PACING the stage, greying but still lean as a panther, Dennis Stevenson seems in his element. As chairman of HBOS from when Bank of Scotland merged with Halifax, he has been running the show at investor meetings for years. Not all chairmen have Steve
nson's flair for dramatic performance. But it was dramatic performance that was required in June when hundreds of shareholders came to the Edinburgh International Conference Centre.
They were voting on whether or not HBOS should go ahead with the fourth-largest rights issue in British corporate history.
Most would vote in favour of it, but they had some gripes to air first. The main question for many people was why should they pay more for shares when they have already dwindled so rapidly in value? And why should they trust the board who have overseen such a loss in value?
Next to HBOS chief executive Andy Hornby – who delivered a leaden speech on capital strength, challenging times and a prudent approach – Stevenson dazzled. He fielded a barrage of comments and questions, many of them sharpened by genuine concern and distress.
Even when he did not deliver a straight answer – as stock market rules often prevent board members of leading LSE-listed companies from doing – he took a conspiratorial tone, and suggested to many he would speak to them after. And to give him credit, after the meeting crowds formed around him in the EICC foyer with their questions, and he stayed and delivered answers.
If there is a trick to appearing candid, Stevenson has it. One shareholder, railing at the board's stewardship of his shares, demanded to know what they would do if things got even worse. If Stevenson did not actually answer the questioner's concerns, he did not dismiss them but looked them straight on.
"Armageddon may happen," admitted Stevenson dramatically. "And we should be prepared for it…"
If the last week was not quite Armageddon, it must have felt like it in the banks' headquarters on the Mound. It was the week before deadline for buying the discounted shares – and for the most part, the share price traded well below the discounted share issue price of 275p. Attacked by hedge funds shorting the stock, rocked by the Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac debacle in the US – which could not have come at a worse time for HBOS – the bank was forced to take the drastic step of cutting 650 staff.
Today, the day after the deadline closed, is Stevenson's 63rd birthday. Although his colleagues on the board are assured that no matter what investors choose to do, the bank will get its £4 billion – the underwriters of the rights issue will make sure of that – they will not have been in a celebratory mood.
Stevenson has been on the board of HBOS since 2001 – he joined the bank as chairman of Halifax when the merger went through. He will continue to be on the board until at least 2011.
Described as "a free-thinking radical chairman", last year the board locked him into another three-year term, a soft cushion of continuity for the young whippersnapper Hornby, who replaced James Crosby in 2006.
Hornby and Stevenson are alike in that they both reached precocious heights early in their career. People still comment on Hornby's youthfulness – 40 – for one who runs such a large institution. How long he will be running it if investors desert the bank is another question.
Stevenson dazzled them at a even earlier age in his time. Not long after he graduated from Cambridge, where he read both classics and economics, he was put in charge of a company tasked with regenerating a poverty-stricken town in the north-east of England. After writing a persuasive paper on inner city poverty and the black community, he had come to the attention of government and he became a protégé of the patrician MP Peter Walker, then in Edward Heath's government.
When Whitehall saw that the man to be chief executive of the Newton Aycliffe and Peterlee New Town Development Corporation was 26, they thought it might have been a typo. He surprised everyone when he made a success of it, having lured a significant Japanese inward investment company that created hundred of jobs in the area.
On the basis of this success, Stevenson launched what has been a brilliant portfolio career. He is a personality and a charmer. Although he has admitted to suffering from bouts of clinical depression, the scion of an Edinburgh farming and clerical family has gladhanded his way into the UK's top echelons. The list of boards he has chaired or been a director of is as impressive in its length as it is for its breadth, although some critics suggest Stevenson is "non-executive of everything and an executive of nothing".
He was the Tate's Nick Serota's chairman, driving the project which resulted in the Tate Modern on Bankside, London.
He is as well connected in government as he is in business, having worked closely with both New Labour and Conservative administrations.
Stevenson employed a young Peter Mandelson at his consultancy, SRU, and they have enjoyed a close friendship ever since.
"There is always that knowledge with Dennis that the government needs him more than he needs the government," says one commentator.
Most belive that the board of troubled HBOS needs him now, perhaps more than ever.
BACKGROUND
HENRY Dennistoun "Dennis" Stevenson, was born on 19 July, 1945, the son of an Edinburgh sheriff, Alexander, and his wife Sylvia. Stevenson married Charlotte, the daughter of a Lord Mayor of London. They have four sons.A violinist, Stevenson has homes in London, Edinburgh and Suffolk. He was educated at Glenalmond College in Perthshire and King's College, Cambridge
Age 25 he set up a management consultancy, SRU. At the age of 26, became chairman of Newton Aycliffe and Peterlee New Town. Between 1972 and 1976, he served on an independent advisory committee on pop festivals.
In 1988 he became chairman of the trustees of the Tate Gallery and oversaw the building of Tate Modern.
Nearly a decade later, in 1997, he was appointed chairman of Pearson media group. He was made a life peer in 1999.
In the same year he became a director of Halifax and in 2001 after the merger became chairman of HBOS.
The full article contains 1081 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
