The man who transformed Wellington’s cityscape
Acharming visionary who transformed Wellington, or a vandal who destroyed a significant chunk of the city’s heritage architecture with a cavalier approach to financial accountability.
Sir Michael Fowler, the mayor of Wellington from 1974 to 1983, has died aged 92, with Covid-19. Nearly 50 years after he first took office, it is hard to accurately define his legacy.
His name is forever linked with the city, thanks to the Michael Fowler Centre, and a strong case can be made that he was the capital’s most influential mayor in the past 100 years.
An equally strong case could be made that he destroyed some importants parts of Wellington’s heritage and displayed a brazen disregard for council processes and financial accountability.
A vibrant character with a ready smile, Fowler became a Wellington city councillor in 1968, under another highprofile mayor, Labour stalwart Sir Frank Kitts, before becoming mayor in 1974.
His greatest achievement was the Michael Fowler Centre, opened in September 1983, at a cost of $17 million.
Although the building is now one of Wellington’s best-known, in its early days it was considered highly controversial. The daily papers eventually declared the project a success, but there was initially deep scepticism.
Fowler came up with a unique strategy to try to avoid having ratepayers pay for it. Exploiting the capital’s links to the Duke of Wellington, he embarked on Operation Waterloo.
He and his supporters flew all over the world, begging for cash, thanks to six round-the-world airfares courtesy of Air New Zealand. Their targets included United States billionaire Nelson Rockefeller and Saudi arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi, but The Dominion would conclude his fundraising was a ‘‘flop’’ and that he raised only a little over $150,000.
On his return, he resorted to selling raffle tickets in his lunch break.
The 1977 election focused public attention on the centre and the increasingly controversial mayor, who had raised rates by 29.7% in 1975. The Evening Post ran a full-page advert calling on Wellingtonians to reject Fowler: ‘‘It’s time to drop the curtain on FOWLER & HIS FARCE.’’
The Audit Office questioned the use of council funds for Operation Waterloo. The prime minister, Robert Muldoon, became involved and introduced new regulations aimed at making councils more accountable.
Fowler won the election but, from his point of view, things only got worse as it became clear he had raised only a fraction of the sum he had publicly claimed.
Given new powers, the Audit Office inevitably found problems with the council’s financial reporting.
Undeterred, Fowler, who was knighted in 1981, pushed on with his plans and construction began in 1982. The project had always had a touch of Monty Python (some would say Mickey Mouse) about it and that theme continued for the opening.
During his world tour, Fowler had managed to talk the 8th Duke of Wellington into opening his dream.
When it became clear how dodgy the project had been, the duke pulled out, despite Danish platemakers having already made 500 commemorative plates saying ‘‘Wellington Hall, New Zealand, opened by his Grace the Duke of Wellington’’. In the end, the duke relented and attended the opening.
Surprisingly, given its long-running hostility to the centre, the Evening Post took a conciliatory tone with a large supplement celebrating the opening. Its editorial compared Fowler with the city’s founder Edward Gibbon Wakefield, noting that both men had vision, and reluctantly praised Fowler.
‘‘[Fowler] isn’t an arrogant person but, when elected, he said the city needed this building and he was going to build it. The petitioners, the letter-writers and the nitpickers had a ball, but Sir Michael raised the money and had the centre built.’’
In Wellington: Biography of a City, historian Redmer Yska summed up the cost: ‘‘A week before the opening, additional variations totalling $412,075 were slipped through a council meeting. Of the final bill of $17 million, Operation Waterloo had raised just $3m, $5.5m had been raised by government loan, and $8.5m had come from the municipality’s leasehold property account. Wellington had paid heavily for Fowler’s dream.’’
The year before it opened, councillors generously agreed to name it the Michael Fowler Centre. It soon had a range of nicknames, including the rather unkind Fowler’s Folly. But despite its unconventional history, it quickly became a Wellington landmark.
The centre was not the only controversy from his period as mayor. In the 1960s, it had become clear Wellington had a significant problem with earthquake-prone buildings, especially on Lambton Quay.
Changes to legislation meant the council was able to force the owners of many of Wellington’s grandest historical buildings to upgrade or demolish.
With encouragement from Fowler, many chose to demolish. Again Yska provides the best account of a period he describes as ‘‘Hurricane Michael’’.
Fowler created a ‘‘development frenzy’’, encouraging owners to demolish, rather than strengthen, buildings, he says. Many of the city’s finest old hotels came down, but it was in Lambton Quay that the policy had its biggest impact.
‘‘During Fowler’s term, half of the 187 at-risk buildings along the city’s Golden Mile were bowled, including ornate Victorian ‘wedding cake’ structures on the western side of Lambton Quay,’’ Yska writes.
Former Wellington mayor Dame Kerry Prendergast chooses her words carefully when talking about the trail of destruction created by Fowler.
She prefers to talk ‘‘positively’’ about her predecessor, noting that rules and attitudes around heritage protection were very different then and that people did not value it in the same way they do now.
‘‘What happened is that a lot of Wellington’s old buildings were demolished, but at the time that was the accepted thing to do.’’
The impact was that Wellington was littered with empty spaces. It was left to a subsequent mayor, James Belich, to change the rules, to make it harder for developers to demolish buildings without having plans for the site, she says.
In a 2009 interview with Stuff, Fowler denied using the threat of earthquakes to get rid of old buildings. ‘‘The buildings were dangerous and owners were given the opportunity to have them strengthened. But it’s an expensive exercise, so a lot were pulled down. In the end, I think their replacements enhanced the city.’’
Sir Edward Michael Coulson Fowler was born in Marton in 1929. He was educated at Christ’s College in Christchurch and studied architecture at Auckland University.
He worked initially in London before settling in Wellington in 1957, establishing himself as a successful architect.
Elected to the Wellington council in 1968, he served under Kitts. After standing unsuccessfully for the National Party in the Hutt electorate, Fowler turned his attention to the Wellington mayoralty. He represented everything that Kitts did not. He was flamboyant, youthful, had a flair for self-promotion and also a vision to create a modern city.
Once elected, he set about raising his profile further, appearing on local radio and was always ready with a quick quip to gain media attention.
A highly social mayor, he was known to enjoy a gin, sometimes first thing in the morning. Prendergast says her husband, property developer Rex Nicholls, was often summoned to Fowler’s office. ‘‘He [Fowler] would say you have to have a gin and it would be a big gin and, within a short space, he would offer you another.’’
After the mayoralty, he became a noted artist, continued his architectural work and always took an interest in Wellington.
To Yska, who extensively interviewed him, he was one of the most interesting people he had met. ‘‘He charmed me, he definitely had a roguish charm.’’
A modernist in his approach to thinking and architecture, he transformed Wellington for the better, Yska believes. That was best illustrated with his approach to the Michael Fowler Centre. It is not clear if the council ever actually voted for it, but Yska says, once Fowler decided he wanted it, it did not matter what the councillors thought. ‘‘He just rode roughshod over the council.’’
As well as his personable character, Yska says Fowler had another highly successful way of communicating his ideas. A talented artist, he was able to illustrate his vision for the city with drawings.
Michael Fowler married Barbara Hall in 1953 and they had three children, Antony, Mark and Anna. Barbara died in 2009.
Mark remembers his father as an engaged parent and a mayor who liked to get things done. ‘‘Dad would make up wonderful and funny bedtime stories about travelling adventurers and heroes with ridiculously long names and magical talents..’’
He holds no illusions about his father’s approach. Looking back, he says Wellington was dull and boring when Fowler strode into the mayoral chamber. ‘‘It felt like a place you passed through, lacking attraction and purpose.’’
Not everyone, he acknowledges, agreed with his father’s often unorthodox approach. ‘‘He pushed the boundaries and norms too hard for many. He attracted many critics and many supporters.’’
But Mark remains immensely proud of what his father achieved. ‘‘Today Wellington is a great little world-class city, populated by citizens with passion and pride in its culture and amenities. I am proud of the contribution Dad made to this city-shift from apathy to vitality. It was significant.’’ – By Nicholas Boyack