bl_flip2

A bend in the river I 437

amount of responsibility, coming from that level of poverty, and him
in his head resolving that he is going to get his family out of poverty,
no matter what. And he’s just never been able to feel that he’s done it.
Because his dad died young he’s never been able to get the approval
from his dad.’

In turn, Bernard helped Jake to milk the opportunities from
his music venues – an unlikely fit, you might think, for a nonagenari-
an. Jake delighted in watching his father get fired up about contracts,
structuring deals, thinking through all the different permutations and
variables. ‘There couldn’t be a better environment for me to learn as
much as I can from him.’ When Jake needed to exit one partnership, it
was his father who devised an ingenious solution to what had become
an intractable problem, and if it was not for his creative thinking, the
business might have failed. ‘His way of helping something like this is
by poking holes in it. That’s how he’s been successful. He’s not doing it
to be unkind. I get the feeling he often sees things in black and white –
as in, this is the right thing to do and this is not the right thing to do.
As simple as that. Don’t let your feelings get in the way.’
Despite this renewed sense of intimacy with his father, Jake
was still amazed when he offered him some ‘spot on’ relationship ad-
vice. ‘It showed me how in tune he actually is with everything outside
of business. People don’t expect him to talk about feelings. But the
more you speak to my dad, the more you learn he’s full of feelings. He’s
full of emotions. He’s so in tune.’
Unlike Jake, Sam remained smitten with retail, electing to
study business at Oxford Brookes University in preparation for enter-
ing the company. ‘After he left school Sam worked at head office during
the university holidays on the buying floor as a buyer’s assistant, and
worked his way up,’ said Bernard. Inevitably this meant more time be-
tween father and son. ‘Watching him at work is very interesting, very
inspiring,’ said Sam, ‘it sets a certain standard.’ He speculated that his

438 I A bend in the river

passion might be a symptom of ‘first-child syndrome’ – of wanting to
measure up to his father.
After graduating Sam entered River Island’s menswear de-
partment as an assistant buyer for casual bottoms and his progress
was fast-tracked. ‘I was filling out ledgers on a Monday, keeping sea-
sonal rails together, keeping track of suppliers, making sure they’re
on time’ – everything necessary to ensure the department’s orderly
functioning. Six months later he moved on to casual shirts, to learn
how other buyers operated.
Although he never worked directly with Bernard, often he
found himself presenting in meetings to his mother and could nev-
er forget that he was a Lewis. ‘For other members of the family that
worked in different parts of the business you’re not so exposed to so
many family members and it’s different – it’s easier to not be a Lewis,
I think. Here, when you work in River Island, you are a Lewis. When
you’re sending emails to suppliers you are “sam.lewis of river-island.
com”.’

In contrast with his younger brother, Sam saw merit in the
benefits that this level of recognition brought him. ‘Well they’re not
going to ignore your emails, so you actually learn to use that, whether
it’s in negotiation or whatever. It gets you better business.’ Inexorably,
Sam rose from assistant to junior to senior buyer, eventually running
three departments: footwear, shirts and denim. The workload became
intense, involving at least a week of travel every other month, from
Turkey, China and Mauritius to Hong Kong, India, Bangladesh and
Portugal.
Bernard enjoyed regular catch-ups with Sam, always eager to
hear what was going on in the business at ground level, although unsur-
prisingly he did not always agree with how things were operating. ‘One
of his remarks when he heard how things worked was that there were a
lot of people involved in making the decisions, it could slow us down.’

A bend in the river I 439

*

In the autumn of 2007 Adele Lewis returned home after an operation
and during her recuperation she noticed that Geoffrey was behaving
oddly. ‘We went to the doctor and it turned out to be a brain tumour.
As soon as I heard that word, I just knew. That was it.’
It was the same affliction that her mother had suffered, so
many years earlier, with the felicitous side effect that Adele left school
early and ended up walking into Lewis Separates. But Geoffrey was
not to be as lucky as Mrs Black, and his tumour was discovered to be
malignant.
A course of steroid treatment allowed Geoffrey periods of lu-
cidity and the brothers drew even closer. ‘Bernard and David were
unbelievable. They were here visiting all the time and they talked
about the old times. They shared great moments.’ In February 2008,
within a few months of his diagnosis, Geoffrey passed away.
Godfrey had retired to Fort Lauderdale in Florida with his
wife Pru and their daughter Claire, to be closer to two of his older
children who were bringing up their families in the United States.
Bernard and Vanessa would stay with them at least once a year. The
family’s American property business drew David and his sons Julian
and Simon to Florida even more frequently, now that Simon was run-
ning the sector with Julian, so the family remained close.
In 2010, during one of his trips to the United States, while
taking a pilot’s refresher course in Nevada at the age of eighty-six,
David discovered that he had an incurable malignant melanoma,
which is an exceptionally aggressive type of skin cancer. In response,
his only complaint was that he could no longer fly the plane himself.
To Bernard, that remark was reminiscent of the attitude of wartime
aircrew, its typical casualness playing things down. ‘David knew what
was coming and reverted to type, his courage hidden behind the flip-
pancy. They say that style is grace under pressure – well David had it.’

440 I A bend in the river

David died at home in August 2011, after an unsuccessful op-
eration for a brain tumour. Bernard was slightly surprised that his
brother fought the cancer to the end instead of arranging an easier
exit, his determination steadfast to the last.
A few months later Godfrey, never in the best of health, suc-
cumbed to the respiratory problems that had long plagued him and
died of emphysema. Bernard was the last surviving brother.

At both David’s and Godfrey’s funerals I was asked to speak,
which caused me to reflect. In a way it was the end of an era.
We had lived good, productive lives, paid our way and helped
others. All the children were grown up and okay and in
charge of their own lives and were good, honourable people.
The business was in safe hands, the baton had been passed.
A lot had been achieved. We had lived a good many years
and had nothing to complain about in that respect. I was sad
that they were gone, but in a way things had worked out okay.
I didn’t say all that, of course.

35

The onward horizon

Arriving a few minutes early one day to interview Bernard, I walked
in on a meeting with his son Sam. He was advising Sam on a new
project, and his face, body and voice were more animated than I had
ever seen, his eyes agleam like a hunter scenting quarry, as he outlined
possibilities, rivals, and where Sam could seek out the very best talent.
Nobody would imagine that he was in his nineties, almost six decades
older than his equally enthused son.
‘I’m still as hungry as ever,’ he told me afterwards. No success
would ever be great enough to stay the gnawing feeling of unease, al-
ways present, that there were things that the business could be doing
better. This restless insecurity, a function of his personality and his
history, was also essential to his trade.
‘Our shopfitting keeps moving on. Each successive one im-
proves on the last. There are always new ideas, new décor, new ways
of presenting merchandise. Every few years we sense a sea change
and come up with something different, although it is still to appeal to
the same customer. We have a wide customer base, but don’t set out
to appeal to absolutely everybody. We don’t want to lose our identity.’
He saw this approach as part of the company’s culture. ‘It probably
emerges from the way we develop merchandise – always looking for
something new, asking ourselves, “Is this for us, is this River Island?”’
He found it tricky to summarise the quality that made a gar-
ment ideal for River Island. ‘We have a particular angle, a take on the
fashion. We try to create something with just a little bit more style, a
little bit of personality and every company has their own handwriting.’

442 I The onward horizon

But he was clear that the best person at conserving the spirit of River
Island was Vanessa, now the company’s creative director.

Her talents with fashion and fashion people are unique, she
is able to spot a winner in both fashion and people. She will
spot that as the fashion changes sometimes a new approach is
needed, so that we can crystallise our take on it and offer our
customers something a bit different. She uses her experience
to mentor people and her intuition to help us stay interesting,
but today she stands back a bit. If you are too much in the
front line, it can be difficult to see the position clearly, and
also you have to create a space so that other people can grow
into positions of responsibility.
Farida Kaikobad is now our brand director and
works closely with Vanessa. She understands our take on
fashion and is marvellous at developing people to their full
potential.

In his tenth decade, his input had changed too. ‘When I was
running the company I’d spend all day with the teams and at six
o’clock, when people went home, I could do a couple of hours’ think-
ing, planning and office work.’
By 2019 he was still actively involved in the business but put
in fewer hours at the office, maintaining an unwavering routine of
exercise and swimming each morning, before reading the newspapers
over breakfast, followed by a quick cup of tea in the Starbucks at a
nearby service station on the way to work. ‘I don’t like to sit and wait
for a waiter, I haven’t the patience. I read more papers and I like sitting
there and watching everybody, the people around, seeing what they
are wearing, then I buy my sandwich for lunch and head to the office.’
He loved sharing his life with Vanessa. ‘We talk about the
business every night because it’s what we both do, we’re in it together,
it’s great. Vanessa’s function at the creative end with both people and

The onward horizon I 443

merchandise is enormously interesting and vital and I like to keep in
touch with that side of it. The situation is so fluid, always changing.’
His interest in literature had revived too. ‘The Kindle has
stimulated me to start reading again. If you don’t read fiction I think
all you have is your own experience of life. Read fiction and you have
windows into other people’s lives. It widens your horizons.’
Holidays now focused more on comfort and convenience than
new experiences but he was very happy to take them because they
were able to spend more time together. Business opportunities could
crop up in unexpected places. They were in Barbados one Christmas
with Caroline and Lucian when one of Lucian’s artists, the singer
Rihanna, came to their hotel for drinks.
‘She brought her mother who has a dress shop there, and her
mother sat next to Vanessa. They had a lot in common because they
were both in fashion. When Vanessa got back to London she sent the
mother some of the River Island clothes they had been talking about,
they became quite friendly and exchanged texts. A year or so later,
when Rihanna had the idea of doing a clothing range, she contacted
Vanessa.’
They were to collaborate on three hugely successful collec-
tions for River Island, which Vanessa handled personally with one
of her designers – a partnership that saw the international superstar
visiting Hanger Lane for creative meetings at Chelsea House, seldom
starting before eight o’clock at night.

But she was great to work with, very creative. They got on
very well on a personal level and Vanessa liked her take on
fashion and they remained in friendly contact for some time
afterwards. I met her when she came to our head office to
work on her ranges, she seemed to be a very nice girl, and I
didn’t really appreciate how famous she was until I saw how
our head office staff reacted.

444 I The onward horizon

Bernard was just as interested in talking to Rihanna’s manager
about the business side of superstardom. ‘He explained to me how
he liked to run what he called a 360-degree operation – that is, con-
trolling for her everything she does.’ It was an approach to which he
could relate.
At ninety-three Bernard was still responsible for taking on
and fitting out new premises in the UK and Ireland. David Dalziel, of
Dalziel & Pow’s consultancy, told the Drapers Record why his views
were worth heeding. ‘Bernard is the most astute client we have ever
worked for, always keen to hear your opinions and share the design
process with a hugely influential input. He is modest and quiet, but I
think he is a frustrated architect.’
At least one day a week Bernard would get out and about,
visiting shops and prospective sites, albeit less intensively than in
the past. ‘Apart from our own shops, I walk the shopping centre and
check out the competition. Most places are pretty familiar, some of
the bigger towns I must have visited fifty times, but it is always worth
going again because they do evolve and change and I like to visit our
important shops regularly. I can’t do three or four shopping centres in
a day any more, I don’t have the stamina,’ he added, as if guilty that he
were slacking off. But Colin, his regular driver, commented, ‘He will
drive for several hours to spend one hour in a place.’

He always went to River Island branches alone, without fan-
fare or retinue. ‘I don’t necessarily declare myself. If the manager is
about I’ll introduce myself and they make me welcome. But occa-
sionally I don’t bother – I don’t want to interrupt what they’re doing.
Sometimes I’m only in the shop for ten minutes. I must look a bit odd,
a person my age, when I’m walking around. They must think, “Who
the hell is he?” But my guess is they twig. If I go to a region, the chanc-
es are I won’t go all the way there for one shop. I’ll do two or three. Go

The onward horizon I 445

to the second shop and you can see sometimes they’re waiting for me
to walk in.’
A grand new opening still gave him a huge kick, but was al-
ways viewed with an appraising eye.

For instance, recently we opened a super-duper large shop
in Birmingham. We got Dalziel & Pow to help us again with
the design and after the opening we got everyone together
up there. I joined them and said it was great, they had done
a wonderful job and broken new ground and it was our best
yet.
We had a meeting later to review it, and after a while
I thought, this is going nowhere. Everybody liked everything.
We know it’s a great shop, but what I’m looking for
is what to improve, and we are all patting each other on the
back. That won’t do: we have to be self-critical in a construc-
tive way. It is unlikely that we get everything right at the plan-
ning stage. When the shop opens it is time to learn lessons
for the next store. So I told them that I thought we could
improve the footwear and handbags, it was stylish but a bit
too spaced out, a bit too upmarket. This is River Island in
Birmingham, this is not Sloane Street. I thought we needed a
bit more product in, if you like, to be a bit more commercial.
Now what I could get back from them is ‘No, this is
great as it is, leave it alone.’ Then I’m satisfied. But my job is to
encourage and question, set high standards and move things
along – and it’s great to see how the team always responds
with that bit extra. You can make constructive criticism of
the work by suggesting improvements, but never criticise
people.

Colleagues testified to his commitment. ‘Bernard was al-
ways in the shops. He interviewed me for my job and asked me if I’d
worked in retail in my home town of Cambridge,’ said design consul-
tant Joe Baker, one-time buying director for Concept Man and River
Island. ‘I said I’d worked at Michael Barrie. “Oh yes,” he said, “they’re
in the same street as us.” And then named some of the shops that were

446 I The onward horizon

between Michael Barrie and his shop. Now that was impressive.’
Peter Courtney, son of the property manager Terence, who
first rented Bernard the bombsite at the Nag’s Head, would himself
become a long-time property adviser to the business. ‘What strikes
me about Bernard is his incredible attention to detail and fantastic
memory. The family only ever visited new sites on a Saturday so they
could see what the busiest day of the week would be like for them. The
usual Lewis style for lunch was sandwiches eaten in the back of a taxi.’
An ostentatious lifestyle remained anathema. ‘He’s not a bit flash,’
agreed Vanessa. ‘It took a long time before we stopped flying econo-
my. Right from when I’ve started with him, he’s always been respon-
sible with money.’
Anybody reared in the 1930s or 1940s will incline to frugality,
but it struck me that perhaps Bernard was a little afraid to enjoy his
prosperity too much in case this tempted the fates to rob him of it. ‘I
would be uncomfortable with an obvious display of wealth. I think
we’re all like that. It’s taken me a while . . .’ he said, tailing off. The im-
plication was that it had taken him a very long time to feel okay about
spending on himself. ‘I suppose people have an unformulated image
of themselves, which comes out in the way they live. Perhaps I like
to be a bit understated. Having said that, I live in a very comfortable
way. I’ve a car and a driver, and I’ve anything I want. I stay in nice
hotels, not for glitz or anything, but because they are comfortable.’
His chief indulgence was his beautiful house, which although large,
could hardly be described as palatial. There were no strings of second
homes or palm-fringed islands in tax havens.
Fundamentally, he was not particularly interested in being
rich; creating a successful and profitable business had been his goal.
But his chief satisfaction remained that he could transmit a founda-
tion of financial security to his family, giving them a decent start in
life and the chance to make their own choices – for him, the great-

The onward horizon I 447

est luxury of all. ‘You can spend all your waking hours on making
enough money just to get by, living from hand to mouth and you can’t
do anything with your life. That is not the freedom I wanted for them.’
Expressing these thoughts brought him to the brink of tears. ‘I don’t
know why I get emotional about it,’ he said. ‘It is the same when I talk
about opening our first clothing shop. I think I get overwhelmed by
realising that we’ve done it, we’ve got there, everyone is looked af-
ter and can get on with their lives, free from worry gnawing away at
them.’
The force of these buried feelings had given him the strength
to work so hard, so relentlessly, for so many decades.

It’s not just about making money. It’s mainly about build-
ing something worthwhile. It’s also about the self-respect of
paying your way in life and not being dependent on anyone,
being self-sufficient and being able to look after your family
and, if you can, putting in a bit, making a contribution to the
common good and having a sense of social responsibility.
Life is not about having, it’s about doing: it’s doing
and personal fulfilment. Making the most of your opportuni-
ties, and also creating them. You can imagine the charge I got
out of leading the team, building the business – a business
that could exist and prosper independently of me. I get a lot
of satisfaction in watching what the children are doing and
the careers they have made, making the most of their oppor-
tunities.

All Bernard’s children and their families gathered at Glenea-
gles Hotel in Scotland to celebrate Clive’s fiftieth birthday. And on this
occasion, in the bosom of the people who meant everything to him,
Bernard took the opportunity to say how proud he was of each of his
children, whom he regarded as his greatest achievement of all.
The family he had come from was seldom out of his mind.

448 I The onward horizon

Caroline and Lucian remembered sitting with Bernard on the beach
in Barbados when he was in his late eighties, drinking a cup of tea as
the huge orange sun sank beneath the sea, and when he said, ‘This
view would have been unimaginable for my parents,’ they understood
what was in his mind. If he could not share his successes with Lew
and Clara, he could at least think of them, as he had at every peak
moment, in a life dedicated to protecting his family.

*

In 2019 the Lewis Trust Group (LTG) was in sound financial health,
with about 300 River Island stores worldwide, with annual sales of
over £1 billion, and 10,000 employees across multiple business inter-
ests. Remarkably, more than 200 of these employees had worked for
the Lewises for twenty-five or more years.
River Island had also achieved the status of anchor tenants.

An anchor tenant is one that is important to the developer
or shopping centre management, they need to be good for
the rent, and can be relied on to draw customers and attract
trade to the centre. What happens now, when the develop-
ers are planning the shopping centre, they go around anchor
tenants. And if they can get a few first-class people to commit
to the development at a certain price, they can go back to
their financial backers and say, ‘Look, we’ve got them.’ And
then that takes the plan to the next stage. The anchor tenant’s
name on the plans also helps to pull other shopkeepers in,
so they usually get a more attractive deal from the developer.
And to think, back when we started, David had to
grow a moustache to make himself look a bit older!

All of the family’s businesses remained privately owned, an-
swerable only to their board of directors. Bernard tended to take a
conservative line about their future direction. ‘When I started I had to

The onward horizon I 449

take risks. After that I was a pragmatist, as not all ideas can be made
to work. My view is: be a realist, keep your feet on the ground, and
don’t bet the farm. I didn’t want us to start all over again.’ Yet although
he could not fully account for the strength of appetite that drove the
company on, he conceded that it remained unquenchable. ‘We meet
and talk about further growth. It’s like the horizon: you don’t reach it.
But if you start to think, “We’re there”, then you can begin to slip. We
always try to keep the group moving, trying to find new projects or to
find a better way of doing something.’
He missed David, on many levels.

He was a great family man and one of the finest business-
men of his generation, with a remarkable and highly creative
mind, great resourcefulness and unmatched application.
Many people trusted his integrity and benefited from his
wisdom and humanity. He made a significant contribution to
the Jewish community and to Israel.
We were partners all our adult lives and had no ma-
jor disagreements. It is apparent to me in retrospect that
apart from the personal element, in a business sense we re-
spected each other. If he wanted to do something I did not
object and if I wanted to do something he did not object.
We put the relationship first, and probably recognised that
part of what we were about was personal fulfilment. Our ear-
ly success and long history together gave us confidence in
each other’s judgement. The company as it is would not exist
without him.

Keen though his interest in LTG remained, Bernard was clear
that the second generation were in charge, with Clive assuming over-
all governance and leadership. ‘If you are going to make a good job of
being chairman, you’ve got to have top all-round business and peo-
ple skills and have the ability and judgement to develop the strate-

450 I The onward horizon

gic plan that’s right for us and the resourcefulness to see it through.
Clive clearly has: he is thoughtful and creative, gets things done, and
is doing an absolutely magnificent job. Also, we all trust him, that’s
essential. Since Clive took over, he has reshaped the group and had
the vision to start new sectors, and change and improve existing ones,
keeping to our policy of moving things on continuously and never
sitting back and being complacent.’
The process of handing over the reins began in the 2000s.
‘It was clear,’ said Bernard, ‘that there should be a gradual transi-
tion of responsibilities from David and me, which took a few years
to accomplish.’
He credited his and David’s sons and their top teams with the
flourishing of LTG, portraying himself as a devoted amateur by com-
parison with their honed, corporate professionals. ‘We’re now a very
sophisticated group, structurally and financially. David started to en-
gineer that, but it has to be said that our current teams, led by Clive,
have transformed the business. The whole group as it is today to a
large extent has been developed by them. They have really moved it
on in a considered and responsible way.’
Clive saw his role as ‘trying to get the family and business into
a shape that works, that is less volatile, that’s the thing; shape, structure
and logic’. Describing how the business had changed, he explained
that it had become more complex. ‘The scale has increased. As a re-
sult, it is a more controlled, structured group with more focused and
defined plans and people.’ Yet there was much that remained familiar.
‘At our board meetings, we have organised informality.’
‘We listen to each other and exchange views,’ said his father.
‘Clive and Ben [David’s son] have a more conventional approach than
David and I; however, we often don’t need to have a formal vote. We
run on consensus, we talk things through and usually agree.’

The onward horizon I 451

This family culture was remarked upon by a consultancy firm,
Egon Zehnder, which was brought in to assess and develop the man-
agement team. Bernard, then in his late eighties, put himself forward
for scrutiny. ‘If they were going to evaluate our top people I wanted to
know what it was all about. Incidentally, writing this book was their
idea.’ The consultants observed his disinterest in casual conversation.
‘They said to me, “You need to discuss something.” Which is quite
true. And I think probably my father was similar. Whereas David
could and probably Geoffrey and certainly Godfrey. They also said
that as a family we’re a bit unusual,’ he remembered, ‘in that we don’t
communicate much on a personal level. Although we work very, very
closely, with a great sense of family togetherness, loyalty to each other
and responsibility, we mainly do business.’ This did not sadden him.
‘It works very well for us.’ There are certainly worse topics of conver-
sation, and far worse lives to lead.
The single greatest challenge posed by running such a large
operation was to keep light on their feet – or as Clive said, to avoid
becoming too bureaucratic and to maintain an organisation ‘that has
a bit of bite to it’.
‘Today you can’t motivate and enthuse everyone or stay in
touch with everybody on a personal level as effectively as we could
when we were smaller and more compact,’ said Bernard. ‘So how to
keep the pace, the nimbleness, when you’re working through many,
many people? It’s got to be a culture they absorb from you.’
Clive was confident that his father’s and uncle’s spirit were
embedded in the company’s DNA. ‘The position of my father, and
formerly David, was so central, their thinking and their presence. So
their vision – that there is always something we can do better – has
soaked into the bones of the business.’
Employees’ testimony bore this out. ‘The company has a rep-

452 I The onward horizon

utation for being extremely tough to work for, but the only thing they
are tough on is lack of commitment,’ said Joe Baker. ‘You can’t coast
at River Island, but you are allowed to make mistakes. They really
understand design and product development; in fact, they probably
know product better than any other company I’ve ever worked for.
Working for the Lewises gives you an ear and eye for detail. People
stay there a long time.’
Ben Lewis, David’s youngest son, entered the company after
graduating from Cambridge University around the time that River
Island started, and spent a year mastering the basics, working in the
shops, before moving to head office to work on merchandise. ‘He ran
a lot of different products, took over our overseas sourcing, then ran
the shops, warehouse and transport. He probably knows more about
River Island than anybody.’ After Richard Bradbury retired as River
Island’s CEO, Bernard asked Ben if he would like the job.

I remember his reply: ‘I’m up for it.’ I’m very glad he took it
on. His wide-ranging knowledge of all aspects of the busi-
ness, high level of ability and sense of family loyalty, make
him the ideal person to carry us through what must be some
of the biggest changes that the retail industry has ever expe-
rienced. He is keeping the business up to date with the new
ideas and practices that we need to keep ahead, has success-
fully launched new product departments and is mastermind-
ing our online operation.
The development of online is completely changing
the whole of the retail industry, and nowadays the CEO of a
large retail company carries more responsibility, with more
opportunities and more challenges than ever before.

Family members specialised in different facets of the business,
coming together for all-group decisions. Leonard continued his role
in special projects, while David’s eldest son, Julian, built up the US

The onward horizon I 453

property and the hotel business, took responsibility for their chain,
Isrotel, and actively managed a financial sector – ‘a first-class financial
strategist’, said Bernard. After a long spell running hotels with Julian,
his younger brother Simon had to an extent withdrawn from day-to-
day management.

In his early thirties Sam left River Island, where he had been
running several product departments. In search of new experiences,
he joined the four-person private equity team, investigating and as-
sessing suitable propositions for investment. ‘He brings the perspec-
tive of an operational business background to that of the financial
analysts, has been involved in some acquisitions, is doing good work
and enjoying it.’ Leonard’s eldest son Joe also entered the business,
running part of the property division, including the US sector. Both
he and Sam attended LTG board meetings.
The Lewises’ non-commercial ventures were informed by the
same, business-like mindset. In 2002 Clive split the family’s charitable
trust into two entities, one for his father’s family and one for David’s.
The Bernard Lewis Family Charitable Trust focused largely on health,
children, social cohesion, the Jewish community and international
development in India and Africa, while David’s trust was also wide
ranging and concentrated more on projects in Israel.

Children became a more central preoccupation for Bernard’s
trust after Leonard’s third son, Jamie, was diagnosed with a rare con-
dition known as Noonan syndrome. Leonard became involved in sup-
porting the Noonan Society, founded by Sheila Brown; then she and
Leonard launched the Birth Defects Foundation, which she ran with
Leonard, Clive and Bernard as trustees (the Noonan Society subse-
quently became a division of the Foundation). At this point Brown
inspired another of Leonard’s eureka moments and he realised that
they could raise significant funds by opening a discount warehouse
selling surplus River Island merchandise directly to the public. They

454 I The onward horizon

renamed the Foundation ‘New Life’ – a nod to giving the merchandise
a second life, as well as a statement about what the charity sought to
achieve.
It was a brilliant, innovative idea, making River Island one of
the first in the retail industry to set up a channel for sustainability.
And that was just the beginning. By 2017 many of Britain’s large high-
street stores were donating goods, yielding profits that enabled New
Life to invest between £3 and £4 million a year in medical research
and care for children. Among the many achievements funded by New
Life, particularly satisfying was the day when researchers identified
the Noonan syndrome gene.
The Trust’s work made a great impression on the rest of the
family. ‘Sometimes when I was younger Dad would bring back a fold-
er about New Life,’ said Jake, ‘and there would be letters from some of
the families that had benefited. I remember thinking how incredible
that was. Just to be able to touch people’s lives like that.’
Typically, when a man or woman of means becomes involved
in charitable work, they host galas and tap their wealthy friends and
acquaintances for contributions. Not so Bernard. ‘I’ve tried to raise
money, but I don’t like doing it. I know Lord Levy, the former Labour
Party fundraiser. I said to him once, “How do you raise the mon-
ey?” He said, “You look them in the eye and you tell them how much
you want.”’ For Bernard, a man capable of flogging fruit and veg door
to door and contriving a business that employed thousands, to ask
another person for money was utterly unconscionable. But New Life
managed well enough without this revenue stream, particularly after
they started a fundraising division. In recognition of his trust’s con-
tribution, the Queen awarded Bernard an OBE in the 2009 New Year’s
Honours List for his services to charity.

The onward horizon I 455

They all had a terrible blow in 2011, when Jamie died in his
sleep of an epileptic fit. ‘The enormity of the tragedy must have been
overwhelming for Leonard,’ said Bernard. ‘Few people can have been
so tested. He has dealt with all this with unique courage and fortitude.
Jamie himself had exceptional courage and determination. He would
be proud of his father.’
Jamie’s legacy continued to be honoured through the family
charitable trust. Both his brothers Ollie and Joe attended the charity
board meetings, as well as Jake and Sam, and Clive and his children,
Clara, Max and Lily. ‘We talk through all the charities that we work
with and what we might do next year and we look for projects that
mean something to us,’ said Bernard. Good works will continue un-
der the Lewises’ stewardship for generations.

*

Mindful of the burdens as well as the opportunities that their resourc-
es presented for younger family members, the Lewises were careful to
ward off some of the negative side effects of wealth and to keep their
children motivated. The engrained values of work and accomplish-
ment embodied by their parents and grandparents helped this task
enormously. ‘For Dad, life is all about being interested and just do-
ing something purposeful,’ said Jake. Clive explained how this family
ethos remained so strong, infusing the younger generations with a
grounded outlook on life.

You’ve got to go back to David and my father and those early
years and where they came from and the precariousness of
the fashion business. It was years and years before they took
any money out of the business, more than twenty years. Our
lifestyle was comfortable but we were not living it large.

456 I The onward horizon

What Bernard never did, not to Clive or any other of his chil-
dren and grandchildren, was dish out prescriptions about how they
should live. He wanted them to enjoy the freedom to lead their own
lives and find their own direction. Advice would be given, freely and
with enthusiasm, but only if they sought it. First and last, he was their
devoted father and grandfather.
All members of the third generation met up regularly to re-
ceive presentations outlining what the business did and could offer
them, but entering the family company was neither expected nor in-
evitable. Caroline attended one meeting when she happened to be in
London.

My father was so helpful because he said to all of our children
that to be part of a family and go into the business you have
to be very good – as good, if not better, than the people that
have had to work very hard to get that job. So you have to be
respectful of it and understand what it’s all about, the bases
and bones of the business. There’s no entitlement.

The business was no longer run only by the family and this
was an outcome that Bernard could countenance with equanimity.
‘One of the things that I am proud of is that we have been able to build
up a first-class team of non-family directors, managers and creative
people to lead and run the various divisions and generally advise us,’
Bernard said. ‘We have always known that a business is its people
and we value them enormously. Many have made a good career with
us and can be proud of what they do and I hope they get a sense of
achievement and fulfilment. They earn my respect and I always enjoy
working alongside them.’

An exacting employer, for many he had also been enjoyable
to work with. Vanessa, his longest-serving colleague, said, ‘Bernard
has a very calm way of getting things done. In one way or another
he gets them done.’ His relentless pursuit of innovation and atten-

The onward horizon I 457

tion to detail were matched by a gift for recognising meaningful data
then converting it into useful knowledge, always seeking to shorten
the distance between the company’s customers and decision makers.
Above all Vanessa admired his loyalty, holding steadfast to the people
and the projects he believed in. Having committed to a plan, he would
be unstinting in his efforts to achieve it.
Asked what was the single most important thing that he would
want his grandchildren to know about Bernard, Clive highlighted his
father’s determination and perseverance. ‘Application is right at the
top.’ Bernard would never retire, he said, and thank goodness. ‘To
have that resource available to the company is invaluable.’
When Caroline’s children heard that their mother was shar-
ing her memories of their grandfather, they were very keen that she
should get one thing across. ‘Well, did you say we call him Bernard
the Bear?’ They called him the Bear, explained Caroline, because they
think he is cool. ‘Because,’ added Lucian, ‘he’s powerful.’ As a leader in
the music business, a highly competitive industry, and working close-
ly with a host of extraordinarily successful people, Lucian offered fur-
ther insight into what made Bernard different.

He is incredibly creative, but you can’t build up a creative
retail business without identifying the people. Forget the
shops, just think about recruitment. Just think about having
an intuitive feel for the money-making people within a busi-
ness. And you can’t build a business, any business, and sus-
tain it over decades without having an incredible feel for the
merchandise and the market. Having a feel for a marketplace
is a creative skill. That’s the creative part of his brain, but the
other side is completely and utterly meticulous, sequential,
compartmentalised. He’ll build a picture, a bit like an engi-
neer or a scientist. I notice in my work, when people have got
that, that’s the reason they’re around for decades – people like
Mick Jagger. Anyone can have a hit, anyone can have a five-
year cycle. You have to be so good to sustain it over decades.

458 I The onward horizon


On paper, there was plenty of scope for Bernard to feel a little isolated.
Jake observed that although he still had a select group of good friends,
those from his generation were ‘perhaps not quite as sharp as they
used to be, which I think must be hard for him in a way, because he’s
still more sharp and focused than everyone’. But Bernard had far too
much going on to feel lonely, still heading into work, five days a week,
in the spacious office in Chelsea House that he had designed forty
years earlier.
Pressed to identify his current position within the business, he
pointed to the company organogram, which placed him at the top of
the corporate tree beneath the job title, endowed by Clive, of ‘Found-
er and Life President’. But he demurred at the suggestion that he still
ruled the roost, styling himself instead as something akin to a village
elder. ‘Ben and Clive run the company. I’ll now and again venture my
view. I’m here for advice if asked, and to be consulted if needed.’
In search of a more accurate label, he recalled attending his
niece Claire’s wedding in Miami. ‘The bridegroom’s father called me
a patriarch.’ The word made him laugh, but he had to concede that he
probably was. His industry certainly agreed. In 2005 he was one of the
first winners of the prestigious Drapers Lifetime Achievement Award.
As the Drapers Record put it, ‘A conversation with Bernard Lewis is an
oral history lesson on the development of the fashion retailing sector
in the UK. He’s seen it all, done it all, and more often than not, he was
the first to do it.’
Bernard may not have controlled the times and tides of fash-
ion, but he became the man that he once read about in a poem, as a
sixteen-year-old apprentice draughtsman, when he realised that he
was the master of his fate and that his future lay in his own hands.

Afterword

I remember my father taking us to the cinema on only two occa-
sions. The first was in Harrow, to see the film Roman Scandals. I think
that was partly because it starred Eddie Cantor, at the time a world-
famous film star and comedian who came from a family of Jewish im-
migrants like us. Then in Harringay we saw The House of Rothschild
starring George Arliss. I remember queuing up with my father, my
mother and David outside the Green Lanes cinema; it must have been
a better time for the business because he could afford the tickets.
At that time the Rothschilds were the most famous banking
family in the world, and Jewish, and the name was synonymous with
enormous wealth. Their history is well known. The father started up
in an Austrian ghetto, and the five sons went off to establish branches
of the bank in five different European capitals. One story is that the
London branch lent the British government the money to buy a ma-
jority interest in the Suez Canal, thus enabling Britain to control the
shipping route from the east, and asking only the government’s word
as security.
In later years I thought that perhaps there was a subconscious
message to us from my father when he chose to show us those films:
‘It can be done.’
This was in my mind some eight decades after that trip to the
pictures, as I was sitting in a room at our head office with a Rothschild
banker whom Clive had brought in to advise us on a deal. It could be
done, and David and I managed to achieve what we set out to do.
The dreams of my grandparents when they set out from
Romania and the Ukraine all those years ago have been realised.

460 I Afterword

Our families are free, safe and can make the most of their
future, in business or wherever they choose, for generations to come.
Bernard Lewis

Acknowledgements

This book has been years in the making, ever since Leonard Lew-
is planted the seed. Talking to Bernard, sharing his discoveries and
reflections, proved a moving adventure with a magnificent mind.
Not only is he fascinating, wise and respectful, but also deeply
sympathetic and inspiring. I feel lucky to have gained his confidence
to undertake such a personal project. When facing a challenge, I now
ask myself, ‘What would Bernard do?’

I benefited greatly from the insights of others. In particular
I would like to thank Vanessa Lewis; Leonard Lewis; Clive Lewis;
Caroline Grainge; Lucian Grainge; Sam Lewis; Jake Lewis;
Adele Lewis; Stuart Peters; Ben Lewis; Mark Lewis; Ingrid Lewis
and Laura Lewis. Not every story they shared could make it into the
finished work, but everything I learned from them contributed to
the narrative’s final form, enriching my understanding of my subject.
Inevitably some aspects of the business have moved on since we began
our many hours of interviews, which took place from 2014 to 2018.

I’m also extremely grateful to the divine Wendy Ben-
nett, to Jacqueline Heavey, Sandra Ridgwell, Jane Rudolph and
Lesley Kemp for their assistance, to Rachel Malig for her excellent and
exacting proofreading, and to Gary Blissett and Robbie Patterson for
producing such a handsome volume. Last thanks to Sebastian, Saskia
and Raffy, my favourite Shakespeares.

Illustration Acknowledgements

All images in this book are courtesy of Bernard Lewis’s private
collection; the estate of David Lewis; Adele Lewis; Leonard and
Ingrid Lewis; Clive and Sarah Lewis; Lucian and Caroline Grainge;
and River Island, with the exception of the following:

Jacket
Cover design: Robbie Patterson/Blissetts. Images © River Island.

Insert
Death in the gas chamber © Jewish Chronicle.
Ruth and David marry © estate of Bertram Park.
Clara at Ruth and David’s wedding © estate of Bertram Park.
The vicar drops in © Liverpool Echo.
Chelsea Girl, Tooting © Dan McFall.
Vanessa’s stitch in time © Daily Telegraph.
The empire builder © Drapers.
Lorna enchanted by Raman © David Pullum photography.
Red Sea revelation © Jewish Chronicle.
Bernard and the grid © Drapers.
Bernard and Ben Lewis talk shop © Drapers.
An industry leader speaks up © Retail Week.