The Good Guys

But if this company has a core principle, it’s an absolute, unswerving, unrelenting sense of duty to the building itself. “Their project is everything to us,” Bohm says. “If we’re losing money on the project, we do exactly the same thing as we do if we’re making a killing.” And one gets the impression that they would rather fight a client hand to hand than do something detrimental to the project. “We don’t have any land,” Bohm says. “We don’t own any buildings. We own one thing, and that is our reputation. And that is everything to us. Twenty-seven years to build it, five minutes to lose it. I’d rather lose a million dollars on a project than have that happen.”

Protecting and reinforcing that reputation while producing more than $40 million in annual volume means manifesting the company ethos in the actions of more than 100 employees and a corps of trade contractors that represents several multiples of that number. On this subject, too, Bohm betrays no anxiety, allowing simply, “We’re very good at recognizing talent.” And not by reading a résumé. A man once came to apply for an estimator position. “The interview was going OK, but it wasn’t a knockdown,” Bohm says. “He didn’t have the experience.” Then a truck pulled up outside with a load of materials. Bohm and Fritz excused themselves, but before they knew what was happening, the job seeker had joined them. “He walked out in his coat and tie and started helping unload the truck,” says Bohm, still impressed. “George said, ‘We’ve got to hire that guy.’” That guy, Yerodin Sanders, has been the company’s estimator ever since.

Horizon clients tend to come back for more. After two major residential remodels, the owners of this “play barn” hired the company to build the large, timber-framed structure as an indoor sports hub for their children. The loft/sitting area allows adults to work while keeping an eye on the kids. Architect: Alt Breeding Schwarz, Annapolis, Md.; Photo: Celia Pearson. Geary Deptula, who runs the company’s small projects division, Horizon HouseWorks, was an insurance company executive with no construction experience when Fritz met him. But Fritz saw something in him, and Bohm agreed: “This guy has so much character and integrity, we cannot afford not to take him on.” Under Deptula’s direction, HouseWorks did about $400,000 of business in its first year; after five years, Deptula says the division’s contribution to company volume is “in the substantial millions.” Folks like that don’t grow on trees, and both Bohm and Fritz lament the difficulty of finding employees who have what they need. To strain those few from the applicant pool, they use reverse psychology. “We try to convince them not to work here,” Bohm says, by telling them how hard they’ll be expected to work. And if they exaggerate, it’s not by much. “We need intensity,” Bohm says. “We need you to be involved in every detail. You’ve got to think about the shape and color of the screws that go into the hinges. You’ve got to get down to the molecular level.”

There’s no magic formula in the way Horizon deploys its personnel in the field. A project manager communicates with the owners and architect, negotiates contracts, and deals with subcontractors; a project coordinator handles paperwork, the budget, and RFIs; and a superintendent runs the day-to-day operation. Large projects occupy one of each, full time. The scale of the projects, however, exerts its own influence. Take a $15 million house that will require three years to build: “That’s like running a $5 million business,” Bohm says. “That’s a lot of work. Most companies don’t do $1 million a year.” To keep everyone sharp, “we try to train, train, train,” using the job itself and the layers of managerial oversight as a continuous practicum. “It’s a perpetual discussion,” Bohm says. Central to this process is the high degree of independence the company grants its superintendents. “We give them the chance to make mistakes.”