Risk is the spice of life

some light on a remarkable career. The name of Algy Cluff sounds like a

fictitious character from a television serial -- and indeed it could be.

For, whereas J. R. Ewing of Dallas was one of many of his breed in

America, Mr Cluff stands out as the only Briton who so immersed himself

in the exciting prospects of the North Sea 20 years ago that he gave his

name to an oil company.

The label of Cluff Oil gave him a certain cachet, as well as a level

of wealth which made him one of the most eligible bachelors in the

world.

At 53, he retains his unmarried status, though if this were a gossip

column I would be bursting to record that the woman who shares his life,

33-year-old solicitor Blondel Hodge, is currently pregnant and that this

legendary entrepreneur will soon be savouring the deeper satisfactions

of family life.

Though he would rather play down the matter, Algy Cluff displays just

a hint of excitement at the thought of becoming a father in his fifties.

Until now, the buzz of life has come from other directions, as

revealed when he told me: ''The essence of commercial life is to take on

the spice of risk, whether in oil or anything else. I became fascinated

by exploration and found the oil business a wonderful cocktail of

politics, science and drama.''

Now diverted to a love affair with Africa, where he is the big name of

gold production in Zimbabwe, he gave me a glimpse of an incredible

career over a whisky at his secluded Clova estate, near the village of

Lumsden in Aberdeenshire.

In a frank interview, he exposed Britain's bungling of her North Sea

bonanza -- and the appalling lack of enterprise among individuals who

should have been taking a major stake in this unique opportunity.

For himself, it all began in Cheshire, where he grew up as the only

child of a well-to-do merchant of wine, who brought in sherry from South

Africa and owned a small distillery in Scotland.

By the time that business was sold for #1m in 1955, young John G.

Cluff was at public school, where he acquired the distinctive and quite

unwelcome forename of Algy.

''We used to have a movie in the gymnasium on a Saturday night,'' he

explained, ''and one night they showed The Importance of Being Earnest,

which has a character called Algernon.

''My wretched contemporaries decided to call me Algy. I hated it then

and have been trying to get rid of it ever since.''

But Algy stuck and brought its own colour to a kaleidoscopic career.

He joined the Grenadier Guards for a number of years, carried the

colours at the trooping of 1961 and found himself in a Guards squadron

of the SAS when that elite force was short-handed through losses in the

Yemen.

''But I never saw myself as a professional soldier so I left the Army,

though without any clear idea of what I wanted to do. I was interested

in politics and was adopted as Tory candidate for Manchester Ardwick in

1966. But after that failure I went off to study politics in America.

''While with the Army in the Far East, however, I had come to know and

like Singapore and, through a friend who was a director of the Jardine

Matheson company, I became interested in the plantation business, which

was at an interesting stage.

''Those plantations were still valued by the London Stock market on a

yield basis whereas it became obvious that, as they were close to

expanding centres like Kuala Lumpur, they would become valuable for

their land.

''The plantations were little companies with headquarters in London

and I bought my way into a few of them. For example, I took 35% of Galek

Rubber and I bought a tin mine.

''The land did indeed become valuable and from a small investment I

made a lot of money, which became my starting capital.''

At the very beginning of North Sea oil, Cluff returned to London in

time to read that the Government was inviting applications for licences.

He knew nothing about oil but he did know a man in New York who had

retired from Amoco and had a company called Transworld.

''Oil companies had grand names like that even if it was just one

geriatric sitting in an office in New York,'' he recalls. ''I asked him

to come to London to provide technical knowledge while I got some

friends together and raised the money.''

ALGY Cluff's personal contacts were people like Lord Lichfield, Lord

Lambton and the Duke of Marlborough, 20 of whom put up an initial #3000

each. In the hope of getting one licence, they applied for 10 -- and got

the lot.

''The civil servant in charge was trying to involve as many British

companies as possible,'' he recalls, ''but the response was practically

nil. Do you know that, with all their knowledge and experience, not a

single employee left BP or Shell to set up his own company.

''I thought it was absolutely amazing. The City of London was waiting

for those people to leave their oil companies and come asking for

working capital. There was this huge thing on their own doorstep, a

great opportunity for entrepreneurs. But where were they?''

Cluff, who found it easy to raise the money, went searching for oil in

the Buchan Field off Aberdeenshire, on a gamble which was rated at

15-to-1 against finding it first time. But he struck oil straight away.

Before long, his investing chums had walked away each with a cool

million in his pocket.

It was left to companies like Norwich Union, United Biscuits and

Thomson Newspapers to team up in groups. The Daily Mail became rich, not

through its newspapers but through oil.

So where did Britain as a country go wrong?

Cluff is in no doubt: ''There should have been proper liaison between

the City of London and the civil servants. Do you know, I had to explain

to a civil servant what a rights issue was.

''If there had been that proper liaison, they could have said to the

foreign companies, like the Americans who were learning a new technology

in the North Sea, that if they wanted a licence they would have to take

a British company with them.

''As it was, we gave it away to those people. Many Americans have

become immensely rich from the North Sea.

''With all the expertise of Shell and BP, we should have handled it

better and Britain could have been a much richer country.

''Then Wedgwood Benn came on the scene as Labour's Energy Minister,

with his axeman, Alistair Morton (he later switched to the Channel

Tunnel), and it became like a chapter out of a Kafka novel.

''Benn formed the British National Oil Corporation, which was a

completely pointless exercise involving the biggest waste of executive

time in British history.''

After seven years, during which the North Sea had been the focus of

his life, Cluff was among those who felt encouraged to look elsewhere.

It has also to be said that he never did repeat the success of that

first strike in the Buchan Field.

Next stop was China, which was thought to be the great new frontier of

oil. The geology of the South China Sea seemed ideal and there was a mad

scramble for Hong Kong. But you never can be sure. It turned out there

was no cap rock to seal the oil, which just moved away. Algy Cluff's

hopes of becoming another Paul Getty went with it.

BUT fortune seems to favour people of instinct. Back in London, he had

a lunch appointment with former Tory Minister Anthony Barber, by then

chairman of Standard Chartered Bank, who had come fresh from the

independence celebrations in the former Rhodesia.

''Frankly, I was a bit cheesed off with the oil industry,'' Cluff told

me, ''and here was Tony Barber raving about this new Zimbabwe. It was a

marvellous country with charming people, he said, and we started

speculating on how much 'left luggage' would be around from mining

companies who had abandoned the place.''

The prospect of a Marxist Mugabe as President put the wind up most

businessmen. But it is characteristic of men like Cluff that they can

spot the opportunity of running contrary to popular trends.

In 1981, when everyone else was getting out, he booked his seat to

Zimbabwe -- and was the first person to arrive.

''At first with Mugabe, people were frightened by the rhetoric,'' he

recalls. ''But I sensed there was more to this than met the eye and,

when I got there, I found there were lots of opportunities. Tony Barber

was right. But nobody would touch them with a barge-pole.

''In fact, I found Mugabe to be a very decent man and we have since

become good friends. These people were looking for the right formula.''

Algy Cluff fell in love with Africa, attached his name to Cluff

Resources, just as he had done with Cluff Oil, and became a mining

company which today produces no less than 15% of all Zimbabwe's gold. He

is also responsible for 5% of the country's foreign exchange. His other

enterprises include textiles and citrus fruit production.

WHEREAS the name of Tiny Rowland once dominated that continent, the

much younger Cluff is now the name on most lips. He acknowledges

Rowland's achievements and hopes he can emulate them, though in his own

different way.

''There is a new wind of change in Africa,'' he says. ''While some of

the countries remain no-go areas from a commercial point of view, there

are others like Ghana, Tanzania and Zimbabwe which deserve a lot more

credit for their courage in adopting structural adjustment programmes.''

That is a way of saying that, for all the black African Marxist

rhetoric, people like Mugabe have faced up to the facts of economic life

and are getting to grips with the whole concept of foreign investment.

That explained President Mugabe's recent visit to this country when he

not only met John Major but gathered round with 250 businessmen and

bankers. Not surprisingly, the link-up was arranged by Mugabe's friend,

Mr Cluff.

Finding the way into new countries, cultures and commodities is a

talent which baffles most of us but Algy Cluff claims it is simpler than

we imagine.

''I have long been fascinated by gold and oil,'' he explains. ''In oil

you have to be part of a consortium with so many people that there is a

high potential for argument and rows. Gold is much less complicated. The

initial money is much lower and you can handle the whole thing

yourself.''

He employs 2000 people and prides himself in the fact that, in 10

years in Africa, he hasn't lost a single hour of industrial time.

It's a far cry from the hot climes of Zimbabwe to the cool beauty of

his Aberdeenshire estate. With his North Sea involvement reduced to a

royalty interest only, he has no commercial reason for retaining his

spacious home at Clova.

It was on the market at one point but he has now changed his mind and

intends to keep it. There he can indulge his passion for collecting

books -- the walls are lined with thousands of them -- and relax in the

company of people like his great hero, Professor R. V. Jones from

Aberdeen, who was head of Britain's scientific intelligence during the

war.

His main home these days is on the White Cliffs of Dover, though he

also has a place in Eaton Square, London, and in the Zimbabwe capital,

Harare.

In a vast and varied life, he is still chairman of the Spectator and

has only recently resigned from the fund-raising body of the

Conservative Party.

Now there is the prospect of an heir, which should add yet another

dimension to the storybook life of the intriguing Algy Cluff.