I have been in the presence of greatness. I have been mentored by some of the most notable, gifted, and celebrated architects of recent generations. Not just in my formative years when I was raised professionally by John Spencer and James Hall; I have sat in the homes of icons like John Chase, Wendell Campbell, and Norma Sklerek. I have been guided in leadership by the likes of Harry Overstreet and William Stanley. I was ushered into a room to witness this greatness by the likes of Andy Heard, Paul Devereaux, and Richard Franklin so that I can now say, “I have seen greatness”. I have sat at the table with Harvey Gantt and Harold Williams; received words of encouragement from Charles McAfee, and Jeh Johnson. I’ve dined with David Lee; I was taken to the home of Mandela by Peter Malafane; and, joined Max Bond and Marshall Purnell at the White House where we met the President. I’ve been toasted by Pierre Goudiaby; I’ve learned about the toils of practice from Paul Ford, Mort Marshall, Leon Bridges, and Stan Britt; and I’ve learned the joys of academia from Barbara Laurie, Richard Dozier, Rodner Wright, Andrew Chinn, and Brad Grant. I’ve learned the greatness of design from Don Stull, David Lee, Curt Moody, and Phil Freelon. I’ve learned to be an advocate for social justice from Michaele Pride and Jack Travis. I might not be their peer, but I am able to call Corey Clayborne, Mike Rogers, Roberta Washington, Roland Wiley, Steve Lewis, Steve Lott, Neil Hall, Cheryl McAfee, Ed Dunson, and James Washington my brothers and sisters. For me, these aren’t stories book characters, or memories handed down through the experiences of others; these are folks who have touched my life and made a tangible difference in the way I live. I have witnessed greatness firsthand. And they taught me to aspire… not to be great, but to do great things. And they taught me that to do great you must have a passion for service, a commitment to excellence, and a deep and abiding hatred for mediocrity. My one hope is that there is a young architect somewhere in the world, who will one day remember something that I did or said, that inspires them to do great things. Not so that they remember my name, but so that they continue the enduring legacy of greatness that is the Black Architect in America.
I wrote these thoughts several years ago, hoping for an opportunity to share them with professionals who might not be familiar with all of the names. In recent times, I also was reminded of other heroes of mine: Maryanne Akers, Ralph Belton, Bell, Hazel Edwards, Ikhlas Sabouni and Rodner Wright. While they might not be familiar to you, they are the academic administrators of the Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU’) with accredited architecture programs. Four of those campuses received bomb threats that caused their universities to close. Every day our colleagues are inspired to teach architecture to young and gifted minds. They endure the daily grind of underfunded mandates, discriminatory rhetoric, deficient resources, and underappreciated faculties and staff. They teach students who come from varied backgrounds and levels of preparation. They teach students who have to work full-time to afford tuition, books, room, and board, while also supporting other critical interests at home. They do all of this because they have a passion for their students, for teaching, and for architecture. They don’t work for medals; there aren’t any being offered. They don’t work for the pay; they would make more in the industry. They do it out of genuine love for the work; for making a difference in the lives of young people who, themselves, will one day achieve greatness. And they do it in spite of the odds.
If the bomb threats had been made on the campuses of SEC or ACC schools, our profession would be up in arms. The PAC-10 or BIG-10 would have armies of alum standing guard at the gates to assure the safety of their alma maters. I can only hope that the family of architects hearing about the challenges that my heroes are addressing understand that every HBCU in America is now on high alert. We are teaching students at a time when they have COVID, social unrest, and, now, the threat of violence hanging over their heads on a daily basis. It is not easy. That’s why my colleagues are my heroes. They continue to demand excellence of their students, while simultaneously helping them navigate through a world that seems to be less kind and more indifferent. Life isn’t fair, equitable or just. But as a community of architects and business leaders, I hope that our profession rises to this occasion and offers compassion to my heroes.
Robert Easter, FAIA
2022 President
AIA Virginia