The Day the Cloud Lifted

In the early years, Washington University felt just out of reach. As a St. Louis–based company, founded and headquartered just miles away, Clayco saw Washington University as one of the most important and visible institutions in our own backyard. It was the kind of account you talked about more than you touched.

A handful of contractors seemed to live there, and the rest of us circled the edges. I used to joke that there was a dark cloud hanging over Clayco when it came to WashU. I even said it out loud to WashU Executive Vice Chancellor, Dick Roloff, more than once.

Dick had a reputation. He was direct, serious, and carried the weight of the campus on his shoulders, but with lots of authority. As head of facilities and later vice chancellor, he didn’t have time for noise. And for years, despite calling on the medical campus and knocking on every door I could find, we couldn’t get a foot in.

Then came Cortex.

Cortex was more than a project. It was a vision shared by Washington University, Saint Louis University, BJC Healthcare, the University of Missouri–St. Louis, and the Missouri Botanical Garden. It was about innovation and growth in the heart of St. Louis. At the center of it was a company called Stereotaxis that needed a new home, and they needed it fast.

Dick called and asked if we could deliver the building in ten months. Other teams had already said it couldn’t be done. I didn’t hesitate. I told him yes, and I meant it.

That job changed everything.

About halfway through, Dick called to say we were doing a good job. At the end, he called again with real praise. Not long after, I found myself in his office off campus, sitting across from him as he told me something I had felt for years. The cloud was real. And now it was gone.

We went through upcoming projects one by one. When the Danforth University Center garage came up, I leaned in. He smiled, handed me a full set of plans, and gave me seven days.

We delivered. And then another project followed. And then another.

We also worked closely when I took a sabbatical at Clayco to take on the role of President of the Board and Executive Director of Central Institute for the Deaf on an emergency basis when CID came on hard financial times. I came back to do a finance turn-around. CID had a rich history and great reputation for teaching deaf children to speak and live normal lives amongst all of us, and CID also had a professional education program with WashU, a clinic that saw 5000 patients annually, and the largest NIH grant-funded research program in the country for hearing and deafness. CID also had an amazing campus that really was the front door to the BJC – WashU medical campus. My strategy was to capitalize on the value of the real estate. Dick, who was always a good negotiator, started off by telling me the university had no interest in CID’s problems or the real estate. He changed his tactic when he learned that I planned to make a deal with my good friend, Father Biondi, and put SLU right next door. Dick and I ended up with a tremendous outcome for all parties, and that deal will last into perpetuity.  

Over time, Dick and I built more than buildings. We built mutual trust and a great friendship. He always gave me thought and important counsel when I came across problems bigger than me.  I will always be grateful for those moments.

I still find myself back on that campus often, and I will take a seat, watching students pass through spaces we helped create. And I think about Dick. About the call that changed everything. And about how sometimes, all it takes is one opportunity to clear the sky.