AGBESE, A MENTOR DEPARTS

Nick Dazang 

Benjamin Bradlee Jnr. was the swashbuckling Editor of The Washington Post (WP), in its glory days. It was on his watch that two intrepid reporters of the Washington Post, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, investigated the burglary incident at the Watergate Hotel. It turned out that the burglary of the Democratic Party headquarters, at the Watergate Hotel, was carried out at the behest of the then President, Richard Nixon, a Republican. The outcome of the investigation, and its link to President Nixon, caused outrage. This, in turn, led to frenzied impeachment proceedings that forced Nixon to resign the presidency.
Before his ascension as Editor of The Washington Post, Bradlee Jnr. was a staffer of NEWSWEEK magazine (which was later bought by the Post), a bosom friend and a neighbor of John F. Kennedy, even before he (Kennedy), became President of the U.S. A. Upon the assassination of John F. Kennedy, NEWSWEEK directed Bradlee to do a story on his slain friend. He found the task uphill and emotionally draining.

On Monday, 17th November 2025, this writer had his own Bradlee Jnr. moment. This writer had barely expressed gratitude to God for adding a year to his age, via a chat to a few relatives and friends, when the sad and shocking news of Mr. Dan Agbese’s demise, filtered in. This promptly changed the day’s dynamic and coloration. From celebration, I went into a mourning mode. Though I have no immediate deadline dangling over my head from some Editor like the Sword of Damocles, I was spurred and galvanized by his blessed memory and good works, to regale us with the tale of this magnificent soul.

Mr. Agbese – Oga Dan – as he is fondly referred to by his adoring junior colleagues, had been, with Peter Enahoro, an inspiration. More than Mr. Enahoro, Mr. Agbese was a mentor. He gave me my first job as a reporter at THE NIGERIA STANDARD. But considering my young age at the time and lowly educational attainment – I had just finished High School – he and other Editors, elected to withdraw my appointment letter. They insisted that I went to Journalism school.
Even at that time in the 1970s, when he edited THE NIGERIA STANDARD, his range, breath, depth and urbanity were unmistakable. His sense of humor was both effusive and infectious. And these qualities were exemplified by the column, IN LIGHTER MOOD, which he wrote every Friday.

This writer took Mr. Agbese’s and his colleagues’ advice, in his stride. I kept the faith. I wrote for THE NIGERIA STANDARD nearly every week and for a stretch of time. It became a second home, with Editors taking turns to shower me with kudos, gifts and encouragement. This prompted many readers to identify me with the newspaper and to assume I was a Staff.

Our paths with Mr. Agbese crossed again at the NEW NIGERIAN. As Editor, he did a number of salient things that stood him out. For want of space, I will mention only one. On his watch, an Editorial Board had not been constituted. But he assumed the role of one. And he did so with distinction and unmatched calm.
Each Monday, he would saunter into his office, clutching his portable typewriter. He would close the office behind him and rough out the drafts of the editorials that would run for the week. Thereafter, the drafts would be typeset on the compugraphic machines, and laid on the front page column for editorials. He would do a final reading, effect corrections and insist on getting clean copies laid again, which he would endorse and assign. If any major events were to unfold that needed editorializing, he would step the initial ones down and author fresh ones.
The regiment was punishing and daunting. But most importantly, the editorials bore his seal: They resonated with high diction, cadence and cogent arguments. These conferred renewed respect and authority on the newspaper.
Mr. Agbese’s profundity and brilliance came to greater attention and scrutiny when he joined Dele Giwa, Ray Ekpu and Yakubu Mohammed to found the NEWSWATCH magazine. He outdid his peers by the number of columns he wrote. His reflections in the prefatory treatises to the magazine’s cover stories brimmed with uncommon and unsurpassed depth.

As a matter of fact, only he, among his peers, had the singular distinction of authoring a long essay which morphed into a cover story. Entitled: CORRUPTION, the long essay became a cover story, replicating a similar feat accomplished by the essayist par excellence, Lance Morrow. Morrow, of blessed memory, had written an essay entitled:EVIL, which graced the cover of TIME magazine.

In addition to distinguishing himself via writing columns and other reflections, Mr. Agbese combined theory with praxis: he was an author of numerous books. Chiefly, his exertions were professional how-to, or nuts-and-bolts handbooks, on journalism practice. One is not surprised, given his pedigree both as a Teacher and a Librarian, in previous reincarnations.
If Mr. Agbese distinguished himself as a journalist, he was highly devoted to his friends and colleagues. This is adjudged by the fealty he paid to relationships and for always being there for others.

Some one and a half decades ago, he was invited to grace a wedding of the daughter of one of our senior colleagues, and a former Managing Director of the NEW NIGERIAN NEWSPAPERS, Mr. Ndanusa Alao. To our enduring shame, Mr. Agbese turned up at the church where the marriage was to be solemnized before all of us! Considering that he came all the way from Lagos to Kaduna, and he was our senior by many rungs on the ladder of the profession, you could appreciate our embarrassment and discomfort.

Apart from fidelity to relationships, Mr. Agbese was a constant source of encouragement. Only recently, upon reading one of my pieces in the newspapers, he called to say that I wrote in the true journalistic tradition of speaking truth to power. He ordered me to soldier on. He went further to express relief that there were others out there who would carry the torch. Alas, I did not realize that he was passing on a cryptic message of his impending transition, and that that would be his last call and exhortation.

Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Agbese had been unwell. Interestingly, when he called, he did not give me an inkling. It was only when I noticed the absence of his columns that it occurred to me that something was amiss. Even his stoic nephew, Andrew, who informed me of his illness, framed it in a manner as not to arouse fears for the worst.

We share in the grief of the Agbese family in Nigeria and Diaspora, and the larger family and fraternity of Nigeria’s army of irrepressible journalists.
Our grief should, however, be assuaged by the panache he brought to our profession through his exquisite writings and his patrician carriage.