Any chance of putting the record straight?
Christmas is approaching and newspapers will once again be full of worthy, though clichéd, stories about the homeless. This, however, is the story of a restaurateur (me) and the price he paid for speaking out on this most sensitive of topics.
Six years on and it still happens. I meet someone new and they say, "aren't you the American restaurateur who was in the papers for washing the beggars off the street outside your Strand restaurant?" While that label will probably be with me forever, this is my chance to tell my side of the story.
It started in 1989, shortly after I opened my second Smollensky's. Recession had begun and business was bad. The homeless camping outside my door weren't helping to bring customers in either. In fact, they were jeopardising my £1.25m investment and I was not intending to take it lying down.
I assembled local businesses from the Strand and Aldwych Trade Association to lobby local government to improve our immediate environment.
In an early committee meeting, someone proposed that we buy French machines to clean the pavements with jets of water, basically to get rid of some of the nasty stuff deposited by rough sleepers who used the streets as public toilets.
A journalist got hold of the minutes of the meeting and broke the story with the headline: "PROMINENT RESTAURATEUR THREATENS TO HOSE THE BEGGARS OFF THE STRAND." The story was then picked up by practically every newspaper, TV and radio station and even made front-page news in four foreign newspapers.
It has been repeated so often that people still treat it as an established fact, despite its inflammatory inaccuracy. Ever since, I have tried to put the record straight but to no avail.
For the next two weeks my restaurants could hardly function because of phone calls from journalists and the public. I tried to remind myself of the maxim that "all publicity is good publicity", but given the abuse hurled at me from people I had never met, I had serious doubts.
Despite the odd supportive telephone call, my staff were often reduced to tears. I was dismayed to discover I had dozens of regular customers who had spent "millions" in my restaurant, but would do so no more.
Most journalists were not interested in the truth if it conflicted with the preconceived angle of their story. By way of contrast, writers from the Independent and London's Evening Standard stood out as beacons of truth in a sea of hacks.
The truth was that while I struggled to fill my entry-level vacancies, these so-called homeless were gathering misplaced sympathy from press and public.
It was plain to see that the majority of those on the street in 1989 (not true today) were young, able-bodied teenagers unwilling to do honest work because they found begging (often with menaces) much more profitable. I decided to "out" them.
The Evening Standard wished to test my theory and took me on to the streets with a photographer. The newspaper reported our findings in a two-page colour centre spread. Conclusion? We could find just one person willing to take a job as a kitchen porter at £3.25 per hour (1989, remember). We hired him and after six weeks he disappeared without a word, leaving a pay-cheque behind.
Then the Independent wanted to know if I could substantiate my opinion that 50% of those on the streets were unemployable and the other 50% didn't want employment. Under their gaze, we hired two more "beggars". Only one turned up but left after a fortnight. Even the Independent admitted defeat.
Somehow, I became the un-elected spokesman for businessmen on this very difficult-to-talk-about-without-attracting-any-flak subject. I never got used to having my remarks edited out of context. No matter what I said, clever editing invariably made me look like a heartless, ruthless businessman who would not let compassion get in the way of making a buck.
This happened so often that I soon refused all but live interviews where my comments could not be edited. Or so I naively thought.
To be continued next week
