Harold Spitznagel has been gone for 50 years, but somehow, the TSP team thinks he’d have a thing or two to say about his firm turning 95.
When Spitznagel (1896-1975) started the company on June 9, 1930, with $20 and a one-room office, he probably wasn’t thinking about legacy.
But as the firm celebrates 95 years of design, collaboration, and meaningful relationships, the team couldn’t help but wonder: What would “Spitz” think? How would he feel about the projects, the people, and the values that still guide the organization today?
So with a mix of Spitznagel’s real words, some historical gems, and a dash of storytelling license, here’s a lighthearted Q&A with TSP’s founder — imagining how he would respond if he were here to help us mark the firm’s milestone anniversary.
What motivated you to start your own architectural practice in your hometown?
I saw my friends with degrees of Master of Architecture running elevators and working in cafeterias in Chicago, and as I drifted from one firm to another, only to have the work terminate on completion of the job, I decided it would be best to come back and starve at home.
Did you really get paid in baked goods back in the day?
I did. My very first job after starting my practice in Sioux Falls was redesigning the front of a bakery, and instead of a traditional fee, I was paid in baked goods. It might sound unusual today, but at the time, it felt like a fair trade — especially during the Depression. And yes, perhaps there was a bit of sentiment involved, too, since my parents owned a bakery, so it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar territory.
How do you balance your expertise with meeting the needs of your clients?
To a certain extent, I feel the architect should give the client what he or she wants, as long as the designer feels it is architecturally acceptable. However, if the owner insists on details which, in the designer’s opinion are not “good architecture,” he should so advise the client, and if they are bad, refuse to incorporate them in the design, even at the risk of losing the commission.
What led you to bring engineering and interior design into your architectural firm in the 1950s?
Back then, we made the deliberate decision to bring both engineering and interior design in-house. At the time, this was relatively uncommon — but for us, it was essential. We believed architecture shouldn’t happen in isolation. To truly serve the client, we needed to provide expertise for the full environment: the structure, the systems, and the spaces people live and work in every day!
As a leader, how do you approach delegation and accountability with your team?
I have always believed in assigning responsibility for a project to an individual — allowing them to take full ownership from start to finish. While this approach may occasionally take more time, it consistently fosters a strong sense of personal responsibility. That ownership leads to greater pride in the work and, ultimately, to better, more thoughtful solutions.
How is TSP’s credo — “If we mess up, we fess up” — more than just a rhyme but a foundational statement that shaped your company’s culture and approach to accountability?
One thing I have learned is to have no hesitation about admitting your mistakes and — perhaps of even greater importance — correcting them as soon as they are discovered. For I have found out that unless this is done, the error gathers momentum and size like the proverbial snowball.
Whether in core locations or considering new markets, it seems a philosophy of collaboration has been instrumental in the firm’s growth.
Right you are. Our growth is intentional and rooted in a commitment to long-term partnerships and service excellence. With our projects dotted across a wide Upper Midwest landscape, we recognized early the importance of exploring other markets — but only when the timing and reasons aligned with our core values. In addition to our Sioux Falls office, we have a long-standing presence in Rochester, Minnesota, where we opened an office in 1969. And although we have worked in the western part of South Dakota since nearly the start, we opened a Rapid City office in 1973. You will also find a TSP office in Watertown, South Dakota. As we look toward a future filled with exciting opportunities and meaningful client relationships, we remain anchored in the proven success and stability of our existing locations.
You have always emphasized the importance of savoring every moment. Please tell us more.
We have always operated on more or less a dolce vita principle, not as far as the client is concerned, but as far as the principals and our employees are concerned. I am sure we could improve our efficiency immeasurably, and it would result in greater profit. But I believe there are other things in life that are equally rewarding, for instance such a simple thing as taking time to enjoy life. (Dolce vita = the sweet life.)
Your firm gained a reputation as a place where team members worked hard, but they also had fun. Can this level of fun translate to the 21st century?
Absolutely. The tools have changed, the buildings look different, and the deadlines might come faster, but people are still people. When I started the firm, we didn’t just share work — we shared a purpose. We were in it together. You can work late and still laugh. You can take pride in the details and still pull a prank now and then. That kind of culture doesn’t go out of style.
The truth is people do their best work when they feel part of something bigger — when they’re challenged, yes, but also when they’re seen, supported, and trusted. That’s what we built back then, and there’s no reason that spirit can’t carry forward. You just need to lead with heart — and hire people who love what they do.
Your firm is now 95 years old. Did you ever think that would happen?
Ninety-five years? That’s something, isn’t it? When I started, I was just trying to find the next job, put pencil to paper and do honest work. The Depression taught me grit, and the war years tested our patience, but what carried us through was a belief that good design matters — and with the right people around you, you keep going.
I’d never claim to have done it alone. I had partners who pulled their weight, clients who took chances, and a community that saw value in what we were doing. We kept things simple, clear, and purposeful — just the way I liked it.
To think that 95 years later, the firm still stands, still creates, still serves — well, that means we built something more than buildings. We built trust. And maybe even a little bit of beauty. That’s more than I ever expected.
In 95 years, your firm has had five CEOs, but only two are architects: you and current CEO Jared Nesje. You must be secretly thrilled.
I am pleased to see that at least one more architect made the cut. We can’t let the engineers have all the fun, after all.
But it’s incredible to see how far we’ve come — and to know the firm is in capable hands. Jared understands what this firm was built on — teamwork, integrity, and a passion for great design — and he’s leading us into the future with our foundational core values front and center. It makes me proud to know the legacy we started isn’t just surviving — it is thriving.
The source material for this Q&A includes the magazine articles Progressive Architecture, “The Architect and His Community” | October 1951; and AIA Journal, “Ingredients for a Practice with Pleasure” | January 1970. It also is based upon biographical notes, a variety of historical sources, and a small dose of narrative liberty.
