Volume 2
On The Road To 10 Years Of Success And Achievement
I was at my lowest. Now without a job and very much aware that only a few months earlier I was confidently quoting to all and sundry that, “In business we all get our share of misfortune. It is the rate of recovery that makes the man.” I must have been a somewhat pompous young man; at that time confident in my growing success and sure of my future. Now I was confronted with the thought that I would have to wait to see how many of my other smug and self-indulgent mantras would come back to bite me.
That was in the early 60s and my platitudes had returned like a boomerang to hit me in the neck. I probably deserved a ‘serves him right’ attitude but in fact I received much sympathy and understanding of my predicament - rather more than I deserved. It was my first experience of feeling I had let the whole world down when in fact the rest of the world was getting on with its business.
It all sounds pretty hollow today, nearly 50 years on. Here am I completely blind, resigned from any pretence of power and struggling hard to retain myself respect, dignity and, under the circumstances, finding it increasingly tough to find any comfort in the old adage that ‘man is the author of his own misfortunes.’
Be that as it may I will try to pick up my story in the 60s with my business gone, my aspirations dented and my future without direction. There I was, unemployed for the first time in my life and I thought, somewhat dramatically, now in my early 30s, that I maybe unemployable.
It seemed at the time a desperate situation. Joyce took a job teaching to make ends meet and things looked pretty bleak but, in reality, a few months of letter writing and several job interviews later, I was back in line and on the road to 10 years of success and achievement.
My recovery started when I obtained a senior position with one of the United Kingdom's leading industrial development groups. It was chaired by one of the most charismatic and entrepreneurial individuals one is likely to meet, backed by a Chief Executive with considerable skill and dedication and a strong board of directors who, for their part, had built up a fine team of intelligent, energetic, and certainly ambitious young talent.
I was impressed at my very first meeting with these two gentlemen, Ronnie Lyon and Alan Byfield, and they in turn must have been impressed with me. To let you understand, I was not applying for an advertised post, I had, by then, gone beyond that stage and I was offering my services unsolicited. Luckily for me they accepted and I was thrown into the deep end. My remit was simple. They said, “We have no operations north of the border. Set up a Scottish division, write your own terms of reference and report direct to the Chairman and Managing Director.”
I will try not to overdraw my description of the decade that followed; 10 years that, from the beginning to end, moved at a remarkable pace called for intensive effort and brought about considerable achievement. The Scottish division soon became one of the largest and most profitable in the group and, in no time at all, I became firstly a director and then a main board director.
By the time I had completed my 10-year term with that organisation I was running offices in Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Newcastle and Manchester and sitting on the board of its Irish company in Dublin and other subsidiaries.
This was in the years when the British economy was in almost terminal decline. Heavy engineering and shipbuilding was in meltdown mode, manufacturing and, in particular the car industry, in chaos, great disharmony reigned amongst miners and power workers and unemployment was all around.
It was understandable therefore that in such an environment my achievement, in creating so many industrial estates by acquiring many of the redundant shipbuilding yards and engineering works, then converting them into viable industrial estates throughout the country, giving employment to thousands was seen in a refreshing light. My reputation as one of the leaders of industry was thus formed and I was receiving much recognition and praise from many quarters. Such success came to the attention of the government and powers that reigned, so much so that I was becoming something of a public figure whose opinion was being sought by the press and the media in general.
I admit I found this new role flattering and accepted that with it went the responsibility of putting something back into the community by contributing some time to public services and what is commonly called ‘good works.’ In the late 60s my Company acquired the disused Nelson Printing Works in Edinburgh, made famous because of their connection with John Buchan, (later to become Lord Tweedsmuir). I intended to demolish the works and use the site for the erection of a large office complex. This coincided with the timing, preparation and running of the Commonwealth Games to be held in Edinburgh in 1970. We delayed operations and, for the time required, gifted the accommodation to the Commonwealth Games Committee for use as an excellent international press centre and press club.
That was my first direct meeting with Prince Philip, president of the Games. Even then his now legendary off-the-cuff comments were in evidence but there was always a warm atmosphere around him. His quips and banter, particularly with the West Indians, was well received. For my part I was presented with a complimentary medal for my contribution to what is historically known as The Friendly Games.
Other than that I was coerced onto various charity boards, campaigns and committees. I took on the chairmanship of the local preparatory school and delivered various lectures at the request of the Scottish Council for Development and Industry and other such bodies. I delivered a keynote speech on behalf of the Glasgow District Council at their London seminar on job creation, and later at the request of the Department of Trade and Industry, gave several talks and took part in debates about the merit or demerit of the government's developmental policies. Looking back, my strong condemnation of their sometimes conflicting regional development policy and special development areas probably didn't go down too well with those in Whitehall, as my alternative argument for government decentralisation out of London and the southeast meant that some of the civil servants might have had to move away from Harrods and the West End theatres!
I remember making very much the same point in a speech I delivered in Birmingham to the Institute of Chartered Accountants, England and Wales. I claimed at all times, the right of independence of thought and expression. I would not have it otherwise. Rightly or wrongly I said things as I saw them, not to win friends but to influence people.
I had probably trodden on a few toes from time to time but, looking back, perhaps the mandarins in the Cabinet office and Whitehall have longer and more unforgiving memories than I had first thought or hoped. At some point around then I was invited to become a non-executive board member of the Scottish Post Office but, quickly thereafter, I received a telephone call from a senior civil servant in the Scottish Office advising that I do not take on any more commitments pending a call from the Cabinet office, Downing Street. All very mysterious!
There was one task I was already committed too. Plessey, the large electronics and engineering firm had closed down their torpedo-manufacturing factory at Alexandria, Dumbartonshire. The rather grand office block and factory, which were built, originally for the Argyll motorcars, had stopped production and made the entire workforce redundant. An angry and united labour force of unemployed workers had taken over the premises and established a well-organised and disciplined sit in, thus preventing the removal of any finished or partly-finished goods, materials or equipment. This state of affairs had gone on for some months and the workers had acquired much public sympathy. Matters were deadlocked and I was asked if I could break the impasse - a challenge I could not resist.
I proceeded to set up and chair a Lyon-Plessey Consortium and agreed a deal with the leaders of the redundant labour force, with whom I myself had much sympathy. I would then form the Alexandria Trading Estate, get it off the ground and, once established, pass it over as a going concern.
The Plessey representative, whose chairman had landed him with the awkward problem, was a very bright director, a high flyer and clearly destined for the top in business.
I remember quite clearly the day the Agreement was reached. There had been months of bitterness and resentment, and now the workers had something at least to look forward to. Overall it was a success and I believe it is still in existence, although, I feel it has lacked the consistency of full entrepreneurial acumen and enthusiasm, and has never achieved its real potential.
I can recall the happy celebrations and handshakes that day. His relief in seeing his company getting out of a difficult situation was self-evident and he left me that day, a happy man, to take a helicopter flight to report to his board in London that evening. Some four hours later I received a telephone call, telling me that his helicopter crashed over England and all on board were killed - a sad and cruel ending. Of this there is much to say but I cannot at this time find the words to say it.
I went on to deliver lectures on behalf of the Department of Energy on the benefits of ‘intelligent office buildings’ and the efficient use of water, electricity and other utilities but that was a few years down the line. One way or another I, Allan Campbell Fraser, had unwittingly become one of the country's leading businessmen and an authority on regional development. These were years when the country was plagued by balance of payment problems, recessions and continuous industrial disruption. The country was well named as ‘the sick man of Europe.’
Allow me a little deviation at this point, I think it might help me to waken my memory as I strive to put the incidents that followed into some order by recalling the atmosphere and the circumstances of the times, or at least as I can now call to mind.
What do I recall of the big events during this period of reflection? Well, I remember the death of our great wartime leader Winston Churchill, the assassination in America of Martin Luther King, President John Kennedy and shortly thereafter his brother Senator Robert Kennedy. The new president, Lyndon Johnson was drawn into the hopeless Vietnam war which went on for another decade before America realised it had lost, India and Pakistan went to war over Kashmir and a few years further on Wilson was to suffer from the Rhodesian problem.
Harold Macmillan had made his Wind Of Change Africa speech and, as an ill man, had come to the end of his premiership and was to be replaced by Alec Douglas Hume. He did not last long in office and an election saw Harold Wilson and his Labour administration come to power, which in turn was replaced by Ted Heath and his Tory government.
It was about that time that I got the call from the Cabinet Office asking me to join the Industrial Development Advisory Board. The Board would be made up of six business leaders, a leading banker and a prominent trade union leader. I would be invited to join Sir, (now Lord), Adrian Cadbury chairman of Cadbury Schweppes, Sir Arnold Hall chairman of Hawker Sidley, Sir Raymond Brooks chairman of GKN, trade union leader Harry Urwin, Sir Robert Clark chairman of the merchant bank Hill Samuel and two other prominent businessmen. The board was set up to convene once a month, sometimes once a fortnight but later occasionally, at crisis times, weekly, to give impartial advice direct to the Secretary of State for the Department of Trade and Industry, who was at that time Christopher Chataway. I think it can be said that as a young man in that company, I was punching above my weight, although it did not seem so at the time and I believe I had much to contribute. It was round about then a national newspaper, (I think the Financial Times), in a property supplement said of me, “Arguably, he is the country's leading industrial developer.”
Looking back at Parliament, it was like a game of musical chairs. We had Alec Douglas Hume for a short time then Wilson, who did no better in office. Who next? I can clearly recall election night when, against all odds, the Labour government in turn, was going to lose out to Heath's Tory party. I was in a very exclusive club in London and a well-known normally sober-sided merchant banker was so exhilarated that he did a little tap dance and ordered champagne all round. I admit to being somewhat amazed at his undisguised exuberance. Some 12 months later, with Heath's Conservatives now in power, I met him in his London office and reminded him of that evening. His only comment was, “Ah! They are all the bloody same.” He had a point. Politicians make all sorts of promises when electioneering; promises they cannot possibly keep once in power and their rhetoric gives way to the arithmetic of their Treasury's limited resources.
This was a time when industrial relations were in a mess. Trade Unions were making unsustainable demands and the country's economy was in crisis. Miners were on national strike; power cuts, 3-day working weeks and industrial disruption were all intended as a direct challenge to the government. We were all getting used to it and the frustration and hopelessness of the times.
I remember being asked to address the annual Press Club dinner. This was to be a keynote speech. I carefully prepared my notes, underlined the salient points, avoided drinking too much wine over dinner and stood up with a flourish, script in hand. Suddenly the hall was in total blackness. There had been another power cut. Without notes I plunged on with an off-the-cuff speech, accusing our captains of industry and trade union leaders of sleepwalking into industrial and economic disaster, our leaders being no more than powder-puff men and much more besides.
The audience loved it and I got national press coverage for boldly speaking out. But, in truth, it was all just entertaining catchphrases on my part - no substance. Just a good after-dinner speech delivered in trying circumstances.
The miners and power workers where however paralysing the nation. This situation called for another election. Once again campaign spin from the leading parties, bribing the voters with promises they could not possibly keep and, like a game of musical chairs, Wilson came back in with a small majority to Labour. A new government, different political party but even so I was asked to continue as an adviser to the new Secretary of State; this time Anthony Wedgwood Benn, thereafter to be known as Tony Benn.
These were hectic days. Meetings were more frequent and much energy and taxpayer’s money was used up in trying to make British Steel, British shipbuilding and the British car industry efficient. Workers’ co-operatives were formed but, in so many cases, an energetic, enthusiastic and, at times, messianic Mr Benn was doing no more than flogging dead horses.
He was dedicated in his quest for public ownership and certainly did everything he could to counter the downward trend in manufacturing and the corresponding rise in unemployment. But, he could not defy the laws of gravity no matter the amount of taxpayers’ funds he made available.
At this point I remember that at the beginning of my appointment I was required to sign the Official Secrets Act so I must and will remain silent on my experiences of these times, save to say that it seemed to me then it was the beginning of a new breed of ministerial, political advisers usurping civil servants; a trend that has become commonplace and increased ever since.
I will change the subject for a moment. The one person who I think has had a bad press, and was underrated, particularly when he came back as Foreign Secretary, was Alec Douglas Hume. He was highly intelligent, a man of high principles and culture, and possibly not devious enough for the politics of the day in which tomorrow's headline was all-important. Contrary to the image given to him by the press he had quite a sense of humour.
One instant that comes to mind was when he was a guest at an all male Saints and Sinners Club annual charity lunch in Edinburgh. He was called on to say grace and rising to his feet slowly he said, “Gentleman I have been asked to say grace but, by your leave, I propose to say nothing,” and sat down. There was a gasp of surprise from the diners. Then he stood up again and said with mock solemnity, “Gentleman, the reason being I don't want God to know that I am in this company.” He received a rapturous applause and, having heard him speak on other occasions, it was obvious to me that there was a clever mind behind his dry sense of humour.
By 1974 Wilson was still in power, the economy in a mess, secondary banks collapsing, industry in freefall and, against all common logic, this was when I set up my company, the DCI Group; the principle being, as matters could get no worse they could only get better.
It is a matter of public record that in the 30 years that have followed, DCI has been at the forefront of commercial, industrial, retail and residential developments; noted not least for its internationally acclaimed Northgate office complex in Glasgow and its prestigious Royal Mile mansions in Edinburgh.
When in 1976 Harold Wilson resigned and James Callaghan took over as Prime Minister, bankruptcies were at an all-time high and industrial disputes were crippling the country. This was the winter of discontent. Eric Varley replaced Tony Benn and I finished my term as a member of the Industrial Development Advisory Board. I had been an adviser to the Heath Tory government and to the Wilson and Wilson/Callaghan Labour governments. I had served a full term. I think my impartial approach must have suited each successive administration.
It seems strange now, but then it was considered an honour and privilege to contribute time and experience to serve the public and the common good; the only reward expected being the gracious thanks from a grateful nation. Well, in my case, for my years of service, freely given, I got a one paragraph ‘thank you’ letter from the new Secretary of State.
It is changed days. The tradition of ‘Public Service’ has gone. Consecutive governments have now created hundreds of quangos, appointed thousands of highly paid individuals to them, costing us, the taxpayer, millions of pounds. They always promise us a ‘bonfire of the quangos.’ Do not hold your breath.
Oh I nearly forgot - it was not all for nothing! Joyce and I attended three of the Queen's garden parties. Once, with our daughter, Lindsay, who surprised me by quite enjoying it. I thought she would be put off by the sycophantic attitude of many of the guests, and at that age I would not have been surprised. But no, she was quite happy with the Queen's Royal Garden Party; a social gathering that made up a pleasant afternoon. For my part I just expected the so-called privileged to be obsequious. They were there to see and be seen but it probably added atmosphere to the occasion.
Back to Callaghan. Margaret Thatcher was to replace Callaghan and we had 18 years thereafter of Tory government. Only a few years after she came to power, the Falkland Crisis turned into war, and later came the introduction of the poll tax, then in 1990 she was to come under rejection by her own party. But enough of our politics – at least for the time being.
Prior to this I was to chair the 1973 14-day Clyde Fair festival. The former chairman, the Lord Provost of Glasgow, who had been seriously ill for some time, died nine months before the festival was due to take place. His successor, Sir William Gray, asked me, as a special service to Glasgow and the surrounding towns and villages, if I would take on the chairmanship and get the show on the road so to speak.
I pointed out that I had absolutely no knowledge or experience in that field but it was made clear that what was required was a strong businessman with acumen and energy capable of pulling the experience and theatrical talent already there into line. He said he would not agree to his Council giving the promised grant unless they could find someone like me to take charge. There was no doubt that he played to my vanity but, even so, I had a sneaking feeling that it could be an interesting interlude - and fun.
In any event, like a fool, I agreed to give my services, (once again free). I had on my main board, Sir William Lithgow as president, Chief Constable Sir James Robertson, a much younger Menzies Campbell, Queen's Counsel and Member of Parliament, as well as several other notables. So far so good. I then discovered there were about 30 sub-committees, and many more little groups throughout the region, all doing their own thing and determined to keep it that way.
The professionals were good and all knew their job well. The amateur groups were enthusiastic but there was no overall administration and, what little there had been, was left to slide away during the late chairman's long illness.
There were events already fixed but with no venues and venues with no events arranged for them. There were performers waiting for their bookings to be confirmed. It was a total shambles.
I set up some critical path programming, designed an organisation structure, introduced some management tools, pulled them all under the same umbrella and, with some discipline, brought the full programme together.
The rest is, as they say, history. The Scottish National Orchestra gave an orchestral concert in the City Hall, the Scottish Opera performed Franz Lehár's Merry Widow to full houses, Bridie's play, The Anatomist, with a star-studded cast, was a sell-out at the Citizen’s Theatre, and so was Jimmy Logan's one-man performance as Sir Harry Lauder. Rikki Fulton was to star in the Molière play, The Miser, which was getting rave notices and A Night With Johnny Beattie was drawing large audiences. Then there was the singer, Dorothy Squires, at the top of her career, a young Lulu, well on her way to stardom, a banjo-playing Billy Connolly, with just a hint of the comedy genius that was to come later. We also had Acker Bilk and his Jazzmen bringing the crowds in every evening at the Fruit Market and very many, many other shows billed throughout the region.
It was hard work but certainly a change. What did I get out of it? Well, much drama and tantrums, then a fortnight of good fun and many life-long theatrical and show business friends.
I was also honoured by taking on a term as chairman of the Saints and Sinners Club of Scotland, later elected Honorary Life Member. The club has, to date, raised several hundred thousand pounds for more than 150 charities and good causes.
I wonder how those of you who lived through this period I have reviewed saw it. Was the country, figuratively speaking, changing from Saville Row to Carnaby Street? Was everything in conflict, and without continuity? Society seemed to have lost its way and the order of things was ever changing. The lesser Royals were misbehaving, many of the aristocracy caught up in scandal and letting the team down, the establishment becoming disestablished, the middle-class confused and the working-class resentful.
In addition to this, much of the young generation, mods and rockers, punks, gangs and organised crime in London, were making their presence felt. And then there were the City's headline scandals, the Profumo/Christine Keeler, being only one of many. At the resulting trial it did however add a phrase to the English-language by Mandy Rice-Davies' comment about a member of our aristocracy, “He would say that anyway. Wouldn't he?”
Then hand-in-glove with all the sleaze and corruption we had another trial illustrating the naive innocents still around. This time on the publication of DH Lawrence's novel, Lady Chatterley's Lover, the jury were told, in all seriousness, “As you go out to consider your verdict, ask yourselves the question, is this a book I will allow my wife or my servants to read?” Everything seemed to have gone topsy-turvy. It was the age of the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, James Bond and cynicism creeping in, in the form of satirical shows like David Frost's That Was The Week That Was.
Looking back over these 10 years the country had 6 Prime Ministers. Under such circumstances disunity was bound to arise - period. However successive Parliaments achieved continuity of a kind on certain items. Yes, public expenditure continued to rise under each administration, new laws continued to be added to the statute book, which were ineffectual and, in most cases, unenforceable and the public continued to lose interest in Parliament and its politicians.
Who was it that said? “Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.” Whoever it was, he had a point.
Posted October 2009 On The Road To 10 Years Of Success And Achievement