SUPPLEMENT, MANILA STANDARD

by Gerry Gil

(taken from computer files, undated, perhaps 1991)

``They don't know me,'' I told Fraulin Peñasales, editor-publisher of the Times Herald (Iloilo) the day I was to chair a Philippine Press Institute Seminar for provincial editors and publishers.

``They know enough about you,'' he said reassuringly. ``I told them you are the editor of Louie Beltran.''

Fraulin turned out to be right. Most of the seminar participants, many of whom have spent more time in journalism than I had, presumed that I knew what I was talking about -- all because I was ``the editor of Louie Beltran.''

***

To be known as ``the person who edits Louie'' is something of a mixed blessing.

Many non-journalists understand this to mean that I can cross out anything I want and perhaps even add anything I want to Louie's column. A senatorial candidate -- whom Louie consistently attacked when he was in the cabinet -- once pleaded, ``Gerry, please edit Louie carefully.''

Other people have the impression that I really don't do anything at all because Louie's columns must be perfect. ``Oh, so you just check if Louie has committed a few typographical errors and made a few grammatical lapses,'' sniffed a cabinet member who is running for senator.

***

The truth is that editing Louie's daily column takes an easy 15 to 20 minutes. There are typographical errors; there are grammatical lapses; there are sentences that have to be rephrased -- all the usual errors that a man typing on the run is likely to make, especially if he has a tendency to write the way he talks.

Louie doesn't mind being edited. Manny Oyson of the Sun-Star (Cebu City), for instance, was surprised to learn that Louie's contract does not carry a no-editing clause. Manny was surprised that we ``dare'' edit Louie, who is so prominent that Louie's numberless fans refer to the Standard as ``Louie's newspaper'' (his enemies refer to it as ``Louie's tabloid'').

But even if Louie's contract provided that not a single word or punctuation mark in his column can be changed, he certainly would not mind being edited. Louie is professional enough to realize that even the best writer makes errors, which a second pair of eyes is likely to catch.

***

There's another thing that is nice about editing Louie. Having been an editor himself, he appreciates the pressures an editor is under. There are times I have committed errors in editing his copy and he doesn't scream bloody murder. In such cases, the most he has ever done is to correct the error in his column the next day -- as if it were his error and not mine.

That's another facet of Louie's professionalism. He sees his column not as an ego trip but as part of the package of information and opinion that the newspaper is.

He therefore views himself and his editors as a team whose job is to put out the best package possible -- and if this means that his editors sometimes throw out a cute turn of the phrase, rearranges some of his sentences or, for reasons of space, drops an item or two, that's perfectly all right with him.

I say ``editors'' because I'm not the only one who edits Louie. It's been nearly a year since I started sharing the task of editing Louie with Clara Enriquez; before that, Luverne Gueco shared the task. Louie doesn't mind who edits him as long as the job is done well.

***

Perhaps this attitude of Louie goes back to more than 30 years ago, when he started on the old Evening News, where the editorial desk was manned by a bunch of kids who were either fresh out of college or hadn't even finished school yet.

This bunch included Leonides ``Sonny'' Valencia (now president of the Standard), columnist Jullie Yap Daza, Minnie Narciso (now associate editor of the Star) and myself. Louie saw how veteran reporters like Dave Borje (now with the Daily Globe), Johnny Mercado (now with the Food and Agriculture Organization) and up-and-coming columnists like Max Soliven (now publisher of the Star) were perfectly willing to be edited by the youngsters.

***

It was about 30 years ago, in the old Evening News, that Louie started his column ``Straight from the Shoulder'' -- to the cynical sneers of a number of us, who said, ``Louie, we wish it started from somewhere higher up.''

Well, Louie has had the last laugh. He has become a tri-media star; ``Straight from the Shoulder'' is now a television program as well; he's still writing that daily column -- and I still am stuck with editing it.

***

But, as one might expect, things aren't quite the same as they were 30 years ago. Apart from working in three media instead of one, Louie has had to cope with the burdens of being a celebrity -- all the more so because he is so recognizable.

There are so many demands on his time that Louie -- who also is our editorial consultant -- can join us in the newsroom only once in a while to trade professional insights, news, jokes and plain gossip.

Every now and then, Louie's column carries an apology to his relatives and close friends for his inability to attend the gatherings they have invited him to.

The apology is a clear signal that simply does not have the time to respond to most of the invitations to speaking engagements, meetings and meals -- as well as to requests that he stand as baptismal or wedding sponsor.

This brings up another part of the job of being Louie's editor. Many people ask us to relay invitations to Louie. We warn them that he is so busy that almost certainly will turn the invitation down. Then, we refer the caller to Rina Veloso, Louie's indefatigable secretary at DZRH -- and, more often than not, it is she who transmits the final turndown.

***

Emil Jurado is a habitué of the 365 Club at the Hotel Intercontinental, where he is so well known that one of the ways you can irritate him is to suggest the contrary.

This is what was achieved by Florencio Campomanes, head of FIDE, the international chess federation, during a recent visit to Manila.

Campomanes -- who, like Emil, is dark and slightly built and has a salt-and-pepper mustache and head of hair -- said that he had gone to the Hotel Intercon to have breakfast and one of the waiters greeted him effusively, ``Good morning, Mr. Jurado.'' ``I have never been so insulted in my life,'' Campomanes said through gritted teeth.

***

It's at the 365 Club that Emil hangs out with persons as varied as Sen. Juan Ponce Enrile, Speaker Ramon Mitra, former Executive Secretary Oscar Orbos, Dean Antonio Coronel and the other personalities who frequently appear in his column.

It is also at the 365 Club that he picks up much of the gossip about government officials who are cheating on their wives (this is not to say that Senator Enrile et al. are his sources).

These pieces of gossip often appear as blind items in his column -- items which he justifies as part of his crusade for morality in government.

Unfortunately for his crusade, many of the calls his editors receive do not come from people who want to enlist in this noble cause. They come from people who want to know the identities of these philandering officials.

***

This is one reason it takes a little longer to edit Emil. I have to worry not only about libel cases but also about the irate phone calls from politicians whom Emil has criticized.

But an editor can only tone down what a columnist writes -- and in these cases, only to the extent of making sure that the columnist's assertions are at least defensible in terms of the evidence he brings forward.

And so, we in the Standard -- not just I but all my bosses -- still get quite a number of calls from persons whom Emil has pictured as hypocritical, inconsistent, corrupt, inept or just plain stupid.

We usually mollify the angry caller by suggesting that he write a letter to the editor, responding to Emil's accusations, and we promise to run the letter.

This is why the Standard's ``From the mail'' section invariably carries a letter or two that accuse Emil of inaccuracy, bias, stupidity, etc.

But Emil doesn't mind. He even sends me the poison-pen letters he receives, asking me to print them. From time to time, he reminds me that he has been in the newspaper game for about 40 years, during which ``I have been called every name in the

book.''

***

Emil, however, didn't quite know how to react when he was told about a conversation involving Margie Holmes, sexual-advice columnist of the Manila Times.

Consistent with his ``crusade for morality,'' Emil had been criticizing Holmes' column and she had told certain newspaperwomen that she was bothered by his criticisms.

``Don't worry about Jurado,'' one of her colleagues told her. ``He is AC-DC'' -- AC-DC being journalistic slang for a corrupt media person who ``attacks and collects, defends and collects.''

Holmes -- who as a sexologist understood ``AC-DC'' to mean ``bisexual'' -- gasped, ``You mean he is like that?''

***

When this story was recounted to Emil, he laughed uncomfortably and then lapsed into his usual ``I have been called every name in the book.''

Emil is rather uncomfortable about any suggestion that he is less than faithful to his wife, because he is quite devoted to her. Emil met the woman who was to become the long-suffering Mrs. Jurado in Cotabato City where Emil, as a young Ateneo graduate, had gone to spend a year editing the Mindanao Cross, a newspaper run by the Oblate Fathers. During the year that he spent in Cotabato as a ``quasi-lay missionary,'' he wooed and won her.

Interestingly enough, there was a column in which Emil stated that he had first met his future wife in Manila on a blind date. He later explained, ``I met her here on a blind date, but I did not pursue the relationship. When I met her in Cotabato, I did not even realize that I had met her before.''

Emil's enemies claim that during his college days at the Ateneo, he was a professional blind date.

***

Emil's column gives you a picture of his career, not because he brags about it, but because he often defends the positions he takes by citing his experience in the area.

He pontificates on the electronic media because he was once public affairs director of Channel 9 and was co-founder and president of the Kapisanan ng mga Brodkaster sa Pilipinas.

He takes a very strong stance on the need for rehabilitation of drug abusers because he sits on the board of two drug rehabilitation facilities.

And he pokes fun at the fractured English of Sen. Joseph ``Erap'' Estrada -- with the rueful admission that he had been Estrada's high-school English teacher at the Ateneo.

***

Many of the topics Emil deals with consistently reflect his past life and present involvements.

His ``Cotabato connection'' has made him very supportive of the work of the Oblate Fathers.

He is a major stockholder in a travel agency -- and so, he is quite knowledgeable about what goes on at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, the Bureau of Immigration and Deportation and, to a certain extent, the Bureau of Customs.

As a lawyer, he loves to attack the positions taken by the courts or by government lawyers, with the biting admonition, ``Go back to law school!''

And as an Ilocano, he is congenitally outraged by the idea of spending money. This is why his column is so full of attacks on government graft and waste.

***

Jullie Y. Daza was 18 -- something of a child prodigy -- when she started at the desk of the old Evening News (I won't say how many decades ago), where she also wrote a teenage column ("Teen trends and trifles") and even edited a fortnightly men's magazine(!).

She didn't start her column ``Medium rare'' until she moved to the Daily Mirror a few years afterwards. Over the years, ``Medium rare" has changed a lot from the chit-chat column that her detractors dismissed with observation, ```Medium rare' is a synonym for `half-baked.'''

Today, ``Medium rare'' is the kind of column that could be written only by a person with a broad liberal education, an open mind, a sensitiveness to new developments (even off-beat ones), a child-like approach to reality, a desire to enjoy life, a dogged optimism, a sense of outrage over government failings, a certain amount of middle-class ambivalence and a dash of middle-aged angst.

***

Jullie is a joy to edit.

As a long-time feature writer, she enjoys such a command of the language that enables her to choose the most telling metaphors and the cutest turns-of-the-phrase. And as a long-time editor, she makes it a point of making sure that not a single typographical error mars the copy that she submits.

Whenever she can do it, she drops by the office to supervise the typesetting and paste-up of her column -- and often catches errors her editors didn't notice.

That's the trouble. I often don't pay very close attention to her copy because I assume that it's perfect.

Jullie is a joy to edit in another sense.

I don't worry about libel cases.

Jullie doesn't offend anybody...of course, there was that time about three years ago when she made the mistake of picking up a gossip item from Emil Jurado's column -- and landed before the Senate ethics committee to testify on her suggestion that a lady senator was having an affair with her driver!

***

The Standard receives very few letters critical of Jullie -- and they invariably come from conservative persons who are offended by the way Jullie writes about visionaries, swamis, lamas and monks of various kinds as well as about feng-hsui, tarot cards, ouija boards and the like.

One would expect that we would get many more critical letters. We actually receive very few because Jullie writes in such a way that the reader is never quite sure whether she believes all the claims made by the visionaries and fortune-tellers whom she quotes.

And Jullie's fans are loyal.

When the Standard runs a letter critical of one of her columns, someone invariably asks her, ``Is your editor mad at you?''

***

Until last year, Nestor Mata was the only survivor of Mt. Pinatubo -- not the volcano, but the presidential plane which crashed, killing President Ramon Magsaysay and everybody else in it, except Mata.

Two years ago, the Standard paid this dubious tribute to Mata:

```Everyone over 40 remembers Nestor Mata,' commentator Dick Malay wrote recently in a morning daily, but many people feel that Malay overestimates the fame of Mata, who writes a column for this newspaper.

``It is more accurate to say that the people over 40 who remember Mata think of him only on March 17 -- the day Mata became a minor footnote in history as the sole survivor of the plane crash in which President Ramon Magsaysay perished.

``Nobody quite knows how he got out or got thrown out of the plane after it crashed. What is known is that he survived because he did not fasten his seatbelt.

``To this day, Mata does not keep his seatbelt fastened whenever he is on a plane. He does fasten it whenever the stewardess tells him to, but he unbuckles it as soon as her back is turned.

``Mata is somewhat ambivalent about March 17. True, it is his annual moment of glory, but it also is the day on which his contemporaries in the press regale their younger colleagues with Nestor Mata stories.

``Many of these stories are about the way Mata was teased after the plane crash -- generally malicious speculations about which portions of his anatomy were cut off, burned off or otherwise rendered impotent.

``Contrary to these unflattering rumors, Mata is physically whole. He draws himself to his full height and, with pipe in hand, struts around like one of Snow White's dwarfs -- and resents it very deeply whenever he is accused of trying to look like Max Soliven of the Star.

``Other stories about Mata deal with how the crash affected him psychologically. Some people say that he wishes that it was not Magsaysay, but Carlos Garcia, Diosdado Macapagal, Ferdinand Marcos or Corazon Aquino who had been on that plane with him.

``His attitude toward President Aquino is reflected in his columns, which were recently collected in the book Cory of a Thousand Days, which Isagani Cruz (who is better known as a movie- rather than book-reviewer) described as a book for people who would rather say a glass is empty than half-full.''

To this dubious tribute, Nestor responded: ``Better a minor footnote to history than not being a footnote at all.''

***

Like Jullie, Nestor is a joy to edit -- in the sense that he makes almost no mistakes.

But editing Nestor is also a pain in the ass because he is convinced that he makes no mistakes. He fights with his editor on every comma and colon. If there is any columnist who would demand a no-editing clause, it is Mata, who invokes the fact that he has been an editor himself -- on the Philippines Herald.

Even at that time, Nestor was so arrogant about his command of the English language that he posted on his wall a laminated letter from then President Marcos. This letter, which praised Nestor effusively, invariably drew the attention of every visitor -- and Nestor invariably asked whoever read the letter: ``Did you catch the grammatical error Marcos committed?''

***

Nestor's arrogance manifests itself in other ways. There was a time he supplemented his income by teaching.

Many journalists who teach are not strict about attendance. They usually take the attitude that a student who absents himself must have good reasons and is mature enough to decide whether the class is more important than another commitment.

But not Nestor. He always told his students: ``Even if you are not prepared, you must come to class. You must listen to me. And you will learn.''

***

Nestor is proud not only about the grammatical correctness of his writings but also about the flow of the language.

A person who reads his columns aloud discovers that the breaks in the flow of thought come precisely at the points where the reader must pause for breath.

This characteristic in Nestor's writing is attributed to his years in radio. His pontifications on radio invariably appeared in his column the next day.

Nestor's pride in his writing can easily be turned against him. Once, he felt very flattered when I told him that a high school teacher had asked for permission to reproduce some of his columns which she intended to distribute.

When I told him that the lady wanted her students to use his columns in a declamation contest, he was not flattered at all.

***

A man like Nestor, who spent so many years on a daily newspaper, invariably finds a lot of time on his hands when he works on a magazine.

He often leaves the Lifestyle Asia office early and drops by the Heritage Art Gallery before he goes home -- so much so that I have accused him of practically living there. ``It is because of your presence, Nestor, that Odette Alcantara has described Heritage as a `home for the aged-cum wildlife/endangered species sanctuary.'''

***

Like Emil and Nestor, Ariel Bocobo is an ``alumnus'' of the Philippines Herald -- and, like most newspapermen who started in the trade soon in the early 50s, has a deep repository of memories that serve as the background for his opinions.

Part of the background for his opinions is his upbringing. A son of the late Jorge Bocobo, president of the University of the Philipines, Ariel grew up in an academic environment in which he developed a only a liberal-secular attitude toward the world but also a nationalistic orientation toward world events.

He is extremely critical of the American role in the Philippines and is distressed about increasing influence of the Catholic Church in Philippine politics.

***

Like Emil, Ariel is a habitué of the 365 Club, but, as one occasional visitor to the club put it, he is not as noisy as Emil. He occasionally ventures an opinion, but is far more prone to listen to and mull over what other people say.

***

There are times Ariel's column sounds like Emil's -- that's when they write about things that were brought up at the 365 Club.

Ariel has his share of beautiful items, as when he writes about the way it was in old Manila or when he shares his experiences at a play or concert.

His cachet, of course, is the Would You Believe Department, which features little known facts, which range from trivia to the most outrageous rumors.

***

Petronilo Bn. Daroy gave up teaching English literature at the University of the Philippines so he could earn more money in business.

Apart from having a small farm, he trades in jewelry -- but he has kept writing.

True, he writes more on politics than on literature, but even his political writings show the literature background. He was always interested in politics. In fact, his first book, published in 1959, was titled The Politics of the Imagination.

***

Pete was controversial even in those days. One of the country's most prominent poets and critics physically attacked Pete after he had written in the Sunday Times Magazine a scathing critique of the poet's latest work.

The unsympathetic editors of the Philippine Collegian, however, reported that when the poet slapped Pete a couple of times, the only injuries Pete sustained were two burst pimples.

***

Those of us who knew Pete in those days found his manuscripts very easy to edit. Editing him generally took the form of making his writing less academic -- breaking up the long compound sentences into simple ones and converting the passive voice into the active voice.

But Pete suffered a stroke a few years ago (too much smoking!) and now, he has to dictate his column to persons who are not trained secretaries.

Pete edits the manuscripts before he sends them to the Standard, but he fails to catch a number of errors and his scrawled corrections are not always easy to decipher.

But these are minor difficulties.

Pete lived on the Diliman campus for a very long time -- enough to know many of the UP alumni who are now prominent in various fields (there's the story, for instance, that when Pete was an ROTC cadet, his company commander was Heherson Alvarez).

Pete maintains his close ties to the University. He lives in UP Village -- and many of his neighbors are UP professors. From time to time, Pete writes about UP issues, such as the attempt of the UP administration to oust playwright Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero from his house on campus.

***

From time to time, Pete writes about the problems of Samar, his home province. He is especially critical of the way the government has neglected Samar -- and by extension, the rural areas outside Manila.

But much of his writing is critical of the administration in general, especially its emphasis on military solutions for the problems of poverty and political dissent.

He ascribes most of the failings of the administration to the cacique orientation of the leadership.

But he expresses his anger with the administration in a low-key manner. He never refers to Fidel V. Ramos as ``Secretary Ramos,'' for example. Despite Ramos' protestations that he became a civilian on his retirement, Pete always refers to him as ``General Ramos.''

And Pete never says, ``President Aquino.'' It is always ``Mrs. Aquino.''

***

I'm not going to write about Amante Bigornia, who has an article about himself and his contemporaries in this supplement.

Also in this supplement is an article by Nelson Navarro about the other columnists who write for the opinion section -- including Renato Cayetano and Tingting Cojuangco, whom I do not feel comfortable writing about.

Although I do my share of editing Rene's and Tingting's columns, I have never really met them. I have spoken with Tingting on the phone several times and I was casually introduced to Rene once. Neither of them would recognize me if we met on the street. In this regard, Nelson is one-up on me.

The columns of Rene and Tingting, like the others' columns, reach our office via the fax machine, which is both a blessing and a curse -- a curse in the sense that it deprives editors and writers of face-to-face contact with one another.

Nor will I write about Nelson, whom I rarely can catch on the telephone. More often than not, I find myself talking to his answering machine, which instructs me to leave a message.

The message I leave invariably is: ``Nelson, I refuse to speak with your machine!''