Made in Melbourne
“Hank-n-Julie.” That’s how I’ve known them since 1976, always a pair and always in that order, even though that order is probably patriarchal – Julie was always the more vocal one. They were a power team even back then, part of a group of energetic graduates who made the Melbourne architectural scene of the late 1970s a time of significant change. With other always-pairs, Steve-n-Ro (Ashton) and Howard-n-Poh (Raggatt), they were part of a close-knit gang of students from the University of Melbourne and RMIT University. We all had cars that needed fixing, lived cheap and followed George Hatzisavas’s guide to ethnic cheap eats in inner Melbourne: Turkish Pizza, Lebanese House, Stalactites, the Waiters’ Club and Twins.
I met Hank around 1977, when we were both working for Max May. He was a laconic smart alec; irreverent, wiry and intelligent, he was a good foil to me, the garrulous smart alec. There was some considerable rivalry between us that I think Max enjoyed. It was not antagonistic, but pronounced enough for us to resolve an architectural discussion It’s a Max May design, but the waggishness, the neat detail and the counterplay of finesse and anti-perfection display the Hank I know. The little brick hut might have been such a conceit, but it is beautiful.
