OURS is a slow-burning relationship. Lord Hollick and I last met over a tape
recorder 17 years ago: he doesn’t give many interviews.
“In 1991, at the Meridien hotel,” he says, with characteristic recall, pouring
himself a tea from the sideboard in his swish office. “I remember it because
I was launching Meridian television.”
Back then he had just won an ITV franchise, and was intent on building a media
empire. Later he added more ITV regions - and newspapers - to a burgeoning
hotchpotch of broadcasting, press and financial interests.
Then, after merger plans with Carlton were blocked, he sold much of it,
leaving himself just a trade publisher, United Business Media. Then he left
that too.
And now here he is at the world’s largest buyout firm, KKR, as the partner
master-minding investments in European media. He joined in 2005 and since
then has, in his own way, avoided the press. Maybe that’s because KKR seems
an unlikely base for a left-leaning lord once nicknamed “The Red Baron”.
Or maybe he doesn’t see the point. He even wrote a newspaper piece last year
castigating bosses who chase personal profile. Curious that, because this
time he has asked me to come and see him, not the other way round. Has he
had a change of heart?
He laughs. “Yeah, I am breaking my own rules and being horribly inconsistent.”
Hollick stirs his tea and changes the subject. KKR certainly seems to suit
him. Slim and angular, with designer stubble offsetting a sharp City suit,
he looks a decade younger than his age of 62. He also seems more relaxed
than he has been for years.
But he has a problem. Hollick wants to whip up interest in the other job that
has obsessed him for the past six years, chairing the board of the Southbank
Centre, Europe’s largest arts complex.
He is stepping down after overseeing a popular refurbishment of the Royal
Festival Hall and its surrounding site. Now he wants another big hitter to
step up.
Seeing me may be his way of pumping the crowd and saving some money on job ads
– very Hollick – even if he does have to answer questions he would rather
avoid. Like is he still chasing ITV with those KKR billions to help?
And why do some people think Hollick’s commerce-first approach to the
Southbank – prioritising shops and restaurants to provide extra income – is
a deflection from what the site should be about?
But KKR first. Soft carpets, antique furniture, and beautiful works of art
decorate its plush St James’s base. Previous Hollick offices were more
linoleum in feel.
Is he really at home here? “It offered me the way to remain in business in a
way I really like,” nods Hollick. “And I’ve been an investor with private
equity for a number of years. I know all the companies, and I really admire
Henry [Kravis, KKR’s founder].”
KKR clearly fits Hollick’s buy-build-and-sell approach. He helped KKR buy
German broadcaster Pro-Sieben for £3.8 billion in 2006 in a joint deal with
Permira. Last year that merged with another KKR-backed European broadcaster,
SBS. The new group is active in 13 countries, and challenges Bertelsmann’s
RTL group for Europe’s No 1 slot.
Wouldn’t ITV, whose shares hit a record low last week, make a nice fit?
Hollick pulls a face. “We have looked at ITV,” he says, “but I don’t think
it has the growth characteristics we are searching for. The UK television
market is pretty crowded.”
Others think differently. “There’s a price at which anything is of interest to
Clive,” says one former colleague knowingly. And Hollick’s interest may not
stop at television.
Would he buy a newspaper now? Hollick shakes his head. “I don’t think we
would. The cards are stacked against newspapers as you have to make the
transition from the pure print model to the online model.”
That makes the price at which he sold Express Newspapers – £125m to Richard
Desmond in 2000 – look better with hind-sight. “He paid us the highest price
on offer at the time.” says Hollick.
Even though many who worked at the Express felt let down? Hollick looks
momentarily caught out. His defence is that the deal was the best for his
shareholders.
And the sliding markets surely give KKR more opportunities. He nods. “We’ve
got more money, because we have been through fundraising, and we haven’t
invested yet. The problem is the credit crunch means the availability of
debt has been significantly reduced, so 2008 may be a slower year.”
But you wouldn’t bet on it. Hollick will certainly have more time for
plotting, now he is stepping down from the Southbank Centre. He took over
from Elliott Bernerd as chairman of the board in 2002. What he has achieved
there, in an unpaid post, may be of more lasting significance than any media
empire bought or sold.
The centre, including the Royal Festival Hall, the Queen Elizabeth Hall and
the Hayward gallery, sits on 21 acres of prime Thameside real estate
opposite the Savoy. It had long been earmarked for development, but racked
by delays and disputes. Hollick, who has little arts experience – though his
wife is a longstanding Arts Council member – seems to have turned that round.
Most significantly he pushed through a £110m refurbishment scheme, building
shops and a new office block adjacent to the Royal Festival Hall, that has
revived the site. Yet it faced considerable opposition.
“At the initial planning meeting I can remember Kate Hoey, the local MP,
shouting ‘Lord Hollick, we’ll see you in court’. She never did, but it was a
good speech.”
Arts professionals cite Hollick’s relentless commercial drive. “Clive’s
charming but tough, and very exacting on getting results,” sums up Michael
Lynch, the Australian chief executive brought in by Hollick to head the
centre. Lynch says Hollick added a new dynamic. “It’s about getting away
from significant reliance on public subsidy, while maintaining artistic
integrity.”
The Festival Hall reopened to acclaim last summer – Hollick started the first
concert by walking on stage with a camera and photographing the audience –
and the site has a plan for sequential development. The public have voted
with their feet, with 250,000 attending the opening weekend.
Hollick now wants more companies and individuals as sponsors. The naming
rights for the Hayward – named after a former leader of London county
council – are next up for grabs.
Is there anything he wouldn’t accept? Hollick grins. A cheque for £20m should
get it.
The KKR gallery sounds good. “Er, I don’t think so.” He can think of a
newspaper proprietor, however, who should sponsor an auditorium at the
Festival Hall.
No surprise that Hollick’s first ambition was to be a journalist. He has that
snitty wit. Brought up in Southampton, the son of a French-polisher, he
attended the same grammar school as Gavyn Davies, another Labour millionaire
– “but younger, smarter, and richer” grins Hollick. He even wanted to join
the BBC after Nottingham University.
A friend nudged him towards the City. Taken on at Hambros when it wanted to
broaden out beyond its staple Oxbridge intake, Hollick cut a swathe through
the Hooray Henries. Yet despite being numerate, ambitious and iconoclastic,
he never quite fitted in. He made his name saving money broker Vavasseur
after the 1973 secondary-banking crisis. He later turned it into research
and advertising group MAI, and grew an ever-shifting empire through the
1980s and 1990s, half in and half out of establishment City circles.
That stemmed from his long-term links to the Labour party, advising Neil
Kinnock and bankrolling the think tank IPPR from 1988. He was made Baron
Hollick of Notting Hill in 1991.
He says he is uncertain of what drives him on. His father loved his job as a
French-polisher, working on the dining tables of the rich. “I tried
polishing but I’m too impatient,” says Hollick. “What it taught me was to
find something you enjoy, and get on with it.”
Is it the deals he loves? Charles Gregson, chairman of Icap, another Hollick
offshoot, describes him as the best dealmaker he has ever seen. “Great
brain, great psychologist.”
Yet Hollick was thwarted in his ambitions to build ITV plc, blocked by
government from merging his United News & Media with Carlton in 2000.
Granada was allowed to merge with Carlton just two years later. That must be
frustrating. Hollick shrugs. “The competition authorities did a poor job.”
I bet he would probably have sold ITV once he built it. He laughs. Old friends
say Hollick has loosened up. “I think Clive is less austere with himself
than he was,” says Simon Albury, chief executive of the Royal Television
Society and an old university mate. “But that may be KKR.”
Gregson agrees. “If there’s a business made for Clive, it’s private equity.”
Or could it be that Hollick has found something new? “Do you know,” he says,
on parting, “chairing the Southbank has been the most fulfilling job I’ve
ever done.”
Then Hollick catches himself. “Let’s meet again in another 17 years,” he
quips. “Who knows what we’ll both be doing then?”
LORD HOLLICK’S WORKING DAY
THE KKR partner wakes in his home in Notting Hill, west London, by 6.45am. “I
work out twice a week, otherwise I get picked up by Phil, my driver, and get
into work before 8am,” says Lord Hollick. Meetings and conference calls
follow. “It’s a very flat organisation – two people work with me on media.”
Hollick entertains lunch guests at KKR, or at the St Alban restaurant nearby.
Later he will attend the House of Lords. In the evening he will catch a
concert or the theatre. “Chairing the Southbank may be unpaid, but you
attend the best shows in London,” he says.
VITAL STATISTICS
Born: May 20, 1945
Marital status: married, with three daughters
School: Taunton’s grammar, Southampton
University: Nottingham
First job: graduate trainee, Hambros
Salary package: Undisclosed. Pension from United Business Media
estimated at £762,000 a year
Homes: London, New Forest and New York
Car: grey Mercedes
Favourite book: Middlemarch, by George Eliot
Favourite music: Wagner’s Ring Cycle
Favourite film: Pulp Fiction
Gadget: lob wedge golf club
Last holiday: riding in Ecuador and visiting Galapagos islands
DOWNTIME
“THEATRE, cinema and spending time with friends,” says Lord Hollick, listing
his hobbies. He is part of a walking group that holidays together. “We did
part of the Cathar trail in the Pyrenees recently.” And he collects
contemporary art. Michael Craig-Martin is a favoured artist. He is also a
season-ticket holder at Arsenal. “Its ingredients for success are a strong
manager, stable board, right skill set – just like the Southbank.”
Now he has stepped down from the Southbank Centre, he wants to spend more time
supporting Amref, the African medical aid charity whose UK arm is chaired by
his wife, Sue Woodford.
