Adrian Lee is a Solicitor-Advocate in London, specialising in criminal defence, and was twice a Conservative Parliamentary Candidate.
Fifty years ago, on 22 June 1973, an opinionated 63-year-old Yorkshireman by the name of John Garlick Llewellyn Poulson was arrested by police.
Poulson, who ran his own architect’s firm in Pontefract, was charged with corruption connected to the awarding of public building contracts. Over the months ahead, it became apparent that he had successfully penetrated both major political parties, and recruited politicians with bribes, to secure millions of pounds worth of work.
He was born on 14 April 1910 and grew up in Knottingly, West Riding. His father, Charles, an ardent Methodist and inheritor of a family-owned pottery, who had a poor business reputation, was both arrogant and cantankerous. Charles pressured his eldest son, John, into becoming a business success.
John wanted to be an architect and became articled to a practice in Pontefract, but the quality of his work was sub-standard; he kept getting the elevations of shops the wrong way around and he was eventually sacked. Poulson never actually qualified as an architect. His former employer later remarked “Poulson? He couldn’t draw plans for toffee.”
However, in those days it was possible to run an architect’s business without being qualified, so Charles established John in his own firm and subsidised it for several years. Poulson prospered by employing people who could draft architectural plans.
The Second World War was a boon to his business, with military contracts rolling in from across the country. The post-war environment, with inner city reconstruction, slum-clearance, and nationalised industries, provided Poulson with the opportunity to make himself seriously rich.
Poulson joined all the popular civic societies of the era, from the Chamber of Commerce and Rotary to the Freemasons, and decided that he ought to also have a political affiliation.
He joined the National Liberal Party, a “Simonite” remnant of the 1930’s National Government that survived by virtue of a pact with the Conservatives. Yorkshire remained one of their last strongholds. Poulson came to dominate the party’s voluntary section and used his position as chairman to gain access to government ministers.
He realised that when seeking public contracts, he had to project an image of success. His offices were expensively furnished and when arriving at business appointments, he often flew in his private aeroplane and was greeted by a chauffeur-driven limousine.
Image was important, but it only got you so far. In 1958, having taken advice from Sir Herbert Butcher, a National Liberal MP, Poulson set up Ropergate Services Ltd., an arms-length company to off-set tax liabilities and to tout for business for his architect’s practice. This event coincided with a municipal housing boom and Poulson came into contact with his most famous collaborator: T Dan Smith.
Thomas Daniel Smith, who liked to be known as “Mr Newcastle”, was from 1959 to 1965 the Labour Leader of Newcastle City Council. (His political opponents knew him as “The Mouth of the Tyne” and compared his leadership style to that of US city bosses.)
Born in Wallsend, this son of an alcoholic communist Durham miner, young Dan had inherited his father’s politics. Taking the Moscow line, Smith was a conscientious objector and early in the war had campaigned for peace with Nazi Germany. Later, he became a member of two far left parties, firstly the Independent Labour Party and then the Trotskyist Revolutionary Communist Party.
However, seeing which way the political winds blew, Smith joined the Labour Party in 1945. He was elected to the Council in 1950 and was Chairman of the Labour Group three years later.
He extended his influence across the North and had supporters and friends on many neighbouring authorities. “I know the Labour Movement inside out”, he told New Statesman in 1963. This was a knowledge that Smith was willing to sell to the highest bidder.
Smith pledged to turn Newcastle into “the Brasilia of the North” by demolishing street after street of terraced housing and replacing it with factory-manufactured, semi-prefabricated, concrete tower blocks. The quality of these buildings was bad. Within a few years, Smith’s utopia had decayed into slums. The opening images of the sitcom Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads shows the impact of Smith’s regime on the landscape.
Under his direction, the money spent on housing was astronomical. Significantly, for each contract awarded to Poulson, Smith received a kickback.
Smith set up several private companies, ostensibly to sell public relations services to neighbouring local authorities but, in reality, they existed to promote Poulson’s business. One of Smith’s recruits was Alderman Andrew Cunningham (father of Jack). Known as “The Godfather of the North-East”, Cunningham was head of nine public bodies, all awarding building contracts.
He too joined the payroll and ensured that Poulson became the exclusive architect for each of his domains. In those days, before compulsory competitive tendering, a word from the right person often sufficed.
Smith secured the contracts for Poulson, whilst his employer found the money to grease the councillors’ palms. Many were given luxury cruises, new cars, or had their homes refurbished. If you were an exceptionally influential person, like George Pottinger, a senior Scottish civil servant, you could get Poulson to build a bungalow to your personal specification. Poulson built his entire business model on bribes and bungs.
Business was going great by the mid-1960s, but Poulson now wanted to go international – and to open the foreign governments’ doors he required someone special.
Step forward Reginald Maudling, former chancellor and recent contestant for the Conservative leadership. Maudling decided to use his period in opposition to make a nest egg for his family. By the time that he became chairman of a couple of Poulson’s companies, he was already an executive director of Kleinwort Benson, vice-chairman of Shipping Industrial Holdings, and a non-executive director of both Dunlop and Associated Electrical Industries.
As he was also deputy leader of the Conservatives and shadow foreign secretary, one would have thought that Reggie was busy enough. However, Poulson had a particularly desirable carrot to dangle in front of the parliamentarian’s nose.
Beryl Maudling, Reggie’s wife, had once been a child prodigy ballerina. It was her ambition to establish a permanent ballet theatre in East Grinstead in honour of her former tutor, the world-famous Adeline Genée; she envisaged that the new theatre would achieve for ballet what Glyndebourne did for opera.
This project was very expensive, but Reggie realised that it could be directly funded by Poulson. Over the following years, Maudling persuaded the architect to spend more and more on the failing theatre. In return, Maudling felt permanently grateful and was determined to assist his patron in any way.
He often flew close to the flame in championing causes in Parliament that benefitted Poulson’s companies, and travelled to the Middle East, Africa, and Malta in pursuit of business.
However, all too frequently Poulson did not win the contract, having undertaken preparatory work at his own expense. Again, Poulson arranged for bungs to be paid, but the recipients often took the cash without delivering. His international expenditure began to jeopardise the fortunes of his business empire.
Eventually, Poulson was declared bankrupt, and his companies closed down. A financial investigation revealed the web of corruption.
Over thirty major trials and inquiries resulted from the Poulson Affair. Andrew Cunningham received a three-year custodial sentence, whilst T Dan Smith was sent down for six. Poulson received a seven-year sentence. Maudling escaped charge but was politically ruined and sank into alcoholism.
One legacy of the scandal was the establishment of the Register of Members’ interests. Another was a significant clean up in the awarding of public contracts generally.