Goodbye to Jim Davis

 Goodbye to Jim 

By Michael Grey

The ancient and lovely church of All Hallows by the Tower was the venue the other day for a service of thanksgiving for the life of that all-purpose maritime industry personality Jim Davis, who died last year at the age of 93. It was a delightful service, in an old shipping church, close to the Thames, full of maritime memorials and hung with votive ship models, the spring sunshine pouring through the windows. The church was full, the music perfection, the order of service elegantly balanced, with delightful tributes from Sir John Parker, family and friends. It was a happy and reflective occasion to remember a cheerful and larger than life person, whose interests stretched right around the broad sweep of maritime endeavour.

His career began in 1952 with his first love – P&O -with an “apprenticeship” in the London office, the docks and the company’s eastern empire. He returned to London and the passenger division, at a time of dramatic change, with P&O positioning away from the traditional liners and into the new uncertainties of cruising. As a director responsible for marketing this new dispensation, Jim had exciting new toys, with ships like Canberra to sell to the cruising public and he was clearly the right man for the job.

But as the company struggled in the 1970s, with management consultants hired to make sense of it all, Jim was one of the many victims of their reorganisation as his job disappeared. He moved into merchant banking, where he was in charge of a shipping portfolio for nearly twenty years. And it was during this period that he spread his wings into ferry operations, trade and transport, export and procedures; becoming a sort of go-to chairman of a formidable list of organisations, home and abroad. And he was the best of chairmen, who could get through a meeting without bloodshed and reconcile warring tribes, with the force of his cheerful personality, in time for lunch.

But it was in his chairmanship of the industry’s “crisis committee” – the International Maritime Industries Forum that Jim’s reputation became global. IMIF- formed after the catastrophe of the 1973 Arab oil shock brought world trade to a screeching halt - was an “emergency” construct which saw appalled shipowners, desolate shipbuilders and shipping financiers facing extinction brought together. Amazingly, it is still with us today, but as its chairman for most of its life, Jim kept it relevant down the years, preaching a message of restraint to people who would rush out and build ships when their price looked attractive, while shipbuilders wept tears of gratitude and bankers offered them attractive terms. “Scrapping Jim” was his sobriquet as he urged policies to reduce capacity and make ships actually earn money. It is difficult to know whether anyone listened.

Jim broke the mould in many ways. Journalists – even maritime journalists – were regarded with suspicion, caution and sometimes active hatred by the top chaps (they were all chaps) in the maritime world. By contrast he offered perpetual approachability and a willingness to answer questions on anything – sometimes when he clearly knew nothing of the subject. But even when he was bluffing, he did it with charm and elegance and he was always kind and helpful. Even when you had made a complete pig’s ear of a story, where other mighty maritime folk would be threatening the law and demanding grovelling apologies, his strategy was one of kindly reproach, tinged with sorrow. He also well understood what so many other folk in the industry failed to grasp as they shrouded themselves in their invisibility; that this had a downside and publicity, he suggested on more than one occasion, was not something to be avoided.

He had more than sixty years in the industry, at a time of tumultuous change. When he began his career, within a stone’s throw of All Hallows there were wall-to-wall shipowners’ offices, including the mighty P&O. In 1952, somebody sitting in that church would have heard the sirens of cargo ships filling the Pool of London, while the vast enclosed dock system downstream would be packed with ships flying the red ensign. In those days, when some baron of the industry wished to have words with the President of the Board of Trade, he expected his telephone call to be answered. Fat chance of that today after British shipping’s voyage into oblivion.

But throughout his long career, while all seemed to go downhill around him, Jim was invariably philosophic and rarely condemned industry leaders for their departure from the world’s oceans. He offered a lot of style in a sector that was increasingly staid and dull, as the accountants took over. He is already missed, but not forgotten.

Michael Grey is former editor of Lloyd’s List.