For Martin Bishop the Big Event came in April 2002. Then he was the chairman of QS firm Franklin + Andrews, negotiating an historic merger with engineering firm Mott MacDonald. The deal was due to be completed on the 19th, but last-minute complications arose. It was a tense time for Bishop. On the 21st, a major artery in his neck decided to down tools and he found himself flat on his back in a hospital bed.
He was OK, although he had to play his part in finishing negotiations by telephone from his hospital bed. Back on his feet in a few days, he showed up at the new company for his new job – as global head of customer service – and realised he wasn't up for it. He resigned.
"It was a lot to suddenly give up a bloody great income," he said. "But I was under huge pressure. The timing of it all was too much of a coincidence."
At the time it was reported that he wanted to "spend more time with family and friends". What went unreported was that he was planning to launch a new career on the stage.
Smell of the greasepaint
Bishop had always been a keen amateur actor, taking many lead roles, latterly at the drama society at London's Hurlingham Club. Also, he'd always wondered how things might have been after schoolmate Kevin Whately (aka Lewis in Inspector Morse) switched to acting after a couple of years as an accountant. So, with Death's breath still chilly on his shoulder, it seemed natural to enrol at the GSA Conservatoire (formerly the Guildford School of Acting).
It was a one-year post-graduate diploma, which meant that he was rubbing shoulders with mature students. But they weren't quite as mature as he was.
He got his start in the construction industry as a management trainee in 1964, having trained as a surveyor. 11 years later he co-founded a practice, Bishop Ledger, which merged with Franklin + Andrews in 1985. He was made managing partner in 1990 and appointed chairman in 1997. He was heavily involved in the 2002 merger with Mott MacDonald, which created a £400m, 7000-strong multi-disciplinary practice with global reach. The merger prompted Building magazine to suggest this pioneering, cross-compartmental marriage would set an example for other QSs.
It's no wonder, then, that everybody had to adjust as this career entrepreneur, this chairman of the board, this industry leader attempted to bond with a bunch of drama students – and mature drama students at that, with all the meandering, flakiness and late-in-lifeness the term conjures up. But he loved it, and submitted to instruction cheerfully.
However, you can't make old dogs give up old tricks completely. Of the Conservatoire as an organisation he would mutter: "Just give me this place for 12 months and I'd sort it out." He got to know the director, Peter Barlow, and advised him on procuring new building work.
The ultimate benign meddling came when Bishop discerned it would help the Conservatoire to have royal patronage. So he hatched a plan that only a man with a career's worth of manipulating "synergies" could.
If I can earn a modest living doing what I want to do, I will have succeeded
Martin Bishop
After Oliver Cromwell closed theatres in the 1650s, plays were held in tennis courts. So, winning an exemption from doing his final dissertation, Bishop contrived to have a troupe of Conservatoire students stage the period play She Stoops to Conquer at the Royal Tennis Court, Hampton Court Palace. He, of course, played Hardcastle. It was an exclusive charity performance. They charged £80 a seat, and got Prince Edward and his wife Sophie, Countess of Wessex, to come along.
Whether this leads to royal patronage remains to be seen, but it certainly raised the Conservatoire's profile.
Making a go at acting is tough. With his undisputed talents as an impresario, Bishop may be well advised to try production. But so far he is unwavering in his ambition. He wants to act: "If I could earn a modest living doing what I want to do – and I don't mean pantos in Scunthorpe – then I'll have succeeded."
And do you know what? He's getting there. In a line of work that relies on a mix of talent and connections (rather like construction), he's starting from the bottom. Progress is discernible.
New lines of work
After graduating in June, he landed his first professional role as the narrator in an outdoor Passion Play. It was a six-hour production and he got £500 per performance. His next role was much better paid. He spoke two lines as Mr Fox in a children's television show and got £600.
Like thousands of other determined beginners, Bishop wants film and television roles because they pay better. And it's happening. In November he finished filming a one-hour modern adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. It's intended for classrooms and the pay wasn't great, but it was welcome because it was a fast initiation to acting for the camera, which is a different skill.
Bishop's former life gives him a competitive edge. He doesn't faff about. He knew his face would be key to getting auditions so he went out and spent a grand on portraits. He knew that voice-overs pay well so he went out and spent a grand on a demo CD. On it you can hear the former chairman of Franklin + Andrews, over a whizz-bang soundtrack, enthusing: "Ultimate rescue maze games! One free in special packs of Sugar Puffs! Can you save all five? They're a–mazing!"
He also needed an agent. Sometimes actors form co-operatives, but that didn't suit Bishop. "It means you have to go in and man the switchboard. I would have been a pain."
Here, his talent and connections came through again and one of the country's top agents, Elspeth Cochrane, took him into her stable. It worked. He landed a role in a short film by a Leeds-based production company making inroads to Hollywood. He's also auditioned for a feature-length film, The Bridge.
He's busy, he's learning, he's tasting early success. Surely he feels regret that he didn't choose acting from the get-go?
Source
Construction Manager
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