Manila Standard Today
March 30, 2007
by Emil Jurado

The Manila I Knew
(Part 1)

Every opportunity I get, I want to shy away from commenting on politics, especially now the air poisoned by so much news on campaigning and electioneering. And this opportunity came when my son Eric gifted with a small book entitled The Manila We Knew edited by Erlinda Enriquez Panlilio, of the well-known Enriquez and Panlilio family, with sketches and drawings by Manuel D. Baldemor.

I have read most of the articles, well-written I may add, by women who brought me down memory lane with their nostalgic reminiscing of things that can never come back. The foreword of award-winning author Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo captures the essence of the book thus:

“This little volume is a valuable contribution to the love that accumulates above every great city in the world—part social history, part myth and part love song. Manila may be sinking under the weight of problems proclaimed every day by newspaper columnists and TV commentators.

“It might be plagued by calamities, both natural and man-made. Its historical monuments might be wrecked by unthinking politicians; its walls and bridges defaced by ugly posters and graffiti; its hapless pedestrians killed by reckless drivers and ineptly constructed billboards. It will survive nonetheless, because people like the writers of this book will not give up on it. These Manileños will stand their ground. Here is their testament to the city of their affections.

* * *

The Manila We Knew, reflects the soul of the city and its environs decades ago, before and after the Japanese Occupation through essays by Henrie Santos, who wrote The Malate I Knew; Laling Lim, At the Edge of Manila alongside A Gentle City by Lourdes Montinola, daughter of the founder of Far Eastern University, Nicanor Reyes Jr.; In search of a Memory and When the Wind Cooled the Houses of San Juan by Josefina Pedrosa Manahan, daughter of the late Finance Secretary and banker Pio Pedrosa; Memories of Christmas Past by Maria Cristina Olbes; The fireflies of Kamuning and UP Beloved by Erlinda Enriquez Panlilio; Swan Song for Broadway by Millete Tanada Ocampo; Stepping into a New World by Mert Loinaz; The Trails of Fort Bonifacio by Lolita Delgado Fansler, recalling Fort William Mackinley; Trick of Treat by Anna Isabel Pamplona; Growing Up Convent by Gizela Gonzales and A Sense of Manila by Wynn Wynn Ong, a Burmese who lived in Manila with her family.

The book brought back memories because I grew up in Sampaloc, specifically on P. Campa Street, before, during and after the war, interrupted only by two years with my family’s return to Abra when my two brothers, Desi, who became Court of Appeals justice, and Willie, who was airport manager, became a US citizen taking advantage of the US War Veterans granting US citizenship to Filipino soldiers who fought in Bataan and later on as guerrillas.

Sampaloc was far from the seedy district I once knew. Recall that along P. Campa at the far end was the first legislature after the war, and residents included the Mabantas and the Franciscos. Parallel to P. Campa was Cataluña where the mansion of the Villanueva was. I recall vividly that the Mathays had a grocery (P. Austria) at the corner of P. Campa and España, and right beside it was a carinderia where I bought my 25-centavo siopao. Right across was a vacant lot where I played basketball with Pons and Mel Mathay.

* * *

During the Japanese regime, my late father brought from Abra two horses, a docar and a caretela. We rented the docar for special occasions, while he, who had to quit being a provincial supervisor of schools, was the cochero with myself as the conductor of the carriage that plied the España-Quiapo route at 10 centavos a passenger. To me, it was more of a fun than earning a living.

As a Sampaloc boy, would you believe that I was also a bootblack who roamed the streets of Lepanto, Bilibid Viejo, Legarda, Gastambide, P. Noval and the sidestreets of España? Whenever I earned enough for the day, something like P2 at 10 centavos per pair of shoes, I called it a day and went to see my favorite “vodavils” in theaters such as Capitol, Savoy and Dalisay. My favorites then were Pugo and Tugo until the Japanese jailed them for wearing timepieces on their arms and legs, a parody of how much the occupation soldiers loved wristwatches. At Capitol, my favorite was FPJ’s father, Fernando Poe Sr. At Savoy and later Strand, it had to be Gloria, Dolphy, who acted out gay roles. And who can forget the Grand Opera?

Oh yes, would you believe that I used to peddle cigarette of the local kind along the streets of P. Campa and España? And believe me, I earned as much as $20 after the war because I supplied American smokers, who were incarcerated in the University of Santo Tomas campus. It was a daily hide and seek between me and the Japanese guards of the concentration camp when they saw me inserting cigarettes between the sawali fences of the school. When I heard the guards shout kura, kura, whatever that meant, I ran as fast as my feet could carry me.

After the war, the late Senator Manny Manahan put up the “Liberty News” along Lepanto St. with the late Arsenio Lacson, with his acidic pen, as columnist.

* * *

Those were my memories of Manila. After the war, when I started studying at the Ateneo at Padre Faura (inside those microwave-hot qounset huts in the mid-’40s), I used to ride jeepneys from Sta. Mesa Heights, Quezon City, where we lived, to Quiapo and on to Padre Faura, at 25 centavos one way.

Since I had only P1 daily allowance, I used to eat my favorite maxi-siopao for lunch at 25 centavos a piece, leaving me with 50 centavos. Thus, I had 25 centavos savings every day upon reaching home. At the slightest invitation for lunch at the house of friends and classmates, I accepted, giving me more savings. I used to take my meals with my best friend, the late Ambassador Rudy Tupas who lived near the school, and joined some pals to eat at the Soliven’s abode on the corner of San Marcelino and Herran streets. Don’t forget that I am an Ilocano. Our batch at the Ateneo were the last graduates (AB ’50) at the Ateneo ruins before Loyola Heights.

During the ’50s when I started teaching at the Ateneo High School, how could I forget eating together with my fellow instructors at the UP Diliman South Dorm? I had a reason then since I knew that at South Dorm was a beauty whom I met in 1950 when I co-edited “The Mindanao Cross” with Rudy Tupas in Cotabato City. The lady, Trinidad Capistrano, was to become Mrs. Jurado in 1955. Would you believe I courted her for five years?

My co-instructors rode with me in my jeep (circa 1945) to UP. And everytime we went to eat at the South Dorm cafeteria, our eyes were focused on the South Dorm women. I loved those years when every day was an adventure. Just going to the “Little Quiapo” restaurant in UP with a date was real excitement. Oh yes, negotiating Highway 54, now Edsa, was also an adventure knowing at the time that the Huks were already at the doors of Manila.

* * *

There were of course lost opportunities in the late ’50s and ’60s, like when somebody wanted me to buy a real estate along Buendia Avenue at P200 per square meter. And would you believe that the Ayalas offered me 600 sqm at Urdaneta Village at P240 per sqm, and later on, a 1,500-sqm lot along Pasay Road at Dasmariñas Village at P460 per sqm, beside the Rene Khan mansion.

I knew that I lost opportunities, but, how could I buy with my measly P2,500 monthly salary at the time? To me, P460 per sqm was a fortune. Times have changed since a million now is next to nothing.

Hence, after reading the essays about The Manila We Knew, I could not help but become nostalgic about the city I also knew when I used to walk from P. Campa to Quezon Boulevard and then to Avenida Rizal to watch my favorite movie after the war, or on to Escolta—then the country’s financial district—to window-shop at Berg’s, Yatco’s, Soriente Santos, Alonso and other establishments reserved for the rich.

My gulay, dining in Escolta was the acme of one’s ambition. How can I forget Botica Boie where newsmen gathered? Yes, I remember those Chinese restaurants along Binondo and T. Pinpin streets, and that esquinita in Chinatown—Carvajal. Who can miss Marquina and Smart restaurants? Crystal Arcade, the first shopping mall, and Gandara?

* * *

If there’s anything that I hate, it is the changing of street names in Manila. If you are a balikbayan, you can now get lost in Manila. Which leads me to ask: Why do they have to rename streets, especially those honoring well-known politicians and city officials at that? And why did they have to demolish historic buildings and ancestral residences?

In any case, I can’t forget the Manila of my youth. It's memory will survive since there are people who will not give up on it like the writers of the book The Manila We Knew. And yours truly.