THE newspaper industry has witnessed quite a few deaths of its outstanding leaders within a space of two months'between July and August ending. It started with the departure of Hubert Unegbu of the West African Pilot of old, then Odunewu, a.k.a. Allah-De, followed by that of Layi Ogunsola, of Public and Confidential fame in the Nigerian Tribune. Then came the rousing exit of Demola Fashola, and now Peter Oyeyemi Obe, simply called Peter Obe who to the world was more known as the Ace Photographer, but to us, the Newsroom boys, ''Exclusive! Exclusive Baba!!''The Radio also had a taste of the harvest of deaths. I am referring to the exit of Soniran Oluwole Sowemimo who had the distinction of serving six governors in a row from Bisi Onabanjo alias Aiyekoto; to Oladipo Diya, Oladayo Popoola, Raji Rasaki, and Mohammed Lawal to Oladeinde Joseph. Subsequent Administrations in his state of Ogun also had one assignment or the other to give him. He was chairman, Moshood Abiola Polytechnic Governing Council; Chairman, Gateway Radio Board of Directors; and Director of The Sketch in Ibadan. Upon returning from the United States in 1973 with a degree tucked in his briefcase he went straight to Radio Nigeria in Lagos as senior sub-editor/reporter. He was later to be transferred to Ibadan and then Abeokuta. With the creation of Ogun State in 1976 and the merging of the renamed Radio Nigeria as Radio Broadcasting Corporation, and Ogun State Radio in 1978, Sowemimo moved to what then became OGBC. To his colleagues in the Newsroom, he was fondly called SOS, but in social circles, High Chief, sometimes Double Chief to reflect his vaunted chieftaincy titles from the Olubadan and the Alake. The last time I saw him was at the burial ceremonies of the mother of Reuben Abati. We saw at the church and later at the reception. At the reception, on sighting our table he came straight there, saying to me, Bonu, this is where I belong. At the table were Yahaya Awosanya, a veteran newspaper administrator and director of The Guardian and his wife; Odia Ofeimum, the well-known poet and playwright who incidentally was on the Editorial Board of The Guardian in the early days; Dare Babarinsa, a former executive director and a founder of Tell Magazine; Kayode Komolafe, deputy managing director of ThisDay, a former Guardian too, Martin Oloja, editor of The Guardian, and Fred Ohwahwa, one-time editor of The Guardian on Sunday. I said to him, High Chief, but we don't have beads here, over which we laughed heartily. On that occasion he gave me a picture in which he appeared in company of three Egba Chiefs. Little did I realise that the picture was his way of saying good-bye to those of us his friends. There was nowhere death was written on his face. But then that is the limitation of man, puny human beings! This piece was originally intended to be on Demola Fashola but each time I opened my computer to punch the keys, the telephone would ring: 'Have you heard''' It was the news of the departure of a media star breaking. The last came from Tony Momoh on his way to Austria to inform me that Peter Obe had passed on. There was a text from Taiwo Obe and Sunmi Smart- Cole was to call later to pass the same information to me. Demola Fashola returned from Britain where he had read law, marketing /advertising and business administration to become a journalist and for most part of his career the advertisement manager of the Daily Times. He was a major pillar in the proverbial commercial success of the Daily Times. He wasted no time in raising the pagination of the paper from 24 to 32 and then 48.On high-tide days, the pagination went to 72. As indigenization was approaching there were special supplements on blue-chip companies. There were exhibitions further pushing the pages frequently to 84. His department was so successful that benches were constructed for the army of prospective advertisers. In town, there were complaints that there were too many advertisements in the paper. In the Newsroom there were grumblings that all the good stories could not be accommodated because the pages had been cleared for advertisements. The joy of every reporter and sub-editor was to hit the market with a paper that the readers would not be able to put down and would want to file. If Kunle Animashaun, our news editor, would not talk, he might only wrinkle his face; the same could not be said of his successor, Chief Theo Ola, who would begin by saying, ''Awe, what happened to all the good stories we gave to you last night''' Demola Fashola had taken all the space for advertisements. All the senior editors understood: How do you get paid your salaries, run the business and have reserves if there were no adverts, they would ask us.Demola Fashola knew where to go whenever he needed to alter the dummy or clear the already prepared pages for adverts if his boys had difficulties getting us on the sub-desk to surrender pages. His first port of call was Lai Mabinuori, deputy editor, if not available to Sola Oluwole, George Okoro or Mac Alabi. He knew he would have difficulty with Henry Odukomaiya who was a very severe editor who would ask that even the solo advert on the front page be removed if a story was sufficiently big. The advertisement traffic was heavy, from business and from obituaries; the latter Sad Sam would not read. Editor, why won't you read obituary pages, he was once asked. Never known to be non-plused, Sad Sam replied: 'It is because I don't want to read my own obituary in the event the enemies have done their worst!'' Whenever Demola Fashola came to the Newsroom himself, we sub-editors would carefully avoid having any eye contact with him and our superiors negotiating pages. We would fix our gaze on our pages, pretending not to see them, none wanting to be called upon to surrender his page, because to do so would mean starting the page all over again. The production department dutifully recorded every alteration to the dummy and copy flow to the caseroom as it was then called. Allah-De fondly called Fashola, Fash. Upon reading the production report in the morning, Allah-De would call out, Fash, Fash!!'which was to be interpreted as Fash for deadline. It meant the advert department had caused production delay. Alhaji Jose simply called him Ibrahim, again not without meaning, laden with undoubted joy. Alhaji Jose was an ardent Muslim. His son, too, was Ibrahim. The no-non-sense deputy production manager, Dominic Nworji, the terror of sub-editors, made sure he recorded every minute alteration to pages or dummy for his production report. For us the junior ones, Fash meant Fashola the well-attired man, the man of fashion. In other words, for us it was Fashola for fashion. There were three of them who cared a great deal about their appearance'Segun Osoba, Demola Fashola and Adio Saka. It was such that we their junior colleagues could not say who of them was the best attired in the Newsroom. We often said in whispers that Osoba and Fashola got their suits from Oxford Street in London. Influenced by their outing, Tunde Thompson and I decided we would each buy a shirt every month, and for me the place to go was the Gee at Abibu-Oki. We could afford it, what with what Alhaji Jose would call ''swindle sheet'', our transport claims. We had our salaries in addition, and there were no responsibilities. Demola Fashola wasted no time in approving the transport claims for his staff. At a point he was pressing for dressing allowance for advert executives and canvassers. Many of them had cars. For the present-day advert executives, they owe their cute, royal and sartorial elegance to the foundation laid by Demola Fashola, and if I may add, his struggle. It was not until I became the chief sub-editor that I worked very closely with Fashola and matured to understand his unremitting application to his work. Ever so dandy with parted hairs (the hair style of the time), ever-so warm-hearted and always smiling, he was amiable and a fantastic negotiator. We would go through pages together to see what stories could be stepped down for adverts. He loved his job. He was diligent and he was insistent on his suasions, while not surrendering his humility and patience. As a member of leading social clubs, be helped to interface with the business community while we journalists were content in cultivating sources and servicing them. It was all joyful collaborative working in the overall interest of the company and her prosperity as well as the wellbeing of all of us blessed to cross her portals. As proof of his dedication to duty, Demola Fashola would come in on Sundays, sometimes on Saturdays as well, to check from the first edition if the advertisements for the following day were in the right places and if the impression was sharp. On two occasions or so, there was this young lad, with penetrating gaze, who came with him. As all children are wont to do, this lad calculating, would move left and then move right to jump steps on the staircase to his father's office. How now, looking back, we wished we were stargazers to see into the future and say to the world, behold, there goes the leader of our morrow, the Governor of Lagos State. Stand up, Tunde Fashola and take a bow!Peter Obe: The Exit Of A Bright StarPETER OYEYEMI OBE is the latest to be taken away from our media world. He was an extra-ordinary being, with an uncommon skill and drive in the art of photography, and in daringness. He was resourceful and self-driven. I recall two occasions, one in which he joined the police helicopter in land and air operation in Lagos in the era of Kam Salem tracing the hide-out of dare-devil Oyenusi and his gang of armed robbers. Chinaka Fynecountry was in the operation vehicle giving the air operation ground support. The gang was rounded up with Oyenusi in a probing interview afterwards, telling Fynecountry, ''you dare not ask me such questions when I am armed.'' The pictures of the operation Peter Obe brought to the Newsroom were mind-blowing. On another occasion, this time at a special and memorable event, Peter Obe climbed a palm tree and hid there to take photographs to be able to capture every movement and the action-packed activity connected with the event.Until his advent, Jackie Phillips was arguably what Gbolabo Ogunsanwo would call the ultimate in press photography. Peter Obe took it to unapproachable dizzy heights. A highly animated fellow, his entry into the Newsroom, was often greeted with loud rejoicing, and the whole place got lit up, with the shout of ''Exclusive! Exclusive Baba!'' to which he would retort, ''Eh...ee, ma wo nti e.''He covered the war for most of the period it lasted. He was at the Benjamin Adekunle 3rd Marine Commando, with Segun Osoba, Idowu Sobowale, Sola Odunfa, Bola Adedoja and Yusuf Oladele, and a few more fanning out in different sectors of the hostilities. He was gladly courted by the powerful and the lowly. He was a welcome leading friend in the inner circle of press photographers around Gowon whose marriage he covered with his unique skill and passion. Obasanjo got put off by unrelenting bad press, but he accommodated Peter Obi, even after he took a dramatic picture of him unawares, playing lawn tennis in with him in this accustomed Hitleric moustache of Generals and sergeant majors. Obasanjo was caught using his jersey to wipe his face. He got stiff and unsmiling Tunde Idiagbon to provide access corridor for him. Of course, Babangida made friends easily him and so he had no problems with IBB. With his contacts in high places whether among politicians or military officers you could get him to confirm stories and it was not infrequent that he extracted exclusive stories from all the companies he kept. One memorable one was the controversial marriage of Oba Oyekan that was contracted in the dark. Stealthily he and Kunle Elegbede covered the event with telling photographs, which were splashed on the front-page of the Sunday Times. To see Peter Obe breeze into the Newsroom in his military fatigue with four cameras hanging down on his expansive chest and sides, you would want to take cover and call on General Hassan Katsina, the chief of Army Staff, for fortified protection. Obe grew accustomed to wearing a hat from the war days this became his signature. He had two books to his credit, with the pictures therein showing his photo-journalistic exploits whether from independence and post-independence era or the civil war. He was proud that he got Chief Anthony Enahoro and Major General Hassan to write preface to his books, one of them an exhaustive pictorial coverage of the war. After he left the Daily Times, he set up a flourishing photo agency called Peter Obe Photo Agency. It was after he left that it could be said of him that he was even more than a workaholic. Call him at any time of the 24 hours in a day, the untiring and energetic Peter Obe was ready to carry out your assignment and his photograph would go to no other page than the front page. He was the photo representative of AFP of France in Nigeria. Every photograph he supplied to newspaper houses was stamped ''Exclusive'' hence the appellation Peter Obe, Mr. Exclusive. Journalism teachers are quick to say, reporters write the paper, sub-editors make it. It is impossible for sub-editors to make the paper without the strong input of the likes of Peter Obe. How do you want your paper to speak, to have fresh air and charge at readers with an appropriate selection of typefaces without Peter Obe's photographs' In the twilight of his life, he went out of circulation, hit by sight impairment. He may have departed from our midst, as words and images do not die, Peter Obe will continue to be the reference point and role model for ages to come, a glowing leading light of our industry. And that should be the consolation for his children and relations and the energising tonic for those in journalism, to climb farther heights. Peter Obe set very high standard of excellence for himself and he strove to always almost attain it.Next week: Layi Ogunsola.
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