The late Paul Farrell was my friend and an unsung hero of tech city. History will not remember him as one of the great contributors to the tech scene, yet in his own quiet way he was.
A builder in the East End of London, he built up a building firm in the 1980s then lost his shirt when the recession struck in the early 1990s.
He went on to drive a rubbish lorry to keep a roof over his family’s head, then worked for Hackney council in its estates department. He was lovingly known as Chris to his mates in the various Hackney pubs he frequented – named after Christopher Wren, because there were few buildings in London he hadn’t touched.
It was in Hackney during the 2012 Olympics that I met him. Tech City and the local council were working together to build an inward investment suite in Shoreditch.
The purpose was to celebrate the tech scene in its own environment, rather than showcase large corporate tech in the West End to those visiting for the Olympics. The missive from No10 at the time was that the suite had to look like government hadn’t built it.
Paul was the safe pair of hands who delivered – on time and on budget – what was ultimately a set of scaffold poles, some gravel in a car park, a circus tent and some welding curtain.
The suite, known as Hackney House, was draughty – hot when it was hot, cold when it was cold, but stuffed full of love and pride for the Games and the East End.
It was later credited with having delivered more than £7m of inward investment in the area and was the blueprint for Hackney’s later project, called “Bl-nk”, a tech community centre of sorts that keeps popping up in different venues according to the offerings of landlords and developers.
I recall Paul shutting Shoreditch High Street late on a Friday night to receive the scaffolding, sort the electrics supply, deal with planning consents and run the job. He was always padding about in his flat cap, swearing when needed but utterly respectful to and respected by anyone who worked with him.
On the night before the first conference due to take place in Hackney House’s lashed-together structure, we were painting the floor as the water poured in through the roof – not a good combination. He was unflappable, stoic, pragmatic and dependable.
I took Paul as my guest up the Orbit at Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park as a thank you for the work we’d done together. With a watery eye he looked around and said: “Cor, I wish my old dad could see this.”
The East End had changed so much on his watch, and the transformation of the Olympic Park, Canary Wharf and plans for the Royal Docks were unrecognisable to him.
Paul had mixed views about the gentrification of the East End. He wasn’t nostalgic for the area, but marvelled at the influx of beards, coffee, £4 pints and enjoyed the fact his house price rose to levels he never imagined. We’d often meet for a pint on Fridays and he’d lament that “you ****ing middle-class people have ruined another perfectly good boozer. I remember seeing Jim Davidson in here when he was a nipper.”
Paul introduced me to his trusted inner circle of traders, from Jimmy the “winders” to “Maffew” who he phoned at 6.15 every morning to nag about pricing, running a job, or just shoot the breeze.
He’s left a hole in all of our hearts. His funeral was standing room only with a smattering of hipsters, young, old, builders, diggers, council folk, an enormous family and a lot of admirers.
Tech scenes celebrate the entrepreneurs, the investors, the tech – but underneath it is the work of trades people, developers, builders, project managers – the people who build the stages upon which everyone plays out their lives.
So long, Paul Farrell. The tech scene salutes you, and the pub landlords will miss you.
Paul Farrell 1948-2015
Juliette Morgan is head of property at TechCity UK
