HERE’s a question. You are a 55-year-old retail billionaire who wants to fly
100 close friends out to the Indian ocean for a birthday knees-up — who do
you call?
Air Partner. Well, that’s just my speculation. “I couldn’t possibly confirm
our customers’ names without their permission,” says Air Partner boss David
Savile, smiling anxiously.
But I’ve seen a few familiar faces on the way in: the Queen, George Clooney,
the Real Madrid team. They all feature in photos on a client wall at Air
Partner’s Gatwick base, as does a large royal warrant in reception.
“We are the only aviation company in Britain to hold a royal warrant,” says
Savile proudly. Doesn’t British Airways have one? He tuts. “They had a crest
they used, but it wasn’t a warrant.”
Fancy that. Savile beams. Sandy-haired, bespectacled, 48 years old, in his
well-ironed shirt and plain blue tie, he looks every inch the trustworthy
pilot you would want to see entering the cockpit before a flight on a stormy
night.
In fact, he is a doctor’s son who has worked in aviation brokerage all his
life and only flies at weekends. But right now he is heading a business that
some think has prospects as good as any on the stock market.
Air Partner, which calls itself the world’s largest corporate aircraft-charter
company, reported excellent interim results last week, showing the business
was on course for a third year of record returns. Half-year sales were up
60% to £90m, half-year pretax profits up 188% to £3.5m. Its share price
passed £10 for the first time, up more than £3 in a year.
No wonder Sussex-born Savile has a skip in his step as he shows me round the
company’s office. With globalisation, terrorism and the increasing
inefficiency of mass air transit pushing more customers its way, Air Partner
seems to have all its ducks in a row.
The aviation equivalent of those concierge services that can organise every
aspect of your life, Air Partner has grown from next-to-nothing to handling
anything to do with hiring a plane to go anywhere.
Whether it is a quick zip to Zurich for four bankers, or taking 2,000 trade
customers to Spain, or evacuating an embassy for a government, or delivering
aid relief for a charity, Air Partner will sort it. The firm finds the
planes, gets the landing slots, hires the crew, manages the operation, sends
you the itinerary and a bill.
It owns no aircraft but is an expert in knowing who has them, where, and who
will lease them out short-term at the right cost — just like the old ship
brokers on London’s Baltic Exchange. In short, it is a smart business that
aims for efficiency and discretion. It couldn’t possibly tell me which year
the Queen started using its services. I would guess 1998.
All that has given Air Partner some high-profile fans. Besides the Queen’s
flights, it has organised those of the White House press corps since the
late 1990s. It also counts six of the G8 governments among its regular
customers. Its fastest-growing division organises private jets for rich
individuals, its bread and butter is providing passenger and freight planes
for international organisations.
And Savile, chief executive since the company’s full listing on the stock
exchange in 1995, has seen it grow from a workforce of two in 1982 — he and
his chairman, Tony Mack — to 222, based in 21 offices around the world. That
is some journey. “We have tried to grow geographically, so we are not
exposed to one particular economic situation,” says Savile, “and by product
sector, so we have an expanding portfolio.”
His aim is to balance the business through the peaks and troughs of the global
economy, and survive the regular wars and disasters that destabilise
aviation. These are not all bad for business — downturns can mean more
planes for hire and lower prices, war means evacuation flights and troop
deployment, another Air Partner speciality.
“Demand collapses for commercial air-lines, governments want spare aircraft,
sometimes it’s a beautiful fit. We put the two together. And the taxpayer
gets a good deal, because governments are not carrying the burden of running
permanent fleets.”
Sitting in his first-floor corner office, Savile is a chatty, persistent
persuader, his skills honed by two decades of putting complex deals together
between demanding customers and distracted suppliers. Outside, his staff
work the phones in an open-plan room — all the men in shirts and ties.
Do they always wear ties for manning the phone on an airport industrial
estate? “We take pride in our work,” says Savile crisply.
That gives a clue to Air Partner’s resolve. The world is not short of aviation
brokers — Savile estimates there are “hundreds” of two-man operations “with
offices above chip shops” — but Air Partner has built the business on a new
scale.
Those who have followed the company since its initial flotation in 1989 like
its ability to ride events, and think its move into providing private jet
travel for the rich will generate more growth.
“Their business is precisely correlated with the wealth of the world and that
is unstoppable,” says Amit Thakar, an analyst at Seymour Pierce. “It would
take a down-turn of 1930s proportions to knock it back.” Another in the City
cites Savile as one of the best chief executives of any company under £300m
in market value. “He’s obsessionally passionate,” says the source.
A few are more sanguine, and worry about Air Partner’s lack of long-term
contracts and the impact of environmental concerns on flying. How can it be
confident about future rev-enue? Savile shrugs. “Our profits are lumpy,” he
says, “but one of the reasons is that we invest in the business after a good
year, open one or two new offices, and they can run at a loss for a bit. But
if you look at the profitability trend, it’s strong, and the line is getting
steeper.”
Savile is always quick to accentuate the positive. Mack describes him as a
gifted manager, “very good at talking to people about what our goals are,
and very good at detail”.
Savile probably gets some of that from his medical roots. Educated at posh
Wellington, he originally wanted to be a doctor — like his father — but
chose business after lacklustre results in his science A-levels.
He then picked aviation for a work placement while at London’s South Bank
university because he loved taking pictures of planes. After a week at a
brokerage firm he was hooked. A few years later he met Mack and was
impressed enough to jump to Air Partner. “I just thought Tony had drive.”
Since then Savile and Mack, working with long-term finance director Stephanie
White, have imbued the company with its particular service culture. Mack,
whose father started the firm in 1962, cites “relationships” as the driver
of its growth.
But competition is getting tougher. Netjets, the American operator part-owned
by Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway, is determined to stomp on Air
Partner’s private-jet ambitions. It has spent a lot of money in Europe
marketing a jet-card scheme that gives customers a minimum of flying hours
for an initial downpayment — aimed squarely at the corporate and leisure
user.
Air Partner has responded by launching its own card scheme. Last year it also
bought Gold Air, a jet management firm, from David and Ralph Gold, who own
the Ann Summers chain. It will run jets for owners, leasing them out when
they are not using them. That gives it more access to planes in the fight
with Netjets.
Savile’s cheery tone takes a competitive edge. “For once I think Buffett has
got it wrong,” he says. “Netjets has spent over $200m marketing in Europe .
. . and we have benefited hugely from this. The difference is we make money
and they don’t.”
What if Netjets buys Air Partner? Savile looks unruffled. “I struggle to see
how we would fit strategically.” A few in the City think otherwise. “I bet
you they are bought by Netjets or Hogg Robinson within five years,” says one
banker, who predicts a £20 share price.
All agree, however, that private jet use will increase. Savile cites a recent
peak-time skiing trip with an eight-strong family group. “Easyjet wanted to
charge me nearly £1,000 per head to Geneva and back. You can get a private
jet there for £10,000.”
But won’t everyone be flying less because of concerns over the environment?
His eyes flicker concern. “Air Partner will be carbon neutral by the end of
2008,” he says. “We already have offsetting programmes.”
Then he jovially switches to his favourite subject: Air Partner will grow
because “the mass air-transport system is diabolical”. If only he didn’t
look so pleased about it.
Does he have a private jet as a perk? Oh no, he says, laughing. “But I do
think some of our competitors get confused between their clients’ lives and
their own.”
Whatever can he mean? He is not saying. Discretion is his middle name.
VITAL STATISTICS
Born: April 5, 1959
Marital status: married, with three children
School: Wellington College
University: London South Bank
First job: aviation broker
Salary package: £190,000 plus bonus
Home: West Sussex
Car: black Chrysler 300
Favourite book: Notes from a Small Island, by Bill Bryson
Favourite music: Katie Melua
Favourite film: Phantom of the Opera
Favourite gadget: Ariel Atom sports car
Last holiday: skiing in La Plagne, France
DOWNTIME
DAVID SAVILE loves tinkering with cars. “I have a 1934 Rolls-Royce, called
Amelia, and an Ariel Atom sports car — I have it for the thrill; I used to
love carting. I have another couple of cars awaiting repair in the field.
And that’s all I’m going to tell you about,” he laughs.
He drives the Rolls-Royce for friends’ weddings. “That’s a real privilege.” He
also enjoys messing about on his 50ft motor yacht, which he keeps in
Minorca, or in planes.
“I love doing things perfectly. Flying is a great way to relax. It’s also
important in my business to know how to do it, so nobody can pull the wool
over my eyes.”
DAVID SAVILE’S WORKING DAY
THE Air Partner chief executive wakes to BBC Radio 4 at 6.15 every morning at
his home on the Surrey-Sussex border. David Savile is at his desk in the
company’s Gatwick base by 8.30am.
“I like to be hands-on where I can make a difference,” says Savile. “I am
concentrating on private jets and emergency planning at the moment. My job
is a bit like plate spinning, I put more plates up and then pass them on.”
Savile has four executives reporting directly to him, “but I speak to people
on all levels”, he says.
He rarely eats out — “my diet is rubbish, I’m a chocoholic” — and he will
usually work until 7pm.
