When did you decide to become an architect? I was brought up in Provo, Utah, and my Uncle Ben was a contractor. I think my first job was straightening nails when I was about eight. In those days, during the war, you couldn’t get nails. He gave me the job of pulling and straightening nails. He could do anything. He was a craftsman, a mason, and cabinetmaker. He taught me how to frame a building when I was probably ten. So, I understood how buildings went together; I knew what a stud was, what a joist was, what a rafter was. Tell us about your training. In those days, at Irving Junior High School, we were in an “Articulating Unit,” seventh and eighth grades combined. Also, if you had a B average or better, you only had to take two years of high school. So, I entered college at 16. At the University of Utah in 1948, the education was both modern and classical architecture. That was a real benefit. John Sugden, who was a skier and a climber, came to Utah. He was just out of Mies van der Rohe’s office in Chicago. He was Mies’ protege. In 1953, I became Sugden’s first employee. I left school after about four years, without getting a degree and went to work for Sugden, with whom I apprenticed for about 12 years. That training gave me a Miesian discipline, which I use today. John was a huge influence on me. And then I also was asked to teach, interestingly enough, prior to getting a degree, at the University of Utah. I taught basic design from 1964 till about 1967 when I went back East and joined Dan Kiley. How were you invited to teach and then work in Kiley’s practice? I was working half time with Brixen and Christopher Architects, and then half time as a teacher at the University of Utah. I was invited to come to the U of U and have lunch with Bob Bliss at the faculty club. And I said, “Well, yeah, free lunch? Sounds okay to me.” I went not even thinking that I would be asked to teach because I didn’t have a degree and I wasn’t even a licensed architect at that point, but I had been working with Sugden. So, I was talking about Josef Albers and it turns out that I was actually being interviewed. I went on and on talking about how important he was in the color world and the Bauhaus, and that they should buy this book called Interaction of Color. Then Bob said, “Well, tell us more about that.” I had no idea that Bob Bliss had been working directly under Albers and knew him pretty well. Then they just asked me if I wanted to teach and I said, “Goodness, I’ll say.” So, while all of this was going on, I also had received a commission from Ted Johnson to do Snowbird Ski Area. I was still with Brixen and Christopher as an associate, and I was also teaching with Bob Bliss. Ted Johnson had not acquired all the property yet, so I did all the concepts of Snowbird by myself in secret. I had a secret office in Sugarhouse. We had to go up on the roof and go in a window. Because it was secret, we couldn’t go in the front door. I wanted it to be a studious modern American ski resort. Having been a skier and knowing that Sun Valley and so on are all basically about Austria or Switzerland or something in France. I said, “No, this has got to be something different from that.” I established the concepts for Snowbird alone. Then after it really started to become open, I formed Snowbird Design Group with Marty Brixen, Jim Christopher, and Bob Bliss. Ted Johnson only had the money to acquire certain mining strips, so we had to do a limited partnership. We raised $400,000 and that gave us the money to actually design. That’s when we did the more developed ideas about Snowbird. But it still wasn’t funded. Dick Bass was the money behind Snowbird, and he didn’t come in until late ‘69. I was teaching when Dan Kiley, who was very famous, came to lecture at the school, and I was very taken by him. I asked, “Are you a skier?” He said, “Absolutely!” So, we went skiing and I showed him Snowbird, which was still in its infancy. Then Dan said, “Well, it’s not funded, why don’t you come and join me?” And whoa, having that opportunity to go join Dan Kiley, “Of course!” I went back East and was an associate the first year, then from ‘68 until about ‘71, I was a partner. Dan Kiley was one of the most important landscape architects of the 20th Century. I spent about five years with him, and we did environmental land use studies. We also did a number of high-rise office buildings in Calgary. I went from Salt Lake City to an international practice with Dan. As his partner, I was able to be involved in really major projects. We had clients like I M Pei and Eero Saarinen: being involved and brushing shoulders with greatness, and international opportunities — work all over the world. Then in about 1970, I was asked to go back to Snowbird and complete the work with Snowbird Design Group. I could go to Paris for three years or return to Salt Lake City to do Snowbird. Dan encouraged me to do the latter because it was kind of my baby, and so I did. I expected to be made a partner at Brixen and Christopher, but I wasn’t offered that. Since it was my job, my project, I stayed involved. Brixen and Christopher were the Architects of Record for the first phases, for the Tram, Tram Building, Lodge 1, and also the Plaza, based on the designs we did as Snowbird Design Group. The plaza was Dan Kiley’s idea. Snowbird is a very steep runout, there’s no runout really. So, to cross the bridge, and go to a plaza and build a village on that other side was Dan’s idea. That was a very important move. The plaza is essentially the core of Snowbird. Because I wasn’t offered a partnership with Brixen and Christopher, Ted said, “Why don’t you just start your own firm?” He wanted me to complete my work. I was the author of Snowbird. So, I started Enteleki. After that point, we did all the rest of the buildings, including the Cliff Lodge. I started the firm with Ray Kingston and Frank Ferguson. Now that firm has evolved into FFKR, (Fowler Ferguson Kingston and Ruben). In Aristotle’s de Anima there’s a word called entelechy. It means “the actualization of the potential to its nearest point of perfection without loss or compromise.” The actualization of a 13
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