He says it as he sees it, no sugar, no cream. Many love him, some hate him, but he cares less because he has remained as constant as the Northern Star.
Ever bubbly and a lover of the good things of life: fine cognac, exotic cars, top-rate apparels etc. But don’t be deceived, he is not a Mr Nice guy. His boyish face belies a combustive anger and combative nature.
In case you are wondering are still wondering who I am describing, it is none other than my boss Lord Mayor Akinpelu.
When I went to the Fame office in Adeniyi Jones, Ikeja in 1991 with a note from my aunt, Toun Tuakli-Lawson, I never knew what to expect.
I was lucky to meet the three Musketeers on that fateful day, @kunlebakare, Femi Akintunde-Johnson and @mayorakinpelu.
Immediately, I stepped into the newsroom, I knew this was going to be home. They were all warm but at the end of the encounter, Lord Mayor told me flatly” My friend, you came too late, we have employed everyone we need.Come back next time”.
I was deflated, devastated and on the brink of tears. As I stood up to leave, he seemed to notice the disappointment on my face and said ” Anyway, if you have any good story, bring it. You can freelance, abi KB, what do you think? Mr KB noded in agreement. And that was how I joined Fame and my love story with the beautiful profession of journalism begun.
From the get go, having just finished internship at National Concord, I had to adapt, so I started studying the writing styles of Lord Mayor and Mr KB, along with Time Magazine’s Nancy Gibbs, I will say they influenced the way I write till this day.
It was not long before I proved my mettle and Lord Mayor decided to hand over his very popular column, High Society to me. I was atop the world”
With this new responsibility came bigger brushes with the Editor, Lord Mayor. I began to bear the greatest brunt of his caustic tongue-lashing.
” My friend you think, you are a super STAR abi, You were supposed to submit that story two hours ago, you are here playing around” he will thunder from the entrance of the newsroom for maximum effect.
When you try to explain, he will scream ” My friend be da nu ( my friend get off:”)
. Hours later though, he will smile at you and even buy you a drink.
After such a rapprochement, you will think all was well but the very next day, you will receive the shocker of your life when he arrives the office, and you flash a smile and a nice good morning” “Ma Kimi o ( don’t greet me ) go and face your work”.
And he will walk briskly to his office upstairs with his face as hard as concrete.
Later, I came to realise that the aggression he expresses, was as they say, mere shakara.He was a very good man with a good soul.
In Fame, Lord Mayor and Mr KB taught us how to dress well and hold our heads high as journalists.
My two bosses allng with my present boss Dele Momodu were the power-dressing journalists I looked up to. They were my role models.They dressed relatively well compared to their peers, wore nice perfumes and shoes. As a boy who grew up from Surulere, I was impressed and followed this style the best I could.
The trick, which has served me well over the years is always “dress as you wish to be addressed”. You need not dress expensively but you can be neat and tidy.
You can never find a serious ex staff of Fame whose dressing was not “up-to-the-minute”, like we used to say back then in our newsroom. It was a cardinal sin to be tacky!.
Fame was a solid institution, a training school that has produced good writers, journalists and more.
Lord Mayor was the chief marketer, Mr KB was the deep thinker and Mr FAJ, was the intellectual and smooth operator.
Theirs was a powerful combination that made Fame the numero uno celebrity journal in the 90s. He knew somebody who knows somebody that knows something about somebody, which meant very little celebrity story escaped his ears.
My adventure at Fame will be captured in my forth-coming Memoir but let me declare that Lord Mayor played a pivotal role in moulding who I am today.
He was the man that gave me the opportunity to soar, I will be eternally grateful to him.
So as he turns 60, I wish this authentic Lagos Boy, the proud son of Ikorodu, our own swashbuckling Olowobubuso God’s continuous blessings and good health.
Happy Birthday BOSS
