‘I was terrified’: The two mates who bit the bullet and created a gin company

Cameron Mackenzie, 52, and Stuart Gregor, 53, are craft gin makers. Thrown together by chance two decades ago, they clicked instantly and are now connected by work, family and a shared appreciation of kilts.

Cameron Mackenzie, left, and Stuart Gregor: “When I make a mistake, I lose sleep. Stu will just say, ‘My bad’ and move on.”Credit: Josh Robenstone

Cam: I had competed in the 1996 Atlanta Olympics in the 4 x 400-metre relay, and in 1999 I was trying to make the Sydney Olympic team as a 400-metre runner. Stu was in charge of communications for Beringer Blass Wines. Through an Olympic jobs scheme, I was gifted to him as something of an assistant. If you were to graph my athletics career and my booze career, the point at which one plummeted and the other skyrocketed was the day I met him.

Stu had no idea what to do with me and I had no understanding of what he did in PR and comms, but we clicked instantly. He struck me as someone who doesn’t take anything seriously. Meetings were always enjoyable and fast-paced and he’d be quick with a quip. Stu moved from Melbourne to Sydney, but we remained great mates. If ever there was an opportunity for sport, or lunch that turned into a dinner, we’d do it. We started families, holidayed together. My kids absolutely adore him.

By 2011, I was still working in wine, but not in production, and was wanting to get my hands dirty. I had a mortgage and three kids and was struggling with what to do next. Both Stu and I being gin drinkers, we’d often have a martini or G&T. We toyed with the idea of making tonic water. But then, at 3am one morning, I got a text from Stu: “Hey, why wouldn’t we just make gin?” I started looking at craft distilling.

Stu had a successful PR agency, but I quit my job to start Four Pillars Gin. I was terrified. I remember I was about to make an $85,000 down-payment on our first still. I rang Stu and he said, “This is ridiculous. You’ve done all the work. Get a pen and write down these words: ‘Ready. Fire. Aim. Pull the trigger.’ ” He hung up. I paid the deposit. It was that confidence, that optimism in him that said, “fire before you aim, it will work”. I still have “ready, fire, aim” ringing in my ears.

“There’s nothing that can’t be finished at the end of the day over a gin and tonic.”

I make gin, Stu makes noise. He’s always buzzing. I admire that about him. We’ve built an incredibly good team because he’s set a fun tone across the business. He lifts a room, champions a cause. If I asked Stu to race a marathon, he’d say, “No, f… off.” But if I said it was to raise money for sick kids, he’d say, “I reckon I could win that.” Because he can be so irreverent, people often discount how astute he is. People think he’s a goof-off, but he hates it when he’s not the smartest guy in the room.

Sometimes I act as a bit of a conscience in the business. Not everything works and, having a background in athletics, I can be pretty scathing in defeat. When I make a mistake, I lose sleep. Stu will just say, “My bad” and move on. There are times I wish I could be like that and times I wish Stu could be a bit tougher on us. We can have knock-down arguments – if he feels we’re not moving at a fast enough pace, if I’m cleaning up someone else’s mess – but neither of us will hold a grudge. There’s nothing that can’t be finished at the end of the day over a gin and tonic.

Stu is family to me. I value his friendship and his counsel and his humour and his ability to snap me out of my pessimism. He’s certainly the most interesting guy I know.

Stu: Cam turned up at my office with no brief from my boss about what I was meant to do with him, this little Olympic kiddie. I didn’t know what to do, so I said, “Let’s go out for lunch!” He missed his first ever training session that day. As I point out, he’s won a lot more gold medals making gin than he was ever going to win running. I think I did him a favour by taking him away from that boring running – it’s literally just going around in circles.

“I think I did him a favour by taking him away from that boring running – it’s literally just going around in circles.”

We bonded easily and it’s just got tighter over the years. We started making wine together in the Yarra Valley in 2002, but we picked the wrong rows of the vineyard; we released it as a shiraz, but we’d actually picked cabernet franc! You wouldn’t call it a business. It was an excuse to catch up.

It was Cameron’s idea to make gin, but it was my idea to take it seriously, rather than have it as a side hustle. It’s difficult being best mates and in business together, but it simply wouldn’t have happened without him. He’s the heart and soul of Four Pillars. I can do all the fancy, flappy PR, but I could never make the gin as good as he makes it. That discipline he learnt from athletics – doing the same thing over and over, never taking shortcuts – it works. He’s much more organised, disciplined and functional.

We’re family. The Mackenzie girls have become de facto cousins of my kids, our wives get on really well, and Cameron and I are inseparable. It means we can have family holidays and write it off as work: “Let’s go to Sweden to make gin and take the kids to the ABBA Museum!” One day in Edinburgh, our wives bought us a surprise kilt fitting on the Royal Mile. We had the most magnificent day. Now we both wear our family tartans whenever there’s a big event, like a birthday or an award. I know it’s a ridiculous dress-up skirt, but I like that special connection. Frankly though, his Mackenzie tartan is nowhere near as interesting or colourful as my Gregor tartan.

Cam is the quintessential Australian bloke who knows he’s good at something and doesn’t need to tell everyone. He’s a determined bastard. He has a far better bullshit radar than I do. He’s also hilarious – I loathe that people say he’s funnier than I am. He and my 15-year-old son George are so close they call themselves Big Dic and Little Dic – Dudes in Comedy. I like the fact that my son looks at Cameron as a role model. To me, he’s more of a brother than anything. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without him and I wouldn’t want to. He’s a unique beast.

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