Albert Porte Of Crozierville: Remembering a Legend

Earlier this month, we observed the 124th anniversary of the birth of Albert Porte, writer, political commentator and pamphleteer extraordinaire. Porte was born on January 17, 1906. And among other non-government positions he held, served as founding chairman of the board of directors of the Liberian Observer Corporation, publishers of the Daily Observer newspaper.

His Search

He smiled at their frowning at his call:
The calling of his life
To the search for Truth and Wisdom
On a path with knowledge rife.
He was lonely, oh so lonely,
He was lonely; yet, so was God!

He found emptiness then in life’s pleasures;
Greater fulfillment he found in his books.
His thoughts were replete with life’s frolics,
Free from frivolity’s vulgar yoke.
It was lonely, oh so lonely,
He was lonely; yet, so was God.

We rejoice that he live as he wanted:
Free from the maelstrom of profit and gain,
Pursuing life’s glorious essentials
That materialists held in disdain.
He was lonely, ever so lonely,
He was lonely, yet so was God!

On a warm and pleasant afternoon in downtown Monrovia, two individuals waited at the busy Broad and Mechlin intersection for the ‘walk’ light to appear. Like others around them, the two zig-zagged, avoiding contact – and an unnecessary delay – in the middle of one of the city’s main thoroughfares. On opposite sides, the two drifted farther and farther apart; in moments, they would be swallowed up by a wave of commuters, perhaps never to meet. But that was not to be: the younger – and taller – man raised his head above the crowd, taking a second look to reassure himself about the diminutive figure he had almost crashed into. Embarrassed by his slow response to features that for some time had been etched in his mind, the young fellow recovered his wits and called after the gentleman.

Several curious heads turned when the well-known name rang out; the old gentleman looked back as well, smiling across the street at the prospect of what he was always on the lookout for – another interesting encounter with an ardent student of politics, religion, philosophy or the Liberian constitution.

Elated that his quick thinking had been rewarded, the young man disregarded the stop signal and rushed back across the street; with unabashed glee, he gripped the gentleman's hand and shook it as vigorously as he could. After an animated introduction and other pleasantries, the two launched a spirited chat, their earlier business no longer important. Someone else walked by, recognized one of the parties and a three-way exchange ensued. A new face soon dropped in and then another. Later, a passing car stopped, went into reverse and stopped again. Out jumped a married couple; the look on the wife’s face made it plain she was finally about to put a certain nagging question to rest. In time, others realized that some town hall-like activity was in progress and begin drifting in to find out what the attraction was.

More people poured in and the gathering spilled into the street. An elderly lady, tired and short of breath hobbled forward with the aid of a walking stick; she was headed straight for the crowd as well. Wearing looks of concern, two men skirting the fringes considered ushering her around the crowd. That was no place for someone her age. They soon thought better of it; no one was about to prevent the lady from getting into the mix; the look on her face made that clear. They stepped aside to let her through. The lady began negotiating her way through the crowd, wondering about the two men as they had about her; “government spies, she muttered under her breath.”

For weeks, the lady had been looking out for just such a happening; she knew only one person that could convene an impromptu town meeting just by strolling down the street. No one had reported spotting him about town for a while. That had worried her a little; something had to have happened to him. And then, all of a sudden, there it was; out of nowhere, a gathering as it had materialize so many times before; he was bound to be in the thick of it. Sensing the lady’s ‘urgent mission,’ others near her gently nudged her farther on. Soon she stood at center-stage smiling down at the figure she had half-hoped, half-expected to find: her most favorite person in the world. She studied him for a minute or two, finding him less nimble and a bit more stooped; but there he was, faculties and energy intact, holding court in the open air – as usual.

The gentleman continued working the crowd and the lady edged a bit closer, to catch his words. She reached over after a while and poked his head affectionately from behind: “look at all the brains in this little head,” she announced to no one in particular. “You ought to be president of this country!” Albert Porte turned to acknowledge the flattering compliment. He returned the lady’s smile, nodded graciously and continued fielding questions. “…In my experience,” he went on, in response to an incoming question: (he meant those words for the old lady; Mr. Porte was hoping she would ‘get the message’ that embracing the simple life that his Maker intended, granted him the liberation and authority to stand up and speak on behalf of the weak and oppressed. However, caught up in the excitement as the old lady was, she would miss the boat, as Teacher Porte loved to say.


The Background

Albert Porte’s literary journey had not begun with his celebrated memo of the 1930s, that called attention to an indentured-labor operation gone wrong on President C. D. B. King’s watch; it sure seemed that way to political scientist Amos Sawyer, though, who caught his first and lasting glimpse of the-then young Porte in Monrovia’s Waterside business district (Down Waterside), distributing a circular in connection with the Fernando Po Crisis. (That “crisis,” some writers believed, was due to the hypocrisy of a world community grappling with its own contradictions. King would soon resign, courtesy of the League of Nations’ ‘Christie Commission’ that painted a horrific picture of the recruitment and dispatch of indigenous Liberians and the monitoring of their supervision on the Island of Fernando Po.)

But rank-and-file Liberians felt the country would be better off without the King administration. Some members of the public spotted an opportunity to take matters into their own hands and turned their attention to Porte, who was plying his craft on the streets of Monrovia. Their intentions, had they succeeded, would have spared President King the painful, drawn-out process that led to his resignation.

Porte, the young firebrand, had begun to enjoy public recognition for his scathing articles, though many believed – and wrongly so – that the better-known Edwin Barclay (who would replace King as president) had been authoring Porte’s papers.

The day soon came when, in the heat of demands for King’s removal, an angry mob seized Albert Porte, placed him atop a makeshift platform and waited for him to morph into a towering political figure. But neither the political astuteness inferred from Porte’s articles nor the oratorical skills presumed would be on display that day. The earth almost shook beneath the writer’s feet when he found himself so perilously close to the presidency. But that was as close as he would ever come. Porte went to his grave believing that had he been able to move the crowd with his voice the way he had with his unbridled pen, the course of Liberia’s history would have been altered that day.

Within minutes, the mob pulled him down from the platform, convinced when he failed to deliver, that his was not the pen behind the articles that had been urging them on. They became convinced that he and Barclay clearly were in cahoots. Porte would be given another stern warning for letting Barclay use him for his political advantage and dismissed. But he had been involved in no such thing. Something unexpected had happened as he stood atop the platform that day, looking down on the crowd below: the writer was struck speechless! “I lost his voice,” was how he put it “…unable to utter a word!” A defining moment for Porte, it would turn out, though it did not strike him as such at the time! That’s why he could handle the old lady’s remark with such dignity and poise – he had been in that situation before. Now he was in control and betrayed to his audience none of the memories those five words conjured up. They represented what others dreamed up for him. Their ‘foolishness’ had only served to sober Albert Porte, alerting him to his true calling – serving his community, far removed from intoxicating power and wealth. Porte would have to seek out the tools to carry on his work. He would find “…temples in trees, sermons in stones, books in running brooks, good in everything,” as William Shakespeare discerned with clarity.

The Beginning

The story of the Portes began with the arrival in Liberia of the Reverend Charles Coslet Conrad Porte, in the company of his parents who, along with other relatives – the Padmores, Goodriches, Eastmans, Clarks and others – had sailed from Barbados. They would travel north, upon reaching Liberia, settling the Township of Crozierville. The township falls within the District of Careysburg and is contiguous to Bensonville, White Plains and Harrisburg. Bensonville was home to William R. Tolbert, Sr. and his wife Charlotte. Reportedly of the Carolinas, the Tolberts would raise several outstanding children including Frank, Willie R. Tolbert Jr. and Steven Allen Tolbert.

The Portes’ impressive three-storey southern-styled residence stood on a hill, hoisted on pillars, about a quarter of a mile from the town’s Main Road.” It sported two piazzas with decorated concrete and woodwork, a cellar, and a live-in attic.

After coming of age, C.C.C. Porte took a young lady named Fredrica for his bride. He would be ordained a minister of the Episcopal Diocese and appointed priest-in-charge of Christ Church in Crozierville. Reverend Porte would run the local public school as well. To the Mother Church in the U.S., he would pen periodic reports on the progress of his church and congregants. (Some of those reports, we learned, have surface at a Library in Texas.)

The Portes’ first child, Albert, was born on January 17, 1906. When Reverend Porte suddenly passed away, young Albert was a student at the Cuttington College and Divinity school in Suakoko, Bong County. The younger Porte returned to bury his father. Opting to take over his father’s duties while caring for his mother, Fredrica, his sister Lillian and Christian, his younger brother, he would not return to Cuttington. A much younger sister, Sarah, would surface later.
The two sides of Lemon Grass Street – Crozierville’s lone thoroughfare – showcased citrus orchards that often mixed oranges, grapefruits, lime and sour lime, with patches of guava. Sugar cane and cassava farms that required cutting, burning and clearing, were usually situated farther away from the road, as they required larger spaces. Other tubers such as eddoes, yams and sweet potatoes could be found in smaller backyard plots, while coconut and mango trees adorned most front lawns. Cane juice stills served as the town’s economic mainstay, supplemented by palm kernel and palm oil production. A couple of shops supplied the town’s light needs.

A soccer match with a neighboring town or a jitterbug and highlife dance every now and then lured back hometown boys from around the country to flirt with the local girls and add spice to the sleepy town. Otherwise, young male teenagers spent their free time talking about the district’s militias that converged on the town on the sixth of May, for a parade and other activities celebrating the town’s founding. The crisp and confident styles of officers passing in review would remain something to talk about for months. The town’s teenagers made practicing the militia drills a recreation, looking forward to the day they’d be able to dress up in their khaki suits and black boots, barking out orders to their subordinates.

Albert soon fell in love with the beautiful and lively Cora Heathe who, along with her sister, Bertha, ended up at Porte’s Hill after relocating to Liberia in the company of missionaries from Tallahassee, Florida. Albert was fascinated with Cora’s outgoing personality. His mother, Fredrica, pulled him aside one day and encouraged him to look a little farther in searching for a life-partner. Albert took his mother’s hint and ended up marrying the younger and quiet Bertha.


Teaching And Lay Ministry

Young Albert had hoped to continue his father’s ministry. The 11 children that Bertha bore him – Koi Koi, Nyanquoi, Qualyna, Momolu, Le-lai, Yakamehn, Phergrama, Famatta, Ferdinand, Fredrica and Imelda – would have been too big a financial burden to the Diocese while he pursued Theological studies, he was told. He continued to run the affairs of Christ Church (Crozierville) as lay minister, under the supervision of a circulation of priests-in-charge.

Under the watchful eyes of community stalwarts – the Dunbars, the Weeks family, The Goodridges, the Holders, the Padmores, the Murrays, the Thorpes, the Clarks, the Coopers, the Reeves family, the Carters, The Eastmans, the Carrs and Capeharts, the Crawfords, the McGills, the Witters, Ernest and Viola James, the Dixons, the Shashas, Lou Porte, Cerue Henderson, Jeannie Warden, Julius Porte, Old Man Koto and others – Albert took the reins as principal of the public school. He would become Teacher Porte to several generations of Croziervillians. Some of his assistants included Claudius Reeves, Ruth Reeves, Doris Goodridge, George and Azaleas Murray, Ruth McGill, Theresa Murray and Mr. James Brown of Harrisburg.

He and Bertha would go on to foster many more children than their own. In addition to their nieces and nephews – Moses Wollor, Ellen Porte, Kelvin and Keith Best and Comfort Randall – a stream of wards from the rural regions flowed in and out of Porte’s Hill. They included, Pala Koto, John By, Koko Wollor, Johnson Kekula, Flomo, Larkpa, Wullie, Nyellie and others. Though each arrived speaking only his or her native language (usually Kpellé), they’d be chiming out in almost flawless English no more than a few months later, thanks to the Portes’ regimen of daily devotions, study sessions, individual readings and recitations of the Collect, Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer and the Doxology. A non-resident of Porte’s ‘mission’ could always count on a welcoming chair at the Portes’ dinner table after a challenging day at school, whenever he or she felt the need to do so.

Albert Porte was a disciplinarian and ran Porte’s Hill, with a firm hand.

Other areas of personal development were considered just as important. Everyone was required to behave kindly and courteously to the other. Each had to listen and speak in turn. Teacher Porte took the lead in stressing the importance of good communication skills. He rarely passed up an opportunity go beyond the fundamentals of English, assisting often with the correct pronunciation of a word or its preferred use. Only proper language was allowed; not even a wrongly applied accent would go uncorrected. Teacher Porte considered the world a learning place. He usually took his generosity outside of the home and classroom, volunteering his knowledge and experience to all within earshot. A library that Teacher Porte kept at home offered his charges a means to broaden their horizons or simply escape the silence of the lush backwoods of Crozierville.


Writing Career

AP, as Teacher Porte’s wife often called him, had a passion for writing, but lacked the gift – or so he thought. His brother, Christian, was a natural. Christian had gone no farther than the fifth grade and found little use for formal education. The younger sibling evidently had done a lot of reading and developed a style so convincing, well-known politicians bought up his articles to keep them from being aired in public. Determined to become just as good a writer, Albert enrolled in a writing correspondence course, devouring books to deepen his understanding of the language and improve his diction. Soon, “Brother” (as his younger siblings called him) was writing copiously (one of his favorite words) about national and international issues. Thus a long and distinguished career as a social critic and political commentator took off. Some of Porte’s more recognized titles, including “Glimpses of Justice in Liberia,” “Thinking About Unthinkable Things the Democratic Way,” “An Open Letter To The President of Liberia,” have been tied to the Tubman era (1944-1971), forever linking Albert Porte with William V. S. Tubman, whose administration spanned that period.

Tubman had recognized early in his presidency that he could rule by fiat, and for as long as he wanted. All he needed do was consolidate political power as no president before him had. He soon began what Carl Patrick Burrowes called “dismantling…the long-standing edifice of independent journalism and civil liberties.” He would succeed in neutralizing dissent from the political opposition, its vocal supporters and even the disaffected media.

A rash of imprisonments, fines and reprimands would sideline most of the country’s stewards of independent thought and action. Newspapers that did not survive Tubman’s reign included the African Nationalist, The Independent and the Crozierville Observer. Their editors, C. Frederick Taylor, Bertha Corbin, Albert Porte, Tuan Wreh and later, Rufus Darpoh, were at one time or the other, sent to prison for challenging Tubman’s domestic policies, his hold on power and the slow pace of development.

Corbin was stripped of her citizenship and marched to jail singing the Liberian national anthem. She was later repatriated to her native U.S.A. S.T.A. Richards was reduced to a social pariah and lost his press when vandals – reported loyal to Tubman – smashed it in a late night visit after The Friend came out against Tubman’s bid for an unprecedented third term. Aston King, editor of the government-owned Liberian Age, was fined. His assistant, Stanton Peabody, spent a day in prison when the legislature overreacted to an almost ingratiating reference to some of its members as ‘radical.’

Meanwhile, Tubman enjoyed emergency powers that the Legislature restored to him from time to time, whether an emergency existed or not!

But there was another side to Tubman that would endear him to many: he dished out favors to anyone willing to pledge support and profess himself a ‘friend.’ The lives of retired public servants and senior citizens, especially, turned on a nod from him, confirming an appointment as a public relations officer (PRO). That entitled a head of household or needy retiree to a monthly ‘pension’ check that substituted as unemployment. Of course, many PROs were expected to serve as Tubman’s eyes and ears in the community – meaning, as a part of his elaborate security network. Many did, it was reported, relaying the barest murmur in the home that was not in support of Tubman, his policies or his politics. Soon, the unscrupulous were engineering some of their neighbors’ and friends’ interrogation, arrest and even imprisonment.

Albert Porte understood how corrupting power could be. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” he was fond of saying. Porte felt it his responsibility to keep pressure on President William V.S. Tubman and other functionaries in the interest of the general public. He would do so in his pamphlets. High-ranking officials and white-collar employees kept a lookout for Albert Porte’s publications. Sometimes they mingled with the hoi polloi (masses) that followed the gentleman around, waiting for an opportunity to negotiate a purchase. Some arranged to be met in out-of-the-way places, fearful of being seen picking up Porte’s uncensored literature, considered seditious by the government. Others waited for the cover of darkness to secure copies of his commentaries.

The nation’s head honcho was not the only one in for reprimands from Porte. Sometimes he took the Judiciary or the Legislature to task for an unconstitutional act, misuse of power or an indiscretion, always making such exchanges available to the public. Government officials – elected or not – were servants of the people, went Porte’s mantra, not their masters. Rather than cringe in fear, the public had a duty to demand that ‘public servants’ accounted for their actions, he told the rank-and-file in the streets of the capitol. Naturally, he took under his wings those unable or unwilling to fight back, for fear of worsening their situations. It pained him, he said, that citizens were so cavalier about surrendering their rights when pressured by the rich and powerful. Citizens had less to lose and more to gain by confronting injustice, he counseled.

Finding it pointless to continue to imprison Porte, Tubman eventually seemed to ‘get the message’ and tried to dialogue instead. When Porte blasted him for buying a luxury yacht the nation could not afford, Tubman wrote back that the yacht would provide much-needed rest and relaxation for himself and members of his government. He ‘threatened’ to bring Porte to his senses by taking him on a cruise someday; some rest and relaxation away from his busy schedule would do the critic some good, Tubman deadpanned in reply to one of Porte’s ‘Open Letters.’

Two of Porte’s finest works, “Gobbling Business” and “The Day Monrovia Stood Still” – a veritable sequel – were penned near the close of the activist’s career. Today, they remain monuments to the excesses and miscalculations of the 1970s that edged the First Republic to the brink before its precipitous fall on William Tolbert’s watch in 1980. The two publications placed a social and economic clash between some of Crozierville’s and Bensonville’s best known sons in the public domain. But that was only the tip of a long, simmering rivalry that had pitted the agriculture- and business-driven settlers who migrated from the U.S. – that the Tolberts were said to represent – against the more academic Barclays, Portes, Padmores, Eastmans and Weekses that had hailed from Barbados in the West Indies. That rivalry, we should add, has since cooled!

(Upton Phergrama Porte contributed toward the recollection of some of the events and individuals referred to in this article.)