From my earliest memories, I was a builder. I didn’t just play with toys—I dissected them, tested them, and rebuilt them. Blocks, tinker toys, erector sets, and even cards became building materials for massive, multi-level structures that took over entire rooms. I wanted to understand balance, tension, and why things stood or collapsed.
My mother, a teacher, filled our home with books. My father filled our home with projects. Together, they gave me two things that shaped the rest of my life:
Curiosity
Capability
With my dad, I wasn’t the kid told to “go grab a tool.” He taught me how to use the tools. Electrical repairs, plumbing, carpentry—I was included in everything. Instead of being protected from complexity, I was handed responsibility.
By high school, it was clear that my mind operated across multiple domains. I won the Art Award, Industrial Arts Award, and Math Award. I was creative, technical, and analytical at the same time.
Decades later, I learned the word polymath. As I studied Benjamin Franklin, Leonardo da Vinci, and other historical polymaths, I recognized similarities: curiosity across domains, ability to integrate concepts, comfort with complexity, and a mind that refuses to stay in one lane. It explained so much of my life and how I solve problems.
My first job was at a magic store when I was fourteen. Most people see magic as mystery. I learned it was engineering disguised as entertainment.
In the back room, I saw:
concealed mechanisms
misdirection strategies
engineered props
fragile dependencies
the importance of detail
One wrong move and the illusion fails.
That early experience laid the groundwork for how I approach everything: Nothing is magical once you understand how it works. Systems hide beneath the surface. Structure drives outcomes.
At sixteen, I started working at an architecture firm in Nashville. What began as blueprint running turned into hand-drafting plans—meticulous, exact, pre-CAD drawing.
The firm owner had apprenticed under Frank Lloyd Wright and helped build Taliesin West. Through him, I learned:
Architecture is purpose made visible.
Every detail matters.
The architect is the system orchestrator.
Structure determines destiny.
Tolerances are non-negotiable.
Architecture trained my brain to think in systems and relationships.
Later, I moved into a mechanical and electrical engineering firm. I learned how buildings functioned:
HVAC
plumbing
electrical
lighting
load calculations
I even helped design the lighting plan for the Tennessee State Capitol.
During this time, I also studied the 1981 Hyatt Regency walkway collapse—a disaster caused by a seemingly small design change that doubled load stress and led to structural failure.
This reinforced what was already forming inside me:
Small structural decisions create massive consequences. Ignoring details leads to catastrophe.
I entered Auburn University as an architecture major and worked for the only local architectural firm. Within six months, they promoted me to business manager. I was a full-time student running everything outside the design work:
finances
HR
contracts
operations
technology
vendor management
This was my first major “number two” role.
During college, two defining world events shaped me:
I watched it live. The explosion shook me—and triggered a new level of curiosity. I followed physicist Richard Feynman during the investigation. His way of peeling apart truth, structure, assumptions, and failure resonated deeply.
I saw myself in Feynman.
Years later, the subtitle of his book What Do You Care What Other People Think?— “Further Adventures of a Curious Character” —felt like it was describing my own life.
I consumed everything about the investigation. Another catastrophic failure. Another example of systems collapsing due to flawed assumptions, missing data, and weak structure.
Between Hyatt, Challenger, and Chernobyl, I learned:
Systems never fail suddenly. They fail at the weakest tolerated point. And they always leave clues.
These experiences shifted me toward Management Information Systems, Systems Analysis, and Finance. I changed majors and immersed myself in:
process modeling
bottleneck analysis
data flow design
financial structures
business logic
risk analysis
I wasn’t designing buildings anymore—I was designing systems.
My first major role was business manager for a construction company. I redesigned systems, automated processes, and coded solutions for mining operations.
Everywhere I worked, the same thing happened:
Founders were brilliant at their domain… but they needed someone to run the rest of the company.
I became that person.
I became:
the integrator
the operational architect
the financial strategist
the risk manager
the compliance lead
the systems builder
the technology designer
the person who could fix anything
I supported owners who often had multiple companies—construction, dump trucks, warehousing, real estate development, waste management, golf courses. I had to master each industry quickly.
This is where my “pattern recognition engine” formed. I could:
look at financial statements
ask a few questions
identify the real drivers
diagnose bottlenecks
see value pathways
find hidden risks
design better systems
This was also where I began understanding businesses the same way I understood architecture: through the lens of structure.
I was hired as CFO of a large construction company—but what I walked into was chaos. The outgoing CFO had fired almost the entire accounting department.
I entered a company with:
no financials
no reporting
no job costing
no compliance
no controls
no documentation
no operational visibility
I rebuilt everything from the ground up:
accounting systems
financial reporting
job costing
treasury management
contracts
compliance
payroll systems
technology infrastructure
operations
I also handled audits from:
The U.S. Department of Labor
The U.S. Department of Transportation
The ATF (explosives for mining)
Environmental agencies
Insurance regulators
State compliance groups
This era taught me one of the most valuable professional lessons of my life:
“I don’t know—but I will find out.”
Most people fear not knowing. I didn’t. To me, it was an opportunity to learn a new mechanism.
This was fun.
Once the company was stabilized, it needed a new headquarters. My architecture roots returned. I helped design:
the floor plan
technology systems
network infrastructure
workflow integration
office layout
operational architecture
It wasn’t just an office—it was a system.
A few years after stabilizing the company, the owner decided on an ESOP leveraged buyout. The deal books stacked three feet tall.
I coordinated:
valuation modeling
legal teams
tax strategy
operational analysis
risk mapping
financing
regulatory requirements
And I completed the entire ESOP in six months.
This deal cemented my transition into M&A.
Across multiple companies and industries, I became the owner’s companion through M&A. I worked on:
hundreds of transactions
representing well over a billion dollars in cumulative value
I handled:
buy-side diligence
sell-side readiness
valuations
operational evaluations
quality of earnings
synergy mapping
negotiation support
integration planning
deal rescue
My role was always the same:
I was the one who saw the structure.
One owner, after watching me, said:
“You were built for this.”
He had no idea how literal that statement was.
When I began consulting, my role sharpened. Owners came to me because:
they didn’t understand the deal
they didn’t know what they wanted
they didn’t know what was negotiable
they didn’t know the implications of the terms
they didn’t know where the real risks were
I could:
look at financials
ask a handful of questions
reconstruct the entire business model
identify what truly mattered
see what everyone else missed
design better outcomes
My gift was insight. Structure. Clarity. Pattern recognition.
I don’t focus on the 96% of the deal that’s boilerplate. I focus on the 4% that changes everything.
My entire life—architecture, engineering, systems analysis, operations, finance, M&A, learning how things work and how to improve them prepared me for one thing:
Finding Clarity in Complexity.
Not running the whole M&A process. Not duplicating what bankers, lawyers, or accountants do.
But doing the one thing no one else is built to do:
uncover the mechanism
reveal the structure
identify the leverage
see the weak points
detect the opportunities
articulate the implications
design the path
protect the owner
bring clarity to chaos
This is architecture. This is engineering. This is systems design. This is polymath insight. This is my life’s work.
This is The Clarity Architect™.