortgage servicing rights (essentially the administrative tasks associated with a mortgage once it’s been closed) and gained market share in doing so.

“ at’s a way to make money,” Cecala told Crain’s last month. “But one of the challenges all lenders face now is, how do you make money in a declining market? One of the advantages of a rising interest rate environment is that servicing (loans) is highly valued.” erefore, the UWM maneuver doesn’t make for “a long-term strategy,” Cecala added. “So far they’ve made it work.” roughout 2023, the company will be “opportunistic” when it comes to decisions around selling MSRs or keeping them on the books, Ishbia said on Wednesday’s earnings call.

While the mortgage lender reported a net loss of $62.5 million in the fourth quarter due to a decline in the fair value of MSRs — which typically rise and fall with changes in interest rates — sales of servicing rights last year generated about $1.3 billion in net cash proceeds for UWM.

“We’re in exactly the position we want to be,” Ishbia said of UWM’s servicing portfolio. “Our MSR book is strong and produces a lot of liquidity and the things that we want to sell, we can sell.”

With regard to the cut-rate pricing the company o ered in the back half of last year, Ishbia indicated that could be in the rearview mirror.

“Our pricing is still extremely competitive,” Ishbia said. “But we aren’t going to be at that investment of 50 basis point margins as you saw for two quarters. I don’t expect that to continue. Unless I decide to do it again in the future.”

‘A challenging year’

Rocket Companies CEO Farner summed up last year like this on an earnings call Monday:

“2022 was a challenging year for the housing and mortgage industry, and one de ned by rapid change,” he said, pointing to a 400 basis point rise in mortgage interest rates over about 10 months.

“ is represents the largest and steepest rise in roughly four decades. With volatility and increased cost of nancing, demand for rate and term re nance transactions shrank signi cantly, while housing a ordability and consumer concerns about a looming recession weighed heavily on the home purchase market.”

As such, the two metro Detroit mortgage companies — the largest in the industry — took diverging paths to weather the storm, and with varying degrees of success.

At Rocket, the company’s “bread and butter” is selling mortgages directly to consumers. However, Rocket also operates in the wholesale space competing directly with UWM, though on a smaller scale.

By last summer, when mortgage rates had climbed to around 5 percent and going higher, Rocket’s pro ts started plummeting. At that time, talk turned to diversication. e company needed something more than mortgages, and that’s still the case today.

Rocket’s funnel

One of the primary vehicles for achieving that diversi cation, executives say, is Rocket Money. e personal nance app, previously called Truebill and which Rocket acquired for $1.275 billion in late 2021, works

$850 toward my closing fees with Rocket. I’ve got a verified approval, and I’m working with a preferred Rocket agent,’” Farner said. “They’re sitting there on a Saturday. Now the only call or text or email comes directly to us, not to another mortgage company. And so I imagine as we get into the spring and summer we’re going to see the continued increase in conversion.”

Despite all the optimistic talk by Rocket, which reported a loss of nearly $500 million in the fourth quarter, analysts are taking a view of “I’ll believe it when I see it.” And they mostly don’t see it happening this year.

“Times are tough for mortgage lenders — borrowers face steep rising mortgage rates that suppress renancings, while a depressed housing market limits originations,” analyst Kenneth Leon with CFRA Research wrote last week in an investor note. “We think RKT does not reach pro tability ... until 2024.”

Even if the larger diversi cation play by Rocket takes time to come to fruition, Farner — who is retiring from the company June 1 at age 49 after nearly 30 years with the Dan Gilbert-founded company — said he’s counting on the broader tumult in the industry to play in the company’s favor.

“Bank after bank has pulled back from the mortgage space,” Farner told analysts. “So there is an opportunity to actually grow market share in the mortgage space and (home) purchase (mortgages) in particular. But you’ve got to bring down the cost to acquire the client, you’ve got to increase conversion rate.” with consumers to help them manage subscriptions, track spending and build budgets.

Jay McCanless, an analyst with Wedbush, agrees.

For the mortgage lender, the true value of Rocket Money lies in its ability to bring in new potential clients — particularly those who might soon be interested in a mortgage loan, according to Rocket CFO Brian Brown. e app allows the company to acquire clients for less than $100, Brown said, whereas traditional client acquisition is often upward of $1,000.

“Overall, we believe the ability to provide these clients with a fully integrated experience early in their homeownership journey and throughout their lifetime as homeowners will be a game changer in our industry,” Brown told analysts.

Still, Rocket is also eyeing its other corporate arms in the real estate space as mechanisms for future growth.

Rocket Homes, the company’s real estate listing portal and its relationship with preferred real estate agents, will also serve as another mechanism through which Rocket executives see future growth. Couple that with the company’s nascent rewards program allowing consumers to earn money that can go toward future transactions with Rocket, and Farner says it’s a recipe for success.

“So now our clients look and say, ‘Wait a second, I’ve already built

“2023 is going to be a tough year for mortgage, which we believe will weed out many of the weaker players in the space,” McCanless wrote. “(Rocket) and the other members of the big three (United Wholesale and Westlake Village, Calif.-based PennyMac Financial) should continue to grow share.”

‘Good business decisions’

As both companies — which collectively employ about 24,500 people, mostly in metro Detroit — look to 2023, they also do so against the backdrop of a seemingly never-ending feud.

Rocket, early last month, announced its “Bully Shield” initiative, aimed at what executives there say will remove handcu s of brokers who signed an agreement with UWM that they would not do business with the crosstown rival Rocket. Executives say Rocket will cover the legal expenses of any broker who wishes to defy the ultimatum by Ishbia at UWM.

e instance is just one of many in a long-running feud.

Cecala at Inside Mortgage Finance notes that the most recent shot across the bow by Rocket is in all likelihood a business strategy.

“Both of them, despite their rivalry and pettiness and everything else, what we’ve seen play out in their mortgage operations are based on actual economics and good business decisions,” Cecala said. “(Rocket) is doing (Bully Shield) because they need to nd a way to increase their mortgage originations and in the current market the easiest way to do that is to try to pick up more broker business.”

Contact: nmanes@crain.com; (313) 446-1626; @nickrmanes talent possible, which has allowed us to do more complicated jobs and be a part of more projects,” the 65-yearold businessman told Crain’s.

Earning a seat at the table and becoming a respected voice in construction has been a lot of work in and of itself, according to Brinker Sr. As a Black-owned business, the company’s quali cations and abilities have been questioned over its 34 years, according to company President and CEO Larry Brinker Jr. Brinker Sr. said he’s lost out on jobs at various points because developers didn’t think a Black-owned business could handle the load.

Lack of opportunity could play into that skepticism exhibited by previous potential clients. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, only 3 percent of U.S. businesses as of 2020 were classi ed as Black-owned.

Skepticism as a motivator

Brinker has grown into a business that saw revenue of $203 million last year and projects $285 million in 2023. It operates out of a 41,000-squarefoot, three-story space at 3633 Michigan Ave., into which the company moved in the early 2000s after growing out of a 7,000-square-foot space at 815 W. Grand Blvd.

It’s worked on projects with budgets of as much as $200 million. At one point, though, the company was passed over for much smaller jobs.

e 43-year-old Brinker Jr., who in 2014 took over leadership of the business as his father moved to chair the company board, recalls being repulsed by one particular job o er.

“We’d shown them all the projects we had done to that point,” Brinker Jr. said without disclosing the o ending party. “After we’re done, the guy says he doesn’t think we’re quali ed to build a $2 million corn shell, which is just four walls and the roof, but we could do some other smaller jobs. We walked out of that meeting just purely disgusted. at was probably the best thing that ever happened. at job ended up a huge failure.” e Brinker CEO, a 2015 Crain’s 40 Under 40 honoree, took an interesting approach he felt was necessary to help the company.

Scenarios like that still happen to this day, according to Brinker Jr., but they are fewer and farther in between.

“A lot of times, I was the only person of color in the room doing activities that I may not have cared to do. Skeet shooting and di erent things,” Brinker Jr. said. “But I was doing it so I could build my network and build genuine relationships where people could see me for who I was and not what I was.”

Brinker Sr. believes his company at times being pigeonholed as a minority entity limits what potential clients believe you’re quali ed to do and led to missing out on jobs he believes were a perfect t for the company.

Brinker Jr., though, said being a minority-owned company can have its advantages.

Developers in general establish or are mandated to meet diversity goals and implement outreach to minority-owned companies to open bid opportunities. Money is allocated toward meeting those goals, Brinker Jr. said.

“Our credibility and experience, along with our minority-owned business status leads to instances where companies come straight to us already knowing they want us as a partner,” he said. “But the volume and type of work often designated by cor- porations for meeting their diversity spending isn’t always equivalent to the volume of bids solicited by and awarded to non-minority companies.”

One client who speaks very highly of the work Brinker does is Amy Robinson, the vice president, CFO and chief administrative o cer for the Kresge Foundation.

Brinker was the general contractor for the $1.4 million expansion of Kresge’s Midtown Detroit o ce at

3939 Woodward Ave. and Robinson credited Brinker’s attention to detail.

“I’ve had the pleasure of partnering with Larry Brinker Jr. on several projects over the past 10 years. I can say without question that he is the most conscientious contract manager that I have engaged with during my 30-plus years as a nance professional,” she said in a statement. “His commitment to quality and service is unrivaled. And (Brinker Jr.’s) values of integrity, service, humility, kindness and deep commitment to the community very much align with my personal values and the work of my organization.”

Brinker Sr., like his son a previous Crain’s 40 Under 40 honoree, in 1994, appreciates comments like those from the Kresge Foundation but said others’ unfounded skepticism has fueled him over the years.

“As time went on, because of the reputation we were building in the market, we were looked at as an honest out t — hardworking people who delivered quality projects,” he said. “ e big thing was companies started to see we could help their bottom line. ey started to see they needed to work with Brinker.”

Sustained growth

e same could be said for sta .

Since 2010, Brinker has seen its workforce grow by more than 400 percent, to nearly 500 employees. e COVID-19 pandemic didn’t slow that growth. Brinker didn’t lay o any sta during the pandemic, but the company, like so many others, saw scheduled jobs pushed back and canceled. It also saw prices for materials increase by 30 percent.

e early stages of the pandemic were especially rough for Brinker Group. Brinker Jr. was one of the rst 65 Michigan residents to contract COVID-19. He then unknowingly passed it on to his father.

“I was in the hospital a couple of days. My dad was out a while,” Brink- er Jr. said. “In a way, it was good for the company because it forced us to discuss succession planning. We developed a plan in case something happened to myself or my father.”

Brinker took care of sta , too. Its ve companies received Paycheck Protection Program loans totaling about $5 million. All of the funds went toward keeping sta on board, according to Brinker Jr. e loans have been forgiven.

“Taking care of our people here is always priority one,” Brinker Jr. said. “ ey’re the reason we’ve been able to grow and we want that to continue.”

Planning for the future

At 43, Brinker Jr. plans to be around for a while to lead the company. But that wasn’t always the case.

He graduated from the University of Michigan in 2001 with a degree in civil and environmental engineering, with a concentration in construction management. He did his own thing after college, including owning Ti any’s restaurant and nightclub in Greektown, which sat in the spot that is now home to Harbor House. Brinker Jr. also ran a music production company.

In late 2004, he decided it was time to join the family business. Before taking over as president and CEO, the younger Brinker worked as a project engineer, superintendent, project manager and vice president.

“I’ve always wanted to build on the legacy of my father, but I’ve also wanted to have the respect of my peers in the industry because of my own skill set and who I am,” Brinker Jr. said. “Obviously it’s a great stepping stone, but that opportunity is an opportunity. You still have to come in and work.”

Brinker Sr. admires his son’s work ethic.

“He jumped in with both feet in, learned the business inside and out. He didn’t run from any heavy lifting,” he said.

“I recognized, too, that the business was changing. When I got in, you could do business with a handshake, bid on projects on the back of a napkin. It’s evolved. With (Brinker Jr.’s) background, and his ability to relate to the age group in construction now, he really took to it.”

Building a new market

Brinker Jr. will also oversee expansion that will take the company to North Carolina. Plans call for a main o ce to be set up in Raleigh, and satellite o ces in Charlotte and Greensboro. Brinker Jr. did not disclose thenancial investment into the move but said the North Carolina operation could be up and running later this year. Some of the Detroit sta will be sent to the new locations while Brinker hires for the new o ces.

“It’s going to take some time to build up a client base, but we want to get into the area to let people know we’re there,” Brinker Jr. said.

e father and son are excited about the future of the company — a future where the Brinker’s skill set and capacity for work won’t be questioned.

“We have the company structured in such a way that it can go on without me around,” Brinker Sr. said. “A lot of times, minority-owned businesses fall apart once that rst generation moves on. Succession planning hasn’t always been at the forefront of our thinking. Our future here is secure.”

Contact: jason.davis@crain.com (313) 446-1612; @JayDavis_1981