The one who used to play high school football now sports hip black shirts buttoned to the collar and a wave of blond hair that doesn`t move.
The other has calm gray eyes, a trim beard and gravitates toward jeans and bike riding.
Nothing particularly striking about the two, but mind-wise, they`re brothers in design, kindred architects, wild thinkers with considerable control. Their union 12 years ago set in motion a double runaway imagination that has restaurateurs around the world seeking their spirit.
Meet 36-year-old Keith Youngquist, the blond, and 40-year-old Bill Aumiller, the beard.
Ten years ago they officially hung a sign outside a small office in an unremarkable, black glass building located just off Northwest Highway in Mt. Prospect and put their brains together under the catchy company title of Aumiller Youngquist.
The two grew to four and increasingly more until the firm reached its present 20-body size, all of whom work in an expanded version of that original cubbyhole. The place is crowded with design manuals and workers bent over drafting boards. Cartoons and family pictures are displayed haphazardly on desks and walls.
During birthday lunches, summer golf outings and casual evening social hours, the office is vacated, said project manager Chuck Bennett, who was the first full-time employee Aumiller and Youngquist hired.
When manned, however, the office is the birthplace of interior designs like those that hooked the owners of Ed Debevic`s in Deerfield; the Boudin Bakery and Cafe in Schaumburg`s Woodfield shopping center; Desserve, The Sampler Cafe in Mt. Prospect`s Randhurst Shopping Center; Gino`s East in Rolling Meadows; the Weber Grill in Wheeling; Tucci Bennuch, Hat Dance and Cafe Ba-Ba-Reeba in Chicago, and off-track betting and eating establishments called The Winner`s Circle in Chicago, Rockford, Peoria and Aurora.
Then there`s The Roadhouse in Massachusetts, Tony and Luigi`s in California and Umbertino`s in British Columbia. They`ve even worked for the K mart Corporation on stores throughout the Midwest, a clothing store in New Jersey and a shoe store in Georgia. Suffice it to say they`ve been busy in 24 states and Canada.
No titles or numbers have been tallied, but Aumiller estimates that in the first four years of business, the pair worked on 412 projects. Oh yes, there was that award they won in 1989, the one from Restaurant/Hotel Design International magazine that named Aumiller Youngquist not only the best in the full-service category, but the best in the overall category.
Not bad. Nor are the latest projects fresh off the drawing boards.
In early February, an Ed Debevic`s with the Aumiller Youngquist mark-wit mixed with a `40s New York diner-coffee shop theme-opened in Greenwich Village in New York City.
But the Big Apple is small potatoes compared to their work on Chicago Dogs, a 2,000-square foot restaurant in Tokyo`s Shibuya district just off of what they say is the busiest intersection in the world: six multi-laned streets converging on one point, thousands of huge signs and bright lights. To say the competition for attention is wicked is like saying a mom-and-pop grocery store might have a little trouble staying in business in the heart of Las Vegas.
After scratching their heads, though, the approach to the Tokyo project was obvious: Build an American-style movie theater marquee and, above it, a huge fist squeezing bright yellow mustard onto a juicy, three-dimensional hotdog. Have another hand open and looking very enthusiastic about grabbing the wiener. Then like in a comic book, construct a ''WOW!'' big enough to make anyone fall over. As a subtle touch, make it look like mustard and ketchup are dripping off the hotdog and onto the marquee before plopping on the ground.
Well!
Think of that and then look at the partners as they appeared during a recent interview: dressed in conservative ties and suits, just finishing bowls of pasta and surrounded by their design of the small Red Tomato restaurant in a Chicago neighborhood.
No outrageous statements, no food they ''would die for,'' though Aumiller is partial to pretzels, no fiery twinkle in the eye, no eccentric habits. By all indications, they`re normal and easygoing, as client after client will tell you. Which makes it all the more maddening to figure out where that wellspring of weird ideas hides.
Where did they get the notion to stretch white cloth over embroidery hoops and use them for light covers; or to nail on an old bowling alley door a sign reading, ''Don`t even think of coming in here''; or to draw the Statue of Liberty holding a hotdog instead of a torch?
Despite the evidence, Aumiller holds that "we`re not quirky by any means."
Clients seem to agree.
"They just kind of get to you right away," said Bob Don, of Edward Don & Co., which employed Aumiller Youngquist to build a booth for last year`s National Restaurant Association show in Chicago. "They used the space so darn effectively."
Richard Melman, president of Lettuce Entertain You Enterprises based in Chicago, said he chose to work with the fledgling company years ago based on his interview with Aumiller.
"I don`t go by the pedigree or company," Melman said. "He just knows how to work with me. He puts on paper what I dream of."
When asked how Aumiller has changed over the years, Melman quipped,
"He`s gotten to be a sharper dresser."
Aumiller grew up in Elmwood Park and was one of those people blessed with knowing their purpose in life. Architecture was a done deal even before he entered high school. Five years learning the trade at the University of Illinois at Champaign was the next logical step. He joined an architecture fraternity and graduated with honors in 1973 without ever bumping into fellow student Youngquist.
Youngquist admits to being the kind of guy who had every hip hairstyle a young man could want. "The first big bell-bottoms I could get my hands on I thought were great. . . . I remember the platform shoe stage."
This was a kid who grew up in the Iowa town of Waverly, population 5,000. He didn`t like drawing as much as he liked going to see the huge trucks and swinging beams at construction sites where his architect father worked. The boy even went to the elementary school designed by senior Youngquist.
When Youngquist was 11, the family made a dad-related job move to Mt. Prospect, where Keith still lives. Life was normal up to and through his four years at U. of I., despite membership in a fraternity that owned a bombed-out party house and the nickname Skulls.
After graduation, Youngquist opted for experience over a master`s degree and went to work designing 10,000- to 20,00-square-foot custom homes for Jerome Cerny Architects based in Barrington. There he met and sympathized with Aumiller about how demanding it is to deal with often stressed-out couples who want their new place absolutely, positively perfect.
"We`ve been involved in a few projects where the marriage didn`t last as long as the project did," Aumiller said. Often the men ended up as referees between a wife wanting one thing and a husband wanting the exact opposite. Much to the appreciation of future clients, the experience was at least responsible for honing the partners` listening and diplomacy skills.
Any time a commercial project came forth, Aumiller and Youngquist jumped on it and clung. In 1980, they finally split from Cerny and started working 60- to 90-hour weeks on their own ventures.
"Neither one of us has huge egos and we`ve never really had trouble giving responsibility to others," Aumiller said.
So the business bloomed, but not without the mandatory spats that still erupt occasionally. "Something would be wrong if everything was hunky-dory every day," Aumiller added.
Throughout the years, the men have learned the intricacies of the restaurant business while developing a relatively simple work strategy. They listen closely and pull out a flavorful characteristic of the client, then play the concept back, subtly changing the basic idea to incorporate the client`s personality.
Comments are welcome from anyone. Anything remotely trendy is taboo, as is copying previous ideas or working with people who have no feel for what they want.
"Bill might be the nicest person and more down to earth than most of the people we`ve worked with, and that was a nice surprise," said Dave Wilson, director of the NutraSweet Company`s low-calorie dessert project Desserve.
"Some people babble on and on. He wouldn`t be like that."
"It`s like going to a family doctor. They pick up on what bugs you and what you want," said Joe Divenere, owner of the Red Tomato. "I want them to really challenge me, my idea. I don`t want to copy anybody."
From their perch in life, Aumiller and Youngquist can see three changes coming in the eatery world: restaurants getting smaller and more personal, menus reflecting food from a certain region rather than a country in general, and eating styles developing into a more communal activity where people share from the same bowl.
"Every restaurant owner we know asks why we don`t own a restaurant,"
Youngquist said. "Maybe it will come to that someday, but I doubt it."
Any spare time for Youngquist is spent sailing in a yacht club on Lake Geneva or going places with his wife, Laury, and their brand new son, Max.
Aumiller, who lives in Park Ridge, has been a family man all along, having married Bobbie while in college. Together they have two young children, Kevin and Timothy, with whom Aumiller goes bike riding.
But even when they`re totally relaxed-Youngquist might be sleeping or Aumiller showering-a sudden inspiration will spring forth. Then it`s back to the drawing board.