By OCHEREOME NNANNA

I never had the privilege of knowing Vanguard newspapers Founder/Publisher, Mr Sam Amuka-Pemu, when he wrote his legendary column under the pen name: Sad Sam. But those who did found both the writer and his column unforgettable. I have been to 35 of the 36 states of the Federation (except Zamfara State). Wherever I’ve gone in the past 31 years of working in Vanguard, people who were in their prime in the 1960s and 1970s have always asked: “How is Sad Sam?” They always go on to remember with that longing look how they were held spellbound by Sad Sam’s deeply witty articles.

Yeah, you can also call him Popular Sam. From the likes of the late Chief Pini Jason Onyegbadue and Ely Obasi to the very much alive Ikedi Isiguzo and Kayode Matthew, I heard exciting tales about this man beforehand. And so, when Pini gave me a letter introducing me for employment in October 1994, I eagerly looked forward to actually seeing the living legend. Pini told me he was sending me to Kirikiri Canal “on loan”, that when he was ready to launch his own newspaper, I must join him. I agreed to this “deal”.

Pini was a writer I read and respected long before we became involved around the political orbit of retired Commodore Okoh E Ukiwe in 1992. Ukiwe was basically the founder of the movement that became the National Democratic Coalition, NADECO, and Pini was one of its very aggressive leg men and committed ideologue. My involvement in that Ukiwe circle helped shape my career as a columnist.

In March 1999, the “appointed time” arrived. Pini was ready to unveil The Examiner (he called it “our paper”, a term that gave me a sense of ownership in the project). I was having it really good in Vanguard where I had blossomed into an award-winning columnist. Uncle Sam had given an express mandate for money to be provided whenever I needed to travel, and Mr Gbenga Adefaye, my very powerful, respected Deputy Editor, often needed to “crack heads” in the finance office to get me the funds.

I had given my word to Pini, and I felt the obligation to keep it. With a sorrowful heart, I went to Uncle Sam’s office with a letter of resignation. He was visibly perturbed but he quickly adjusted. As a seasoned media administrator, he had seen it all – people coming and going as a normal part of life. He gave his blessing and told me his door was open in case I wanted to see him for any reason. He also promised to ensure that my file was carefully preserved. Should I decide to come back to Vanguard, my resignation letter would be removed and I would continue from where I stopped.

Well, The Examiner failed after some months because the promised funding was not forthcoming. By November 2000, I decided to visit Uncle Sam in his flat at Maryland one night to see if he would take me back as agreed. This is where this story got its inspiration.

Once I was assured that he was upstairs, I asked the gateman to inform him I was here. The gateman took a look at me and continued with his chores. I obviously did not impress him. He hadn’t seen me before. I stood there for over 15 minutes until one of the stewards who knew me came in from an errand. After we exchanged greetings, he volunteered to tell Uncle I was waiting downstairs. Uncle Sam came down the stairs with a look of embarrassment. As I greeted him, he faced the gateman: “Why did you keep him here? Don’t you know he is my friend?”

It was then that I knew how the Prodigal Son must have felt when his father took him back with pomp and pageantry rather than contempt. Over the next six months, we negotiated my return. Yes, you heard me correctly. There was a very big gap between my pay as Deputy Editor in The Examiner and Assistant Editor/Columnist Vanguard. Uncle Sam assured me that a salary review was ongoing, and we agreed that I should wait till it was concluded.

“If you are happy with what we can offer, you can come back,” he told me.

This was very convenient for me. I had an offer to write for Apapa-based Post Express owned by Chief Sonny Odogwu, Ide Ahaba. The pay was almost double what I was getting in The Examiner. Uncle Sam and I agreed that I should go there and “wait” for the conclusion of the salary review. Post Express soon started defaulting on salary payments. An old friend, John Langley (now sadly late), who was an editor with The Guardian invited me to join them as Sunday Editor in a new newspaper project, which eventually became The Independent. I also had an offer straight from the publisher, Governor Orji Uzor Kalu, to join The Sun Newspapers as Chairman of the Editorial Board. The offers were simply mind-blowing. I had to choose between possible temporary euphoria and career stability which Vanguard provided. I met with my close friends and they all supported the need for me to return to Vanguard where I made my name. This I did in April 2001.

Obviously, apart from family legacy, one of the reasons for Uncle Sam’s longevity is his natural ability to make, maintain and respect his friends across all ages, social strata and genders. As a talented staff, you gain his respect and friendship through your work, and that relationship often extends right down to family levels. If you are incompetent, whatever you see you take!

Uncle Sam runs what I call a welfare system which springs from his keen sense of social justice. The pay may not exactly be the industry leader. But there is a cast-iron determination to pay workers their due. Just about a year ago, Vanguard was owing up to seven months salaries. Uncle Sam only (reluctantly) agreed for his media friends to bankroll and host his 90th birthday bash for him because Vanguard has paid all outstanding salaries.

There is no shred of arrogance on him, no airs; a study in quiet dignity. He is Simple Sam, the Gentleman of the Press. He remains “Mr” though he is a vintage Itsekiri High Chief. Uncle Sam buys big cars for his managers and editors but choses to be driven around in less-fancied ones. The only area you see a heightened bit of ostentation are his women and his art collections. Uncle Sam is the treasure of all of us.