The Businessman
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Adam Faith had a reputation as a cheeky chappie whose simple language and enthusiasm made investing in the stock market seem accessible to the layman. In truth he was a plausible populist who lost lots of people lots of money. And that included himself.
Faith wasn't a crook, but he wasn't careful about the company he kept or the advice he gave. It came back to haunt him last October when he was declared bankrupt.
Faith started making money outside show business in the 1960s, mostly in property. By the 1970s he was into higher finance and hung around with such business bigwigs as Lord Hanson. But then it all started to go wrong.
Faith met a charming, financial advisor called Roger Levitt, who thought that Faith's style and connections were ideal for selling investment plans. Celebrities, from Frederick Forsyth to Michael Winner, signed up. But Levitt was a crook and when his empire went down in the early 1990s so did the nest eggs of thousands. Faith lost £10m.
Channel 4 recruited Faith for its TV series Dosh! and this led to a venture, backed by stockbroker Paul Killik, to bring finance to digital TV on the Money Channel.
During the dotcom boom, the business was valued at £300m, but it turned out to be a turkey. The Money Channel collapsed last May. Faith, whose fortune went south with the venture, said: "We built the QE2 but it turned out to be the Titanic."
The truth is that Adam Faith was probably far better at singing and acting than he ever was as at finance.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments