23rd October 2009
Dinner with the FT: The Duke of York
By Andrew Edgecliffe-Johnson
Fifteen minutes before the Duke of York is due to arrive, and I am fretting about a serious breach of protocol. Prince Andrew’s press secretary has called ahead to say that he, the private secretary and the British consul-general for New York will accompany the duke. Given the unexpected crowd, Buckingham Palace is offering to pay. The rules of Lunch, or Dinner, with the FT are clear: we pick up the tab. They say nothing, however, about dinner for five. Fortunately, the staff at Harry Cipriani is used to last-minute accommodations for demanding guests. The maître d’ agrees that two bills can be prepared: one for the FT and the fourth in line to the throne; one for his retinue.
Cipriani, on the south-east corner of Central Park, is made for Manhattan royalty. The compact but open room seems designed for a court of publishers, dealmakers and admen who are there to be seen. I have been briefed that the duke doesn’t go for flashy restaurants, and I assume a discreet private room has been booked. Instead, we have been given the VIP table, slap bang in the middle of the crowded room. Shows of power are everywhere, as one man gives another a painful-looking back slap, Botoxed cheeks are kissed and the maître d’ makes small talk with his regulars.
There is not much room, so I step outside in time to see the tinted windows of a consular Chevy Escalade pull up on Fifth Avenue. The duke emerges, marching briskly into the restaurant as members of his small security detail disappear into the crowd. He sits down at the table, but quickly decides it is too big. The consul-general has stayed behind, so we will be four. The duke suggests a cramped table on one side, where we squeeze in, knees almost touching, as confused waiters try to keep up. The duke is in town on a rapid-fire tour of financial firms and regulators in his role as the UK’s special representative for international trade and investment. The position – part ambassador, part travelling salesman – has no obvious parallels elsewhere in business or government so I begin by asking how he defines it. "It is the application of royal patronage to the business community," he says. Just as other members of the House of Windsor might lend their support to a ballet company or a homeless shelter, so "the business community needed somebody to take an interest in it".
The duke took on his duties in 2001 after 22 years in the Royal Navy, which included flying helicopter missions during the Falklands war. He agreed to be "headhunted" because he felt his naval job could be done as well by a non-royal officer, he explains, while the special representative role offered the chance to do something only a royal could do. "Unfortunately, officers have initiative", he says with satisfaction, "so we’ve rather taken the agenda that was given and developed it beyond what was originally envisaged or we ever considered appropriate."
Last year, his schedule included 628 official engagements, twice the number he performed in 2005. He has flown from Algeria to Ulaanbaatar to open doors for the likes of BP, International Power, Lloyd’s of London and Rio Tinto – a former navy man offering a peculiarly British take on the idea of a military-industrial complex. A waiter comes by to take drinks orders and the teetotal duke asks for still water. The Cipriani logo features a cocktail-shaking barman, but neither of us will be ordering its trademark $20 bellinis. How well did managing a squadron prepare him for his role, I ask? "Oh, undoubtedly, but from a perspective that wasn’t business-oriented. When I was flying my helicopter and delivering weapons to the target, there was the impression that one was the sharp end of the sword. All right?" he adds, for emphasis. His style is crisply articulate, perhaps not surprisingly for someone who learnt the Queen’s English from the Queen. "We [the navy] see 90 per cent of international trade going by sea," he continues. "But it wasn’t until I left the navy and met businessmen and began to understand what was inside those containers that it became much more evident that business was the engine room of prosperity."
He spent part of the first three years in his new role learning the basics of business, he says. Now, though, he finds he has outlasted several trade ministers and departmental officials. Picking his words carefully, he ventures: "My corporate memory is now, as it were, slightly greater than theirs. So continuity is one thing I bring to this." Is another advantage the fact that, at a time when trust in both business and government is at record lows, he is from neither camp? He pauses, again watching his words. "Yes, is the answer to that. There are a number of things that are going on at the moment where people come to me in preference to going to somebody else." Another pause. "We are still trusted, as it were, above and beyond governments. I have no political will or desire. My desire is to serve the United Kingdom to the best of my ability and to get the best for the United Kingdom."
Article continues here
