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National AIDS Trust: Mr Maxwell Seeks £50 Million
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Commentary from Westminster National AIDS Trust: Mr Maxwell Seeks jE50 Million
JUST round the comer from St James’s Palace in the heart of ceremonial London stands a mansion of shameless Victorian extravagance called Lancaster House. Within its glittering salons, lit by candelabra held aloft by lascivious marble cherubs, the fate of nations has been decided. Here for three months in the early days of Mrs Thatcher’s first term, the settlement which created the state of Zimbabwe was agonisingly negotiated. And here beneath the television lights last week, in the final days of her second administration, the Secretary of State for Social Services, Mr Norman Fowler, convened a press conference to announce the setting up of a National Aids Trust, which will coordinate voluntary effort in the campaign against AIDS (see p 1158). Mr Fowler, dapper and alert, sat at centre stage, directing events. On his left was Sir Austin Bide, former chief executive and now president of Glaxo, pillar of the Medical Research Council, the recital of whose honours and achievements commanded a full two pages of official handout. Sir Austin is to chair the council of management of the trust, a convocation of distinguished names including the chairman of the MRC, Lord Jellicoe, the influential and ubiquitous Lord Goodman, Prof Michael Adler from the Middlesex Hospital and representatives from AIDS charities, such as Body Positive and the Terrence Higgins Trust. On his
sat Mr Robert the master of the whose Maxwell, takeover, myriad acquisitions range from French television franchises to Oxford United FC, a man who, since he added the Mirror group of newspapers to his collection, has become the living refutation of the claim that the age of the old press baron-dominating, all-pervasive, and four times larger than life-perished with the passing of Beaverbrook. His presence, the assembled press corps reflected, was certain to guarantee capacious coverage of the event in papers like the Mirror and the London Daily News, though possibly at the expense of a decided lack of committed coverage in rival organs like the News of the World and The Sun.
right, powerful and perspiring,
Mr Fowler, opening the proceedings, saw the response to AIDS as requiring above all a partnership between the state and private citizens. The Government had taken its own initiatives-its public health campaign, its new public health measures and safeguards, its allocation of resources, its work to develop services for victims of this disease. But the challenge of AIDS was not exclusively, or even primarily, a matter for government. The voluntary sector had, of course, been involved from the start. What mattered now-as numbers of people had recently been advising him-was to avoid duplication of effort. It was for that purpose that the Trust was now to be established. Those
about
him
nodded
The them for support. Was there anything Sir Austin wished to add? Sir Austin, meditating for a moment, concluded that there was not. And Mr Maxwell? Mr Maxwell is rarely given to such reticence. "Our country," he began imposingly "needs no reminding that AIDS is a scourge which has to be tackled-without going into a panic." The assembled press
authoritatively.
introductions completed, Mr Fowler turned
to
scribbled diligently, none of the Mirror Group.
more so
than the
representatives
The target for his fund-raising activities, Mr Maxwell announced, would be £ 50 million. An ambitious sum?
Certainly. But he had chosen it because it was precisely twice the sum raised for the Pasteur Institute in Paris by the selling of the Windsor jewels. Sir Austin, he disclosed, had agreed that this was not unreasonable. Sir Austin looked inscrutable. Questions were then invited. Most of them somehow found their way to Mr Maxwell. "I do not wish to hog all of the time," he assured assembled reporters at one point. "But..." and on he steamed. Was it right, one reporter asked him, that such effort should be lavished on people who had essentially brought their fate upon themselves? But surely even they, Mr Maxwell replied, deserved our help and assistance. He rehearsed the latest incidence figures from the World Health Organisation, which were chilling. Later, while insisting that it would be wrong at this stage to start spelling out detailed fund-raising plans, he let slip the fact that Elizabeth Taylor hoped to be involved. Then came a question specifically addressed to Mr Fowler. How much money did the Government plan to contribute to this new initiative? About C500 000, he replied, as well as providing offices and possibly a temporary director. But at this point one became aware of a sudden perceptible turbulence in the region of the Secretary of State’s right elbow. The great tycoon appeared distressed. "I had hoped," he confessed "that he would announce a million, and then I was going to double it." And then turning expansively towards Mr Fowler, Mr Maxwell made him an offer. Make it a million now, he said, and I will instantly put a million of my own alongside it.
All eyes turned swiftly to the Minister. Here was the sort of drama fit to be played out within these historic walls. Mr Fowler pursed his lips. In the tradition of Lancaster House, he reached for a suitably diplomatic response. "I will certainly consider it," he said. Alongside him Sir Austin looked more inscrutable than ever. But Mr Maxwell was still not satisfied. Surely, he suggested, Mr Fowler could now go back to the Treasury and say: "Give me that further half-million, and you will get half a million more of Bob Maxwell’s money too." But, even in an election year, Mr Fowler fought off temptation. "If Bob is prepared to match
contribution," he promised with painful caution, "then I will look very carefully at how much we can increase our contribution by." our
The press conference concluded. The television crews swept the principals away. The papers next day carried full accounts of Mr Maxwell’s pledges, together with much glowing speculation about the role which Elizabeth Taylor was expected to play in the proceedings. The departing press weighed up the chances. Would Mr Maxwell content himself with the theoretically subordinate role ("he will be responsible to the chairman of the Trust for this part of the Trust’s work") laid down in the communique? Possibly, and then again, possibly not. Communiques issued from Lancaster House, after all, have not always been honoured to the letter. And would Mr Maxwell (with the help of Elizabeth Taylor and others) get his 50 million? Very probably. For, as a trail of defeated competitors over the years can testify, this is a man who tends to get what he wants.
DAVID MCKIE
Commentary from Westminster National AIDS Trust: Mr Maxwell Seeks jE50 Million
JUST round the comer from St James’s Palace in the heart of ceremonial London stands a mansion of shameless Victorian extravagance called Lancaster House. Within its glittering salons, lit by candelabra held aloft by lascivious marble cherubs, the fate of nations has been decided. Here for three months in the early days of Mrs Thatcher’s first term, the settlement which created the state of Zimbabwe was agonisingly negotiated. And here beneath the television lights last week, in the final days of her second administration, the Secretary of State for Social Services, Mr Norman Fowler, convened a press conference to announce the setting up of a National Aids Trust, which will coordinate voluntary effort in the campaign against AIDS (see p 1158). Mr Fowler, dapper and alert, sat at centre stage, directing events. On his left was Sir Austin Bide, former chief executive and now president of Glaxo, pillar of the Medical Research Council, the recital of whose honours and achievements commanded a full two pages of official handout. Sir Austin is to chair the council of management of the trust, a convocation of distinguished names including the chairman of the MRC, Lord Jellicoe, the influential and ubiquitous Lord Goodman, Prof Michael Adler from the Middlesex Hospital and representatives from AIDS charities, such as Body Positive and the Terrence Higgins Trust. On his
sat Mr Robert the master of the whose Maxwell, takeover, myriad acquisitions range from French television franchises to Oxford United FC, a man who, since he added the Mirror group of newspapers to his collection, has become the living refutation of the claim that the age of the old press baron-dominating, all-pervasive, and four times larger than life-perished with the passing of Beaverbrook. His presence, the assembled press corps reflected, was certain to guarantee capacious coverage of the event in papers like the Mirror and the London Daily News, though possibly at the expense of a decided lack of committed coverage in rival organs like the News of the World and The Sun.
right, powerful and perspiring,
Mr Fowler, opening the proceedings, saw the response to AIDS as requiring above all a partnership between the state and private citizens. The Government had taken its own initiatives-its public health campaign, its new public health measures and safeguards, its allocation of resources, its work to develop services for victims of this disease. But the challenge of AIDS was not exclusively, or even primarily, a matter for government. The voluntary sector had, of course, been involved from the start. What mattered now-as numbers of people had recently been advising him-was to avoid duplication of effort. It was for that purpose that the Trust was now to be established. Those
about
him
nodded
The them for support. Was there anything Sir Austin wished to add? Sir Austin, meditating for a moment, concluded that there was not. And Mr Maxwell? Mr Maxwell is rarely given to such reticence. "Our country," he began imposingly "needs no reminding that AIDS is a scourge which has to be tackled-without going into a panic." The assembled press
authoritatively.
introductions completed, Mr Fowler turned
to
scribbled diligently, none of the Mirror Group.
more so
than the
representatives
The target for his fund-raising activities, Mr Maxwell announced, would be £ 50 million. An ambitious sum?
Certainly. But he had chosen it because it was precisely twice the sum raised for the Pasteur Institute in Paris by the selling of the Windsor jewels. Sir Austin, he disclosed, had agreed that this was not unreasonable. Sir Austin looked inscrutable. Questions were then invited. Most of them somehow found their way to Mr Maxwell. "I do not wish to hog all of the time," he assured assembled reporters at one point. "But..." and on he steamed. Was it right, one reporter asked him, that such effort should be lavished on people who had essentially brought their fate upon themselves? But surely even they, Mr Maxwell replied, deserved our help and assistance. He rehearsed the latest incidence figures from the World Health Organisation, which were chilling. Later, while insisting that it would be wrong at this stage to start spelling out detailed fund-raising plans, he let slip the fact that Elizabeth Taylor hoped to be involved. Then came a question specifically addressed to Mr Fowler. How much money did the Government plan to contribute to this new initiative? About C500 000, he replied, as well as providing offices and possibly a temporary director. But at this point one became aware of a sudden perceptible turbulence in the region of the Secretary of State’s right elbow. The great tycoon appeared distressed. "I had hoped," he confessed "that he would announce a million, and then I was going to double it." And then turning expansively towards Mr Fowler, Mr Maxwell made him an offer. Make it a million now, he said, and I will instantly put a million of my own alongside it.
All eyes turned swiftly to the Minister. Here was the sort of drama fit to be played out within these historic walls. Mr Fowler pursed his lips. In the tradition of Lancaster House, he reached for a suitably diplomatic response. "I will certainly consider it," he said. Alongside him Sir Austin looked more inscrutable than ever. But Mr Maxwell was still not satisfied. Surely, he suggested, Mr Fowler could now go back to the Treasury and say: "Give me that further half-million, and you will get half a million more of Bob Maxwell’s money too." But, even in an election year, Mr Fowler fought off temptation. "If Bob is prepared to match
contribution," he promised with painful caution, "then I will look very carefully at how much we can increase our contribution by." our
The press conference concluded. The television crews swept the principals away. The papers next day carried full accounts of Mr Maxwell’s pledges, together with much glowing speculation about the role which Elizabeth Taylor was expected to play in the proceedings. The departing press weighed up the chances. Would Mr Maxwell content himself with the theoretically subordinate role ("he will be responsible to the chairman of the Trust for this part of the Trust’s work") laid down in the communique? Possibly, and then again, possibly not. Communiques issued from Lancaster House, after all, have not always been honoured to the letter. And would Mr Maxwell (with the help of Elizabeth Taylor and others) get his 50 million? Very probably. For, as a trail of defeated competitors over the years can testify, this is a man who tends to get what he wants.
DAVID MCKIE