PERSONA Architect Extraordinaire The nature of Al Saroyan’s mind is at once reflected in his latest project, a home in Carmel. Creating a balanced and cohesive whole, the effect of his creation is luxurious without being lazy, close without confinement, and elegant without elitism. Saroyan manages the same air, never condescending or intimidating while possessing a keen intellect and wealth of experience. Summer 2008

ELIZABETH HERMENS

Born in Sanger, California under ordinary circumstances, Saroyan was left to investigate the world in a way not possible today. Part of the baby boomer generation, he was left to his own devices much of the time. This helped him foster a sense of independence and curiosity that would later advance his successes. But for then, it led him in other directions, the most constant, being drumming. Playing in diverse bands, with styles ranging from jazz to rock, music was “his life.”

However, understanding the prospects of a kit drummer, Saroyan tried his hand at architecture following a high school drafting class. In his words, “Do you know why no good drummers have surfaced in the last 15 years? Because Al Saroyan became an architect.”

Indeed, after studying for five years, Saroyan received a bachelor’s degree in architecture with a minor in business from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo in 1970. Yet, the degree was hard won.

Throughout his youth, Saroyan struggled to read, barely passing subjects such as English and history. In high school, when he told his dean of his desire to study architecture in college, the dean chided that Saroyan should attend a trade school instead. Nonetheless, Saroyan worked hard in junior college and transferred to Cal Poly. There, he encountered a variety of peripheral issues that threatened to slow his achievement.

Falling behind in trigonometry class, Saroyan’s teacher recommended a tutor with whom Saroyan worked diligently up to three times per week studying the problems the instructor warned would be on the final exam. Saroyan received a 96% on that test; however, the instructor refused to believe the score was the result of “hard work,” and issued Saroyan a “D” in the class for cheating.

It wasn’t until Saroyan’s eldest son was diagnosed with dyslexia that Saroyan was able to put a name to the difficulty that offered him such challenges in school.
Nevertheless, Saroyan pioneered his own architecture/construction business, wherein he eschews assembly-line production and does everything in-company, overseeing projects from land or building purchase, to design, to construction, and finally, to sale. Much like his musician days, he directs every snare and cymbal and wouldn’t have it any other way. Of course, this requires extreme dedication and focus, to the partial exclusion of other interests. Excellence requires it, and Saroyan is willing to pay that price, not wanting to be the proverbial jack-of-all-trades, master of none.

Saroyan’s completed a variety of projects both commercial and domestic. His favorite piece, however, is “always the one I’m working on.” He relishes new projects as opportunities to express his latest inspiration or idea, despite the temptation of recycling a previous success.

Yet, Saroyan doesn’t forgo all activities beyond building design. He does manage some time for his most recently explored hobbies, be they painting, golfing, or attending his youngest son’s baseball games. He just doesn’t take it as seriously as he does his work, because there are simply not enough hours in a lifetime to pursue everything to the fullest extent he’s capable of.

Once upon a time he would be termed homo unversalis, that rare person who pursues all knowledge, driven by his own hunger for acquiring skills and understandings. Today, he is content to be termed master builder.

And after talking to Saroyan, one realizes that architecture is one of the few careers that could occupy the man for long. His plans for retirement include taking his business abroad; in other words, not retiring at all. This is entirely fitting for Saroyan, however. One does not imagine his drive to create diminishing, but rather, refining.

So goes the man as well, becoming more distinguished, with each endeavor, avoiding the one sorrow, which is, according to John Bradshaw, not becoming who we were meant to be. °

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