Heâd liked that man and people needed to know what it took to build a business.
C HAPTER
T HE CAR CARRYING George Gilder and his wife left their five bedroom house overlooking Primrose Hill at 8.20 p.m. As the editor travelled down Albany Street, the sun was setting across Regentâs Park. It had long been his paperâs tradition to host an election-night party and he expected that tonightâs would bear witness to two great events: the rise of Britainâs first female prime minister and the start of a radical new direction for his country. But had The Sentinel done enough? Were a majority of the British people persuaded of the need for change?
His paper had shown corpses piling up in Liverpool when gravediggers had gone on unofficial strike, rubbish bags stacked high in Londonâs Leicester Square, motorists queuing at petrol stations for scarce supplies and dead piglets dumped in front of union offices in Hull by furious farmers unable to get deliveries of animal feed. The general sense of chaos had been augmented when a group of Protestants bombed several pubs in Glasgow frequented by Catholics; although in Scotland, discontent with a Labour government tended to migrate to the Nationalists rather than âthey Tory toffsâ as Conservatives were disparagingly called north of the border.
Nonetheless, the Scottish National Party had done its bit for the cause by withdrawing support from Callaghanâs coalition when it didnât get its way on devolution, bringing down the government and forcing the election that was approaching its conclusion. One thing did still rankle though. In January, when the Prime Minister returned to his cold, unhappy nation from a conference in the sunny Caribbean and said that things didnât look so bad from overseas, it was a rival newspaper that had come up with the headline â Crisis? What Crisis? â, nailing the publicâs growing frustration with its government.
Turning into Woburn Place, he passed a large billboard with a seemingly endless line of people snaking across it under the words Labour Isnât Working . Over a million were unemployed, the highest number since the war. And only three years earlier the government had been forced to secure a loan from the International Monetary Fund to stabilize its finances. As he turned these things over in his mind, he marvelled at the stoic nature of the British people. Surely enough was enough?
The new leader of the Conservative Party had promised to lower taxes, cut government expenditure, curb the power of the unions, bear down on inflation and outlaw the kind of secondary picketing that had done for Hunters. All the opinion polls indicated that her message was finding an increasingly receptive audience. Looking back, years later, he considered it a blessing no one had known how ruthless she would be in pursuing those objectives and how much worse things would get before they were attained.
* * *
When the small group whoâd had dinner in The Sentinel dining room entered the main office it was approaching 11.00 p.m. The polls had been closed for an hour, but no results had yet been declared. From a large screen, David Dimbleby was welcoming viewers whohad just joined the BBCâs election coverage â Decision 79 . The room was full, with staff and guests making the most of the open bar and buffet set out at one end.
âNow she needs a swing of 4.5% to get a working majority,â the Canadian political analyst, Bob McKenzie, was explaining. âIf we aggregate all the opinion polls we get a swing to Mrs Thatcher of 4.7%. But if we look at the constituency polls they are showing a swing to Labour of .7%, enough to put Mr Callaghan back in Number Ten. But remember, both polls have been wrong in the past.â
âWho is that young woman in a wheelchair?â Frances Graham asked her host.
âThatâs Abigail Hunter. Iâll get Harvey Mudd to introduce you. He
C HAPTER
T HE CAR CARRYING George Gilder and his wife left their five bedroom house overlooking Primrose Hill at 8.20 p.m. As the editor travelled down Albany Street, the sun was setting across Regentâs Park. It had long been his paperâs tradition to host an election-night party and he expected that tonightâs would bear witness to two great events: the rise of Britainâs first female prime minister and the start of a radical new direction for his country. But had The Sentinel done enough? Were a majority of the British people persuaded of the need for change?
His paper had shown corpses piling up in Liverpool when gravediggers had gone on unofficial strike, rubbish bags stacked high in Londonâs Leicester Square, motorists queuing at petrol stations for scarce supplies and dead piglets dumped in front of union offices in Hull by furious farmers unable to get deliveries of animal feed. The general sense of chaos had been augmented when a group of Protestants bombed several pubs in Glasgow frequented by Catholics; although in Scotland, discontent with a Labour government tended to migrate to the Nationalists rather than âthey Tory toffsâ as Conservatives were disparagingly called north of the border.
Nonetheless, the Scottish National Party had done its bit for the cause by withdrawing support from Callaghanâs coalition when it didnât get its way on devolution, bringing down the government and forcing the election that was approaching its conclusion. One thing did still rankle though. In January, when the Prime Minister returned to his cold, unhappy nation from a conference in the sunny Caribbean and said that things didnât look so bad from overseas, it was a rival newspaper that had come up with the headline â Crisis? What Crisis? â, nailing the publicâs growing frustration with its government.
Turning into Woburn Place, he passed a large billboard with a seemingly endless line of people snaking across it under the words Labour Isnât Working . Over a million were unemployed, the highest number since the war. And only three years earlier the government had been forced to secure a loan from the International Monetary Fund to stabilize its finances. As he turned these things over in his mind, he marvelled at the stoic nature of the British people. Surely enough was enough?
The new leader of the Conservative Party had promised to lower taxes, cut government expenditure, curb the power of the unions, bear down on inflation and outlaw the kind of secondary picketing that had done for Hunters. All the opinion polls indicated that her message was finding an increasingly receptive audience. Looking back, years later, he considered it a blessing no one had known how ruthless she would be in pursuing those objectives and how much worse things would get before they were attained.
* * *
When the small group whoâd had dinner in The Sentinel dining room entered the main office it was approaching 11.00 p.m. The polls had been closed for an hour, but no results had yet been declared. From a large screen, David Dimbleby was welcoming viewers whohad just joined the BBCâs election coverage â Decision 79 . The room was full, with staff and guests making the most of the open bar and buffet set out at one end.
âNow she needs a swing of 4.5% to get a working majority,â the Canadian political analyst, Bob McKenzie, was explaining. âIf we aggregate all the opinion polls we get a swing to Mrs Thatcher of 4.7%. But if we look at the constituency polls they are showing a swing to Labour of .7%, enough to put Mr Callaghan back in Number Ten. But remember, both polls have been wrong in the past.â
âWho is that young woman in a wheelchair?â Frances Graham asked her host.
âThatâs Abigail Hunter. Iâll get Harvey Mudd to introduce you. He
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