The Man Called Brown Condor (37 page)

In any case, when once again in Ethiopia, Count von Rosen let it be known among the diplomatic community in Addis Ababa that he was not pleased to be outranked by Colonel Robinson, a black American, and not happy serving under his command. It appears that his ego and aristocratic sensibilities rebelled against taking orders from any black man under the rank of emperor. Perhaps he was jealous of John Robinson's reputation as a pilot and the acclaim he received from the emperor and Ethiopian people.

John was aware of the count's attitude. Friends in the diplomatic community had informed him of von Rosen's complaints. Nonetheless, Robinson persevered in building up Ethiopia's new fledgling air force. He intended to do it with or without a jealous count's cooperation.

Trouble boiled to the surface when Ethiopia was given a surplus American C-47/DC-3 twin-engine transport, which had to be picked up and delivered to Addis Ababa. (The pickup point is not known, but may have been at Djibouti or somewhere in Sudan or Kenya.) A C-47 normally requires a pilot and copilot. John recognized that he and Gustaf von Rosen were the most qualified pilots in Ethiopia. Their differences aside, John picked the count as his copilot to help deliver the plane to Addis Ababa. Von Rosen, curiously, insisted on flying his own plane to the pickup point rather than flying with John. The reason would become clear. Both men flew in separate planes, each carrying a pilot to return their planes to Addis Ababa.

According to witnesses, von Rosen refused Robinson's order to fly in the right seat as copilot of the C-47, saying something to the effect that John should fly copilot because he, von Rosen, wasn't about to fly second seat to an American nigger. Evidently von Rosen had insisted on flying himself to the pickup point for that reason.

John reined in his temper, putting the mission ahead of his personal feelings. Over the count's vociferous protest, John climbed into the C-47 alone, closed the door, started the engines, and flew the large aircraft to Addis Ababa. During flight he was required to reach across the cockpit to perform a copilot's duties of, among others, raising and lowering the landing gear and flaps, operating the radio, managing fuel, navigating and cross-checking the engine instruments, etc. while flying the plane. John landed in Addis Ababa ahead of the count.

When von Rosen landed, he marched into Robinson's office and launched into a tirade that ended in a fight that was over almost before it started. Robinson broke von Rosen's jaw and evidently the pride of Sweden. Von Rosen, after having his jaw set at the hospital, saw to it that a formal complaint was filed by the Swedish consul to the Ethiopian government.

Robinson was put under house arrest for two days. He was visited by Prince Makonnen, Mrs. Ford, Yosef Ford, and several friends including members of the diplomatic corps. Mrs. Ford recalled that John was perhaps more hurt than angry.

It seemed that more was at stake than a count's broken jaw. The emperor sent an emissary to try and explain to John what the situation involved. Shortly after the war, John's group of instructors received a few training planes through military aid to Ethiopia from the United States and United Kingdom. By 1948 neither the United Kingdom nor the United States were interested in providing further assistance. However, Sweden had a long missionary history with Ethiopia and since the end of World War II had established support, providing planes, parts, educational and medical facilities, and business interests. Ethiopia, it was explained to Col. Robinson, simply could not afford to lose Sweden's support. Sweden had promised to provide more Sapphire trainers, Saab B-17 single-engine light bombers, and acquire more C-47 transport aircraft from the United States. Apparently Count Gustaf von Rosen had become the key to continued Swedish support.

It was obvious to John that this was no longer a personal matter. He could handle a case of insubordination in his command, but he could not compete with Swedish foreign policy and aid. John Robinson submitted his resignation from the Ethiopian Air Corps. Von Rosen was put in charge of the new Ethiopian Air Force John Robinson had built.

The emperor sent a personal communiqué to John asking him to remain in Ethiopia and continue development of the new Ethiopian Airlines. John was allowed to keep the villa he had occupied since 1944. His salary was to continue. He also remained an advisor to the Ministry of War.

John joined Prince Makonnen, Duke of Harar, in an import/export business and accepted a royal appointment to head the Duke's new aviation school. John and the duke became inseparable friends. The incident with von Rosen remained a bitter memory, but John was still flying, the ladies still loved him, his friends stood by him, his income was more than satisfactory—life for John Robinson was good once again. But at home in the United States, Robinson and all he had accomplished was forgotten by all except for his mother and a few friends in Gulfport, Mississippi, and Chicago.

Six years later, on March 14 1954, an L-5 Stinson, returning from a mercy flight, radioed Lideta Airport with the most dreaded words in aviation, “Mayday! Mayday!” followed by the aircraft identifier and position.

On the outskirts of Addis Ababa there was a flaming crash. One of the volunteers, copilot Biachi Bruno, an Italian engineer, was killed outright. The mission command pilot somehow managed to crawl out of the flames before collapsing in excruciating pain. How John Robinson was able to extricate himself from the flaming wreckage can only be attributed to the strong will and determination that had carried him so far during his lifetime.

The staff of the American consulate donated blood to him. An emperor visited his hospital bedside. For two weeks the doctors and nurses did all in their power to save him. It was not to be.

On March 28, 1954, at age fifty-one, the Brown Condor, this remarkable hero, folded his wings. The brotherhood of pilots never say that a fellow pilot has died; they say that their friend has simply gone west into the setting sun.

The people of Ethiopia loved him. His funeral cortege stretched for more than a mile through a city whose population lined the streets to say farewell. John Robinson was buried with ceremony at Holy Trinity Church, Addis Ababa.

Ten thousand miles away in the town of Gulfport, Mississippi, in a house darkened by closed curtains, a proud, heartbroken black woman clutched a telegram. With her hands she laid the paper on her apron-clad thigh and smoothed the wrinkles from the crumpled yellow page as if by doing so she could rub away the terrible words. With trembling fingers, she placed the message on the last page of a thick, worn scrapbook, closed the cover and, holding it close to her heart, wept with the pain only a mother can know.

Another loved, lost airman, Antoine De Saint-Exupéry, once wrote of flying and cited the words of his fellow pilot and friend Mermez: “This landscape was still laved in golden sunlight, but already something was evaporating out of it. I know nothing, nothing in the world, equal to the wonder of nightfall in the air. Those who have been enthralled by the witchery of flying will know what I mean . . . those who fly professionally and have sacrificed much to their craft. Mermez said once, ‘It's worth it, it's worth the final smash-up.'”

And so it must have been for John Charles Robinson, 1903–1954.

4
One is on display at the Imperial War Museum in London.

Haile Selassie and Ethiopia

Ethiopian Losses from the Italian invasion and occupation

Ethiopia listed the following losses from 1936 to 1941:

275,000 Killed in action

17,800 Women, children, and civilians killed by bombings

78,500 Patriots (guerrilla fighters) killed during the occupation 1936–1942

30,000 Massacre of February 1937

35,000 Persons who died in concentration camps

24,000 Patriots executed by Summary Courts

300,000 Persons who died of privations due to the destruction of their villages

760,300 TOTAL

In addition to human loss, Ethiopia claimed the loss of 2,000 churches, 525,000 houses, and the slaughter and/or confiscation of 6,000,000 beef cattle; 7,000,000 sheep and goats; 1,000,000 horses and mules; and 700,000 camels.

Haile Selassie

As was the case with so many small countries, Ethiopia was caught up the eddy currents of the Cold War between Western Democracy and Communist Russia. Because of concern over control of the Suez Canal and the Red Sea, which divides Africa from the Near East, Ethiopia was of interest because of its strategic location. In 1953 the United States opened a US military assistance group to aid Ethiopia in return for the establishment of a strategically important communications center in Ethiopia, the largest high frequency radio installation in the world at the time. The United States provided assistance to Ethiopia's developing airline, built a new international airport and a university in Addis Ababa, and supplied the Ethiopian Air Force with C-47 transports, T-33 jet trainers, and F-86 jet fighters. By the late 1960s, the high cost of the Vietnam War caused the United States to cut non-essential military spending. The US communications center in Ethiopia had become obsolescent with the advent of satellite communication. As a cost-cutting measure, the United States withdrew much of its previous activities and aid from Ethiopia.

When famine struck the country in the early '70s, Communist propaganda circulated by Communist sympathizers led Ethiopians to increasingly blame Haile Selassie and his government. In 1974 a group of young officers formed a Soviet-backed Marxist-Leninist junta led by Mengistu Haile Mariam. They deposed Haile Selassie in humiliating fashion, imprisoned him and his closest family members, executed over sixty of Selassie's family members, ministers, and military leaders, and established a one-party Communist state government called the Derg. No word whatsoever concerning the emperor was made public. Haile Selassie died under questionable circumstances. In a press release, the Derg stated the emperor had died of a heart attack while walking in a palace garden and there would be a private burial.

Under Mengistu, hundreds of thousands died during the Red Terror conducted by the Derg with direct military action and the use of hunger as a weapon. Cuban troops of Fidel Castro and Soviet-supplied military hardware were used to help Mengistu put down an uprising in what was called the Ogden War. (During that period, Count Gustaf von Rosen, who some years before had left Ethiopia for other adventures, was killed on the ground by guerrilla fighters near the Sudan border.)

In 1990 the collapse of the Soviet Union meant the end of Soviet support to the Derg. In 1991 Mengistu fled the country and found asylum in Zimbabwe. After a long trial in the High Court of Ethiopia that began in 1994 and ended in 2006, thousands of witnesses were called to testify; more than five thousand former members of the Derg were indicted. Mengistu and seventeen of his officers were convicted of genocide and sentenced to death. Ethiopia is conducting an ongoing, so far unsuccessful effort to have Mengistu extradited from Zimbabwe.

Information about the fate of Haile Selassie emerged after the fall of the Soviet-backed Communist Derg government. In 1992 during renovation of the palace, the body of Haile Selassie was found under a toilet facility where it had been thrown as a last gross insult by the Marxist regime. It is said to have been revealed by witnesses that Haile Selassie was tortured, then garroted in the basement of the palace on August 22, 1975. His remains were recovered and later buried with dignity and ceremony at the Holy Trinity Cathedral in Addis Ababa. Haile Selassie, who ruled Ethiopia for forty-four years, during which time he worked to modernize his ancient nation, will best be remembered for his impassioned speech before the League of Nations in 1936 which ended with the warning, “It is us today. It will be you tomorrow,” words that rang hauntingly true three short years later, when Fascist Germany and Communist Russia crossed Poland's border and unleashed World War II.

With the fall of Mengistu's Communist government, relations with the United States and the United Nations were re-established. In 1994 under a new constitution, Ethiopia held its first multi-party elections to establish a federal republic. The people of Ethiopia continue to work toward modern economic development, world trade, and tourism. Mountainous terrain and lack of good roads still make land transportation difficult, but the Ethiopian Airlines John Robinson helped establish has one of the safest records of any airline. It serves thirty-eight domestic airfields and forty-two international destinations.

The history of John Charles Robinson presented herein has been gathered by the author during an often difficult trail of investigation and original research stretching some thirty years. It is difficult to resurrect the history of any long forgotten hero. It is particularly challenging to piece together the history of a forgotten hero whose story never appeared in history books, an American hero who successfully pursued his seemingly impossible dream only to have his extraordinary achievements lost in chaos as war followed war in terrible succession, a hero who was black in the age of segregation.

Scores of the details within this book came from the contributions of individuals who knew John Robinson firsthand—while some of them are now deceased, I wish to pay tribute to them here. I am ever grateful to the following: Miomi Godine (who was the first to confirm to me that an African American pilot of the 20s and 30s named Robinson grew up in Gulfport, Mississippi—it was the beginning); Mrs. Bertha Stokes, Col. Robinson's sister of Queens, New York, an essential source; John Stokes and Andrew Stokes, Robinson's nephews whose recollections, photographs, and priceless recorded interviews with his contemporaries contributed greatly to this work; Al Key, record-setting Mississippi aviator; Cornelius Coffey, a partner in Robinson's school of aviation; Harold Hurd and Janet Waterford Bragg, both students and friends of Robinson; Inniss Ford and her son, Yosef Ford, who first met Robinson in Ethiopia; “Chief ” Alfred Anderson, head of the school of Aviation at Tuskegee Institute; Harry Tartt and Katie Booth, who looked up to Robinson during school days in Gulfport; General Noel F. Parrish, Ret.; Curtis Graves of NASA who arranged interviews that otherwise might not have been open to me; Pick Firmin, former editor of the
Sun Herald
newspaper; and Tyrone Haymore, who helped organize the Robbins Illinois Historical Society and Museum.