Paul Segal 1944-2026

Paul Segal, in addition to being the only NYC architect I ever worked for, was one of those figures who, no matter how long the time span, never seemed to change. That is not entirely true as he died last month at 82, but also because when we first met he was a bearded, motorcycle riding, cigarette smoking resident of The Dakota, before he evolved into the steady state, unchanging presence I would occasionally run into at the Century, or one of his periodic reunions. He thought of all the employees of the firm, and I was only the third hire when the offices decamped from the Dakota to 730 Fifth Ave., as alumni. Not staff, not employees but as students of his brand of architectural education. He went on to literally have students when he taught at Columbia, but his office was as much a place to learn to be an architect as I imagine his classes to be. 

I was shocked to hear he died; his unchanging presence made me think he would always be there, despite the 10 years he had on me. But I think it was more than that, and more than my 7 year tenancy at the firm he and Michael Pribyl ran. I think he taught me how to head an architecture firm, and how to treat employees (alumni!) and create an atmosphere of friendly competition to spur excellence. 

His expertise wasn't design, but getting the best design work out of his team. He understood what drove creative types, and was as excited by a design that they created as one he created himself. In the highly competitive, zero sum game of architecture that is remarkably rare and memorable.

Paul Segal Associates was where I met my wife Carin Goldberg, who, visiting a Cooper Union architect friend seemed to drift over to my desk. A lot. 

Paul was one of the 366 figures in my book (born September 18, 1944) sitting opposite David Shrigley, perhaps his exact opposite in every possible way. Here is what I wrote about him for the book (which I now realize is kind of redundant with the above):

When I met Paul he was a beard-wearing, motorcycle-riding, Dakota-living (the building, not the state), Volvo-driving, Princeton-trained architect designing the offices for Rolling Stone Magazine in NYC and a bit of work for another resident of The Dakota who needed a white room for his white piano (yes, that resident). It really didn’t get any cooler than that.

 I’ve only worked for two architects; Kaneji Domoto, who interned with Frank Lloyd Wright (after he was released from the Japanese internment camps) for summers while I was still in school, and Paul Segal after I graduated. The office was a tiny maid’s room in The Dakota (eventually sold to that client with the piano). It was so small that, as the fifth person in the office, I didn’t fit (insert size joke here). I helped the carpenter build the new office…at the very top of 730 Fifth Avenue, under the pointy gilded roof, just to have a desk. It ruined me for working in dull spaces, which since then I’ve never had to endure.

 Paul was lucky enough to spend his summers, as a kid, in Paris, and was even luckier to lunch one day with Samuel Beckett. Beckett offered to introduce him to Le Corbusier which Paul declined (“what was I going to say to him beyond ‘I’m a big fan of your work’?”!). [btw, check out the punctuation lineup back there; 6 in a row!). I get that, but what a story (when Paul tells it he starts with ‘I was having lunch in Paris one day’ and only then ‘OK, it was with Samuel Beckett’).

He’s filled with stories like that, but always told in a non-braggadocious way, if that is possible with stories like that.

 His talent was managing the slightly unstable stable of highly creative, highly demanding architects. Not an easy task, and I say that as one of those he managed to manage! His other talent was generosity (and again, I say that as the recipient of his largesse) along with the loyalty he always modeled. He always referred to his staff, after they moved on to their own offices (which was overwhelmingly the case) as ‘alumni’.

 Nice touch, still appreciated, but a perfect expression of how he felt about all of us, and how we still feel about him.