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University of the West Indies Vice-Chancellor, Professor Sir Hilary Beckles, has described Sir Frank Worrell as more than just a brilliant intellect and strategist. He was a man, he says, who “was pulling the world of cricket together.” During the recent launch of his latest book: “Cricket’s First Revolutionary: Frank Worrell’s Political War Against Colonialism in the West Indies,” at the St Augustine campus of the University of the West Indies Beckles noted that Worrell’s leadership extended far beyond the field of play. “The respect, the admiration, and what I love about the biographies written by those cricketers, many of them working-class boys; they go to England, the queen invites them to a cocktail at Buckingham Palace. Well, they’re working-class fellows. The fellows don’t know how to dress for a queen,” Beckles recalled. “Frank takes them down into Savile Row,” he said. “Those of you who know Savile Row, it’s the fashion district of London, where the aristocracy go to buy all their fancy gear. And Frank would take the boys down to Savile Row. He said, ‘well, you know, if it’s a Sunday morning, you might wish to wear a light-grey suit, blazer. If it’s a night, you might wish to have a navy-blue suit.’ And he would show them what to wear.” Beckles said Worrell “took all of them through the experience of being a professional. He gave them confidence, not only on the field. He took care of them personally. He took care of their lives. When they wanted to get married, Frank would interview the wife and all kinds of things. Frank was very busy in their lives. It was the most amazing thing.” Beckles added: “He sat them down at the table and showed them how to use knife and forks...and he taught them all of these skills that gave them the confidence. So that was the nature of the man.” He reflected on Worrell’s funeral, noting: “That famous photograph of the funeral — that is a photograph to look at. There are two things with that photograph. The casket is coming onto the church. On the left is his protégé. On the right is his protégé. Young Sobers and young Kanhai, these are his boys. Everton, who was his mentor, is at the front.” Beckles said he had asked Clyde Walcott why he was not in that photograph. “He said, Professor, I was not invited,” Beckles recounted. “Now, Frank Worrell had a clear view of who the traitors were, of who the indifferent people were, of who the manipulators were. Like himself, Everton — Everton was good to him.” He described how Worrell’s loyalty extended to those who stood by him during times of struggle. “When he was going through all these struggles with the board and all the racism, Everton stood by him. Everton never went to high school. Everton went to school until he was age nine. He was never raised by his father. He was a single parent child, working-class boy from the inner city. He became the best batsman in the world. Frank took care of him.” Beckles contrasted that with Walcott’s background, saying, “Clyde, however, was from the emerging Barbados middle-class... and they took their son out of Coleridge and Parry and put him at Harrison College, where he could prepare himself to be part of the white elite... The result being that Clyde, when he finished school, he joined the brown people club, and then he played with the white community.” The professor continued: “Whenever the board was critiqued for not giving a black person a chance to lead, the board would give it to Clyde Walcott. So Walcott was favoured over Worrell. And they used Walcott to defuse the notion that we’re not anti-black. Look, we have a black guy as vice-captain. But they used him to down the impact of the revolution. So Worrell was the revolution; Walcott was the reform, the strategic reform.” Beckles said, “Frank was a starvation man to the very end. He didn’t stop with his philosophy of who he wanted to be.” Reflecting on Worrell’s later years, he added: “When he was in India, he was giving all those brilliant speeches in India, and then he got sick over there. He came back and they took him to the hospital. They said he has leukaemia. So he has to put his business in order. He had time to write the details of his past.” Beckles also reflected on CLR James’ interpretation of Worrell’s legacy. “James’ mind was a Victorian cultural ideology. He was involved in the workers’ struggle, of course, but when it came to cricket, he was late. He was not yet on board. When he saw the people revolting, James came on board. And by that time, Worrell had already won,” Beckles said. He added: “It’s not a critique of James. It’s a statement of the day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month evolution of the circumstance. But, of course, James had this incredible ability to write a narrative in his own image. And James told that story in his own image. And it was up to us to look at the data and say, well, not quite, sir. It’s a little, not quite like that. But he wrote this in his own image. So I’m really seeking to correct it.” As the evening drew to a close, Beckles joked about his love for long conversations. “I really enjoyed the conversation. I wish we could do this for another four hours. But we can’t,” he said. “Remember, Fidel (Castro) has the world record for the longest speech in Caribbean history. Fidel spoke for five hours and 14 minutes. And I did promise Fidel at one point that one of us, in his aftermath, would have to better that record.” Beckles spoke for more than an hour on this occasion and probably still didn’t cover all that he wanted to. His new book, however, is likely to give readers a more complete picture of the man about which it was written.
