My Dad.

From my first book to my last, I have shared little bits and pieces about how my father and his career influenced me. But I’ve never relayed his entire story.  In the days since his passing I have been hit again and again with the realization of just how massive his influence was on me, even beyond what I already knew to be true (which was A LOT). He was so humble about his career path, when in truth it was anything but a modest road to success. It’s a story of passion, dedication, risk and ultimately great reward. Although far from perfect, he was a man who stood by the belief that if you truly love what you do, you never work a day in your life. He never seemed annoyed, resentful or hesitant about going to work. Quite the opposite in fact, we’d often accompany him on weekends and evenings to his offices, job sites or on “drives” (which was code for- “we’re going to look at some houses”)- he truly LOVED what he did.  Being an architectural designer was his life blood (other than his family). And clients who got to work with him felt that, I’ve read so many messages from them the past few days about the impact both his genius and his kindness had on them.  And while I am devastated to lose him, I am also so very proud that he was my father.

I don’t know everything in detail, and I wish I had asked so many more questions than I did,  but I do know the beginning of his story doesn’t start with architecture at all. It starts with fashion.  My great grandfather and grandmother came here from Ireland sometime in the early 1900’s.  I am not sure what they did back in Ireland, but when they planted roots in Willimantic, CT they opened a small women’s department store in 1916 named Tubridy’s (my maiden name).  I have framed photographs from the first location that I had included on my stairwell gallery wall in my old house (below), and now need to find a place for in this house. My grandfather (my father’s father), was born into that business and he and my grandmother took it over and ran it until 1988 when my dad was handed the reigns (he had been managing the store prior to that).  But this was not what he really wanted to do with his life. He wanted to be an architect.  His parents had firmly said no to that idea, that he had to run the store, and so he did. But he did not just give up on his dream while following his parent’s wishes.

He taught himself by reading books. Books upon books. And while he was managing the family store, which had since grown into a much bigger space in Mansfield, CT,  he was teaching himself architecture on the side. When I was born, he had been working with a licensed draftsman doing tiny jobs- people’s garages, small additions and eventually houses (of course with the help of someone with the credentials to make sure, you know, it didn’t fall down or anything). So, my childhood was a mix of both going to the store with him and playing amongst the racks of clothing and jewelry and also sitting at that angled drafting table he had in the house and drawing my own little floorplans for houses dreamt up in my mind. As you can clearly see, both clearly lead me to where I am today.

I remember the ladies at the store who worked for my family for decades- Ruth, a saleswoman, Maria the seamstress in the tailoring department- they both must have worked there for 50 years. I can so vividly picture the stock room full of slightly creepy mannequins my brother and I would play in.  As he made his rounds, we would sneak into his grey metal candy drawers in the closet in his office which always held candies most people would detest: Good & Plenty, Candana Mints, Raisinets and Necco Wafers (I still LOVE a fresh box of Good & Plenty!). I have SO many visceral memories of this period of my life. In fact, my first job was wrapping gifts in the back during holiday season, which is probably why I still adore gift wrapping.  Tubridy’s was such a legacy- and I was so proud that our family owned it (big fish, small pond and all).  It was one of the cornerstones of the small mall in our town (Mansfield) alongside Caldor (anyone remember that?) and I spent SO much time in that mall growing up and was so delighted that we were a part of it.

This next part is a little bit of a blur for me, but as a design firm owner myself who went from just me to one employee and eventually to 8 employees, I imagine it was a similar trajectory as mine. Word of mouth is the best marketing, and eventually he became “the guy” people in town were using for their architecture .He hired licensed architects to work alongside him at this point, and opened a firm called New England Design. All this without ONE day of formal schooling in architecture.

As his firm grew locally, people took notice. He started working beyond just our neck of the woods, reaching down to the Connecticut shore and into a small enclave he used to spend time in as a child called Groton Long Point. He had started doing commercial work as well- shopping plazas, banks, educational spaces.  His client book grew based on recommendation and reputation, never paying for publicity or advertising. And he had a healthy little business going when I was in elementary school. And then he got a call from what would be his biggest client of all time- the Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Nation. They wanted to build a bingo hall and asked him to present. He did and he got the job, the largest of his career yet. Simultaneously, he had to close Tubridy’s down.  He needed to focus on his architecture career, but also the economics of the town had suffered – retail was anything but booming.  The bingo hall was a huge success and then eventually word broke that the tribe was going to build a casino, the first in New England. The chief of the tribe, Skip, whom my dad had become close with, of course had to entertain pitches from multiple large design firms, but in the end he took my dad up to the top of a hillside overlooking the reservation and asked him “how would you like to build a casino with me?”  That casino being Foxwoods.

My dad just told us that part of the story a few years ago, how he had been asked to design Foxwoods, and he cried when he spoke about that part.  Can you imagine, being a self-taught designer, not able to even call yourself an architect, and landing the biggest casino job in the WORLD (which it was at the time)?  The pressure had to have been immense, I cannot even fathom. Of course it was a massive team in place, a much larger architectural firm doing the complicated structural process drawings and design, but all the of conceptual design and project development was his firm, which is completely wild.

For research and inspiration, they flew him to casinos around the world, on the Concorde no less, and he got to see and do things I’m certain he never in his wildest dreams expected to be able to. All I can remember of this time, besides the slippers he brought back from the Concorde which blew my mind (“they gave you SLIPPERS on the PLANE?”)  is this massive model they made of the original casino design, that my dad had covered in a plexiglass box and used as a coffee table in his office. It was the most magical thing I had ever seen! So tiny and yet so enormous. I have a vague recollection of the opening night of the original tower at Foxwoods, we pulled around the bend of what is a pretty rural area of Connecticut and this ginormous building rose out of the earth and HOLY SHIT my DAD has designed that (with his whole team of course, and many other specialists!) He was so proud. And it changed our lives forever, as you can imagine.  Prior to this my family was pretty comfortable, but this huge opportunity provided a whole new kind of lifestyle (in fact, when he built our beach house he named the house “Windfall”- as he saw this as not only a product of his hard work but also of a great stroke of luck).

But one thing remained true- we all had to work no matter what. I had odd jobs as a kid as I mentioned- wrapping gifts at the store, answering the phone at my dad’s firm and assisting the interior designer on staff with the sample library during winter breaks. But every summer since I was 15 we had to have a full time summer job. I was a fry cook/ counter waitress at our little local diner (literally making the donuts at 5 am),  scooped ice cream until my right arm outsized my left, waited tables, was a lifeguard, worked retail at the mall. My brother Mike was digging out basements and spreading mulch and doing manual labor for my dad’s clients. Our educations were paid for, we were all given cars when we graduated high school (I will never forget pulling up next to a navy Jeep Wrangler with a bow on it after graduation and my dad handing me keys and telling me “you  can drive to dinner” and being absolutely baffled as to what he was saying and what I was seeing.)  So, while we were expected to work hard and earn our keep, we were also very privileged. I was very, very lucky. But hand-outs and laziness were not allowed and in fact, basically revolting to my parents.  This is not a therapy session, so I won’t get into how I’m sure this plays into why I cannot for the life of me ever relax now as an adult and I always feel the need to be productive 24/7… but I digress. It also is why I have been successful myself, in fact I was just telling him the other day how 18 years into running my business I still operate under the assumption that everything could disappear tomorrow- and he laughed with a very knowing grin.

But back to the story, Foxwoods lead to meetings with the big wigs in the casino and entertainment world- Steve Wynn, Bob Kraft and yes, the evil overlord himself ,Donald Trump.  But what he really loved was just designing houses. That’s what brought him the most joy, and so his firm turned focus to mostly residential work.  He designed some really spectacular homes, but never professionally photographed them and never pitched them to publications. That kind of outside applause just didn’t seem to matter to him.  But it kind of drove me crazy, so I had one of my photographers shoot the exterior and grounds of his own home which I eventually pitched to the Boston Globe Magazine (and was published in 2013). A spectacular piece of property, ironically nicknamed The Ranch, there was nowhere he’d rather be than on that back porch looking over the field as the sun set.  I wanted to share the magic my parents had created on that land and show off his talent a bit!

When I decided that interior design was what I wanted to do, I thought I needed to get a masters degree in order to compete. It will probably not come as a shock to you that my dad argued against that.  He said, as it held true for him, my talent was my eye and taste level, and to focus on honing my natural skills by working in the field and then reassessing if I needed to go to school based on what I learned about myself and the industry.  Of course, he was right- and like him, I slowly worked from picking friend’s sofas and paint colors, to having a couple real clients to then quitting my day job and opening my own business in 2007.  Like him, I taught myself through working, reading, watching and absorbing from those around me.  His firm has had the same employees for almost my entire life.  It was important to him to value and retain talented people he cared about. I pride myself in having had employees for 8, 10, 12 years as well, having learned from him that appreciating those around you and hiring people who are better than you at different aspects of the field (I don’t even know how to log into CAD) is how you make a successful firm.

  We had the opportunity to work together three times- on my own home in Newton and with two clients of his on the CT shore (one of which I photographed here).  Of course, being father and daughter, we were at odds over some things (he never liked window treatments- how dare I hide the casing millwork!) and I would have to break it to him that glass vessel sinks and spotty granite were no longer cool.  But I love what we did together and I wish we had done more.

That’s something that keeps echoing in my head as I attempt to traverse this massive grief- how much more I wish I had done. More questions, more conversation, more travel, more efforts… I’m not sure how to forgive myself for that or even if I should (Andrew says I have nothing to forgive myself for, but I seem to enjoy some good self-flagellation now and again… and again.) It’s hard to imagine not having him to call with questions about design, or his opinion on a house, or to fill him in on my tour stops.  It’s impossible to imagine I will never see him again. Or have his undying, quiet support as well as his loud cheers of pride. It all feels bizarre, even though I knew it was coming.

One thing that several people have said to me that does help is how lucky I was so have such an involved and supportive father. Someone who really cared and let me know how proud he was. Not everyone gets to have that kind of relationship with their fathers. They also say the grief I feel is a true reflection of such a large amount of love. I am finding it hard to absorb that fully right now, just a little more than a week out from his death, but I hope in time I will. And I will celebrate him as a designer, a person, a father and grandfather in all the ways I know how.  I hope he knew just how much he meant to me, how much I loved him and how hard I fought to help him. And I hope he will continue to watch over me and my children for the rest of our lives from somewhere very special under a perfect sunset.

KEVIN MICHAEL TUBRIDY

February 19, 1945- October 15, 2025