Stanley Kalms: A true visionary who valued his protégés’ success above his own

Along with his wonderful family, what he was proudest of were the people he had employed, nurtured and brought up underneath him in business. He once told me how proud he was when one of the accountants crucial to the formation of Dixons made his first million. Because for Stanley it meant, among other things, that success spread around. He was the opposite of the “asset-strippers” who bedevilled the 1980s – he was an asset creator. And nowhere more so than in creating people.

One day some years ago he showed me an article that had just come out about the people who had grown up under him at Dixons and the enormous success that so many of them had. “Where are they now?” was the headline and the tree of successes at so many major companies all came back to Stanley.

He had a style of management that could be abrasive at times – but that because he was always relentlessly pushing. Some years ago I dedicated a book to him and at the dinner after the launch party I told a story. One of the book’s publicity team had spent the evening in a corner on her phone. I asked her what she was doing. “Have you seen – the book’s at No 20 overall on Amazon,” she said. “Why isn’t it higher?” I replied. As I told him that night, if I’d never met Stanley Kalms I never would have asked that question. It was something he inculcated in everyone who was lucky enough to know him and be mentored by him.

He brought the same passion to everything he did. Whether it was the schools – like the Dixons Academy in Bradford – which he founded and funded, or whether it was the many communal organisations that he lead and supported. Because he not only funded them. He got involved. And when he was involved he would be terrifyingly over every detail.

As a leader in the Jewish community his influence was unsurpassed. One of the many things that everyone should be grateful for is that Stanley did more than anyone to get Jonathan Sacks to the Chief Rabbinate. Stanley spotted Jonathan early, set up an organisation and staged a conference in London under the title of “Traditional Alternatives”. He knew that Jonathan was a gem. All Stanley needed to do was set up the structure for Jonathan to appear and to shine. Of course he shone. Stanley’s plan worked. And so Britain got one of the greatest religious leaders we’ve had.

That was a typical Stanley move. He had an incredible, deep desire to nurture and to inspire. And also of course to challenge. A great believer in the Jewish people and Jewish tradition – as well as a great Zionist – Stanley had a tricky relationship with God. He used to prod Jonathan as only Stanley could have. At the height of the “new atheism” movement I remember he told the then Chief Rabbi: “I think you’re going to have to get a new gig. No one´s buying this God business any more.” He used to do the same with me. During a period where I felt I’d been about as busy as I could be we sat down to breakfast and his opening line to me was: “Someone was asking me the other day what happened to that author friend of mine who used to write books and columns and stuff.” The flip-side was that when Stanley said you’d done “all right” or “quite good”, it was the greatest feeling imaginable.

With his wife Pamela he produced three wonderful sons, who in turn produced several more generations of Kalms, who are now spread around the world. Stanley was so proud of them all.

Some people only pretend to be caring. Stanley pretended to be tough – and he was – but it was a cover for a man who had great reservoirs of compassion, love and support. I don’t think there’s been anyone in my own life who did more to advise me and encourage me.

He kept mentally alert and engaged almost to the very end. Because he always knew how much there was to do. He knew how important it is to keep capitalism fit, healthy and working for all. He knew how important it is to ensure the Jewish people and the Jewish state are thriving. And how important it is to bring people up who understand the tradition they are from. The last time we spoke I knew it was the last time. His voice gave it away. He signed off: “Your eternal friend.” Yours too, Stanley. Yours too.

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Douglas Murray is in conversation with JC editor Daniel Schwammenthal on April 16. Book your ticket at go.thejc.com/douglasmurray