Born in war-torn Germany of Polish parents in 1946, Henry spent the first four years of his life in a refugee camp to the west of Berlin with his mother and father and elder brother, waiting for an opportunity to be given a new start in a new country. 

In late 1949 the Bialowas family received news that they had been accepted to come to Australia.

The family were first shipped to Italy and waited in a little village near Naples for six months before they boarded the SS Nelly. Henry remembers the trip to Australia well. 

“It wasn’t the most pleasant trip for me; I was sea sick most of the time.”

His next memory was more befitting a four-year-old. “I remember arriving at the railway station in Sydney and being amazed by the scale and the scope of everything. This first recollection of Australia has always stayed with me.”

Henry and his family were brought to the reception and training centre for European refugees just outside Bathurst on the Limekilns Road. 

“We arrived with the largest influx of immigrants to that date, bringing the numbers up to 8000. We spent our first winter in Bathurst in tents but after coming from Europe it wasn’t too bad.”

Henry’s father, a carpenter, went off to work on government infrastructure projects such as dams and silos throughout the Central West and his mother worked at Bathurst Hospital as a domestic. A new sister was also born for Henry and his brother.

“I started school at Assumption, which had only been open for a year or so, and then went on to St Patrick’s and St Stanislaus’,” Henry said.

“There were a few difficulties fitting in at school; there was that sense that these ‘new Australians’ were here to take jobs. Whenever there was an incident at school any ‘new’ children were pulled aside and questioned until someone took the blame. Even if we didn’t do it we just took it in turns to take the blame so that we could get on with things.”

Thinking about his father, Henry noted that freedom isn’t as easy to accept as people might think. 

“The men seemed to carry a lot of baggage from their previous lives. They had been tortured and for 11 years their life was so regimented; they were told what to do and when to do it, so it was an awkward time, but most found their feet eventually and wanted to leave the past behind and forget all the brutality they had endured and witnessed.”

When Henry finished school he became a musician and played electric bass around Bathurst and throughout Sydney. 

Henry applied to both the Conservatorium of Music in Sydney’s jazz program and University of NSW to study architecture. 

“I did both for about a year until I couldn’t keep up with the demands of it all and realised architecture was where my true love lay. I still played music in restaurants and clubs to earn my way through my studies.”

Even as a young boy walking home from school, Henry said he would notice and admire the stained glass windows in houses. 

“I remember in 1956 the Bathurst Library displaying a drawing of the original concept of the Opera House. I was completely fascinated by it. Then I discovered a book in the library on Frank Lloyd Wright and I was hooked.”

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, though. Towards the end of Henry’s university degree he wrote a thesis on sacred architecture, which became a bit controversial and led to him leaving his degree unfinished. 

“Sacred architecture was considered a nonsense at the time and then 30 years later I was asked to give a lecture on it,” he said.

Henry worked as a building designer in Sydney and then in Melbourne for renowned firm Tompkins, Shaw and Evans Architects. 

But in the late 1970s, Henry noticed Melbourne had reached a saturation point in shopping centres and the firm was beginning to run out of work. 

He seized the opportunity to travel overseas – including to his parents’ homeland, Poland – and study architecture in other countries. 

After his travels, Henry returned to Bathurst to visit his parents. 

“I didn’t plan on staying too long but dropped in to see an architect friend and ended up agreeing to help him out for a few weeks.”

Those weeks dragged out and then Henry met Kathleen. 

“And here I am 31 years later. The rest, as they say, is history. I had no plan to stay in Bathurst, I always thought of myself as a city person, but when I met Kathleen my fate was sealed in a rather lovely way.”

Henry went on to obtain his architect’s registration and has continued to work on some of the region’s most interesting and formative projects – from restoring historic homesteads to spending 10 years on Mayfield Garden near Oberon.

“I think perhaps the most important thing I have done so far is the Cathedral Bell Tower, a long-term project for the community that was completed in 2009. 

“It makes me particularly proud because it was an incredibly challenging job and project in such a sensitive heritage area. It’s in the heart of town in a beautiful precinct and I think we achieved a good result that feels like it has been there a lot longer than it has.”

Henry approaches his work with not only a deep interest in history but also an awareness of context and the natural environment. He said his own life has taught him that nothing works in isolation and everything can be traced back to an underlying essential ingredient that is the key to making it work.