When I bought an old printing press from Norman Bouloy (deceased) for $200 in 1971, the Chandler and Price machine was moved from Benex Press on Nurse Seay Street to 46 Euphrates Avenue. Galento X Neal, a UBAD officer, had rented the Euphrates place for his tailoring business, and UBAD/Amandala later got the other half, or Galento gave us half. It’s a long time ago, and I’m not sure.
I’d borrowed $300 from the old Royal Bank. Donnie Weir (deceased) signed the security for me. The $100 left after the purchase of the press, bought some of the lead type used for letter press printing.
Our first printer was Edwardo Burns, who used to work at Cain’s Printing Press on New Road. “Papito” was just a young teenager, Burns was, maybe 15 or 16. We used to get printing jobs done at Cain’s Printing for UBAD and for our newspaper, which is how we met Burns. He was eager to leave Cain, because he saw freedom and adventure with us on Euphrates Avenue, which was just around the Dean Street lane from his family residence on Amara Avenue. I think Burns had been apprenticed from the age of maybe 14 or so at Cain’s.
If there is one thing I regret about those times, I feel that we led Burns astray. We were grown men, and we introduced him to things. By the middle of the following year, to the utter distress of his mother, Edwardo was on trial for arson, damage to public property and other Supreme Court charges because of a UBAD demonstration which became a Belize City uprising on May 29, 1972.
In later 1972, UBAD/Amandala moved to where we are now on Partridge Street. Soon afterwards, in the earlier part of 1973, UBAD began to argue at the executive level. There was disagreement about how to deal with the Unity Congress, which was the original group which officially became the United Democratic Party (UDP) in September of 1973.
Burns had become closer to Norman Fairweather than he was to me, so that by 1974, after the split in UBAD, he and Amandala parted ways.
Alrick Wright printed Amandala for a while. He was the strangest printer. The letter press printing job is a messy one, with ink and oil and gasoline and stuff, but Alrick was one of the most meticulously clean men you will ever see. He was, also, a very good printer.
I don’t remember what happened next. I think Alrick may have gone to the States. But I think it was a case of Noel Ferguson’s coming to me and asking for the job. I knew him from football, specifically the 1973/74 season when he was goalkeeper for Belrovers, a senior team from around the Slaughterhouse area. Belrovers’ squad included the captain, Alger “Blocker” Bradley (deceased), “Sam Cooke” Belgrave, and the unforgettable “Marmalade.” The best thing about Belrovers, I thought, was Fargo. In the air, Faggy was completely spectacular, yet oh so smooth.
Noel ended up printing Amandala (except for a couple years, roughly from 1977 to 1979) almost until he died in November of 1999. This week Tuesday, November 24, marked the tenth anniversary of his death, from heart valve complications, hence this column. Faggy was visiting relatives in Los Angeles for the first time in the early 1990’s, when it was discovered that his heart valve was damaged from childhood rheumatic fever. He later had the valve replaced, but he became careless, perhaps reckless, as the years went by.
In the twentieth century, because of Crosscountry, the Fergusons were perhaps the most famous black working class family in Belize. Noel had worked at the New Capital Site (Belmopan) in the late 1960’s. He rode the 1971 Crosscountry. I remember that for sure. I don’t remember where he learned the letter press printing trade. I know that he learned offset printing at Lloyd Ford’s National Printing between 1977 and 1979. (Noel also worked at Bill Lindo’s Belprint.)
I would say that he and I were from different classes. I am basically from Belize’s brown, “civil service” class, and reached as far as university. But because I had become a black revolutionary while in an American university, and because I was involved in public black activism in Belize, my life experienced radical change, and I ended up in the streets. Thus, Noel’s life and mine intersected.
I cried at his funeral, because after you and a man work together for so long, he becomes a part of you. Sure, there were confrontations between us now and then. The one thing I would say is that Faggy, like Van Cleef, always saw his job through. If he had to work through the night and into the next day, he always got the job done. Maximum respect.
I learned a lot from Noel. Remember, I told you we came from different Belize City classes and backgrounds. Noel was not a talkative man. He was certainly a mischievous one. Above all, he was a wise man. So that, whenever his socio–political views and mine were similar, I would move confidently. When he expressed skepticism, I moved cautiously.
The years have been controversial ones for myself and this newspaper, especially in Faggy’s time. Discussing his Cinderella Plaza block “base,” he told me at this newspaper one time, every now and then someone would try to mess with his head by criticizing I, or even cursing me out. His answer, he told me, was a stock response – “Every Friday, I get pay.” This gave me a sense of pride. He delivered for me; I delivered for him.
As I remember Noel, and with Lucio Alcoser in my mind, I would like to say to all those Belizeans who have worked and work with me through these stormy years, I respect and appreciate you. Fate has thrown us together. Let’s live life for what it’s worth.
Power to the people. Power in the struggle.