Jim Jamieson of

engineering firm

Eraba has survived

enough corporate

ups and downs to

last a lifetime, says

Colin McSeveny

'My work is also my hobby, and one thing is sure -- there will be no

more sell-outs, no more parent companies, no more shotgun marriages'

Jim Jamieson

JIM JAMIESON swears the only way he relaxes is by watching Hearts play

football, which may help to explain his perverse delight in doing things

the hard way.

Though barely 40, the managing director of Livingston-based Eraba, one

of Scotland's top engineering sub-contractors, has seen enough corporate

ups and downs to last a lifetime.

In its 12 years of existence Eraba has shrugged off the collapse of

its two main clients, survived successive ownership changes, and

prospered despite the latest recession.

''In fact the company was born during the previous slump of the early

eighties,'' says Jamieson, ''and it is all the more satisfying that we

have managed to weather everything that has been thrown at us.''

One of the few locals to run a major company in the sprawling new

town, his non-stop enthusiasm for the job was not dimmed by a heart

attack three years ago.

He is disarmingly frank about what the future may hold. ''I still work

too hard and am still overweight, but my whole life revolves around this

company, so I don't see that I can do very much about it,'' he says,

sipping from a can of diet Irn Bru, one of his few concessions to a

diet.

The company has dominated Jamieson's life since 1981 when he and an

older partner set it up on Houston industrial estate, mainly to service

the British Leyland truck and tractor plant at nearby Bathgate.

Within a few years Leyland Bathgate had joined the growing list of

Scottish industrial collapses, and Eraba, which specialises in metal

presswork and toolmaking, had to scramble frantically to find

alternative clients to make up for the abrupt loss of a massive 80% of

its business.

The rapidly expanding electronics sector provided the answer, and

Unisys, also based in Livingston, was targeted with great success. But

Jamieson, already once bitten, also made sure that the company

diversified enough to guarantee there was no repeat of the

near-dependency on Leyland.

Just as well, because the American group eventually pulled its

production out of Scotland last year.

Jamieson, a burly extrovert whose father worked in the mines,

explains: ''We had learned our lessons by then, and our range of

customers was such that we were able to absorb the loss without too much

difficulty. In fact, the ownership

set-up was rather more of a worry then.''

In 1986 Eraba had been taken over by Telmag of Hamilton, after

Jamieson's partner decided to sell out to secure an early retirement

deal.

With the benefit of hindsight, the younger man says: ''Not rustling up

enough cash to buy his share of the business was the biggest mistake of

my life. Though I remained a major shareholder and managing director, my

hands were tied.''

The bulk of the Eraba profits were funnelled back to the parent group,

a complete reversal of the previous five years, during which the owners

had taken pride in reinvesting most of the revenue in the company they

had founded.

Alerted last summer by the news that the Hamilton company was

considering selling off its profitable subsidiary, he

decided to take the plunge and began looking around for financial

backing.

He says: ''September 24 last year will always stick in my mind,

because that was the day that I bought back most of the shares and again

took complete control.''

Venture capital group 3i took 20% of Eraba, leaving Jamieson (with

some assistance from his bank) with the remainder in a deal thought to

have been worth around #1.5m.

''Not bad considering we started the firm with only #5000 each,'' he

says, ''and all the couple of million pounds worth of investment put in

since then has been supplied basically through earnings.''

A time-served tool-maker himself, Jamieson is clearly proud of the

firm's workmanship as he wanders through the 60,000 sq.ft workshop,

which produces everything from glorified washers at 10p each to complex

pieces of equipment worth #50,000.

The most complex pieces are produced to specification from computer

designs fed in by a telephone line direct from the customers' software.

Jamieson, who takes a straight #50,000 salary, says: ''Aside from pure

engineering we are also component manufacturers, and this allows us to

offer start-up companies a helping hand with their entire assembly

operations.''

Eraba's 120 workers, assisted by the latest in laser and

computer-aided machinery, can turn their hands to virtually anything.

The parts they make end up in a bewildering variety of machines and

finished products -- security systems, water pumps, automated bank

telling machines, weighbridges, petrol pumps, switching gear, generating

motors -- all manner of gadgets can depend on an Eraba-made part.

''We'll make anything you want, quicker and better than anyone else

around here. That is why we are still alive and kicking,'' says

Jamieson.

A manager who manages through gut-instinct with little time for

business school theories, the clutter in his office testifies to his

well-known aversion to paperwork.

He says: ''Right from when I started as an apprentice, I was always

ambitious and found little difficulty in moving from being a worker to a

boss.''

Hard work, and the quality displayed by a workforce that shares

directly in the profits

of the company are the main

ingredients behind Eraba's suc

cess -- and, of course, Jamieson himself all but sleeps in the office.

Luck has also played a part, he acknowledges, pointing to the export

breakthrough which resulted from the Unysys purchasing manager's

decision to quit and move back to the US when the company closed its

Livingston operations.

He took his high regard for Eraba's products with him -- the result

has been a steady stream of orders from his new company.

From virtually zero exports in 1991, Eraba sold around a quarter of

its products abroad last year, and as much as 50% of this year's

projected sales total of #4.5m could go overseas.

As he speaks, Jamieson stands in a newly cleared space which is

destined to hold a #400,000 Japanese-built automatic transfer robotic

press,

one of only a handful in the United Kingdom.

He says: ''I haven't got one

single order for this machine

yet, but I am sure it will soon

pay its way and, anyway, there

is no standing still in this

game.''

As to the future, Jamieson sees his immediate aim as increasing

turnover to #6m, a move which would probably result in new work for

another 30 people.

With a steely determination only the brave would question, he says:

''My work is also my hobby, and one thing is sure -- there will be no

more sell-outs, no more parent companies, no more shotgun marriages.''