When he took his first hard look at the derelict Pilkington building, Mogens Smed discovered traces of a long line of former occupants.
He found an entry facade of superb Manitoba granite — smudged but salvageable — placed there by the Pilkington Bros., circa 1913.
He found graffiti-splashed interiors, created by artistic squatters, circa God knows when.
And he found pungent calling cards, left by untold generations of pigeons.
Typically, Smed retained both facade and graffiti — the pigeon waste had to go — to highlight his $9-million purchase/restoration of the soon-to-be-splendid Pilkington, on 11th Avenue S.E, north of Victoria Park.
“As we speak, they’re tearing down the Lougheed Building, and that’s always been Calgary’s approach — ‘Let’s just tear it down, and replace it with something ugly,’ ” sniffed Smed, who portrays himself as a preservationist Robin Hood.
One of the most wry, eccentric, and colourful of Calgary’s Big (OK, semi-big) Players, the irrepressible Smed seems to have bounced back from what he termed “an unfortunate happening” — last spring’s takeover of Smed International by U.S. office furniture giant Haworth Inc.
The downside: “We don’t own the company anymore . . . as an entrepreneur, you want to own something,” he shrugged.
“My role has changed from an owner to an employee . . .” i.e. CEO of Smed, which has become an “independent subsidiary” of Haworth.
The upside: “I have more independence today. I’m accountable to (Haworth), not to shareholders.”
Anything else?
“I ended up getting some money,” Smed said drily, referring to the $24 a share Haworth paid Smed and other stockholders.
With less than $2 million of the swag, he bought the Pilkington building, a rock-solid urban dowager, originally constructed to serve as Western Canadian distribution centre for Pilkington Glass.
By Dec. 1, Smed vows it will be a “totally green,” energy efficient, temple of high tech — a new home for 350 employees of Critical Mass, the award-winning Calgary Web site designers.
Last Friday, Smed excitedly led out-of-town clients and a San Francisco architect on a tour of the Pilkington, now being fitted with modular interiors, floors and furniture by Smed International.
“Never seen anything like it,” whistled one of the group, as Smed hustled things along.
Snappily dressed in dark earth tones, which matched the Smed desks, file-cabinet footstools and modular walls, Smed whisked his visitors off to see the basement bistro-to-be, and the site of the new hair salon.
“We photographed all the graffiti, and took it to the police to make sure there were no satanic or drug messages there. We’re silk-screening it on to the glass throughout the building,” he cackled happily.
Born in Denmark, Smed learned the furniture biz at the elbow of his father, Kai, a master cabinet maker, and subsequent owner of Calgary’s KP Manufacturing.
In the 1960s, Smed graduated from Henry Wise Wood senior high, and ultimately went into business for himself. He lost everything — including the roof over his head — during the Calgary crash of the early ’80s.
Using borrowed funds, he started Smed International a few years later — and hit it big.
Smed first went global, then went public (1996), all the while racking up a star-spangled list of clients, including Steven Spielberg, Tommy Hilfiger, Coca Cola and Penthouse Magazine.
But last year, Smed was roasted — hilariously, but scathingly — by Canadian Business Magazine.
Still floating around the Internet under the title of His Party, Your Hangover, the August 1999 story laid partial blame for Smed International’s drooping share price on the boss’s lavish entertainment budget.
Smed countered that wooing foreign clients has long been a major component of the office furniture game. His argument was borne out, at least somewhat, by the fact that title to Falkridge, Smed’s $14-million mountain hideaway, went to Haworth under terms of the takeover.
With Haworth’s approval, the alpine palace is still used to house and schmooze business guests, such as those who toured the Pilkington Friday.
“I got to build it, I got to create it,” he said, a little wistfully, of Falkridge. “That was the fun thing. Now I’ll create something else.”
Today it’s the Pilkington. For the moment, Smed will be Critical Mass’s landlord.
“My intention is to sell this building,” he said. “I’m not a developer, I’m not a landlord. I like to build things. That’s what I do.”
Then he glowed, glancing around the transformed Pilkington interior.
“We call it puttin’ a shine on a turd,” grinned the Sultan of Smed Lane.
