A Design for Living

Graves has no plans to retire, but six years ago he arranged a succession plan, naming six partners whose average tenure at the firms is 20 years. When crisis arose, the plan had an unexpected dry run. "When Michael got sick, the partnership immediately stepped up to the plate," says Linda Kinsey, senior director of product development.

Communication had always been a challenge, given the firms' four separate buildings, two of them Colonial-era houses. The partners dispatched regular email messages to the staff, reporting on Graves's condition, and held small meetings in the individual studios to plan client communications and coverage of the work. While the firms did not go public with the news of Graves's condition until he entered rehab, clients were quickly informed, and the architecture practice's principals divided up Graves's responsibilities -- from lectures to client visits to accepting awards -- to make sure the public face of the company remained visible and vital.

Back in the studios, Graves's decades-long investment in teaching his staff his distinctive aesthetic paid off. "We can all kind of channel Michael," says Peschel, "but occasionally, I'd have one of those 'What would Michael do?' moments. That's when I'd wish I could put something in front of him, because I knew he would do something special that I couldn't do on my own. Luckily, we have people here who have been around so long that you could still get there, even if he wasn't available."

In many ways, Graves's absence made visible a structure that was already implicitly in place. "Our discipline is inherently collaborative," Nichols says. "It never was a one-man show. Michael never thought of it like that." Indeed, he didn't. Graves recalls that painter Chuck Close, whose paralysis is so severe that he has to hold a brush between his teeth, called while he was in rehab. "He said, 'You'll have to get used to people helping you more and sharing your very personal work,' " Graves says. "I didn't say anything, but that's what we already do. That wasn't an issue for me -- that sharing."

Once Graves had entered Kessler, about an hour's drive from the office, teams were organized to visit several times a week, bringing food, providing companionship, and rigging up Rube Goldberg-like creations to overcome the facility's design flaws, such as out-of-reach light switches and maddeningly distant drawers. Graves is a notorious workaholic and famously private man; his colleagues are the closest thing he has to family in the immediate area. Twice married, he has lived alone since the mid-1970s. His daughter, Sarah, and three grandchildren live in Calgary, Alberta; his son Adam lives in Indianapolis; his 18-month-old son, Michael Sebastian, lives with the child's mother in Florida. His brother, Tom, lives in southern New Jersey.

When Graves was well enough to work, caravans of designers laden with sketches and prototypes began regular treks between Princeton and West Orange, and Graves began working his magic again. Typically, a design team will develop sketches. Then Graves will work with them to add his special touch. "Whether it's turning your drawing upside down, or doing some little sketch on it, it's this great alchemy thing that happens," says Peschel.

Graves is often characterized as a witty designer, and certainly, in many of his designs, that is true. The whistling bird at the tip of his Alessi teakettle, a Bakelite steak knife with a shark's-grin blade, the 19-foot dwarves holding up the pediment at Disney's corporate headquarters in Burbank, California, come to mind. But wit is just one point on the spectrum of emotions that characterize Graves's designs. They are also comforting, playful, charming, inspiring, and evocative -- in short, unfailingly human. "It's really about intuition," says Nichols. "Michael insists that you be able to understand intuitively how to use something, or approach something, simply by looking at it."

Smiley Toasters

Waiters are clearing the remains of the chicken lunch when Ron Johnson, the man behind the widely heralded Apple retail stores, steps to the stage to deliver his keynote speech at the seventh annual Success by Design Conference in Providence, Rhode Island. Johnson reaches for a mouse and clicks on the first slide of his presentation. Instead of a shot of a gleaming Apple store, a black-and-white photo of Graves beams down. The tribute is apt; a year earlier, Graves was to have delivered the same keynote when he got sick.

But this is not just another lifetime-achievement tribute. Prior to joining Apple, Johnson had been a Target vice president. He was the first to suggest that Graves try designing products for the discounter. And that collaboration has taught Johnson the true power of good design.