Belling the cat
THERE are shareholders, as well as cus- tomers, who would be happy to see that ball roll. Their unhappiness played its part in the abrupt retirement of Sir George Jefferson from the chair. They can be heard to doubt whether his successor, Mr Valiance, should at the age of 44 have been asked to double the roles of chairman and chief executive. They argue for an older chairman who, unlike Mr Valiance, has some working experience of the world outside Telecom (or, before that, the Post Office) to fulfil the chairmanly role of chief executive's uncle. The trouble, though, with unhappy shareholders is that they are happier voting with their feet and walking away from a fight, and happiest to let somebody else do the fighting for them. When shareholders are seen squaring up to a company, the same few names come round time after time — the Prudential, the M & G unit trust group. . . . It is so much easier to be a free rider. David Walker, the Bank of England director who is chairman-designate of the Securities and Investments Board, argued the other day that what was needed was someone to take the lead on the investing institutions' be- half, at their request, and bell the big cats of the boardrooms. For this he seemed to be volunteering the services of the Bank itself. The investors would be idiots not to take up such an offer, and when they do, Telecom would be no bad place to start. It is to be hoped, though, that they will not all wait to hide behind the Old Lady's skirts. They might like to know in advance, because Mr Lucas has done as much of their work for them as he can, that Telecom's biggest shareholder of all has
undertaken not to vote down his proposals. This is the Government. Mr Lucas asked for its assurance, and obtained it. Now the first institution to say as much, and the first to go further and give Mr Lucas its backing, must be outstanding candidates for any red telephone box which The Spectator might be awarding. They would also do themselves, as well as Telecom, a power of good. As for Mr Lucas, it would be nice to award him a proper telegraph service, where a telegram would once more be delivered the same day, by a smartly uniformed boy on a bicycle, whistling. The same week would have been something, or, failing even that, a telephone call to read the message over. . . . That was all Mr Lucas, in the first place, asked for. In default, a box of matches would do.
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