Anthony Bell's final-year marks at his Sydney high school were so poor that his gruff father, Don, ordered him to cut back playing for the local Randwick District Rugby Union club.
Determined to continue hanging out with some of the state's best players, the fullback registered under a nom de plume. The ruse to keep his name out of match reports, and his divorced father in the dark, worked until Bell scored a match-winning try that was photographed by the local newspaper.
The episode illustrated two traits that would propel Bell's unlikely rise through Sydney society: an ease with top sportsmen, and a skill at finding innovative solutions to get what he wants.
Bell burst into public prominence last month when his wife, former television presenter Kelly Bell, obtained an apprehended violence order in court while Bell said he plans to divorce her and doesn't want to see her again. Kelly Bell, whose maiden surname was Landry, accused her estranged husband of being distant and verbally abusive.
On Friday, Bell's lawyer, Chris Murphy, told two magistrates that the case was an abuse of process and he wanted the police to pay his legal costs.
Until their falling out the pair were glamorous figures in Sydney's social scene. Over the last two decades Bell became one of the city's wealthier accountants by ingratiating himself with members of the eastern suburbs elite, including cricketer Michael Clarke and real estate agent John McGrath. He won last year's Sydney to Hobart race in record time in his boat, Perpetual Loyal.
Tough love
Don Bell was a pivotal figure in his son's life. But they weren't close. The father left Anthony and his older sister Karen in the care of their mother Shirley when Anthony was three or four-years-old. An unaffectionate man stingy with praise, Don Bell didn't cover the cost of Anthony's education at Waverley College, Bell later told friends.
The second-tier Catholic school wasn't wealthy. But some of its pupils from the nearby Bronte and Bondi beach were. "He was not one of the rich kids there," a close friend says.
Despite a modest home life with his sister and mother, the athletic and friendly Bell didn't have a chip on his shoulder. He made friends that remain with him today.
Don Bell ran his own accounting firm, which had about half a dozen staff. Fifty per cent of the billings came from audit – Don's personal speciality. The marquee client was Mitre 10, the hardware chain. There were a smattering of registered clubs, associations and unions too.
Don Bell was a thorough auditor dedicated to his clients. But customer service wasn't his speciality. After days at a client's office he would return to find a stack of messages waiting to be returned. The business was successful, but Don wasn't a Bell risk taker. It wasn't growing fast.
Like any father, Don was disappointed when Anthony performed poorly in year 12 and had to repeat. He was relieved when, on his second try, Anthony was accepted into an accounting course at Charles Sturt University and moved to Wagga Wagga, 150km west of Canberra.
Work experience
While still studying, Anthony Bell joined Bell & Co. on a part-time basis. It was a chance for the father and son to connect. But Bell gravitated to another senior accountant in the office, Chris Britton, who taught him the practical side of accounting and business advice.
Bell had been a lacklustre student. He thrived in Bell & Co.'s low-stakes business world. Clients liked him. He came across as honest and enthusiastic. School and rugby club friends entering the workforce turned to ask him to do their tax returns.
He was great at networking, and loved socialising. As his circles grew, so do the business he brought in.
By his mid twenties, around 1995, Bell was was the biggest revenue generator in his dad's firm. It was awkward. Don offered him a junior partnership – a minority stake – but Bell knew the two strong-willed men would clash.
He didn't believe in accounting partnerships, according to people who worked with him. All the partners did was share a name, rent and stationery, he used to say, and bicker over clients. Bell preferred a corporate model, where one leader could drive strategy and get everyone working together.
In 1997 he established Bell Partners in space rented from Bell & Co. The father and son became competitors under the same roof.
Taking off
Soon after, Don acknowledged the obvious. "It doesn't make sense running two firms out of one office," he said, according to a family friend. "Why don't you buy me out?"
Bell likes to joke that it was the worst deal of his career. He purchased his father's business, which had about $500,000 to $600,000 a year in revenue – about half generated by his contacts.
Don became a consultant and part-auditor to Bell Partners, and Bell was free to unleash his ambition.
He was strict about small things. To make clients feel loved, he ordered emails and phone calls returned within three hours. Wherever possible, staff were told to meet their clients in person, rather than rely on the phone.
More importantly, Bell essentially pre-empted the shift of big auditing firms into more profitable consulting-like work. Accountants couldn't be "history takers", he said, they had to be business advisers. A natural negotiator, he offered to help clients buy houses, cut deals with suppliers and hire and fire staff.
Tackling the network
Randwick was one of the powerhouses of the NSW rugby competition in the 1980s, when Bell played there, and produced many Australia players, including Mark and Glen Ella.
Unlike rugby league and Australian rules, rugby was an amateur sport. Bell's teammates were forced to establish non-sporting careers, and many found financial success as lawyers, investment bankers and doctors.
Always working, especially when he was socialising, the charming Bell offered his services to this elite group.
Other clients came from school days, including Adrian Bo, who became a real estate agent at 19. His boss was John McGrath, who would later float his company, McGrath Estate Agents, on the stock exchange.
McGrath told the young Bo that he expected all his agents to act and look like professionals, and that he would have to have his own accountant. The only accountant Bo knew was Bell. Bo became one of McGrath's top agents and auctioneers.
In the late 1990s McGrath was worried about the impact the goods and services tax would have on its business. Bell, who had travelled to New Zealand to study the impact of the tax there, briefed McGrath and his board. Under the tax, real estate agents have to establish that they are acting as "common law" agents for their customers when purchasing advertising spots and other things to avoid having to pay GST.
Using simple and direct language, Bell's presentation was so clear and useful that McGrath became one of Bell's biggest clients, according to a current employee.
'I had wrecked my life'
By 2001 Bell Partners had annual revenue around $2.2 million. Bell told his staff to refer to it as a boutique firm. He liked that it conveyed the sense of bigger than small, but not so big as to be impersonal.
"He's a really good bloke and he does a lot for charity," says Craig Pryor, who was head of Bell's commercial law and estate planning business until last July.
In 2009 Bell set up the Loyal Foundation, which says it has donated 450,000 medical devices to hospitals for the care of children.
Two of his employees asked him to MC their weddings. Another chose him as the first person to tell, outside his family, that he had got his girlfriend pregnant at 21. Now married, he was surprised by Bell's enthusiastic response.
"I had got it in my head that I had wrecked my life," says Harry Edwards, who is managing director of Bell Partners' business in the Hills District of Sydney. "The fact that he was so excited for me gave me the confidence that it would be OK."
Property play
King Street Wharf, on the western edge of the Sydney central business district, was so undeveloped in 2002 that even some small offices had car parks.
Bell sniffed an opportunity. He convinced Sydney Council to allow him to turn a ground-floor bar into Bell Partners' head office. In the wake of the dot-com crash the property was relatively cheap. The location was close to the CBD, but didn't feel like a cramped second-tier city accounting firm.
Today, the offices are in the centre of the thriving Barangaroo development on Sydney Harbour, and a significant component of Bell's wealth. The city's second-biggest building, the Crown Hotel and Casino Resort, is being built nearby.
His divorce is likely to be costly. Bell Partners, which has about 80 employees, generates more than $10 million revenue a year, according to Edwards. Bell has a $13 million house in Watsons Bay too, and his yacht, which is moored in Rose Bay.
Clarification This article has been changed to reflect information from a source who said Anthony Bell's father, Don, didn't contribute to his fees at Waverley College. Earlier, a friend of Bell's said his father paid the fees.
