MEET DEEBEE BISHOP AND DOM GRENOT, THE TWO PEOPLE BEHIND A REMARKABLE SHOW ABOUT HOMELESSNESS, THIRST
It’s a bright, perfect afternoon in Kingscliff, New South Wales, on Anzac Day. Everybody seems to be out – at the pub, on the beach, or on the promenade where the locals are listening to free live music.
It’s only 3.30 but at the Kingscliff Hotel the beers are flowing, and the rowdy crowd is cheering on games of two-up, that gambling tradition meant to bring people closer to the Diggers on this sacred of Australian public holidays.
There are two patrons waiting outside for me, Deebee Bishop and Dom Grenot. We are supposed to be having a cuppa at the hotel to talk about “THIRST” — a solo musical production by Mid North Coast musician Deebee, produced by his friend, Dom, who lives in Kingscliff.
The alcohol-fuelled noise at the hotel makes it impossible to converse, so we find a quieter place, a sushi bar, 50 metres down the road from the “Kingy”, where we quench our parched throats on Japanese beer.
This is where I learn more about a destitute man called Stan Adams, who has inspired these friends to stage a show about his life, 40 years after they first met.
THIRST has been in the making for the past six years. Deebee first wrote, performed and staged his production in 2015 with his wife, Michelle Manton, as producer. It tells the real-life story of a man from the streets who had a big impact on six young Sydney men starting out in life, most of whom had nicknames: Crabby, Pigeon, Ace, Zuma (Deebee), Phil Lake (who did not have a nickname) and Thrasher (Dom).
THIRST is equally sad and uplifting: Stan or “Wingy” as he was known on the streets of Hornsby on the Upper North Shore of Sydney, became addicted to alcohol and cough mixture and ended up losing everything — except his humanity. Deebee and Dom hope their show will encourage people to talk about homelessness and related social problems, and what we can all do to help.
At first sight, Deebee and Dom seem an unlikely combination.
Deebee has shapely musician’s fingers, the long nails of a guitar player. Dressed in black, he is slightly built, with a puff of hair on his chin, brown curls escaping from his corduroy beret, a flicker of sadness behind his eyes when he smiles.
Dom is heavy and grey-haired. He is taller and larger than his friend. Spectacles frame an expressive, middle-aged face. His full lips suggest he has done a lot of talking with people others don’t like to hear from.
In THIRST we hear how Deebee, Dom and four other young men from an old Federation share house in Epping, Sydney, called “The Manor”, came to take in Stan, an alcoholic homeless man, for a weekend. He ended up staying with the lads — on and off — for the rest of his days.
Deebee recounts a slice of Wingy’s life through stories and songs which he performs solo, supported by his beautiful playing on acoustic guitar, banjo, tenor ukele and piano.When the six boys got together in the house in early-1980, they were between 19 and 22, a group of teachers, musicians, and wannabe musician Deebee who had escaped from a hard home life into the freedom of The Manor.
He had qualified as a ships carpenter but had no interest in pursuing his newly acquired trade, fancying himself busking at the Epping Railway Station — and before too long he was indeed making a joyful living as a street musician, earning $50 a week. This became a way of life for Deebee, as he traversed Australia and travelled overseas, then later he formed his own band, touring pubs and clubs around Australia for more than a decade.
Dom embarked on his career as a youth worker in Sydney in the 1980s and in those early days, on Friday nights, he and Deebee would volunteer at the drop-in centre on the old side of Hornsby which was a refuge for people — young and old — in need of support, a meal, or just some company.
It was there they got to know Wingy who would come in for some respite from living on the streets, close to the suburb where he had once lived with his wife and two kids as a respected Merchant Navy officer. Who knows what demons caused Wingy to end up living rough, where he was free to sate his thirst on his drink of choice, rum, chased down with a swig of cough mixture?
When Dom brought home a hopeless drunk one Friday night, and then proposed he stay, there was an argument at the regular Monday night house meeting, and it culminated in a tense vote before Dom and Deebee got their way — which was to let Wingy live with them.
Only around 50, the new resident possessed the body and skin and wild hair and beard of an ancient, and to young boys still transforming into men, Wingy was simply an old man from a dark and different age.
And yet, Wingy, with his humour, one-liners honed at sea, his myriad stories and gentle ways, made a big impression on all the young men in the house.
“He was an avid book reader; he was always cleaning his glasses and reading a book,” says Deebee. “He used gum leaves for bookmarks, and he said to us, ‘I use a gum leaf and when the book is finished, I can throw the book and leaf away.’
“He was a quirky fellow, dressed in a suit we bought for him from Vinnies, always in his cowboy boots and telling stories. He loved to regale us with those stories, laced with many lies, I often caught him out on those.”
At the time, Deebee was working out his own struggles, having found liberty at The Manor after a childhood dominated by his brutal father, a Brethren minister: “Dad would preach about peace, love and understanding at church on Sunday mornings and beat the hell out of us on Sunday afternoons for not wearing our ties properly to church.
“All weekend, my brother and I had to wear white shirts and ties and my two sisters had to wear dresses that covered their knees. That was our whole childhood. Music was satanic, except for hymns.”
At the age of about eight, Deebee realised there was a world of music and life beyond the narrow walls of his unhappy family home when a woman paid a visit to the family. She performed a lovely melody on a black instrument which he later learnt was a clarinet. When he asked whether he might learn to play, his father countered that maybe his son would like to take up soccer instead, and he spent two hours kicking a ball around with him in the park.
“Once I got away from my father’s brutality, and while I was living at The Manor, I taught myself the guitar. I was obsessed with Bob Dylan, and Wingy would sit for hours and watch me learn songs and make his funny, smart-aleck comments which were his trademark.”
Deebee wrote down Wingy’s sayings in snippets and poems which he posted to his mother, who was living in Meadowbank, Sydney, by that time, no longer with the man who had dominated and ruined their lives.
Dom noticed Wingy’s capacity to be still. “He was similar to many people of the era, a person who has lived a life and hidden their alcoholism along the way. This older male drunk, that was a common picture.”
Since those early days at The Manor, Dom has had a lifetime of experience working with people at the margins of society, individuals impacted by poverty, family trauma, mental illness and addiction who, for a variety of reasons, end up without anywhere to live.
He worked in Sydney in social housing for the New South Wales Government and later for the Sydney City Council, and he has remained a tireless advocate for homeless people for decades.
Dom says he decided to get involved in producing and promoting THIRST because he shares Deebee’s passion for taking action on homelessness.
“For us, it’s about trying to combine the creative and the individual stuff, looking at homelessness and housing in a slightly different way. It’s raising the issue, getting people to talk about it, encouraging everyone to do whatever they can,” Dom says.
Deebee offers: “If people can turn their head a little, all we have to do, in my opinion is just reach out a helping hand, instead of walking on the other side of the street, I think that would be incredibly powerful.”
They go back a long way, and when I comment that it is quite remarkable to see a longstanding friendship between two men in their 50s, there is an exchange of glances that tells me there are obviously many stories not being told to me, a perfect stranger.
Deebee says: “We do have strong connections; we have hitch-hiked a lot together, been through a lot, not all of it good. We are old enough now to go, ‘who cares?’.”
Dom chimes in: “We laugh more than we cry.”
Deebee says that he finds relationships with men very difficult: “I don’t understand why I’m not close to my other friends, men don’t seem to care as much.”
I find this comment quite curious, and it brings us to talk about the show again, which is a story exclusively about men — at a time when there is so much public focus on women’s ongoing struggles for equality and safety.
These issues of suffering are not mutually exclusive and Deebee and Dom are embarking on touring their show — which is a labour of love — to shine a light on the shameful and escalating problem of homelessness impacting many Australians — young and old and increasingly, older women.
According to Deebee, THIRST owes its life to one woman — “my dear mum, Merle Bishop” who kept the letters and poems and stories he sent to her about his life living with Wingy and his housemates in The Manor.
“When my mum passed in 2007, I found all my old material I had sent her, she had kept it all in a folder, and these writings, along with photographs from Pigeon who lives in Adelaide, and my songs, form the basis for THIRST.
“Mum was a dear lady, and I took her name after my father died. She was gorgeous, gentle.”
So, I approach the end of my interview with Deebee and Dom, and as we walk out towards the shore for a photo, the band on the Kingscliff promenade is playing the INXS song, “Never tear us apart”.
Deebee knows the tune well. “I’ve been a musician since I was 20, I’ve worked in pubs like the Kingy, I’ve done thousands of gigs, now it’s all original work I’m doing. My passion is songwriting. It makes me feel like a whole person.”
THIRST performances
The 2021 launch of THIRST in New South Wales was in April at the Drill Hall Theatre, Mullumbimby, followed by shows in Mylestom and Bowraville.
The next show of THIRST is on Saturday, 26 June 2021 at 7pm at the 6thToe Theatre South West Rocks: https://6thtoe.com.au/production/thirst/ or visit: