By Terry Fade Adewale
Most people know Mr Frank Aigbogun as a master editor. What fewer people know is that his editorial instincts do not stop at news copy. On at least one occasion, they extended to a resignation letter. I should know. But I’ll come to that presently. My first encounter with Frank Aigbogun lasted less than two minutes, but it felt even shorter. Armed with youthful confidence and an ambitious pitch about all the things I could do as a reporter, I barely got through my opening lines before he looked up and delivered a blunt verdict:
“No vacancy, please.”
Without another word, his eyes returned to the mountain of copy on his desk, as though my interruption had been nothing more than a brief commercial break in a serious news bulletin.
That was my introduction – in 1985 of blessed memory – to the man who would become one of the most influential figures in my professional life. To an eager young journalist, he seemed brusque, unsmiling, and not particularly interested in making new friends. Yet, as I would later discover, first impressions can be spectacularly misleading.
Unlike many here, I had the privilege of working with Frank in two distinct phases spanning approximately fourteen years between 1985 and 2003, with a few detours in between. As a result, I witnessed both sides of the man: Frank the newsroom warrior who helped build Vanguard from an ambitious start-up into a journalistic force, and Frank the publisher who would later marshal human and financial resources to establish the BusinessDay media empire.
Much has already been said about his newsroom exploits, so I will spare you another recital of those well-known legends. Suffice it to say that as News Editor at Vanguard, Frank was ubiquitous – everywhere and involved in everything. He possessed boundless energy, a competitive spirit, and an intolerance for mediocrity. He did not suffer fools gladly, nor did he expend much effort pretending otherwise.
His stern expression often worked against him. Many mistook seriousness for hostility. In reality, Frank was a listening commander. If you brought him solid stories and demonstrated commitment to the craft, he was willing to go to considerable lengths on your behalf.
One incident remains particularly vivid.
Around 1991, the now defunct Universal Trust Bank (UTB) attempted to lure me away from journalism. Unknown to me, the bank sought references from people who knew my work, including Frank. I was subsequently offered an Assistant Manager position. Feeling unusually brave, I countered with a demand for a managerial role instead. To my astonishment, the bank agreed. During negotiations, one of their Assistant General Managers remarked that they should accept my terms based largely on the glowing recommendation they had received from my boss.
I nearly fell off my chair.
At no point had Frank mentioned that the bank had contacted him. He neither advertised his support nor sought credit for it. He simply did what he believed was right and carried on as if nothing had happened. In the end, I declined the offer because my university admission materialised at about the same time. Yet I never forgot the quiet confidence he had shown in me.
By the turn of the millennium, after completing my law studies, our paths crossed again. Frank had already launched Wordsmithes Printers, the venture that would eventually evolve into BusinessDay Newspapers. Once again, I found myself discussing employment opportunities with him. This second encounter could not have been more different from the first. Gone was the hurried newsroom gatekeeper.
In his place now sat a publisher in a tastefully furnished office who welcomed me warmly and virtually invited me to define my own role. He even lamented that he had been unable to find me earlier when searching for an editor for the newspaper. I subsequently joined the fledgling organiZation, serving first as Assistant Editor and later as News Editor.
Together, we helped nurture a bold vision that evolved into Nigeria’s pioneering daily business newspaper. -the daily BusinessDAY. During those years, I came to know an entirely different Frank Aigbogun: not merely the relentless editor I had encountered at Vanguard, but a thoughtful institution-builder and remarkably humane administrator.
At the Vanguard, the prevailing question had been: “Where is your story, my friend?” At BusinessDay, the mantra became: “Where are we, gentlemen?” The distinction was subtle but revealing. The first demanded performance. The second encouraged collective ownership.
By then, Frank had evolved from a newsroom general into a builder of institutions. He was no longer just editing stories; he was shaping culture, nurturing talent, and steering an enterprise with remarkable clarity of purpose. By the time I eventually decided to relocate abroad, BusinessDay had already established itself as Nigeria’s premier business daily newspaper. As required, I submitted my resignation letter through Human Resources, giving a month’s notice. The following day, I went to Frank’s office to formally inform him of my decision.
He listened quietly before responding: “Thank you, Terry, for everything you have done to support this enterprise. I understand you are travelling overseas. Silver and gold we do not have, but what we can do, we will do.” Before I could fully process those words, he picked up the intercom and called the HR Manager. “Adesuwa, could you please come in with Terry’s resignation letter?”
A few moments later, Adesuwa arrived with the letter. Then came another surprise. Frank handed it back to me. “Terry, please amend this. Change it from resignation to study leave for two years.”
I looked at him, puzzled. He continued: “You are free to return at any time within that period if you wish. Travel is one of those things you cannot predict. If circumstances change and you need to come back, your place will still be here.”
For a moment, I was speechless.
The journalist who had once dismissed me in under two minutes was now ensuring I had a safety net before embarking on a life-changing journey. It was a gesture of generosity, foresight, and humanity that I neither expected nor requested. I left his office that day carrying not merely a revised letter but a lasting lesson in leadership. Leaders build organisations.
Great leaders build people. So, contrary to my first impression in 1985, Frank Aigbogun was never simply the hard-driving editor behind an overflowing desk. Beneath the intimidating exterior was a mentor who valued loyalty, recognised potential, rewarded performance, and cared deeply about the people who journeyed with him.
And so, when I eventually left Nigeria, I did not leave BusinessDay through resignation.
Thanks to Frank’s uncommon kindness and wisdom, I departed on what was officially recorded as a two-year sabbatical leave. For your kindness, I remain eternally grateful.
Happy birthday Boss man Frank Aigbogun.
