Mr DIY: people count

By Karen Scherer

After selling off the family firm, David Levene baulked at the idea of putting his feet up in retirement At his age, David Levene should be taking it easy after a life spent working far too hard.

The man whose name is destined to go down in the history books as one of New Zealand's most respected retailers is now nearly 70, but you wouldn't know it.

It is more than four years ago now that he sold the family firm, Levene & Co, to the Skellerup Group for the princely sum of $74 million. But there was never any suggestion, even then, that he would slink off into the sunset. Those who know him are not surprised that he is still deeply involved in at least three major projects.

"I've seen a number of people at the golf club who, once they retire, talk about hose fittings for half an hour," he says. Hose fittings are clearly not his idea of stimulating conversation.

Levene certainly doesn't need to work. But frankly, he says, he couldn't imagine putting his feet up. Although he manages to find time for his family ("the best part of my life now is my grandchildren"), he doesn't see the need to get more of a life.

"I'll die with my boots on," he says.

When he sold Levene's, which he helped transform from a single paint store to a nationwide decorating chain, he retained ownership of many of the buildings.

"When I sold the business I decided I didn't know very much about the sharemarket, but I knew something about property," he says.

The family investment company, which owns the properties, is named Lewis Holdings after his father. As it happened, Levene's collapse put a dent in the company's cashflow for most of last year, as it lost many of its tenants. But that situation is being rapidly rectified.

He is particularly proud of the former Levene Extreme site in Auckland's swanky Newmarket, now transformed into a mall called Extreme on Broadway. The cafe is still going strong, as are Magazzino and Ian Hunt Floorings, and Farmers has taken over as the new anchor tenant.

The store is a new concept for Farmers, called Farmershome. Its product range is "not unlike Levene's - minus the paint and wallpaper."

But Farmers did not want the whole store space and Levene is still looking for more tenants.

"It's important to get the correct mix," he says.

"We're not rushing it."

He is also chairman of Quadrant Properties, a property management company he set up with former Mainzeal manager Barry Wither.

It was Quadrant that was responsible for overseeing the HomeZone centre, which opened in November in Albany. It is one of several "power centres" which have sprung up on the outskirts of Auckland in recent times.

The centre is aimed at both the DIY and trade home-decorating market, and includes outlets such as Hardwarehouse, Hills Floorings, LG Carder, Kitchen'Things, Direct Office Furniture and National Bank, with Jacobson's Creative Surfaces due to open soon.

As if that isn't enough, he is also involved in a packhouse and produce marketing business. The company, known as KPH, is the brainchild of Brett Wharfe, a former schoolmate of his son Mark.

Brett and Mark also own several hectares at Ramarama, in south Auckland. They eventually hope to produce tomatoes in such quantities that New Zealand will no longer need to import Australian tomatoes during the winter.

Although Levene owns half of KPH, his role is strictly as a mentor. Says Wharfe: "For the industry to see a guy of David's calibre sends some positive signs around our industry. It's a compliment to myself and our industry that David's prepared to put his money where his mouth is."

The company already employs 60 people, and hopes to eventually provide work for at least 40 more. Nevertheless, says Levene: "We've got a way to go before we get the 800 or 900 I used to have."

Much has already been said about the demise of Levene's - started by his father and uncle before he was born - and it is understandably still a painful subject for him.

He is reluctant to talk publicly about what went wrong, and won't confirm rumours that New York investment bank Goldman Sachs approached him about stepping back into the hot seat once it became apparent the chain was in serious trouble. Nor will he confirm that Warehouse managing director Stephen Tindall, with whom he is friendly, was also approached about becoming involved.

He will admit, however, that he is still haunted by the memory of the hundreds of people who lost their jobs when Levene's collapsed. He also winces at the thought of the many customers who were left holding worthless gift vouchers.

"That business with the gift vouchers - I just felt sick," he says.

Indeed, former colleagues recall a workaholic who often worried himself sick about tiny details.

To those who didn't share his passion for perfection, he could be a pain in the neck. But no one questions that his heart was always in the right place.

His recipe for success is simple: it's about listening to people. The bottom line, while obviously important, has never been his overriding concern.

"Some years we probably should have made more money, but I didn't care," he says. "It shouldn't be about the money."

It's a value he believes is often missing from business these days, with many companies preferring to buy in advice and dismissing the voice of experience as being out of touch.

If there is a lesson that can be learned from the Levene's story, it is that you risk everything if you stop listening to your staff and your customers, he believes.

"If I thought we needed a new truck, the first people I would talk to were the drivers, to find out what we really needed. By talking to your people and talking to your customers, you get to know and understand their requirements."

The property business, he muses, is a business with plenty of opportunities.

"Every now and then something happens, but if it doesn't happen, you know something else will come along."

He still keeps in touch with many of his former employees, whom he still refers to as "my people," and has helped some find new jobs. When KPH needed an engineer, it employed a man who had worked in his wallpaper factory.

But like his former staff and his loyal customers, he is unlikely to ever forgive Skellerup for what it did to Levene's.

At 69, he is still a relatively healthy man. But it is clear something has already died inside David Levene. Not a day goes by when he doesn't feel a sense of sorrow about the events of 1997.

"I will," he sighs, "take a deep sadness with me to the grave for what happened to my people."

Pictured: David Levene. HERALD PICTURE / MARTIN SYKES