52 O.Henry January 2014 The Art & Soul of Greensboro

The Art of FaithWilliam Mangum’s long and difficult odyssey to the top of

the commercial art world — fraught with terrifying setbacks — is a living testament to the power of belief in a gift with divine origins

By Cindy AdAms

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro January 2014 O.Henry 53

With thousands of loyal fans and a brand-new-furniture deal newly struck with Klaussner Home Furnishings in Asheboro, William Mangum, North Carolina’s most genial and generous

artist, would seem to have it made. At age 60, “Bill” to his friends and collectors, is the very picture of good

health, tall with broad shoulders, blue eyes, a shock of dark hair and a ready smile. But truth be told, in the last few years, Mangum — who has rightfully earned the sobriquet “North Carolina’s Artist” by painting almost every important waterfall, mountain, church, lighthouse and landmark in the state — has endured a series of Jobian misfortunes that seem more biblical than Hallmark.

First in 2008, he herniated two discs while picking up a heavy box during a charity event. Back surgery followed, in the face of the worst financial down-turn the art world has seen in decades. Then, after a two-story fall from a ladder in May 2012, came a compound fracture to his humerus and the elbow of his right, painting arm. For six months, Mangum says he didn’t paint at all. “Period. Then, I began doodling again.”

A subsequent November head-on collision heaped insult on injury. As did the onset of devastating arthritis.

“I lost cartilage in my thumb,” he says. “It is now bone-on-bone.” More surgery, last January, was the only solution. “It grinds to a point they have to go in and strip tendon out of your arm.”

But only his closest friends knew what Mangum was going through. Outwardly, all appeared fine — as finely composed as a William Mangum landscape. How could his collector base or TV audiences, watching him promote his work and books during PBS fundraisers, know that privately, the prolific artist confided to friends that he might never paint again?

But all these recent events, and his response to them, are classic Mangum, just the latest in a continuing series of comebacks and reinventions, the first of which was his becoming an artist in the first place, rising from a hardscrapple, sometimes tortured childhood in a home rife with physical abuse. And each comeback is a testament to Mangum’s resilience, optimism and faith, says Joy Ross, his gallery manager for nineteen years. “He truly believes things will always be all right. He has that faith.”

His friend of many years, O.Henry editor Jim Dodson, notes: “All great artists

are masters at renewing and sometimes reinventing themselves. And Bill is an absolute master at taking personal trial and misfortune and spinning them into spiritual gold, acquiring the wisdom and humility that comes with suffering. This grounding in life’s hard knocks is the source of his authenticity and vision.”

Over the years, as a tenacious survivor, Mangum has defied the odds again and again and has used the pain he’s suffered to inform his paintings — paint-ings of an idyllic, beautiful world, the North Carolina he loves to capture on canvases. And he does it because his loyal fans (25,000 on his mailing list and 3,000 on his email list) have kept him going over the years: “People need you so you’ve gotta get up and go back and do it,” he says, characteristically upbeat. “And I love to be needed. Sitting down is not the answer.”

Mangum inherited his good looks and optimism from his mother, Louise Mangum, who suffered a massive stroke in her 20s, pos-sibly due to physical abuse. As a boy, Mangum had been subject

to the same.Louise eloped in the early 1940s with Robert Carey, a traveling Bible sales-

man. When their child, Bobby, was born in 1943, the couple left him with his maternal grandparents in Broadway, a little town near Sanford.

“I am not quite sure what transpired,” Mangum reflects, “but my mother made her way to Pinehurst.” She became a nursing assistant at Moore County Hospital and met William “Bill” Mangum Sr., who had just left the Army.

On April 4, 1953, William Mangum, Jr., was born. “I was a child of that new love,” he observes. Meanwhile, the infant’s 10-year-old half-brother, Bobby Carey, remained with his grandparents. As the couple awaited a divorce decree and prepared to marry, Mangum Sr. was in an auto accident. He was charged with vehicular manslaughter and imprisoned. In the meantime, Louise Mangum’s mother died, leaving her to raise the two boys on her own.

When Mangum Sr.’s brother, Hugh, came onto the scene, offering finan-cial security, love and marriage, Louise accepted, and the boys moved to a Naval base in Norfolk, Virginia. Hugh, a career sailor, was abusive when drunk. “The man I knew as my father, Pops, was actually my uncle,” says the artist. Their daughter, Elizabeth, was born at Charleston Naval Base.

When Mangum was eight years old, and Hugh Mangum was deployed in

54 O.Henry January 2014 The Art & Soul of Greensboro

the Mediterranean, Louise Mangum suffered a stroke. While Louise conva-lesced, Elizabeth was sent to Raleigh to be raised by her Aunt Dora, Louise’s sister. As for Mangum, “I went to live with relatives in Mamers [between Sanford and Lillington in Harnett County],” says Mangum in the introduc-tion to his book, Carolina Preserves. “As a young boy, I could not believe I had been thrown into this stopping place along the road. I hated the rural exis-tence and yearned for the day when I could leave.”

His twin consolations were the maternal sweetness of his Aunt Kate, and the solace of art. Mangum was on an upward trajectory from his very first “doodle,” as he calls them, when his teachers realized he could draw either muscle cars or rural scenes with equal and unusual skill. His third-grade art won a blue ribbon at the State Fair.

In 1971, Mangum graduated from Pine Forest Senior High School in Fayetteville and began studying art at Sandhills Community College. He later transferred to UNCG.

Mangum had earned his way out of Mamers with 50 cents worth of water-colors. His first big success was at an art exhibit as a senior at UNCG. With $300 from Bobby Carey, his older brother, he framed ten of his pictures. “I sold every one of them,” he says. “I guess I should pay him back,” he jokes.

In 1977, he married Cynthia Berkley. The next year, he produced a limited edition print titled West Jefferson, which sold 500 copies. “I earned more than $50,000 my first year selling my artwork,” says Mangum. “In truth, I had no idea how to handle my success.” He first bought a house in Lake Daniels and then one in Irving Park. He overspent and overborrowed, with interest rates at 20 percent.

In 1980, he filed for bankruptcy. It quite literally knocked him to his knees. The night before going to bankruptcy court, at one of the lowest points in his life, Mangum had a religious epiphany. He made a pact to serve God. He says that when he went to court the next day, he was completely at peace.

Mangum became a deacon at First Presbyterian Church. He repaid every creditor despite the protections afforded by bankruptcy.

“I see this, Bill’s resilience, purely from a faith-based situation,” says Bill Morrisette, president of Morrisette Paper Company. “He is grounded in his faith. It’s that pure and simple. Even when he was down and out, his faith has sustained him, crisis after crisis.”

“We were next-door neighbors to the Mangums in the mid ’80s for over ten years. Even after his bankruptcy, I recall his telling me about how after

he graduated from UNCG, making all kinds of money, he was living the life, flying to New York. Then, one day, he looks out the window and thinks some-body is stealing his Cadillac . . . but the man was repossessing it.”

He set out to re-engineer himself and threw himself into good works. As Ross observes, the new Mangum was “anything but status quo.” He became involved with a homeless man named Michael Saavedra, which ultimately led to a continuing involvement with Greensboro Urban Ministry.

Morrisette recalls the pact that Mangum made. “He told the Lord if he got out of this, he would dedicate his life to Him. The only way he has survived these things is with a great faith.”

“My faith has been the bedrock that all things will work out,” Mangum says. “I strive to just be patient on the Lord’s timing.”

Beginning in 2005, things suddenly began going wrong again — with a dif-ference. As the economy slowed, like a lot of other people, Mangum’s business was severely affected. But what really tested his faith was a cluster of injuries that threatened his ability to paint, at a time when he sorely needed to boost his business.

“The bankruptcy I had in 1980 was raw and sobering,” he recalls. But he had never seen the art landscape look quite so dire after the economic crash of 2008.

That same year, typically overscheduled, Mangum had shoehorned a Greensboro volunteer event into a full day and was working in a warehouse during a charitable event. “I picked up a heavy box,” he remembers. He felt the gut-wrenching pain of two herniated discs suddenly rupturing.

One heavy box plunged Mangum into a netherworld of pain and private upheaval for another three years.

What works so well for Mangum, says Ross, are his energy and discipline. Ross is his manager and coordinator for the gallery in Lawndale Shopping Center, overseeing his art books and

business ventures. He paints his realistic watercolors most days of the week on a schedule, like any other job. He calls this “the business of art.” If he hadn’t become an artist, Mangum says he would have liked to have become a busi-nessman like his successful older sibling. He decided to incorporate the two.

Mangum’s genius was in understanding that the public wanted a lot more than paintings. They wanted art they could understand and afford — books and prints. He represented a different kind of artist, one with charm and

The Art & Soul of Greensboro January 2014 O.Henry 55

approachability. Mangum often painted inside the gallery, jumping up from the easel to greet collectors and chat. He inscribed thousands of books and prints.

But after the back injury, his concentration took a hit. Standing at an antique drafting table in his gallery, well stocked with brushes, paint and paper, he could barely think for the pain. No matter. Mangum would close his door, ignore the phone for a few hours and paint anyway.

Financial worries grew as persistent as physical pain. The Great Recession had changed everything — worse than the late 1970s recession that had plunged Mangum into bankruptcy. His competitors were struggling as well.

“Economically, there was no comparison between the 1970s and recent years. It has just devastated my industry. There is no longer a trade across America; no trade shows, no trade magazines. It really is kind of dismal,” Mangum says. Eventually, it grew difficult for the artist to walk, let alone paint, despite cortisone injections, therapies and traction.

By July 2010, Mangum yielded to disc replacement. “I had pain shooting down my leg; I had no option other than having the replacement,” he recalls. It was a complex surgery with a long convalescence. Surgery meant time away from his gallery and time away from his livelihood.

“The back surgery was a daunting thing,” he admits. For the first time, Mangum was disabled. He began a nine-month rehabilitation program, but it was September 2011 before he felt healed. “I was pretty much back full force. Some of the most entertaining therapy was going to the Y and working in the pool with the therapist. It was a slow process.”

While he had powered through the back surgery, the art market was dam-aged and floundering. Mangum intensified a schedule of public appearances, charitable and corporate events. He and his wife decided to downsize since the children were no longer at home and sold the family home on Country Club,

moving to Huntington Drive. And then, in May 2012, Mangum fell off the roof.He fell on a Saturday morning at his new residence, only two weeks after

their move. Mangum is naturally athletic and likes being busy. He decided to use the leaf blower to clean the gutters, bracing himself with one foot atop the roof and another on the ladder. “Then, I felt the ladder begin to slide out beneath me.”

When he came to, Mangum saw exposed bone, tissue and gore. His body temperature plunged. He was sliding into shock, but had his cell phone with him and called his youngest son, Preston.

“Preston gathered me up. He got me to the hospital,” Mangum recalls. “They started cutting my clothes off. They didn’t operate for a couple of days until they stabilized me.”

Mangum had a total of eight fractures to the humerus and elbow of his right arm. He underwent back-to-back surgeries with two surgical teams waiting. They pinned his arms and shoulders back together and inserted rods to stabilize them. There would be more surgeries to follow.

“Initially, I just felt like it was going to be a matter of weeks. It became apparent it would be months before it came to a head,” he recalls.

And would he paint again? When Mangum returned to Huntington Drive, he returned to a construction site, with painting and floors being refinished. He slept on a hospital bed in the living room for six weeks and reviewed his life.

Mangum doesn’t especially like discussing what followed. “It was very humbling,” he says.

In the darkest moments, lying alone in the living room, Mangum took stock. This was, he knew, “life threatening as well as career ending.”

But he counted himself lucky to be alive. “Guess I could have sat in a wheel-Pho

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56 O.Henry January 2014 The Art & Soul of Greensboro

chair to paint, if it had taken a bad turn” he says, his voice trailing off.Formerly a fast, prolific painter, he suffered post-surgical nerve impairment

that made speed impossible. “I had to go through six months of blocks to shut down my right arm and try to reboot it; calming it. It did work, eventually.”

He was also lucky that he had decades of work to draw from.“The one advantage I had was to pull on my library of paintings. That was

when I had the idea for the book North Carolina Beautiful in 2011.” His grand-daughter, Jayden Honeycutt, gave Mangum the inspiration for a green theme, “the idea of protecting things for the future.” He contacted six conservation and preservation groups, conceptualizing a book that contained natural scenes worth noting and protecting.

He slowly, painfully, doodled. “Then I began small illustrations to round out the book. Small flowers and butterflies. Outside of that, out of the 130 paintings inside, I only did eight or ten new ones,” he says. “I drew upon previous work to round out that book.”

All the while, Mangum remained true to his faith and kept giving generously to charities, especially the Greensboro Urban Ministry and those benefitting the homeless. His 2012 Honor Card raised nearly $500,000. The Ministry’s programs derive enormous benefit from Mangum’s contribution: over $3.1 million net-ted and counting. Statewide, the Honor Card has generated $4.5 million.

“For twenty-five years watercolor artist William Mangum has been a hands-on advocate for the home-

less, donating his artistic skills and publishing gifts to make the Honor Card program one of the most well-run and leveraged charitable programs in the country,” writes Mike Aiken, executive director of Greensboro Urban Ministry, which keeps all sales proceeds from cards bearing Mangum scenes.

Greensboro Urban Ministry keeps all sales proceeds from cards bearing Mangum scenes.

“I was coming out of the arm surgery. I had to do the Honor Card left-handed, for the most part. If there was one thing I was going to ac-complish, it was the Honor Card — it took me about three months to do it,” he says. “I don’t care to do that again.”

Volunteer Lynette Bleisteiner met Mangum two years ago working at the shelter’s Wednesday morning breakfast. “Bill encourages homeless people who try their hand at art. They proudly bring it to breakfast for his opinion and critique. He motivates them and gives them dignity.”

Still unable to paint, Mangum worked at the gallery as often as he could, helping with sales, leveraging his enormous body of work through products — puzzles, calendars, gifts and cards.

And he dreamed of a licensing agreement, twice coming within a whisper of making it work with two large furniture companies. Licensing agreements had been the key to enormous success for painters like Bob Timberlake.

He also learned he had damaged tendons in his wrist.“I didn’t want the public to know,” Mangum admits. “From the early days,

I always believed in the starving artist label. I thought people would buy from an artist for a season, but if you didn’t (keep going) it would get stale. That’s when the idea came of doing Michael’s book.”

By the fall of 2012, Mangum completed the primary work on Michael’s Gift. Then in November 2012, Mangum had a head-on collision while driving

alone en route to Greenville, for a speaking engagement.“On my way there for the Honor Card program. I was on Highway 64, watch-

ing traffic. There was a big ramp and a pickup truck coming down.” Before crash-ing, Mangum remembers veering into the left lane, unable to avoid it.

Mangum left his demolished van behind and gave the speech. Afterward, he rode home in a wrecker with the van in tow. The next day, he saw a doctor to appraise the damage. “It set me back a few months. ”

And problems with his hands continued. Mangum has been diagnosed with basal thumb arthritis. In January of 2013, Mangum underwent surgery on his left hand.

“When I had the hand surgery, it was career-threatening surgery. Any dentist, surgeon or musician has a career ended without use of their hand,” he says. Mangum has delayed surgery on his dominant right hand. Sympathetic nerve

problems returned; a vicious loop played on. Going into 2013, it looked as if Mangum’s

streak of bad luck was coming to an end. On mend from his multiple injuries, he got a phone call from Klaussner furniture executive Geoff Beaston. Beaston, who had worked on Bob Timberlake’s line for Lexington Furniture in 1990, wanted to meet with Mangum to discuss a licensing deal based upon his Carolina Preserves art book.

The collection, built around the book’s im-ages, rolled out on the occasion of Klaussner’s 50th anniversary.

On October 24, 2013, an exuberant Mangum strode through the Carolina Preserves Collection rooms. A group of about fifty friends and families met for a private reception in Klaussner’s showroom as dusk fell over an emptying Hamilton Street. High Point — manic for one long burst — was about to enter its extended winter hibernation until spring market. But not yet.

“Can you believe it? Isn’t this just great?” Mangum asked over and over. Rita Heath, a retired employee, who had traveled from Oak Island, said “I am so, so thrilled. I am so happy for him.”

Beaston radiated calm excitement as he waited for the crowd to quiet. He took the microphone in hand to announce that Klaussner’s excellent market results, “were up 29 percent.” By any marker, this was excellent

news. And nobody appreciated that more than Mangum.Mangum began thanking people present “for staying the long journey.”

He joked lightly about “falling off a roof,” and the people who had bought an original recently “knowing old Bill probably needed that.”

His speech was a summation of a daunting journey that even his clos-est friends feared might end in a different place. He spied Tonya, his Pilates instructor. “You’re the real reason I’m standing here,” he smiled, eyes moist. “I couldn’t be standing without you,” and then looked down, collecting himself. “You hurt me,” he smiled, “but I’m standing here because of it.”

It was vintage William Mangum, a man who’s learned that misfortune, pain and suffering are part of the human lot, no matter your talent or wealth, and that enduring it and rising above it are all that matters — something he learned from his long-deceased Aunt Kate and his mother, and their belief in his talent.

“Mom always said, ‘Just wait,’” he said, voice cracking. “‘Just wait, Honey,’” he repeated softly. OH

2013 Honor Card

The Art & Soul of Greensboro January 2014 O.Henry 57

With Carolina Preserves, North Carolina’s Best Loved Artist Comes Home

By Jim dodson

L ate one afternoon not long ago, as shadows lengthened across a massive furniture showroom in High Point, we found our good friend Bill Mangum at his easel near the entrance of Klaussner

Home Furnishing’s new Carolina Preserves Home Collections, featuring over 100 different pieces in two themed collections inspired by the painting — and philosophy — of the man who has been called North Carolina’s Artist. By most accounts, Carolina Preserves, inspired by Mangum’s famous book of the same name, was one of the major stars of the October 2013 Furniture Market.

“For me,” Mangum allowed, leading a visitor through the impressive show-room, “this is such a personally gratifying experience because so many of the pieces you’ll see in the lines came directly from my own studio and home life. It’s been an unbelievably rewarding way to connect with the people who buy my art — a way of sharing who I am with them.”

Geoff Beaston, Klausner’s VP of marketing, the visionary behind artist Bob Timberlake’s and Arnold Palmer’s

signature furniture lines several years ago for Thomasville, confirms and underscores the point. “To have Bill so deeply involved in every aspect of the line’s creation — from the functionality of the pieces to the fabrics used

to upholster them (all inspired by his paintings), is an incomparable gift. He’s full of great ideas and — like his work and life themselves — speaks powerfully to people. He gives this line a depth and originality and personal authenticity you can see and feel. He’s really put his soul into the collection.”

Beaston reports that Carolina Preserves had an exceptional Market debut, breaking company sales records selling through record numbers of orders that came from around the globe. With an appealing mid-price point that makes the joint collections of Carolina Preserves appealing to the largest segment of fine furniture buyers — “Blue Ridge” is solid cherry wood, “Sea Breeze” a painted birch — Beaston expects the Carolina Preserves name to grow rapidly after the furniture begins reaching retail stores nationwide in March. OH