THROUGHOUT his extraordinary and compelling life, hotelier and West Wood Gym fitness tycoon Philip Smyth never did things by halves. And though he always craved privacy, his unstoppable, can-do approach to business frequently ended up in the news.
His approach to pirate radio is one typical example.
In 1984, in his late 30s, Smyth secretly invested $2million in a start-up pirate radio station called Radio Laser 558.
At the time, he was most prominently known as the owner of Sachs Hotel in Ballsbridge – now the Hampton Hotel.
He also ran the Blinkers Disco at Leopardstown Racecourse, the Taylor’s Grange Hotel in Rathfarnham, the Victor Hotel, Dún Laoghaire and other entertainment interests.
Using a rejigged trawler, rechristened the MV Communicator, he anchored up just outside British territorial waters and began broadcasting into the London market without any permission whatsoever.
The problem was the Radio Laser signal was so strong, it dwarfed that of RTÉ and millions of UK-based listeners missed out on hearing the All-Ireland Final.
Nevertheless, the station was an early hit among London listeners. At one point a young Richard Branson was reported to be keen to purchase the business.
Initially, no one really knew who was behind the shadowy operation. That only came to light when the ship’s captain was arrested during a police raid on the vessel.
Among the possessions the authorities seized from the seafarer was a letter of appointment, signed by none other than Philip Smyth.
Today, more than a year-and-a-half after his death in October 2019 at the age of 74, documents signed by Mr Smyth are still causing headlines.
In this instance, the document in question is Mr Smyth’s complex and surprising €23m will.
And once again the issue is, it seems, one of not having done things by halves.
In fact, no single beneficiary got as much as half – and that may well be precisely the problem. The contentious eight-page will first made headlines in February when it emerged Mr Smyth had left a large chunk of those millions to his loyal staff.
The unique document specified that 35% of Smyth’s main company, Leisure Management Corp Ltd, should be given to loyal ’employees, service providers, contractors, or sub-contractors who have worked for me or provided services or been engaged directly or indirectly by me or by any of the businesses in which I have been involved, and who have been so engaged for a lengthy period of approx ten years or more.’
Smyth added that the beneficiaries should be chosen by his executors. ‘In exercising their absolute discretion, my executors and trustees will recognise that this provision in my will is intended to act as an acknowledgement to those who have been loyal to me and my business for a prolonged period of time,’ the will reads.
Direct relatives such as daughter Sally McGann and sons Michael Leavy and Ronan Smyth were left to share their father’s remaining pension entitlements.
He also left €250,000 each to his nephews Alan and David Smyth, sons of his brother Paul, with further bequests to his grandchildren and godchildren.
And a German dining table set with chairs as well as a French silver cutlery service and a choice of any five paintings from his collection went to an associate called Patricia O’Brien.
But the majority of Mr Smyth’s estate – the ownership of Leisure Management Corp – went to his employees and, in particular, three women who have featured prominently in his extraordinary life.
Firstly, Foxrock-based Brenda Flood – a long-time associate who has shared some tumultuous times alongside Mr Smyth – was to receive 25% of the firm.
Now 65, Ms Flood, who is listed as an executor/trustee of the will, was once caught in the crossfire between Mr Smyth and a business rival who made false accusations of drug dealing.
According to publicly filed company documents, Flood shared the same address as her boss for many years.
Karla Fox, 43, who in recent times shared an address with Mr Smyth, received a 20% stake and is also listed as an executor/trustee. The will lists Ms Fox as ‘the person with whom I co-habit’.
Ms Fox began her career in the restaurant at West Wood Gyms before becoming manager of the club’s Bram Stoker Dracula Experience in 2003.
In 2007, she and Mr Smyth took out a mortgage on a Fairview apartment together. Under the terms of the will, this is now to be paid off via an insurance policy of Smyth’s.
And finally, 48-year-old Karen Polley, group operations director at West Wood Gyms, received a further 20% and was listed as substitute executor/trustee in the will.
Killiney-based Ms Polley, a 29- year veteran of the company, is very much the present public face of the business and was recently photographed signing a multi-million euro deal for new equipment at an international trade show.
Today all three women are listed as directors of Leisure Management Corp, with Karla Fox having taken up the directorship in December 2019, in place of Mr Smyth after his death.
The remaining 35% of Leisure Management Corp was to be divided up at the ‘absolute discretion’ of the executor and trustees between other loyal employees.
The three directors were also bequeathed a share of the proceeds of homes in Clyde Lane, Ballsbridge, Dublin; Brittas Bay, Co. Wicklow; the French ski resort of Les Arcs; and New Jersey, USA.
An unusual €23m will, to be overseen by two executor/trustees and a substitute – beneficiaries themselves – who must decide at their sole discretion how to allocate mil- lions to other employees.
What could possibly go wrong?
Perhaps Mr Smyth, a man used to the unforeseen consequences of financial agreements, foresaw potential pitfalls and therefore included a vital final clause.
The final line of the document states that if a beneficiary seeks to challenge the will their bequest ‘shall become forfeited at the discretion of my executors and trustees’.
But that doesn’t appear to have done the trick.
Last week, the High Court revoked and cancelled the will by order and handed control of the estate to Anne Stephenson – a Blackrock-based solicitor.
The court order is of limited duration and ‘for the purpose of substantiating proceedings intended to be instituted against the estate’ by Karla Fox.
Why Karla Fox wants to institute proceedings – potentially at the risk of forfeiting her bequest – is not known.
Anne Stephenson, the new administrator, declined to comment at all when contacted this week. Karla Fox and her two fellow trustees have also decided not to speak.
But this latest, post-death twist in the story of Philip Smyth is no less interesting than the many events in his far from humdrum life.
His striking signature on company documents – a single, strident capital ‘P’ leaning forward in the starting blocks, followed by a spinning ‘S’ that speeds off throughout the rest of the surname like Road Runner on a mission – is the confident pen stroke of a man in a hurry to make more millions.
And like any successful businessman he could be ruthless with his enemies – something that perhaps explains his generosity to those who remained loyal during his life.
Originally from Dublin Road, Longford, Mr Smyth was born in 1946. His parents ran the Star Bar, a wellknown haunt among locals in the town.
Before leaving for Dublin, where he initially launched a launderette business, Mr Smyth transformed the family bar into the Nashville Rooms.
The popular cabaret venue, opened in 1973, hosted national and international acts and would fund Mr Smyth’s ambition as he eyed-up bigger opportunities elsewhere.
Then, in 1978, he met Monaghan meat factory baron Hugh Tunney, who also owned Dublin’s Gresham Hotel.
The pair agreed a lease on Sachs Hotel in Ballsbridge, which was owned by Tunney, and Mr Smyth never looked back.
But the deal – and a subsequent decades-long feud with Tunney – would become notorious.
So, too, would other events involving the hotel.
In September 1998, two drugs squad detectives raided Sachs and the home of manager Brenda Flood.
The detectives were acting on foot of tip-offs from an informant that there would be drugs present.
No drugs were found and an enraged Mr Smyth demanded to know who it was that the detectives had received their information from.
He took his case right to the top and years later, after suing the Garda commissioner, the minister for justice and the State, Mr Smyth and Brenda Flood received a full apology in 1997.
In the apology, the State ‘publicly and unreservedly acknowledged the good name and integrity of Ms Flood and the falsity of the information upon which the search warrants were obtained’.
The case raised vital questions about the manner in which gardaí relied on unnamed informants and saw the detectives involved take their own High Court action in a bid to keep their jobs.
Meanwhile, throughout the early to mid-1990s, parties connected to Mr Tunney made more than 150 phone calls to the UK authorities alleging that Mr Smyth was laundering money for the IRA.
It ultimately transpired that the calls had been made from Tunney’s Classiebawn Castle in Sligo – Lord Mountbatten’s former Irish residence – and from the penthouse suite of the Gresham Hotel.
The calls, made during a period in which Mr Smyth was refusing to pay rent for Sachs Hotel, had also made untrue allegations about Mr Smyth’s brother Paul – a Garda chief superintendent.
These, too, resulted in court proceedings in which Philip Smyth revealed the role he played in the recovery of paintings from the 1986 Beit art heist at Russborough House, in Co. Wicklow.
The task involved several meetings with Martin Cahill – known infamously as The General – and a trip to Antwerp to inspect the artwork before they were recovered.
For his part, Mr Smyth sought out meat plant employees of Tunney’s and offered them cash for damaging documents and information that might prove fraudulent practices.
He also provided the Department of Agriculture with a damaging dossier of information about Tunney’s meat plants, gathered by private detectives.
He – and other witnesses – confirmed as much in evidence the Beef Tribunal in 1993 and because of the dubious nature of his information-gathering, Mr Smyth was the only witness not to be awarded his expenses.
None of these escapades, though, did his business any harm as Mr Smyth branched out from hotels and discos to become a pioneer investor in the leisure and health industry with his West Wood Gyms chain.
In 2000, he completed Ireland’s first-ever Olympic-sized swimming pool at the firm’s Fairview gym and had then taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, cut the opening ribbon.
Since then, the West Wood chain continues to help thousands to get in shape as it makes millions.
Just how that will now be divided up looks set to become a matter for the courts – a place Philip Smyth was very acquainted with in life.
In his will, he asked to be cremated, and instructed that ‘my funeral be performed without any religious ceremony’.
With no belief in God, he perhaps trusted only in those closest to him. It may be best he won’t be around to see that faith tested in court.
