Remembering Hank Dittmar

Today would have been my friend Hank’s birthday if he were still alive.
Today should have been Hank’s birthday — he died too young just over a year ago.

Currently, I am reading his book, My Kind of City, a collection of his essays and writings about architecture and city design, mostly from his later years as CEO of the Prince’s Foundation for Built Environment. Masterfully written in a conversational tone, his articles invite my understanding even as he guides me deeper into his field’s terms, trends, history and jargon. Though I do wish he were here so I could get some personal explanations, the underlying ideas come through clearly, even for an naive reader like myself.

I can’t say I knew Hank well or that we were close friends. But I did know him a long time, starting in those formative years of college.

Not that I went to college with Hank. No, I first met him as one of the many people I met when I visited my high school buddy, Tracy, at Northwestern University in the fall of ’73.  Most of them, including Hank, I only remember vaguely from that visit. I did meet Tracy’s new girlfriend, Dale, and a guy named Marty…and a bunch of other people I don’t remember by name.

Many of those same folks came down to Austin for spring break the next couple of years to revel in the warmer weather and enjoy the Austin of the early 70s. I recall returning from one Tequila Night at the old Soap Creek Saloon in 3 cars— and the cop shaking his head as he told us to take our puking friend, Dave, home, and please stop playing frisbee across Bee Cave Road at 2:30am.

Several years later, I was booted out of the Texas Reni Faire at the end of 1979, leaving me at loose ends. I was sleeping in my van but with my dog Brutus along in the winter weather, I needed some indoor refuge. I bounced back to Austin to try and get started again and found Hank living there to go to grad school. He let me park my van curbside outside his house and take up sofa residence there for a week or two—or three, maybe. I don’t really recall. There he was, moving on up in his chosen field of study — and me, back to taking the first dishwasher job I could snag.

It was a time of struggle for me before I landed among new friends at Creedmoor. I saw Hank a few more times then in the early 80s in Austin but we soon lost touch.  In fact, I lost touch with all of those friends from Northwestern.

It was several years before I touched base again with another of that circle, Marty, but he no longer kept up with Hank. Their interests had diverged so they drifted apart and lost touch. My high school buddy, Tracy, married that “new girlfriend,” Dale, and I would run into them late in the 80’s, but we could only share rumors of Hank, neither of us having any direct news.

Then, in 2007, I saw an article in the Austin Chronicle about the Congress for the New Urbanism hosting their annual conference in town, featuring my old friend and luminary of that field, Hank Dittmar. Somehow, it wasn’t surprising at all to see him cast as a bit of a superstar. Not surprising at all — gratifying to see him do so well.

But I figured I’d never see him in person again for sure now. Then I started running into Tracy & Dale more often, first at our high school reunion and then at the ACL Fest we both attended regularly. Once social media boomed, I was startled and delighted to see a post from Tracy about visiting with Hank at Shady Grove — literally just down the hill from Casa Dexter.  Turns out his wife, Kelle, has family in Cedar Park, so they and their twins — Clara and Cole — came stateside frequently, specifically heading to Central Texas pretty regularly. I didn’t manage to meet up with Hank and Kelle that first time I heard they were just down the hill from me, but I did catch up with them a couple of different times over the next couple of years when they came to Texas.

Then, in 2012, my work took me quite unexpectedly to London on short notice for a solo trip. I stretched the visit so I could visit Hank while there. As it turned out, Kelle and the twins were in Cedar Park during that time, but Hank was home so we “batched” it all weekend. I got a fantastic personal tour of Hank’s city, starting with his adopted neighborhood, Muswell Hill. As we strolled down to the pub for dinner, Hank pointed out the childhood home of the Davies family, where sons Ray and Dave grew up to form the Kinks in the early 60s, as well as the Clissold Arms where they played their first gig, closed for a private event or we would’ve eaten there.

The pub we did eat at was hosting a appropriately rowdy viewing party for the opening night ceremonies of the Olympics there in London on their patio, but at Hank’s offer and my happy agreement, we went inside instead so we could visit quietly.

I ended monopolizing him for the next couple of days. Here, Hank had just met with the Prime Minister of Jamaica and Prince Charles the day before and now he was hosting me in royal fashion. The next day, he took me wandering London with him — and that was exquisite. I wish I could remember where all we strolled or where we stopped for tea that afternoon. I do remember we visited the Sir John Soames Museum, a perfect example of a “pocket museum” and then rested a bit in the park just across the street.

His knowledge of the city, both historical and geographical, came into play when we visited St. Paul’s Cathedral. Inside, he pointed out various features and small details as we walked through, explaining when certain design touches were added and by whom. We climbed the stairs and went to one of the lower outside walkways. from that vantage point, he showed me various cathedrals nearby that we could see, telling me stories of their creation and the people who designed them.

And then in 2016, I returned to London, this time with Sara in tow. When we stayed with Hank and Kelle, he gave us walking directions us to a nearby park that backed up onto a cemetery— a most lovely and sublime walk for our London visit. Once again, the best guide directions in London, personally curated for us.

Me & Hank in Clissold Arms’ Kinks Tribute room

Hank had been ill a number of years by the time we saw him in 2016, so he did take a “lie-down” after visiting some, but he really seemed still quite lively. Looking back, I suppose I did notice some slowing down — but not much. He was still busy consulting in Dubai and taking his son, Cole, to assist him.

Since we missed visiting the Clissold Arms, the neighborhood pub where the Kinks played their first gig, on my prior visit,  Hank had been anxious to share this with me, having befriended Dave Davies over the last several years. This time, we ate lunch on the sunny patio and grabbed this photo of me & Hank inside the pub’s dedicated “Lola” room, part of their permanent Kinks display.

Reading his book now, with great enjoyment, I relive these snapshot memories. I must admit I am having no small difficulty keeping up with the jargon. Except that Hank’s writing masterfully moves the reader from idea to example and theory so smoothly it practically ensures understanding. I hear his voice and mostly just wish I could ask him a question or two or ten and get a quick side explanation of what some of these specific terms mean.

I am happy & honored to have known Hank as a friend and humbled that he might have considered me one, too.