We Bought a Zoo. Benjamin Mee

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Ellis escorted the inspector from the park (some say at the end of a shotgun), and refused to carry out the directive. This activated a one-way process of head-on confrontation with the authorities, which escalated into many other areas over the years, and ultimately led to him handing in his zoo licence in April 2006. When we’d visited that last time, after so many years of gradual decline, it felt like we’d been to the Heart of Darkness, to a place where a charismatic visionary had created an empire once teeming with life and promise, but where human frailties had ultimately been exposed by the environment, with terrible consequences. I telephoned Peter and told him of my concerns. Ellis was, in my opinion, a man with his back to the wall, and I was genuinely worried about his safety. ‘Oh, I’m not bothered about that,’ laughed Peter, with a bravery I doubt I would have shown in his position. ‘He does seem very difficult to deal with’, I said. ‘Is there anyone else it might be possible to talk to there? His lawyer? Rob?’ ‘Try Maureen, his sister,’ advised Peter. ‘She talks sense.’

      And so another vital piece fell into place for the acquisition of the park. Maureen was devoted to her brother, and on both tours of the house we had been shown a picture of her as a teenager falling out of the back of a stock car during a jump Ellis was performing (among other things he had been a stunt-car driver). But she had worked outside the park in a hotel all her life, and understood the pressures of the outside world perhaps better than he did. I spoke to Maureen two or three times a day as we tried to piece together a plan which would save the park.

      Another key person, without whom we would never have succeeded, was Mike Thomas. To get backing we needed a site survey, which would cost about three thousand pounds. But I knew that several (nine, in fact) such surveys had been commissioned recently, and was reluctant to pay for another. I asked Maureen if she knew of anyone of the recent potential buyers who may be prepared to sell us their survey. ‘Try Mike Thomas,’ she said. So I ended up pitching down the phone to a complete stranger that we were trying to buy the park and had heard he had commissioned a full site survey recently. ‘Go on,’ said a gravelly voice. I told him everything about our inexperience and lack of funds, surprised as I continued that he didn’t put the phone down. ‘You can have the survey,’ he said at the end. ‘Where shall I send it?’ This was the first of many generosities from Mike, whose reassuring voice often saw me through difficult times in the months ahead.

      Mike was the former owner of Newquay Zoo, which he had turned from a run-down operation with 40,000 visitors a year, to a thriving centre of excellence with about 250,000 visitors, in the space of nine years. He knew what he was doing. His bid had foundered on the twin rocks of Ellis and Mike’s business partner, but he wished the park well. More importantly, he had been appointed by Peter Wearden to oversee the dispersal of the animal collection to other zoos, should it be necessary. He was in daily contact with Rob, as holder of the DWA licence, and Peter, and as a man on the inside could not have been better placed. His unswerving support and sound advice were absolutely pivotal for us in securing the park.

      Weeks dragged on and the main positive development – apart from the arrival of Nick Lindsay’s report from ZSL which gave a ringing endorsement to the park as a future enterprise – was that a cash buyer was found for my mum’s house. But he was a cautious man in no hurry, and any inclination that we desperately needed the money right now would have almost certainly reduced his bid. Bridging loans – those expensive, dangerous arrangements offered by commercial banks in the hope of snaffling all your assets in a year – were arranged, and fell through. Commercial mortgages, likewise, were offered and withdrawn. Several high-street banks let us down badly. Lloyds three times extended the hand of friendship and then, just as we were shaking it, pulled it away, put their thumb up to their nose, and gave it the full hand waggle. Very funny, guys. Private banks were similarly fickle. Perhaps eight banks altogether promised support in protracted negotiations on which we relied, and then we passed the good news on to the naturally keenly interested other side, and committed more funds on the basis of. Then the offer would be withdrawn. Corporate managers were generally persuadable and good at giving you a 100 per cent verbal agreement and a physical shake of the hand. But the back-room boys with the calculators and grey suits, known as Risk Teams, invariably baulked. Lawyers were also busy. At one point a six-acre paddock disappeared from the map of what was included in the price, which I made clear to Maureen was a deal breaker, and it re-emerged.

      For light relief at the end of a 12-hour day of circular phone calls, we were watching the series 24, boxed sets of which were doing the rounds of the English mums in France. Kiefer Sutherland plays Jack Bauer, a maverick CTU (Counter Terrorism Unit) agent who, over several series, always has to save the world in 24 hours, shown in real time an hour at a time over 24 episodes. The ground shifts under his feet as he pursues leads with total commitment which turn out to be blind alleys, is betrayed by his superiors, double agents and miscellaneous villains, and faces new disasters with every tick of the clock. Allies become enemies, enemies become friends but then get killed, but he somehow adapts and finds a new line to go for. I knew exactly how he felt. Every day there were impossible obstacles, which by the afternoon had been resolved and forgotten, in preparation for the next.

      But the situation at the other end seemed far more desperate. Running costs – seven tigers, three lions and six keepers to feed – continued without ticket sales to cover them, interest on debts stacked up, and creditors brushed up close with increasing frequency. Then, just as the buyer for my mum’s house agreed to sign sooner rather than later, Maureen told me we had to begin paying running costs for the zoo in order to stop it going to the nursing-home developer. By now we were pretty committed, so Duncan and I melted credit cards to pay, by whatever means possible, £3,000 a week to keep our bid open. This was way beyond our means and could not last long, particularly for something which may not actually pay off. Luckily, Duncan conjured a donor, who wants to remain anonymous, who lent us £50,000, for a ‘semi-refundable deposit’. This was good news, but obviously it needed to be paid back, win or lose, and the lose scenario didn’t really have that contingency.

      By agreeing to pay a ‘semi-refundable deposit’ (we got half back if it fell through), we were now one of Ellis’s creditors. We were going up river to see Kurtz. We’d done the recce. Now we had to see if we could go all the way. All we had to remember was not to get out of the boat. Then, just as the sale of my mum’s house was finally agreed, we had our worst moment. My brother Henry, who had been supportive of the venture at the beginning, suddenly lost his nerve and mounted a costly legal battle against the rest of the family. Henry was executor for my dad’s half of the estate, so could delay the release of funds as he saw fit. He refused to be contacted except by letter sent through the post, which in a situation changing hourly was simply untenable for such a key player. Mum, myself and Duncan tried to go round and discuss it with him, several times, but he wouldn’t answer the door or phone. It was looking bad. We felt for Henry with whatever it was he was going through, but there was a bigger picture that every single other member of the family was in agreement on.

      Finally the whole family door-stepped his expensive lawyers (paid for out of the estate), and after being kept waiting for three hours, persuaded them that this was mum’s wish and the wish of all the beneficiaries of my dad’s will. We all wanted to buy the zoo.

      Eventually Henry agreed, as long as we all signed a clause that we wouldn’t sue him when it all went wrong, and each sibling took the full £50,000 they were entitled to under the Nil Rate Band legislation. This meant that there wouldn’t be enough to buy the zoo unless at least four of us gave the money straight back, which the other four siblings instantly agreed to, though in order to do so we each had to seek independent legal advice first. This meant finding another lawyer and paying for written evidence to show that we had been made aware of the risks, which was fun.

      Also, instead of the zoo being bought in the name of a Limited Company, a business and tax efficient vehicle and the basis of all our months of negotiations, it had to be bought in mum’s name. And no one lends a 76-year-old lady half a million pounds, however spritely and adventurous. Back-of-the-envelope calculations revealed that if everything went according СКАЧАТЬ