Andrew Krukziener - A head for heights

By CARROLL du CHATEAU

Andrew Krukziener, builder of the 38-storey, super-sophisticated Somerset Grand Metropolis all-suite hotel, which people said he'd never get off the ground, opens the door to his 33rd-floor apartment.

It's like stepping into a slice of New York. There's an antique marble statue on the table, polished antique furniture, seriously good modern paintings, marvellous glass.

Through the window ahead, Albert Park with its paths, clipped grass and yellow poppies rolls out like a Victorian tapestry.

To the east, yachts flutter towards the heads of the Waitemata.

Look west and there's the Sky Tower, up close and interesting.

And this, you must understand, is only the temporary pad of 35-year-old Krukziener.

The dream home for this accomplished dancer of the rumba, tango and waltz, giver of chic New York-style parties and owner of a black, purring, walnut-trimmed Bentley Azure parked outside, will be the yet-to-be-decorated floors 37 and 38.

Outside, the Metropolis has transformed the Courthouse Lane-High St area of Auckland, which was laid waste by the tear-em-down-and-slap-em-up-at-a-storey-a-week building boom of the late 80s. High St retailers now include Vivace, the Studio and Ashley Ardrey.

The palms fringing the hotel's tower block add some badly needed grace to Freyberg Place, while opposite a new shopping development echoing the old Law Society building next door is taking its curvaceous shape.

Soaring above the small streets, the $200 million Metropolis with its Italian limestone and marble foyer, lightning-fast lifts, solid metal balustrades, custom-made ovens, fluffy down duvets and pillows, punches into the sky with "take that" substance.

Beauty, culture and style are fundamental to Krukziener, Auckland's self-appointed advocate for quality buildings.

As he says, sitting in the Metropolis Recess Bar in his superbly cut wide-weave navy jacket, quiet tie and punched-hole polished shoes, developers "have a social responsibility."

"Large buildings are not just for today and tomorrow, but for the next 100 years.

"Auckland's really let down by the quality of its buildings. Beautiful buildings are soothing and comforting to be around. For a city to be successful it must make an effort to be beautiful - not just physically as Auckland surely is - but in its built environment as well."

Over the past 15 years, most recently with Metropolis, but also notably with the refurbished Custom House (aka DFS Galleria), Saints restaurant on Tamaki Drive, No 1 Queen St (the old Air New Zealand building) and the Carlisle Apartment building in Emily Place, he's worked to make his ideas reality.

Sharebroker Michael Benjamin, of Merrill Lynch, says Krukziener is at last filling the gaping holes left after the Chase era.

"He's tidied up an area of Auckland that looked as though it was never going to happen. It's a quality building. For a young guy to do that on his own is a great effort."

Architect Malcolm Walker agrees. "He's had a go. Tried to create something of substance and it's carefully and thoroughly done."

Gordon Moller of Sky Tower fame finds the building "a bit out of date - not particularly well proportioned. But he brings a sense of quality."

What makes Krukziener brave enough to complete the first high-quality building in Auckland since Neville Price and Rolley Adams' graceful, curved - and initially leaky - West Plaza of 1972?

Jewish people call it chutzpah - a combination of brains, self-confidence, style, creativity and cheek. And Krukziener was born with buckets of it.

He also learned early on how to value a Queen St building on the back of an envelope. He rips a page off my pad and demonstrates.

Work out the size of the ground retail floor. Multiply that by its rental value. Now calculate the size of the office space above. Multiply that by its rental value. Add the two figures together, decide what sort of return you want on your money - say 14 per cent - and that determines how much you can afford to pay for it.

Says property developer Ollie Newland, "The guy's basically a genius. His grasp of detail and concepts is amazing. He can remember every phone number, mobiles, everything in his head. His lateral thinking ability is quite breathtaking - zap, zap, zap in his head and Andrew can give you 10 different ways to achieve a goal.

"And while that doesn't mean he doesn't make mistakes, he's got some genetic advantage over the rest of us. He's truly gifted, that's why I plucked him out at just 21 - this guy was streets ahead."

Lesley Max, of the Pacific Foundation for at-risk children and families, talks about "Andrew's generous disposition. He's lovely to the young and infirm. He treats people with real warmth and respect."

He is also a devoted son, sitting in synagogue with his arm round his father's shoulders, devoted to his brilliant mother.

"The thing that gives Andrew depth is that his family is so tiny," says Max. "There have been so many losses through the Holocaust and he's conscious of that. It contributes to his love for his parents because they've suffered."

Lately, however, the dream means 18-hour days and major stress. Krukziener's shiatsu masseur and healer, David Clark, who puts him back together three times a week, talks about how his favourite client sometimes calls at two in the morning, saying, "I'm shattered. I've worked 120 hours this week and had three hours sleep a night."

"And I get him off to that euphoric state ... make sure his abdominal organs and kidneys are functioning well."



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Krukziener's Metropolis apartment is on the 33rd floor but he will move to the 37th and 38th.

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QuoteBox1: I could've made an extra $10-$15 million on Metropolis if I'd been prepared to compromise on the building. When people bought off the plans they didn't know how good it was going to be. - Andrew Krukziener

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Head3: heights


Caption2: PERSONAL TOUCH: The Italian limestone and marble in the foyer of the Metropolis (above) were chosen by Krukziener. He also brought his distinctive influence to bear on the refurbishment of No 1 Queen St (left).


Caption3: NEW LOOK: Krukziener's revamp of the Customhouse has helped enliven a part of downtown Auckland.


Apart from the work, Krukziener is a clean liver. "I don't do drugs, hardly drink," he says. And yes, he is a little New Agey, warning me about the dangers of brain cancer from cellphones - "use an earpiece" - and following the Eastern regime of yoga, massage and exercise, though not fanatically.

He also reads (currently Catcher in the Rye, Solzhenitsyn) skis, travels and plays.

Says Clark, who also lives at Metropolis , "We go rollerblading, jetskiing ... But he doesn't do the wild woman thing, he's not a slut. He's very stylish. We had New Year's with him. He had a Rolls-Royce pick us up from the Metropolis, he invited our parents and son, who's 11. We all went to Quay West. His parents were there. There were two opera singers and Frank Sinatra-style dance music. It was all very, very stylish."

Not that Krukziener is a prude. Robbie Williams' big night in with Robyn Reynolds in her Metropolis apartment did not faze him. "Andrew's okay with things like that," says Clark. "Robyn's a client of mine. I introduced them. Anyway she's gone on contract to America with Playboy now. She got the big cheque."

There are two myths about Krukziener. One, that's he's going broke. Second, that if he does, old Jewish money will step in and save him.

His friends and colleagues say both are wrong.

Snorts Ollie Newland, "There's a huge amount of moral support, everybody knows everybody. The experiences we've been through in the recent past have knotted us together. Yes, moral support is always there, but fundraising ... "

He laughs. "We'll whip the hat round but ... "

Take a look around the Metropolis lobby and the support is there alright. Jaguars, Bentleys and Audis adorn the cobbled forecourt waiting for their owners to emerge from the marble lobby.

Among the tourists, people from Auckland's business and Jewish communities eat in fabulous Otto's restaurant, rent the splendid apartments, supporting their wunderkind as, say the rumours, Krukziener juggles the millions needed to keep his dream afloat.

The rumours of trouble sound plausible enough. Certainly, Krukziener failed to meet a $400,000 payment to BIL for his next project, the Union House building near Britomart Place, earlier this month.

He bought out of his fight with AMP over its proposed new waterfront tower (critics suggested he'd needed the settlement money to pay debt).

Detractors also suggest that the inclusion of $21 million worth of junk bonds in his 1988 Metropolis finance package showed problems.

And exactly what was Krukziener doing in England over the past month?

The doubters say that despite Metropolis' glamour opening in December last year, despite the high sales rates and Krukziener's personal worth of $25 million (NBR Rich List 2000), Krukziener cannot meet his payments. He needs $16 million. And fast.

So, are the rumours true?'

"No," says Krukziener, leaning forward over his glass of lime and mineral water. "These stories have been around since I started. And they're completely wrong.

"As far as the BIL payments go, we're in litigation over the sale. BIL cancelled the agreement when my original $400,000 deposit didn't come through while I was out of the country ... I have money to pay them, sitting in a solicitor's trust account."

Springing up intermittently with impeccable manners to introduce friends, he continues: "There are five penthouses [priced between $850,000 and $1.75 million] and 12 serviced apartments [from $500,000] to be sold. We had 375, we've got 18 left and the serviced apartments are leased to the hotel operator."

Deutsche Bank New Zealand, which put its considerable weight behind the Metropolis, providing all the subordinated or higher-risk debt financing for the project, is unequivocal.

Says CEO Scott Perkins: "The opportunity to finance Metropolis made good business sense. We believed in the project and in Andrew's vision and determination to make it happen. We structured our exposure innovatively from a risk perspective and have now been repaid in full."

What about the junk bonds? Aren't high-yielding, high-risk, high-interest bonds the last resort of the cash-strapped?

"No" says Krukziener. "Basically bond financing replaced some private lending from Asian parties. Our interest rates went from 25 to 18 per cent."

Princes Wharf developer David Henderson says Krukziener's bonds deal was very cleverly put together. "A lot of people didn't understand them ... Andrew takes immense risks. Imagine if an architect misses something worth $500 off a drawing and you multiply that by 300 apartments ... I wonder if some of his second and third-tier funders whose rates are quite high make more out of the transaction than he does ...

"He's got the ability and wherewithal to get himself out of any situation ... New Zealand needs more Andrews."

As for the No 1 Queen Street controversy, generated when Krukziener took the Auckland City Council to court for contravening its own planning regulations by granting AMP permission to build an oversize waterfront tower next to his recently refurbished building, Krukziener insists it was a fight over standards, not money.

His primary objection was that AMP is planning "an ugly mother of a building" not worthy of the waterfront. And because he owns just 15 per cent of the company, his co-owners (from Taiwan, Taipei, New Zealand and Asia) were entitled to settle while he was out of the country.

His objections to the tower were not simply to keep the neighbourhood glamorous, so improving No 1 Queen Street's prospects.

Now that Krukziener has stepped aside, another group of urban planners and architects is keeping up the pressure. They agree with Krukziener that the building is eight stories too high, will shade QE11 Square even further, and create further wind tunnel problems at ground level.

On the other hand, there are undoubtedly some interesting deals taking place as Krukziener and the estate agents fight to get Metropolis fully sold. Calls come late at night. Rumours suggest that Krukziener is doing "house for apartment" arrangements with people like fellow developer Peter Francis.

And, say financiers, it's the last few apartments that bring the profit.

Krukziener's present is obviously influenced by his past. His Dutch father Abraham (Bram) arrived in Auckland in 1951 with £70 after a war spent in an attic near Arnhem - "an almost identical story to Anne Frank."

Says his son, "That makes him the best father in the world. My father is the most caring, fantastic human being I've ever met ... Dad's always happy, always up. I've never known him to be angry with me."

His mother, Vera, who spent most of the Second World War hiding in a convent, is an "unusually fantastic person. A very strong character, a very fine person."

His parents met in Melbourne and came to Auckland in 1959. Andrew was born in 1965 and his sister, Lisa, who finished an arts/law/business combination in 1999, five years later.

By the time Andrew was school age his parents had amassed enough money through property and business to send him to Kings prep school, then Kings College, where he stayed until moving to Auckland Grammar for his sixth and seventh-form years.

Why did the family choose New Zealand? "Because it was as far away from Europe as possible and it was easy for Dutch people to get in. Also New Zealand didn't ask your religion on its immigration form. Australia and Canada did."

Like their son, both Bram and Vera are keen on quality European cars. His, a 1978 Bentley Continental, has an AK plate. Apparently, hers reads VK.

By 20 Andrew had bought his first property - a block of 10 Onehunga flats - with his friend Neville Lyne. As he says, his desire to make money was fuelled by his passion for cars - "many, many at a time."

Eighteen months later when the partners split they had stacked up an 180-strong portfolio of properties. Relatively unscathed by the crash of 1987, which hit commercial rather than domestic investors, Krukziener started buying old city warehouses and - anticipating the inner-city housing boom - initially renting them, then selling them off as apartments on strata titles.

By the late 1990s he had developed 90 properties including Argus House on High St, Carlisle in Emily Place and the Customhouse.

By now Krukziener was confident in his own design ideas. Together with Paul Katz from the New York practice of Kohn, Pedersen, Fox, "private guy" Otto Tashkovich, and Peddle Thorpe and Aitken, who did the drawings, the concept for Metropolis was designed and refined.

As always, Krukziener was involved in the detail.

There's the green glass salad bowl-style hand basins - "I saw them in a shop in Melbourne and had to have them"; the half-size oven and dishwasher units, specially designed by Fisher & Paykel; the marble personally chosen in Italy; art deco "square within a square" detail that carries through from taps to duvet covers, bedhead, balcony, even round the architraves; Villeroy and Bosch dinnerware; videos to soothe as lifts rocket at 4.5 metres a second; a 22-metre swimming pool designed to visually kiss the sky; a gym as good as any in the city.

If he has truly pulled this one off, Krukziener's drive won't stop at the Metropolis. His vision for Auckland - and New Zealand - is big, classy, cheeky.

His August speech to the New Zealand Israel Trade Association suggested a basic tax rate of 10 per cent and GST of 25 per cent, plus an immigration strategy that will make New Zealand a vibrant, varied, international cosmopolitan city."

Probably Krukziener's greatest problem is that he's running behind on his life plan. "I was to get rich in my 20s, retire by 30, wife by mid-30s, children by 40," he says, negotiating another corner in the black Bentley. "I'm running behind schedule."

Why the holdup? Probably it's that quality thing.

Says PR consultant Jenni Raynish, "He brings the same eye to his buildings as he does to his choice of wife. Andrew will want the ultimate woman, and he will find her - whether this year in Auckland or next in New York."

Certainly for Krukziener, quality is everything.

"I could've made an extra $10-$15 million on the Metropolis if I'd been prepared to compromise on the building. When people bought off the plans they didn't know how good it was going to be."

He pauses. "I like to over-deliver."