The undisputed king of Melbourne's nightclub scene for more than two decades lived at break-neck speed and loved to party harder and longer than his A-list clientele.

Hundreds of entertainment heavyweights, footballers and starlets enjoyed Thornburgh's hospitality in his private office on the second floor of his Prahran nightclub Boutique.

The "office" included a full bar, a stripper's pole, a pair of sunglasses worn by Elvis Presley and a framed cigar that was partly smoked by Al Pacino's cocaine-addled character Tony Montana in the 1983 film Scarface.

Since the 1980's, when he began as a doorman at the now defunct Chevron nightclub on St Kilda Road, Thornburgh has had a stake in many of Melbourne's biggest clubs, including Chasers and Warehouse in South Yarra, Heat nightclub in the Crown complex and the Imperial Hotel on Chapel Street.

Charismatic and quick-witted, the former carpenter from Dandenong knew how to entertain a VIP crowd.

But those familiar with Thornburgh's demons were not surprised when his body was discovered on the verandah of a rural property in Victoria's north on Monday afternoon.

As recently as last week, the 54-year-old is understood to have spurned advice to seek professional help for his chronic addiction issues.

Thornburgh's nightclub empire collapsed in October, when he was evicted from the Greville Street premises of Boutique following months of conflict with the landlord.

The club had been in trouble for years; the latest victim in a fickle industry that has suffered from a generational shift towards online romance and the proliferation of smaller, late-night venues.

Repeated attempts to sell the once profitable club had failed. Friends and associates said Thornburgh had become increasingly erratic as his hedonistic lifestyle exacted a heavy toll on his health.

For several years, he had lived in a serviced apartment in Crown Casino, where he is said to have survived on room service, drugs and little sleep.

He had become increasingly paranoid and was comforted by Crown's security cameras and phalanx of private guards. His fears, however, were not without justification.

At its peak, Boutique nightclub generated rivers of cash, up to $100,000 on a good weekend, which made Thornburgh a target for standover men.

In 2010, members of the Comancheros outlaw motorcycle gang attempted to extort money from him.

He employed a champion kickboxer as his personal bodyguard, but also used a prominent security industry figure to negotiate directly with the bikies.

In October last year the Greville street club came under fire when a young man calmly alighted from a black BMW sedan, removed a shotgun from the boot, and blasted the building at least three times.

Mr Thornburgh, who was sand-bagging his Barmah property at the time after heavy flooding, denied the shooting had ever occurred.

"If gunfire went off in Greville Street, someone would've reported it," he said.

"No one had reported any gunshots."

Mr Thornburgh said he believed the damage was caused by "kids" using a "rock, hammer, who knows?", before accusing The Age of running a vendetta against him.

A week later, the Port Melbourne home of Thornburgh's former wife was peppered with shotgun fire in another early morning drive-by shooting.

Police confirmed that Denise Thornburgh and her teenage daughter were asleep in the Beacon Vista townhouse, when five shots were fired.

No arrests were made, but several underworld sources claimed the attacks were linked to Thornburgh's midnight-blue Bentley that had been involved in an insurance fraud organised by a prominent Melbourne criminal.

Thornburgh lent the same vehicle to formula one legend Michael Schumacher after a function to launch the 2010 Melbourne Grand Prix.

On Tuesday, police said there were no suspicious circumstances surrounding Thornburgh's death, which has again made him a subject of speculation and gossip.

His former wife and two teenage daughters will leave for Bali to escape the maelstrom, with the results of an autopsy expected in the next few days.

Yesterday, Denise Thornburgh asked for privacy, but took aim at her former husband's friends, who disappeared when Boutique lost its lustre and the good times came to an end.

"Could all you disco idiots out there have some respect and integrity for his children!!!! Where the F@#k were you all !!" she said on Facebook.

If you're troubled by the contents of this report you can contact Lifeline 131 114, lifeline.org.au, beyondblue 1300 224 636, beyonblue.org.au, SuicideLine 1300 651 251, or MensLine 1300 789 978