In Remembrance of Black Enterprise

A Letter of Appreciation to Earl and Barbara Graves

By Frank Dexter Brown

He had a look that was at times foreboding. First, there were those mutton chop sideburns, and then at six foot, three or four, although in his late-40s when I first met him in 1982, he still had the physique and stature of a world-class athlete. He had the reputation of being demanding, dismissive, harsh. But when he smiled, that gruff exterior, that piercing gaze, that look casting doubt or disbelief, melted into an embracing glow — eyes that gleamed and a smile so broad, so bright, so encompassing, it seemed a gateway to the world.

And indeed, my chance meeting of Earl and Barbara Graves did serve as exactly that: a gateway to the world.

I was lucky, blessed even, some would say, to have been hired by Mr. and Mrs. Graves. I still refer to them as such, even after many years have passed and I am established in the worlds of journalism, research think tanks, and higher education. My hiring was an opportunity, in fact, that I may not yet have deserved. I was raw, green as an editor and writer. They gave me a chance, a shot. When I worked for them, I had one of the few positions available as a staff member at what was then one of the three leading Black publications in the country.

I first met them when I was just a year out of graduate school in journalism and had been freelancing for a year, trying as the saying goes, to “develop my chops.” Yes, I was just starting out as an editor, writer, photographer, still in the early years of my training, just refining the rudiments of style, composition and voice for the type of storytelling I saw for myself. My time with them presented me with a chance to hone those skills, develop a voice, and in particular as an editor, to assist others in developing their voice and telling their stories. These traits, developed at BE under the leadership of Mr. and Mrs. Graves, and Sheryl Hilliard Tucker, the magazine’s then-new managing editor who soon became editor and one of the most important leaders in the institution’s storied history (one of a number of Black journalists who climbed to senior positions in media after time with BE), would carry me through a lifetime of practicing and teaching the craft, and working as a researcher.

This was October, 1982: It was time to for me to build on my freelancing with publications like The Amsterdam News, an important and historic, but barely paying African American weekly, and other small gigs as a writer and photographer, as a political organizer, and an educator teaching night journalism classes at a small branch of a university. This wasn’t cutting it. I called Sheryl at the recommendation of a colleague, and she agreed to meet at BE. Maybe she would allow me to pitch story ideas, I thought.

I met Mrs. Graves while sitting with Sheryl, discussing grad school and story ideas. Mrs. Graves passed by and joined the conversation as I spoke a bit about my background. She listened to how I had coauthored a tour book by Hachette Publishers for young folk traveling from France to New York City — within which we highlighted communities of color rarely celebrated in tour books about the Big Apple. She was interested in the story I had recently written for the Amsterdam News on the attempted takeover actions by a small group on the board of Freedom National Bank, the Harlem-based African American bank, which at the time was among the most profitable Black institutions in the country — so the split had become big news.

But she especially keyed in when I described growing up working with my father from an early age. My father, who I was named after, founded a small, but widely recognized business in Los Angeles. He was a glazier, and the first Black man to join the union in L.A., and the first to run a privately-owned glazing business. Black-owned businesses, of course, is what Black Enterprise was about. She was impressed with his story of hard work and independence, how he was involved in much of the construction of L.A. communities, and his long workdays (there was a telephone that rang at home after hours if there was an emergency — say a boarding-up job in the middle of the night — and pops responded no matter how beat he was; this was one of the ways he separated his services from other much larger glass businesses). Mrs. Graves knew going the extra mile was common among Black-owned businesses, and that families were often involved. In fact, in many ways they ran Black Enterprise as a family business. We spoke of my years of riding with pops to jobs in his truck, helping to board-up or to set sheets of plate glass in storefronts, as well as my working as a receptionist and cutting glass in the back of the shop for walk-in customers. (She loved hearing about my family — later they allowed the magazine to run an article I wrote and photos I took at our family’s 1977 reunion at the home of Daddy Joe and Mama Annie in Lewisville, Arkansas — and they were gracious when meeting my father, my wife and other family members).

By the end of our talk, she asked me to return the next day for a “real” interview, including with Mr. Graves. I did, and two days later I was sitting at the founding meeting of the Black Enterprise Board of Economists.

So, from October 1982 to January 1991, when I became the founding editor of ysb magazine (young sisters and brothers), I was a regular contributor to Black Enterprise, either as a full-time staff editor, or a contributing editor and writer.

It was a phenomenal period. While primarily a magazine covering Black businesses and finance (think the always popular B.E. 100 list on the nation’s most profitable Black companies, and similar lists of banks and savings and loan companies, among other significant Black business institutions), Mr. Graves and Mrs. Graves, and Sheryl Hilliard Tucker, allowed me the flexibility to cover domestic and global political, social and cultural issues that were my primary reason for entering journalism. And under their direction, Black Enterprise was one of the most eclectic publications in the country. Most importantly, being at the magazine allowed me to regularly travel the world, and to produce stories that many others were ignoring or afraid to tell.

Consider our coverage of Southern Africa: The ANC and SWAPO liberation forces in South Africa and Namibia, and the newly independent Frontline States of Southern Africa, were steadily increasing their pressure on the apartheid regime, and rallying international forces to their side, while U.S. President Ronald Reagan extended financial, military and diplomatic support of the regime through its discredited policy of “constructive engagement.” And as Reagan increased his support, including working with U.S. companies to expand their South African investments, a U.S. antiapartheid movement grew in unprecedented ways, including completely rejecting increased U.S. investments by calling for total boycotts, divestment, and comprehensive, mandatory sanctions — indeed, a total isolation of the apartheid regime. We reported on these concerns almost every issue, even naming names of those businesses (12 companies were referenced as the “Dirty Dozen” in one article, among other terms) giving the most financial support to the racist government. And while some forces attempted to apply pressure against the Graves’, Sheryl and the magazine, they never capitulated and never asked me to soften the coverage I was allowed to direct and often served as the primary writer. Indeed, we produced among the most significant, constant and progressive coverage of any media organization during this period. This included writing about the needs of the Frontline States neighboring South Africa, and that were regularly under severe attack — militarily, economically and otherwise — by the apartheid regime; Nelson Mandela’s release from prison, as well as the release of the rest of the long-held ANC leadership; Mandela’s first visit to the United States, and his meeting with the Congressional Black Caucus, unionists and antiapartheid activists; and his eventual election as the nation’s first African president.

Yes, the Graves’ showed rare courage. And I was lucky enough to be provided an opportunity to work with them.

There are so many more memories, so many significant remembrances. But those will have to be discussed in another forum. My sharing at this point has run its course.

Mr. Earl Graves and Mrs. Barbara Graves, I still speak of you as a pair as I pay a final tribute to Mr. Graves. I thank you for allowing me to experience the world, and to share those experiences with others.

May peace be with the two of you as you both have now transitioned to continue your journey together.

In gratitude,

Frank

Frank Dexter Brown is founder of the Baobab Diaspora Visions, an environmental/sustainable development research and education project, and is a lecturer at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona, and an adjunct professor at the University of La Verne.