Debt swallowed Sir Lunchalot

AUSTRALIA - Ross Turnbull, former Wallaby and rugby administrator, high-flying businessman and friend of the rich and powerful, has been tracked down by a Sydney newspaper, earning food and board in a hostel for the homeless.

A world away from the limousines and legendary credit card bills of his former stellar days, Turnbull now doles out food to his fellow dispossessed, travels by bus and lives with just A$400 ($447) from social welfare payments in the bank.

His debts total about A$1.8 million ($2 million) and the creditors who last year drove him to bankruptcy and penury include two of his children. But in an interview with the Sydney Morning Herald the man once dubbed "Sir Lunchalot" for his lavish lifestyle refused to admit defeat. "Whatever has happened to you in the past, you can do nothing about. Nothing. Don't take yourself too seriously. Life is a game. It is meant to be enjoyed."

Once an ebullient and prominent corporate player, Turnbull vanished after the bankruptcy hearing that spelt his final doom in April last year.

Many of his friends and family feared he would take his own life, as had Rene Rivkin, probably Australia's best-known sharebroker until his disgrace over insider trading.

"I dreaded he would do something harmful to himself," Turnbull's sister, Margaret Vidler, told the SMH .

His second wife, Suzie Turnbull, also feared the worst would happen: "So many people approached me, worried he was going to kill himself. His true mates were incredibly concerned about him. I was worried, too. Then I thought about it and told myself 'Roscoe would never quit."'

Suicide was never an option. In his SMH interview Turnbull recalled walking in downtown Sydney shortly after Rivkin's suicide: "Someone had a sign up with Rene's picture on it and the words 'who's next?' I remember thinking, certainly not me."'

Instead, with no money and nowhere to live except a hotel that demanded payment in advance each day, Turnbull was befriended by restaurateur Jeff Gambin, founder of a charity for the homeless called Just Enough Faith.

"I knew Ross had hit rock bottom," Gambin told the SMH. "The media were camped outside the hotel like stalkers. I knew he was struggling to pay the hotel bills. I thought the best thing would be to take him out of the public view. I went up to him, gave him a hug and said 'Come on Ross, you've had enough. Let's go home'."

Turnbull lived at Gambin's home for three months, then moved to Just Enough Faith's hostel for the homeless in the down-at-heel suburb of Rozelle, where he now works as an unpaid volunteer in exchange for room and food.

It is far from his former life - Turnbull was a significant player in Sydney for years, turning deals in the millions and counting some of the nation's most influential people among his circle.

He had grown up in Newcastle, the industrial city north of Sydney, where his parents owned a news agency in a struggling neighbourhood. Determined to provide a way out for their children, they sent Margaret to Newcastle Girls' High School and Ross as a boarder to Knox Grammar School, an elite institution in the old-money Sydney suburb of Wahroonga.

Fellow old boys include former Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, talkback radio's John Laws, and actors Hugo Weaving and Hugh Jackman.

Margaret believes Knox shaped her brother in the mould that took him first to the heights of success, then doomed him. "He was seeing two different worlds, and I think that accounted for his view of the world later in his life."

"At Knox he mixed with kids who lived in mansions on [Sydney's moneyed] North Shore. Then he came home during the holidays to a little bedroom over the news agency."

Knox and his parents' sacrifices gave Turnbull the kickstart he needed. He gained a law degree, graduated from Harvard and Wharton business schools in the United States, and opened a practice with longtime friend Michael Hill, a friendship later doomed by the pair's membership of the board of the New South Wales motoring organisation NRMA.

He was also a talented rugby player, narrowly missing selection for the Wallabies' 1966 British tour before touring Scotland with the national team two years later. After failing to make the 1969 South African tour he turned to administration, becoming in 1975, at 33, the youngest manager of a Wallabies tour squad.

Later Turnbull became chairman of the New South Wales Rugby Union, deputy chairman of the national body, a director of the International Rugby Board and an organiser of the first Rugby World Cup.

Less successfully, he was a key player in the doomed World Rugby Corporation, and cost NSW rugby A$15.8 million ($17.7 million) through his equally doomed bid to turn suburban Sydney's Concord Oval into the city's top rugby venue.

But it was his decision to join the NRMA board that propelled Turnbull to the centre of public attention and spelled his downfall. The organisation, with two million members and Australia's largest motoring body, has been scarred by bitter feuds, bad decisions, and rows of fallen heads.

Radio talkback star, former Wallabies coach and close friend Alan Jones told the SMH he had warned Turnbull to steer clear: "I said, 'Mate, you've got to be kidding'. I thought Ross was unsuitable and I told him that." Jones remains a friend, despite being owed more than A$400,000 ($447,000) by Turnbull.

Turnbull did not listen, joining the board in 2002 and within months warning that the organisation faced financial ruin if the "ghosts of the past" and "preachers of voodoo economics" were allowed to remain.

But as president he wove his own personal voodoo, running up fantastic bills, punishing his corporate credit card, and tapping personal friends for huge amounts of money.

He ignored warnings and threats and continued spending: A$16,500 ($18,400) on a trip to Paris, limousine bills of A$9500 ($10,600), various credit bills of A$30,000 ($33,500), a café bill of A$3500 ($3900), a further tab of A$17,000 ($19,000) at the Union Club ...

All were among the creditors at Turnbull's bankruptcy hearing last April. Also on the list were his children Nicholas and Sally - owed A$129,000 ($144,000), printer Tom Pongrass who lost about A$110,000 ($123,000) and retired businessman Chris Sovechlea, who claims Turnbull used a A$60,000 ($67,000) land deal loan to fund a lavish 60th birthday party.

"Don't misread Turnbull's character," an anonymous source told the SMH. "Don't be fooled into calling him a loveable rogue. He's a rogue, pure and simple."

Now destitute, Turnbull told the newspaper: "Remorse? I don't feel remorse. I owe people money and I need to fix that honourably. I can't sit down and cry, for God's sake. And I can't blame anyone but myself."