'Knight of Wangi': why Dobell's life and legacy are priceless

THE big irony about the late, great Lake Macquarie artist Bill Dobell is that, after he became famous, he couldn't afford to buy some of his own paintings.

Dobell, or to give him his formal title, Sir William Dobell (1899-1970), admitted the fact before a birthday party held in his honour in Sydney in 1969.

It was one of his rare appearances in the Emerald City, a world away from his humble home at Wangi Wangi, on Lake Macquarie, where he'd retreated decades before, a broken man despite winning a bitter, controversial court case.

Dobell once said if he did have a choice of owning one of his paintings he would push for The Strapper, painted in 1941 (and now hung in pride of place at Newcastle Art Gallery) or The Cypriot, painted in 1940, and now in Brisbane.

The Strapper is also certainly one my favourites from the 'knight of Wangi'. Every time I see it, I'm mesmerised by the subtle image and what it cleverly represents.

Gazing at it you realise Dobell his given his subject a definite equine elegance.

The elongated, unknown horse strapper carries a tartan blanket and bridle but is far more than a mere stable hand feeding and grooming a horse.

The strapper's head is triangular like a horse, his slanted eyes cautious, his neck long, his ears large and almost pricked up, plus add unnaturally high, parted hair like a mane. It's a very revealing painting.

Only months before his death, Dobell himself spoke of his belief that any good portrait had "to be a caricature," with the artist emphasising points of his subject's character. This is what got him into his sensational 1944 court case with a portrait of his artist friend Joshua Smith.

I wouldn't know what The Strapper might be worth today. About 12 years ago, it was valued at $1.6 million (Dobell had sold it for 40 pounds, or $80), so let's just say it's priceless. Not a bad effort for a former World War II camouflage artist who painted fake cows to disguise Sydney's Bankstown airfield as a farm from enemy bombers.

Former Newcastle gallery director Nick Mitzevich pointed to the true identity of The Strapper in 2005, believing that the sitter for Dobell's painting was an artist's model at East Sydney Tech college when Dobell was teaching there in 1939.

He was supposed to be a real, out-of-work Hunter Valley strapper.

And the reason I'm writing today about Sir Bill Dobell (he was knighted in 1966) is the present month-long Dobell Festival at Lake Macquarie. Why, the federal seat of Dobell is even named in his honour, but Wangi is apparently nowhere in the electorate.

Dobell's reputation has waxed and waned over the years, which might explain why 21 artworks of Dobell have temporarily vanished from the Dobell Room down at Wangi Workers Club.

Dobell's career though is still celebrated as befits the artist often regarded as the nation's finest portrait painter. After all, few painters win the Archibald Prize not once, but three times or were commissioned to paint portraits of famous individuals for the cover of Time magazine four times between 1960 and 1963.

And although talented, Dobell was also painfully shy and modest. Perhaps that came from the Cooks Hill lad leaving school at 14. Among his early jobs was being a 'dog walloper' - to prevent stray canines piddling on display merchandise on the pavement outside the former Hunter Street store of Winns'.

Dobell had wanted to be a newspaper cartoonist, but instead became an apprentice architect. He later travelled to England to paint, but poverty drove him to dingy bed-sits. At one time he was so poor he shared a room with a professional burglar. Dobell spent his days at art school, then at night slept in the only bed, while his roommate was out breaking and entering.

Bill Dobell has been dead for 56 years now, so it's a bit hard to say what he was really like.

Fortunately, one person who still remembers him well is the remarkable Nancy Tapp, of Eleebana. She's a veteran Newcastle Art Gallery guide but that's not where her link with the great Wangi artist originated.

"My late father was based at Toronto and became Dobell's bank manager," Mrs Tapp said.

"As part of his duties, he used to go to Wangi to see bank customers. One was artist Bill Dobell.

"My father would go out there once a fortnight or so and I might accompany him. I was young but in charge of dad's gun (for protection) although I wasn't allowed to touch it. It was in a box.

"Anyway, I recall my father once interviewing Bill and saying; 'Empty your pockets'.

"And out of Dobell's pockets came (crumpled) cheques he'd kept there!" Forgetful, or hiding from the tax man? Who knows?

Mrs Tapp is also the widow of renowned radio host Matt Tapp, who knew Dobell very well.

"Matt said he was coming off air one day and went to the floor below where staff members told him a fellow had come in with a wrapped gift to give him," she said.

"It was, of course, Bill Dobell, and the occasion must have been after one of the Maitland floods. The paper was unwrapped and Matt was told Dobell's message to him was: 'Hope this helps. You could possibly raffle it off to help flood victims. It's a little painting I did.'

"That was typical of Bill, absolutely typical. He was such a self-effacing man. I thought the world of Bill Dobell."

All of which reminded me of a story once told to me by Helen Taylor, of legendary Alcron fame.

The Alcron, in Church Street, on The Hill, was Newcastle's premier restaurant in the 1960s when celebrities and showbiz folk met to dine after shows.

Helen said Dobell arrived late one night to eat after a gallery exhibition. His vehicle, possibly the Jaguar he liked to keep out of the rain, was driven by a Wangi mate, acting as chauffeur.

After Dobell was seated, the chauffeur drew Helen to one side for a confidential chat.

It went something like this: 'Whatever you do Helen, don't let Bill order a steak. He's just got new dentures in and they're a little ill-fitting. I'm afraid he'll take a bite of his steak and leave his dentures in them."

Recently, by chance, I visited Dobell's former home and studio in Dobell Drive, Wangi.

Here, I discovered Sir Bill was a quick thinker. One Sunday, Dobell was making boiled eggs on toast before a surprise visit by a hungry Sir Roden Cutler and Lady Cutler to his lakeside home.

Dobell became slightly embarrassed on realising he didn't have enough egg cups. He improvised by grabbing a toilet roll and cutting out a piece to serve Sir Roden his 'egg and soldiers'.

While I was at the heritage-listed house, now preserved as a memorial, I mentioned the story I'd been told about the meal at the Alcron and the chauffeur's warning.

It was almost a Ripley's 'believe it or not' moment.

At this, the volunteer chirped up: "Now isn't that interesting, because we still have Bill's teeth in a glass over there."

And, on a window shelf, there they were.