Jack the Insider: The Bill Leak I knew

Bill Leak in his studio in 2013, with dog Gus and his portrait of Chow Hayes.

Peering at me over my left shoulder is Bill Leak’s portrait of Sydney gangster John Frederick ‘Chow’ Hayes.

The original was sold to a New Zealand couple who had no idea who Chow Hayes was but apparently the portrait spoke to them in ways that are not immediately clear to those who did know who Chow Hayes was.

The ‘Chow’ Hayes portrait by Bill Leak in Jack the Insider's office.

After selling Chow’s portrait, Bill made two prints, kept one at his home and gave me the other as a Christmas present.

Naturally, Chow’s fierce visage, so beautifully captured by Bill, holds pride of place in my office.

I’ve known Bill for 20 years. He and I became very close friends. Either he’d ring me or I’d ring him almost every day for 10 years. He might have a cartoon idea he wanted to run past me or I had some story I wanted to tell him.

The anecdotes would pour out one way or another. The stories Bill told of his father were favourites. Bill’s dad was a Milne Bay veteran and as tough as teak. Bill told me the story of how his father was bitten by a funnel web spider and was rushed to Royal North Shore for treatment.

The morning after the encounter with the funnel web, Bill’s dad was unhappy with the breakfast fare at RNS and with the fever still raging, checked himself out of hospital, rang his young son and ordered him to drive over and pick him up.

Bill found his father outside at the bus stop still in his hospital gown, his backside exposed to the world. The treatment for the funnel web bite was no longer of consequence.

“A boiled egg. No toast. The bastards.”

A man of courage and wit

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Bill was unspeakably clever and always funny. A gifted portrait artist, a more than passable pianist and a cartoonist without peer. He could write, too. He penned a novel in 2007, entitled Heart Cancer. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was envious of his many talents.

I first met Bill at The Aurora, the lager oasis for all at News Corp, about 20 years ago.

If you sat at the Aurora round table, it would quickly become clear you were in a pretty rough school. Daily Telegraph cartoonist Warren Brown was invariably there, his index fingers smudged with artist’s ink. The Australian’s letters editor Graeme Leech, Aus sub-editor Mark ‘Southpaw’ Southcott were other regulars. Others came and went.

Warren is Bill’s best mate. This morning I guessed Warren had not heard the bad news and I was right. I rang him and we blubbered at each other for five minutes. So sudden, so shocking.

We all referred to each other by ugly and often rude nicknames. Bill was known as ‘Nocs’, short for Nocturnal Affairs. Back in those days he was known to have had more than a few.

It was another meeting at the now defunct Redfern Hotel where we had a long chat, filled with laughter one Saturday afternoon. I remember he’d just painted a man’s portrait. The subject had offered Bill a Harley Davidson motorcycle in lieu of payment.

I urged Bill to knock back the gift. “You’re flat out walking without falling over and hurting yourself,” I told him. “Getting about with 1000ccs of roaring, dangerously powerful engine underneath you is not a sensible career move.”

“Besides,” I said. “I don’t want have to scrounge around in my pockets looking for a gold coin to chip in for your wreath.”

Bill roared with laughter. It doesn’t seem so funny today. In fact, nothing seems very funny today.

I owe him so much. His generosity was the stuff of legend. It wasn’t simply a matter of dollars and cents although Bill was always quick to open his wallet to a friend in need. It was the time he took with people. After I’d written something for The Australian, he’d ring me and tell me it was the funniest thing he’d ever read. Week in, week out. The same call. I didn’t believe him but it was nice to hear it all the same.

He mentored my daughter after she was diagnosed with mental illness. Bill was no stranger to the giddying highs and stultifying lows of depression. He helped my daughter understand her condition better than any shrink could.

I’ve flipped through social media and have seen some outrageously ill-mannered and nasty references, mocking Bill in death. At first I was angry. Now I’m sanguine. I realise Bill would have loved it. If nothing else Bill Leak was an agitator, a stirrer, a man with the courage to prick the balloon.

Most of all, Bill Leak was my mate and I will miss him more than life itself.