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The news that Interserve鈥檚 construction and engineering business is reverting to its historic Tilbury Douglas name marks the end of a rather peculiar bout of industry self-loathing stretching back two decades.

As the 1990s ticked into a new millennium, a host of contractors decided they weren鈥檛 really contractors after all and were actually support services firms instead.

Fed up with their muddy boots image, the firms, whose number included Carillion, Alfred McAlpine and Interserve, wanted to follow the example of Amey, a contractor turned support services firm, as well as one-time City darling Jarvis, and enjoy the benefits of a support services rating. In short, the share price seemed to go up when building firms made the switch.

> Also read: Losses from Interserve鈥檚 energy-from-waste disaster top 拢300m

Construction was yesterday鈥檚 news, too risky, too stuck in the mud. Too unglamourous. Support services, which covered everything from looking after the country鈥檚 rail network, providing school meals and cleaning hospital floors, was where it was at.

Take Alfred McAlpine, for example, set up by its eponymous founder, one of the sons of Robert McAlpine, in the 1930s.

After the pugnacious Ollie Whitehead stepped down as chief executive in 2003, he was replaced by Ian Grice, a civil engineer who had arrived from Mowlem in 1995, working his way up to the board where he was the executive director responsible for setting up its support services business.

It was 20 years ago last month that Interserve said it was ditching the Tilbury Douglas name 鈥� which can trace its origins back to 1884

After taking the top job, Grice quickly decided Alfred McAlpine needed a revamp. Out went the yellow and green logo and, after a 拢350,000 rebranding exercise, in came a swish new purple, lozenge-shaped marque 鈥� minus the Alfred name.

But there was a snag: Sir Robert McAlpine 鈥� known as 鈥楾he Family鈥� at Alfred 鈥� weren鈥檛 happy and went to court to demand they put back the Alfred.

McAlpine鈥檚 reasoning 鈥� Sir Robert鈥檚 鈥� was that people would get confused between the two; it was they who were traditionally known as McAlpine, not Alfred.

When the case was heard at the High Court in spring 2004, Grice explained why he had ditched the Alfred name. 鈥淲e wanted to get away from the perception of the bricks and mortar and muddy boots image,鈥� he told court 52.

鈥淪everal of us thought 鈥楢lfred鈥� was old-fashioned. If you drop the 鈥楢lfred鈥�, then it, the name 鈥楳cAlpine鈥�, has broader appeal. It allows us to go into other markets without giving up our goodwill, heritage and history.鈥� In contrast to Interserve, for example, which had already gone the whole hog three years earlier and dropped the Tilbury Douglas name for something more catch-all-y.

Grice told the court people wouldn鈥檛 be confused by the presence of two McAlpines but Mr Justice Mann disagreed and McAlpine 鈥� Alfred 鈥� was told to reinsert the prefix. It briefly thought about an appeal, decided against it and was left holding a 拢1.5m legal bill.

Perhaps the defining moment of the four-day hearing was when a baffled Grice told the court: 鈥淲e had expected some reaction [from Sir Robert McAlpine] but not this.鈥�

No wonder he was miffed. Such was the effort put into the name change, the court was told Alfred McAlpine had hired a branding expert which came up with 42,000 different oval shapes before finally settling on one that was right.

There is, of course, a postscript to this story. In 2008, Carillion paid 拢555m for Alfred McAlpine and Carillion鈥檚 finance director at the time, Richard Adam, said it would not be using the marque in the future. Never mind McAlpine and its purple lozenge, Alfred McAlpine was deemed surplus to requirements too.

鈥淲e are not looking to trade under the Alfred McAlpine name,鈥� confirmed Adam, who is currently facing a government ban from holding board positions after Carillion鈥檚 collapse three years ago. 鈥淎part from one or two exceptions, everything will be rebranded Carillion.鈥� Alfred McAlpine must wonder what he did to deserve that.

The travails of Alfred McAlpine paint a picture of what was happening then. The bet at the time was support services, not construction. And what better way for a bit of history washing than to start by amending the name or changing it completely?

Carillion became Carillion after it demerged from materials firm Tarmac at the end of the 1990s. It was another to ride the support services wave in the early 2000s.

It brought in a new chief executive from FM firm Johnson Controls 鈥� to replace another pugnacious leader, this time Sir Neville Simms 鈥� and it showed. Results meetings at the time seemed to be more about championing the benefits of cleaning hospital toilets or changing soiled bed linen than building things. Its then construction director, Roger Robinson, gamely went along to the presentations but rarely got to speak. He eventually left and joined Laing O鈥橰ourke.

Tower 42 builder, Mowlem, also swallowed up by Carillion for close to 拢300m, was another one bought for its support services business. Announcing the deal in late 2005, Carillion said the merger would create 鈥渙ne of the UK鈥檚 largest support services and construction companies鈥�. Note the order in which the two sectors were mentioned.

So last week鈥檚 news about Tilbury Douglas being resurrected brings construction鈥檚 troubled relationship with support services full circle.

The Tilbury Douglas name is, its managing director Paul Gandy, who joined in October 2019, said, 鈥渁 well-recognised historical brand in the construction sector and now represents our purpose of being a trusted construction and engineering partner鈥�.

It was 20 years ago last month that Interserve said it was ditching the Tilbury Douglas name 鈥� which can trace its origins back to 1884 鈥� because, it said at the time, the change would 鈥渞eflect and represent the nature of the group鈥檚 activities in support services鈥�. The previous June, the firm had reclassified from construction to the support services sector.

In a familiar story for contractors turned support services firms, Interserve went into administration two years ago hobbled by a disastrous foray into the energy-from-waste sector. The scale of this debacle has been laid bare by its just published most recent accounts, those for 2019, which said the losses at energy-from-waste have now topped 拢300m.

After going into a pre-pack administration, Interserve鈥檚 lenders bought the business assets and then restructured it into three main operating divisions with its own chairman and managing director. Support services was one of those and was sold last year to Mitie for 拢205m.

The support services craze took out two industry heavyweights 鈥� Alfred McAlpine and Mowlem 鈥� and put the skids under two others 鈥� Jarvis, which went into administration in 2010 after running out of support from its lenders, and Interserve. Carillion belongs in a category all of its own but its thirst for support services can in part be blamed for its undoing.

Amey, set up 100 years ago initially as a quarrying firm, was the trailblazer, switching to a support services rating in 2000 and was bought by Spanish giant Ferrovial three years later. But Ferrovial now wants out and has been trying to sell the business for the past two years with reports last month saying it has brought in Morgan Stanley to run the latest attempt at a deal.

It鈥檚 an irony that will be lost on no one but two decades later, construction is no longer a dirty word and is key to the UK鈥檚 economic recovery from covid-19. It鈥檚 just a shame it took a global pandemic to see to that.