Accra

I arrived in Accra on May 17, 1956, age 25. This was an exciting moment for that British colony because independence had been assured to come a year later in March 1957. Flying to Accra then involved numerous stops along the way. My flight on BOAC (British Overseas Airways), was from New York to London, then Rome, Tripoli, Kano (Nigeria), to Accra. My mother and a dear French friend, Pierre Arnaud, drove me to the NY airport and it was a tearful goodbye. I would be gone for two years.

My first sight of West Africa was a brilliant African sunrise on the stopover in Kano at 6 a.m. We landed in Accra by 8am–where I was met by new boss, Gene Sawyer, Public Affairs Officer, and Claude Sitton, Information Officer at the Consulate.

After dropping my bags at the Hotel Ridgeway, about the only decent hotel in Accra, we signed in at the British Governor’s Mansion, which was protocol at the time. Next, we went to the US Consulate where I was to work, and met everyone there. We then drove to Achimota University, College of the Gold Coast, to meet the University president for lunch. For dinner that night at his home, Gene invited my four colleagues at USIS and the entire consulate staff to meet me.

Gene was an outgoing African American. He knew everybody in town, from Prime Minister Kwame Nkrumah on down. From the very start we “hit it off” wonderfully and remained friends for many years.

Sawyer believed the best way to make America liked and admired in colonial Africa was to project warmth and friendliness (and throw a good party!). This came naturally to him, though Prime Minister Nkrumah told me much later he regarded my boss as “frivolous”.

Ninety percent of Africa was still under colonial rule and I was certainly fortunate to work there during the years before and after 1960. This was the watershed year when much of Africa gained independence, and I attended many celebrations and knew personally many of the new African leaders. We were at the height of the cold war with the Soviet Union and the perceived battle between communism and capitalist democracy for the minds of the third world. Gene fit well into the mixed racial social scene in Accra, which I joined into right away. Some of the “old school” State Department diplomats and a few in the British community were uncomfortable with this fraternization.

For the first few weeks my new home was the Ringway Hotel. I had a small room and slept under a mosquito net–feeling a bit claustrophobic. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my stay there and made friends with the hotel staff. Expatriates were pampered a lot and that was hard for me to accept at first, though I got used to it later. The hotel terrace bar was full every evening with Africans and expatriates drinking beer, gin and tonic and whisky. It was all very friendly and there were single ladies too, dressed in traditional kente cloth.

Within days after my arrival a huge event occurred—the historic visit to the Gold Coast by Louis Armstrong and his All-Star band arranged by Edward R. Murrow of CBS and the State Department. I was swept into the center of all the jubilation with Sawyer and the Consulate staff. Thousands greeted “Satchmo” at the airport. There were 13 Accra nightclub bands playing a new “highlife” song, “All for You Louis, All for You”. After official stops to call on PM Nkrumah and the Governor over 100,000 fans filled the soccer stadium to cheer wildly at an outdoor concert. Especially popular with the crows was blues singer, Velma Middleton.

That evening I tagged along as the band played at all the popular nightclubs – ET Mensah’s Paramount, Weekend in Havana, the Lido – a night-long series of jam sessions ending the next morning at 7 am. Later that day, there was another spectacular event where bands and drummers from throughout the Gold Coast performed for Armstrong and his entourage.

In the enormous crowd, Louis spotted a woman he asked to meet because she looked exactly like his late mother. He remarked, “now I know finally where I came from”.

For three days, we had little sleep. The last night all the band gathered at Sawyer’s house. I was assigned to bartending, which was easy because members of the band drank only tumblers of straight gin. I danced several times with Velma Middleton and enjoyed hanging out with the famous trombonist “Trummy” Young.

As a Foreign Service officer trainee, I was assigned the initial year to work in all sections of the Consulate, for several months on visa, budgeting, economic and political reporting matters, later in public affairs programs, supposedly my specialty. In later years, many people suspected I was also an undercover CIA agent. I can say for the record that I was never engaged in covert activities.

From the start, I loved Accra. It seemed then a small city, easy to get around. The climate is better than most cities along the West Coast of Africa, less humid and rainy. A prominent feature is the Danish-built Christiansborg castle overlooking the sea, then the residence of the British Governor. Accra has no natural harbor, so large merchant ships would anchor several hundred meters off shore. Throughout the day, great canoes would deliver cargo through the surf to a sandy beach. The West African coast has a very narrow shelf so waves break quickly along the shore. Swimming can be treacherous as I was to learn later in Liberia. The nearest natural harbor to Accra was at Takoradi, far down the West coast. Years later a huge man-made port was built at Tema near Accra, which now serves most of the country and beyond.

Our Consulate offices and USIS library were located right next to the downtown open market where hundreds of traders, mostly women in bright kente cloth, carrying huge loads on their heads, set up shop throughout the week. Lorries, or “mammy wagons” as they were called, came and went. They were painted in striking bright colors and typically had a message written large on the back. Some of these I remember were: LONDON BOY # 1; A BIRD IN THE HAND WILL GO IN THE MOUTH; or THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD. I WONDER WHY?

On the other side of our offices was the main town movie theatre. Every afternoon during the featured matinee we’d hear loud roars from the audience as they participated in the action. American westerns were most popular. When a posse took off after the bad guys the crowd would cheer wildly or boo when the bandits prevailed.

After stages of work in consular duties I joined Claude Sitton, the Information Officer. He was a fine journalist and taught me lots about media work. We put out a newspaper, the “American Outlook”, which was distributed throughout African posts. We also sought to get articles favorable to America covered in local newspapers, all part of the U.S. propaganda effort at the time. I was primarily responsible for film and travelling exhibitions, and library programs throughout the country. This involved weeks at a time driving from village to town to village with mobile units and a crew of African technicians, film photographers, and projectionists. I was always happy travelling with my “team” into the interior.

On an early trip we covered British Togoland, then governed as part of the Gold Coast. It had been a German colony until 1919 then divided and administered by Britain and France after the defeat of Germany in World War I. The larger French part with Lomé, the capital, is now an independent nation. I remember spending nights in the stolid rest houses built by the Germans throughout their African colonies (Togo, Cameroon, Tanganyika–now Tanzania, and Southwest Africa–now Namibia.

While spending a week in Lomé, I developed a close friendship with Bonito Olympio, making good use of my French. Bonito was the son of Sylvanus Olympio who became Prime Minister of French Togo in 1958, then President of independent Togo in April 1960. Later I’ll relate celebrating Togo independence as a house guest of the Olympio family and getting to know them all well, especially Bonito’s two attractive sisters who were university students in Paris.

Meeting an incredible variety of people on these trips was a wonderful new experience. We would normally pay a courtesy call on the District Officer, still mostly British colonials. Sometimes I’d be invited for dinner. If wives or women were present outdoors they would often wear long, mosquito-net pants under their dresses. We called on local chiefs, school officials, and the legendary White Father missionary priests. I loved the latter visits because it usually meant sharing a good bottle of wine.

Sometimes I would travel with new African friends, and remember a special weekend trip with Beattie Casely-Hayford, Minister of Information. We visited the old harbor at Takoradi, and Cape Coast castle—once an integral part of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Now the main export was lumber cut from the beautiful hardwood forests nearby. The Casely-Hayford family were early leaders of the Gold Coast independence movement.

The State Department had some ‘whacky’ ideas for “cultural exchanges”. For example, after the Louis Armstrong visit, they sent Ruggio Ricci, a concert violinist, to show the U.S. produced “classical”, as well as jazz musicians. I had to arrange a concert venue for a small audience that consisted mainly of local Europeans.

Another classic example was the “Atoms for Peace” exhibit which I had to organize and take around the country. We rented a big circus-style tent, hired a crew, and with our available trucks, visited all the major towns. I vividly remember one exhibit, an array of prepared meals, foodstuffs of all kinds, (sandwiches and so forth), that were “radiated” to show they could be preserved indefinitely.

Of course, the purpose of the exhibition was to counter propaganda that the U.S. was a dangerous nuclear threat to the world. The exhibit was then taken throughout the world, especially to towns in Japan.

In contrast to the atomic exhibit, I became involved in a person to person program organized by Rev. James Robinson, founder of “Crossroads Africa.” Thousands of books were donated and shipped to us for distribution to schools and a few libraries throughout the Gold Coast. PM Nkrumah liked this idea and I spoke to him about its implementation.

Crossroads Africa sent a group of young Americans to do community service work in Africa and is regarded as a precursor of the Peace Corps. I served on its board of directors in Washington D.C. in the late 1960s. Over the past 55 years, about 10,000 youths have participated in the program.

At last the Consulate found me a house to rent. In a letter home I describe it as

“.. a little cottage with two bedrooms, a small study, living-room, combined kitchen-dining area. Big doors opened to a patio with a profusion of flowers, inside and out. Quite the nicest home I could imagine, except for ours…”

Nearby was a little outdoor market with a public water pump. It was a treat to watch the procession of women and little children carrying water buckets on their heads.

As was the custom, I employed a cook-steward. His name was Innocence and he was an Igbo from Nigeria. A wonderful loyal man, and a fine cook as were many of the Nigerians working in the Gold Coast. He prepared fresh food, lots of fish, vegetables and often groundnut (peanut) stew. In those years, I did far more entertaining than later in life.

During the independence celebrations in 1957 Vice President Richard Nixon, official U.S. guest, visited a school near my house. I wasn’t home but Innocence reported a “big man,” with many people congregating and trying and enter my house. I always wondered if that “Big Man” needed to use my facilities.

The social scene in Accra was amazing. Africans and Europeans mixed freely at parties and nightclubs. The prospect of independence created excitement even among the British, though some remained cynical about self-government.

At a Governor’s tea party I met Marian Grant, a young British secretary in Nkrumah’s cabinet office, and we saw a lot of each other. Until on one of my long trips to the interior, she “ditched” me for the head of the British Council and shortly thereafter married him. I wrote home it was just as well as she was much too British for me.

My special friend though was Justina Kodjoe, a social worker with the Government. Tina melded perfectly into my ever-growing circle of friends. I sometimes visited her client families with her, and came to know a very different face of the Gold Coast than that of government and diplomatic circles.

As elsewhere, and today, the divide between “haves and have nots” was great. The words of a popular “high-life” song at the time were “Tina weh you been, Tina weh you been”. Gene Sawyer and I would tease her singing it.

“High-life’ was the popular dance music in West Africa. The sound is like the rhythms of the West Indies—Jamaica, Trinidad or Haiti. The outdoor nightclubs were the center of social life—ET Mensah’s Paramount, and several more. They were basic walled enclosures, cement dance floors, bandstands, a bar, and Christmas lights all year-round. Sitting at the tables you might meet African cabinet ministers, young professionals, white, black, a cross section of the community who could afford a quart bottle of Star beer or a gin and tonic.

My home away from home was a big house, seat of the Gold Coast Insurance Company, and residence for four African-Americans; Bob Freeman, his wonderful motherly wife Mary, Vertner Tandy and David Jones. They arrived in the Gold Coast shortly before I did to start the first local, non-British life insurance company.

Life insurance was a new concept in Africa. After months struggling to sell policies a client finally died, and they prepared to “pay off” the beneficiaries. I remember the problem they had finding and identifying the rightful heirs in an extended family. They were desperate to show the worth and value of life insurance. From the very start they took me into their family circle and I dropped by often after work.

David Jones, a Harvard graduate, was a special friend to me. By great coincidence his younger brother Frank Jones, is still a long-time best friend of my brother-in-law, John Lynch. Both Andover and Harvard graduates. Years later David became corrections superintendent for New York City. Home on leave one winter, he phoned asking me to meet him at the ferry terminal on the city’s East side, without explaining why. It was for a surprise trip to Rikers Island prison to see the annual Christmas show put on by the inmates. It was a hilarious drag queen performance. I learned that every year approaching Christmas, aspiring actors “arranged’ to be in prison to participate in the show.

David wrote me a long ‘newsy’ letter three weeks after I left Accra to work in Liberia. We both were soccer fans and he reported that The Hearts of Oak beat Kotowas (a Kumasi team), 2-1 without any rioting. Accra and Kumasi always had rival teams.

He also reported that “weird things politically were happening in Ghana”. Nkrumah had moved into the Governors castle and was acting more dictatorial, replacing old cabinet ministers and presuming leadership in pan-African politics. He insisted that his likeness appear on all Ghanaian coins and currency. Treasury Secretary, Gbedemah, a long-standing comrade objected on grounds that if an opposition government were ever elected, all the coins would have to be recalled and new ones issued. These rumblings portended the overthrow of Nkrumah in 1966. He had increasingly espoused an ill-defined “African socialism” economic theory, which in practice benefited the powerful elite. Government revenue was used to create “monuments” in honor of himself, and in 1964 he proclaimed himself “President for Life” and outlawed opposition parties.

To their credit the British worked hard to leave Ghana and Nigeria as democracies with constitutions and government institutions based largely on the UK model. They also left better roads, schools and infrastructure than that found in most of colonial Africa. Unlike other parts of Africa where permanent European settlement had occurred, West Africans were more comfortable in relationships with Whites. Except for those who had studied in in the U.S., they had not experienced discrimination. Sawyer would say jokingly of his African ancestry, “I’m not sure what I am but I know I’m not Ashanti” (a warlike people from northern Ghana).

Looking back, I will always have a special place in my heart for Ghana. Accra was my first post and first professional home. Living and working there assured me I could feel comfortable in many diverse settings and situations.

Throughout my tour in the Gold Coast anticipation built towards Independence Day, March 6, 1957. (I left for my new assignment in Liberia a month after that date). Beforehand our cameramen produced a film locally titled “Freedom for Ghana”, showing lots of celebration scenes, colorful dancing and gatherings. The editing job wasn’t great but the effort was appreciated by most.

The week leading to Independence Day was filled with official receptions and parties. As mentioned earlier, Vice President Nixon and wife Pat led the U.S delegation. The Duchess of Kent represented the Queen. More attention though was given to new African leaders and prominent private guests, Martin Luther King Jr. and wife Coretta especially, who dined privately with Nkrumah.

It was reported that Dr. King, when meeting Nixon, remarked, “come visit us in Alabama where we are seeking the same freedom Ghana is celebrating now!”. Of course, this was years before the civil rights movement in the South gained success.

At midnight, March 6, before a huge crowd (myself included) at the Accra polo grounds, the Union Jack flag was lowered and the new red, gold and green, with black star flag of Ghana was raised. It was a historic moment for all of Africa.