*172. NANNY STORIES

SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME. A Kapampngan yaya holds one of the newborn twins of an American military wife stationed at Camp Stotsenburg, ca. 1924. From a private album.

Our family was a big one; we were eight in all—six boys and two girls. My paternal grandfather too, lived with us in a big house with a big yard that demanded regular cleaning and upkeep. My stay-at-home mother was an excellent cook and a thorough house cleaner, so in those departments, she was pretty much self-sufficient. But in hushing crybabies and running after unruly kids, my harassed mother needed obvious help, and so the family decided to hire ‘yayas’ for high maintenance babies, that included me.

As a baby, I had delicate health and was very fussy, and that’s how Atching Daling came into my life—my own personal nanny or simply, my “maningat”. I still have a couple of pictures of me and Atching Daling, although I can’t recall our first meeting. In one taken in Baguio, I was a 10 month old baby in her arms, looking very much like a hyperactive child who can’t keep still. I was told by my late Ima that I was a sensitive child, prone to tantrums and crying fits, and I could only imagine the stress and torture I subjected my Atsing Daling to. I must have tried her patience to the bones, for she left right after I learned to walk. But she would come back periodically to our old Mabalacat house and check on me, until grade school.

Then, as now, househelps with specialized “children” skills were sought after by large families of means. Chinese ‘amahs’ offered their services to take care of infants and toddlers, and some even worked as nursemaids. Expatriated American families stationed in Camp Stotsenburg employed not just local ‘yayas’, but also live-in Japanese and Chinese maids who traveled with them wherever they were assigned.

My father himself, had his own ‘maningat’, a thin, dark but feisty old woman he called Atsing Buru (short for Ambrosia), who looked like Aling Otik, but whom we addressed as Ati Bo. My father’s family recognized the invaluable years of service Ati Bo rendered and so she was rewarded with a home of her own at the back of our house when she got married. Even with her own two daughters to care for, Ati Bo would always be on-call, ready to assist the household in whatever capacity. When our parents had to go to Manila, Ati Bo would be asked to look after us in their absence. She would also be tasked to help in the cooking and preparation of fiesta food—stirring inuyat (molasses), wrapping bobotu (local tamales) and serving guests.

On the other hand, my Ima also had a short stint as a nanny of an American toddler, a child of a military couple based in Bataan. She hardly spoke of this phase in her life, but I am sure it prepared her for her life ahead as a mother, equipping her with skills to care for a brood of whiny children. But then, a super busy mother could only take so much.

And so, the nannies continued to come. We had Belen, our chubby yaya from Tarlac whom we sincerely loved; she was not just an excellent all-around help, but was also a nice playmate, always willing to take on the role of a captive hostage while us Cowboys roped and terrorized her. We also had a male nanny, Boy by name, the son of another househelp from my mother’s side of the family. His basic duties were to bring and fetch us from school, feed our meals and look after our toilet needs. Come playtime, he was expected to play with us, and I remember him gathering spiders and insects for our amusement. Poor Boy was also in charge of rocking our hammock to make us sleep, but more often than not, he would slumber first.

When you are young and self-absorbed, you can never fully realize how cruel life could be for some people, ‘yayas’ included. Looking back now, our ‘yayas’ led difficult lives, victims of circumstances, of poverty, trapped in an eternal cycle of debt and servitude. Boy’s three siblings for instance, were dumped in our house by their mother, forced to work for us to pay for her debt. They were only kids just like us, but instead of enjoying their childhood, they ran errands and worked odd jobs for long, lonely hours. In the case of Belen, she was uprooted from her family at a young age, out of a desperate desire to help her parents. Transplanted in Pampanga, she worked for us while battling homesickness.

It’s not too far a stretch, but somehow, my ‘yaya’ stories remind me of the same personal sacrifices that modern-day OFW domestics go through in their search for greener pastures. Each day, thousands of would be-yayas leave their own children behind to care for somebody else’s babies in strange, distant lands, sometimes, under a punishing work culture that can drive anyone to the edge.

Looking back, if only I had that kind of heightened awareness then, I would have been kinder to our house helps. I would have cried a little less, curbed my tongue and made fewer “sumbongs” (telling on adults) to my father, who was rather severe with them . But then I was just a little, bratty kid, who believed that the world should be designed me and me alone. Every now and then, I often wonder what had become of Atsing Daling, Belen and Boy and all the other househelps who spent a good part of their lives in our family’s service. I hope it’s not too late for me to say “Dakal a salamat kekongan” (Many thanks to you all) and I sincerely wish that you found the good future you have all been searching and woking hard for.

*171. Where The Treetop Glistens: A HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

O CHRISTMAS TREE. O CHRISTMAS TREE. This native home is spruced up for the holidays with Christmas symbols like the ornamented Christmas tree and a Santa Claus cut-out, introduced by America, which in turn, were adapted from Europe. ca. 1920s.

One of the holiday traditions we observe is decorating the house to give it a festive look and liven up the merry season. We only started getting serious in the late 60s, when our mostly wooden house underwent a major facelift. While our house was still a far cry from those featured on the pages of Country Living, we felt it deserved a better “interior decoration”, especially for Christmas.

Before that, our holiday décor were all home-made—the lopsided parol hanging in our front window was just my brother’s industrial arts project, while I did the wall treatment. One year, I fashioned anahaw fans into the Three Kings, following the instructions from a craft magazine, to deck our living room wall. My eldest sister took care of the Christmas tree, which she always made from found objects—chicken wire, tree branches, crochet strings.

Christmas of ’71 was truly special to me because for the first time, we finally had a tinsel Christmas tree bought from Clark Field. It was a 4-foot tree with silver metal branches that you stick into a central pole. It came with a plastic angel tree topper and assorted ornaments, but the piece de resistance was the string of lights that my Father arranged around the tree, blinking , twinkling and dazzling the branches with rainbow colors. The only drawback was that the metal tree conducted electricity and once in a while, you get jolted by mild electric shocks. I think that tree lasted for years!

The many symbols of Christmas that we use to decorate our home are mostly of Western origin. The decorated tree for example, originated in Germany, where evergreens were used. This tradition found its way to America and the practice was cascaded down to its colonies and our Islands. Baguio had the advantage of having evergreen trees, but lowland Filipinos improvised by making do with what was available, oftentimes resulting in unique, reinvented trees.

I remember my sister fashioning a Christmas tree from twigs on which soapsuds were applied and allowed to dry to give it a fake “snowy” look. I also remember a year when “walis tingting” tree became the rage. Spray-painted and put in a pot, the “tree” was stringed with paper chains and decorated with old Christmas cards and palara stars. On the other hand, to make string Christmas tree, one had to trace a circle on a piece of plywood, the outline of which was marked with thumb tacks. A white gantsilyo (crochet) thread was tied to one tack, looped around a hook on the ceiling, then pulled taut to be tied on the next tack, until a conical shape was formed. Usually, before the process is completed, a paper belen (the pop-out variety available from a commercial bookstore) was set inside the circle as a centerpiece.

Jolly Old Saint Nicholas—or Santa Claus—had his beginnings in Europe. The Dutch speak of a hoary, thin man in red and white named Sinte Klass. Washington Irving create the image of the chubby, pipe-smoking gift-giver, but he gave it the size of an elf. In 1822, Dr. Clement C. Moore wrote the poem, “A Visit from Saint Nicholas” which further bolstered the popularity of this Christmas figure. It took the cartoonist Thomas Nast to define the look of Santa that we all recognize today: roly-poly, rosy-cheeked, with a long, white beard, in a costume trimmed with fur, topped by a red hat and with a bell in hand.

The figure of Santa Claus easily captivated Filipinos and eventually became part of our pop culture. I remember the Christmas motorcades that originated from Clark Field, which were always highlighted by a candy-throwing Santa Claus—actually, a fat military man dressed in a red and white costume. There have been attempts to make a Pinoy version of Santa, but the idea never took off. Santa’s European alter ego, however—Kris Kringle—gave its name to the practice of secret gift-giving, popular in many schools, also known as “manito-manito”.

In the West, the Star of Bethlehem as a design motif was used on early greeting cards as well as on trees as tree toppers. But it is here in the Philippines that the star was successfully translated into native décor that has become Pampanga’s signature: the parol. Parols for the home were simple enough—five pointed stars made from bamboo sticks wrapped in papel de japon and trimmed with palara (metallic paper). The characteristic tails were made from the same, thin strips of fine Japanese paper. When one didn’t have the time or the budget, a paper lantern from colored cartolina would do. Cartolina circles were stapled together to form a simple, boxy parol which was accented by a single tail that rustled in the wind.

The most complex and spectacular parols however are the legendary star lanterns of San Fernando—virtual psychedelia in motion. The ingenious lantern makers also introduced the innovative “dinukit a parol”—in which cardboard layers were designed to give the illusion of an ornately carved lantern. In Angeles, expert kite makers dabbled also in lantern-making, creating therare and quaint fish-shaped lanterns with movable fin and tails to captivate the crowd during a procession.

The Christmas belen tradition in the country dates back to the Spanish times. St. Francis is credited with making the first manger scene in 1224. The idea spread to other European countries, and French became instant fans, creating wooden ‘creches’ for their homes. Back here, Filipino families had little Nino Dormidos carved, sleeping infant Jesus either of wood or precious ivory. The Nino was brought out from its altar and laid on a straw-lined manger to mark the days of the Nativity. In churches nationwide, the figure of Baby Jesus is held out by the priest, to be kissed by devotees right after the Christmas Midnight Mass.

Despite trying times, people continue to go on decorating sprees during the holidays, perpetuating a tradition that goes back ages. I need only to peek out from my 14th floor office window to see sculpted belens gracing building facades. The NLEX exits are once again bursting with the kaleidoscope colors of parols for sale. Christmas trees of twigs, Santa’s lighted silhouettes, wreaths and poinsettias, tinsels and tassels—all scream “Pasku na, pasku na…nananu ko pa?”. My heart sings. The sights fill me with the joyful spirit of the Season.

MASAYANG PASKU AT MASAPLALANG BAYUNG BANWA KEKONGAN!

*170. His High School Yearbook: VICENTE ALVAREZ DIZON

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST AS A HIGH SCHOOLER. Vicente Alvarez Dizon, th future art professor and world-class painter, as he appeared on his 1924 National University Yearbook, aged 19 years old.

On the last day of the annual antique and collectibles fair of Greenhills, I had expected to find only “crumbs” left by collectors and dealers, with the best pieces already picked and sold. Indeed, that was what I felt when I got into the section of the mall where the dealers had their stalls. I initially saw only old bottles, records, vintage newspapers, old coins and paper bills—which were not exactly my interest. In one stall that specialized in old books and paper items, I picked up a thin 1924 National University yearbook with a new red binding. The cover identified the previous owner as Dr. Gaudencio de los Reyes. I scanned a few pages and I thought I might find use for this yearbook one day; besides, at one hundred pesos, it was a steal. I paid for the yearbook-- my one and only purchase—and took a taxi home.

1924 NATIONAL UNIVERSITY HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK. Designed and illustrated by Vicente Alvarez Dizon, Class of 1924.

Inside the cab, I flipped through the pages again, this time, more carefully—and there, on page 35, I found the picture of 19 year old Vicente Alvarez Dizon (b. 5 April 1905), a noted Kapampangan painter, the artist that history almost forgot. Born in Malate of Kapampangan parents, this 1928 U.P. fine arts graduate went on to become a professor of drawing and art appreciation (a course he pioneered) at the National Teachers’ College, a position he held till 1941. He later earned a study grant at the Yale University.

A year after his college graduation, he married Maria Ines Lutgarda Henson of Angeles, whom he met while she was studying at St. Scholastica in Manila. The couple had 7 children, and two of them—Daniel and Josefina—went on to follow their father’s footsteps by becoming respected artists in their own right.

As an artist, Vicente maintained an art studio in Manila and in his Angeles residence where his customers, many American soldiers from Clark Field, would ask him to draw portraits and cards to be sent to their loved ones back in the U.S. mainland. His biggest claim to fame however winning an important art contest held at the Gallery of Science and Art at the 1939 Golden Gate Exposition in San Francisco, California. He placed first in the International Competition on Contemporary Art participated in by painters from 79 countries with his opus, “After A Day’s Toil”. What made his triumph more significant was that he bested the entries of surrealist Salvador Dali and impressionist Maurice Utrillo. Dali’s piece entitled “Enigmatic Elements in Landscape” was relegated to second place.

Vicente’s winning painting showed a Filipino family homeward bound from the fields, including a woman, two men and a boy, a dog and chickens passing by a lake fringed with lush tropical foliage and with mountains rising from the distance. The painting was exhibited worldwide and went on display at the IBM Gallery of Fine Arts.

However, his most dramatic works were done during the Japanese Occupation, secretly recording the difficult life under a repressive regime. He painted such emotional-filled works like “Strafed Civilians”, “Evacuees on the Move” and “The Fall of Intramuros”, painted in 1945, that depicted the destruction of this hallowed part of Manila. Because of his talent, he was invited to work as an artist and historical assistant at Clark Field in August 1945. The war years took a toll on his health and Vicente died on 19 October 1947. He was just 42.

The precious find that I now hold in my hands speak volumes of the young Vicente’s artistic skills as well as his life, interests and character as a teen-ager. He singlehandedly designed, laid out and illustrated the pages which he neatly signed with “V.A.Dizon ‘24”. The book listed his place of residence as “Cabanatuan, Nueva Ecija”, as his father, Jose Dizon, was assigned there at that time as an agricultural inspector. His whole entry in the 1924 yearbook reads:

“A promising gentleman of Cabanatuan, the favorite ‘hijo’ of Mrs. Ylagan. The ‘Liwayway’ and the class artist, once the Vice President of the Alpha-Beta Club and the piccoloist of the National Jazz Band. Tall, handsome, graceful ‘feller’ is he of fresh nineteen. He is studious, clever, proud but not a parasite. He reads like a lightning flash and talks like a thunderbolt. He is silent but beware of his silence for he is a breaker of feminine hearts”.

Who would think that in 15 years’ time, this Kapampangan teen-ager would grow to become a world-class artist with his stunning victory in San Francisco? Yet, he was largely unsung, having died young, his repute forgotten through the years. It was only in February 2001 that his legacy was honored by the Committee on Culture with a retrospective exhibit of his works at the UP Library Art Gallery. Of him, kabalen and National Artist Galo Ocampo has this to say: “Mr. Dizon’s place in contemporary Philippine art is already known. He belongs to a field distinctly his own. He is the Filipino Kenyon Cox, preaching the gospel of art among the masses..”

*169. HERE'S TO OUR HEALTH!

RURAL HEALTH PERSONNEL AND OFFICIAL STAFF, at a get-together X'mas party in Arayat, Pampanga. 21 Dec. 1955.

When the Americans came to colonize our country, they were shocked at the state of our public health. There were no sanitary toilets, people tended to defecate everywhere, and the sewage system was non-existent. They actually believed that we were a contaminated race. The there was the tropical climate which American scientists and doctors at first believed was hazardous to the health.

Diseases like dysentery, cholera, beri-beri, malaria and parasitism plagued the country, and Pampanga was not spared. In 1902, a severe cholera hit almost all the municipalities of the province, causing thousands of deaths. Then, in 1918, dengue fever reached Pampanga, part of a global pandemic. That same year, southern Pampanga was hit by smallpox and it was said that the casualties were so great that the tolling of bells was prohibited so as not to cause further alarm.

With such grave threats, Americans went on a vigorous campaign to educate Filipinos, introducing massive public health programs to improve their personal hygiene, sanitation practices and social conduct. Through intensified disciplining of the native’s bodily custom and habit, American physicians believed that Filipinos might eventually become capable of self-rule.

Public health services initially depended on army doctors until civilians—including American teachers—came along. They organized municipal and provincial health boards that initiated such projects as “Clean-Up Week”, setting up of toilets in railroad stations and inspection of boticas and livestock. As if their work is not enough, these personnel also had to supervise vaccinations all over the province.

Americans found willing help in Kapampangan doctors and medical professionals like Dr. Francisco Liongson, a prominent Spanish-trained physician who served as a member of the provincial health board. An artesian well program was also undertaken in 1906. The creation of new sources of fresh and clean water supply resulted in the drastic drop of the incidence of cholera. Leprosy, too, was completely eradicated in the province by 1909.

When the health boards were Filipinized during the Taft years, Kapampangan doctors efficiently ran the public health service programs. In 1912, with the reorganization of the Public Health Services (the future of Department of Health), Pampanga was divided into nine sanitary districts, headed by a physician. These exponents of health finally got themselves organized in 1933 when the Pampanga Medical Association was formed through the leadership of Pampanga’s most famous surgeon, Dr. Gregorio Singian.

In 1931, Pampanga inaugurated its own modern, 2-storey, 50 bed hospital. It was well equipped with an operating room and a laboratory. Another hospital, owned by the Pampanga Sugar Mills at Del Carmen, was established exclusively for its employees. With all these advancements, the health of Kapampangans considerably improved by 1932 with an average of 20.7 deaths reported per 1,000 population—compared to 27 in 1921. Infant mortality was down to 172.5 per 1,000—one of the lowest in the country-- as opposed to 372 in 1920.

Just two years later, in 1934, the Tydings-McDuffie Act was approved, finally promising self-government to Filipinos after a transitional period of 10 years. Could our improved health and revitalized constitution had something to do with it? If that were so, then indeed, health rules!

*168. A SHOOTING IN THE HOUSE

DANTE RIVERO AND A FAMILY OF FANS. So here's the whole starstruck clan with a souvenir photo of the Kapampangan male lead of "Mga Tigre ng Sierra Cruz", shot in my granduncle's house in 1974. My gushing mom sits to the left of Rivero, while my sis Susan is the little girl peeking over his head. I am next to Susan, with glasses. Mike, my younger brother, in white shirt and khaki pants, stands to the left. Some cousins and aunts travelled all the way from Manila to meet and greet the stars--including Vilma Santos.

We live right next to my granduncle’s 1924 mansion, an old, rambling two-storey house with a period look and a photogenic façade, located in Sta. Ines. It was no wonder then that a film outfit, Lea Productions, decided to rent the uninhabited Morales mansion for two days, to serve as a shooting location for the wartime movie, “Mga Tigre ng Sierra Cruz”, in the summer of 1974. This was no ordinary movie as it starred no less than the star for all seasons, Vilma Santos, still a teener at that time, whose Kapampangan roots were in nearby Bamban, Tarlac.

Of course, our whole family was consumed with excitement—and so was the whole Mabalacat town, as word got around that indeed, Ate Vi, was coming to town! Our family was mobilized by the producers to assist in ensuring a smooth, trouble-free shoot on the day of the filming which was to take place late at night. My father was even assigned to fetch Vilma Santos from her lodge in Dau and taken to the shooting venue through our house. But the moment the shooting lights went on, scores of town people appeared from nowhere to gawk at the cinematic goings-on.

Still, being relatives and the unofficial caretaker of the house, we—and a platoon of relatives who came all the way from Manila to stargaze-- had the front seats to the shooting. Director Augusto “Totoy” Buenaventura was in command the whole time, calling take after take. One Mabalacat girl was even lucky enough to be cast as an extra in one critical scene, earning the role of a housemaid. In that dining room scene, Japanese soldiers were supposed to be having a rowdy dinner. Enter, the Pinay househelp with more dishes of food. When the soldiers get fresh on her, she drops the plate-- a signal for the guerrilla fighters to attack the enemy. Some were even directed to spring from the banggerahan for the surprise raid. I felt that scene was simply awesome!

The best part of the shoot was meeting the stars of the movie in person. I became an instant Ate Vi fan when she obliged the townpeople gathered outside the gate with a personal appearance, waving her hands to the crowd below from the balcony. The whole town just went mad. Later, with my portable cassette recorder, I even managed to interview Ate Vi, asking how she could possibly retain her composure despite her stardom. I asked a lot of showbiz questions that would put Ricky Lo to shame. I kept playing our recorded conversations for months after that, until I lost the cassette tape.

Co-starring with Vilma in the movie was another Kapampangan, Dante Rivero (aka, Luisito Mayer Jr., from Floridablanca). Unlike Ate Vi who was always game, Dante was not too accommodating, brushing my request for interview with a terse “Can I talk later?”. But he took a shine to my cousin Beng, who later asked her for a date. I was also luckless with supporting actor Ruel Vernal, who intimidated me with his height. Charito Solis, a co-starrer, was unfortunately not part of any scenes that were for shooting here.

The next shooting day mostly had action scenes and vivid on my mind was the sight of Japanese soldiers rolling down the front stairs of the house, shot at by the fighting ‘tigres’ led by Rivero. I also remember staying up so late to watch the whole proceedings, retiring only after the shooting has packed up.

When it was all over, the house and its garden were a mess, with most of the flowering plants in the garden dead and trampled. Worse, when the movie was finally shown in local theaters after months of anticipation, the house was just seen on screen for a minute or so, I could barely recognize it. Even the part of the Filipina househelp played by a local Mabalacat girl was edited out, her 15 minutes of fame down the drain. I don’t think “Mga Tigre ng Sierra Cruz” made a killing in the box office, either.

Many shootings have been held at the grand Morales mansion since then—the most recent one was undertaken by U.P. film students in March 2009. But old folks who pass by the street still point to the old mansion and refer to it as “the house where they shot the movie ‘Mga Tigre ng Sierra Cruz’ starring Vilma Santos and Dante Rivero”. The magic of that cinematic moment of over 30 years ago still is remembered, enriching the history of the house. Now that’s entertainment!

*167. PILOTS OF THE AIRWAVES

RAFAEL "PAENG" YABUT. Kapampangan radio announcer who made a name for himself in the 50s and 60s with his program "Tayo'y Mag-Aliw". He turned his entertainment
program into a fiery social commentary, earning him raves and rants.

The Radio as a new communication medium officially came to the Philippines in 1922 when a test broadcast was made by a Mrs. Redgrave from Nichols Air Field using a 5-watt transmitter. Early broadcasting was a strictly an American affair until the 1930s when local songs and program, started to be heard from KZIB, KZRH and KZRG Stations. In this new medium, the Kapampangan voice found its place, and our kabalens who animated the airwaves became welcome presences in every home with a transistor-- disseminating news, dispensing advice, making commentaries or simply spinning music to the avid listener.

The first organized commercial radio station was founded by a former war correspondent of Mutual Broadcasting Company named Robert Stewart. Together with his Kapampangan wife, Loreto Feliciano, Robert started the Republic Brodcasting Republic Broadcasting System (RBS), DZBB, DZFF and DZXX. Loreto did the marketing for the stations, and eventually, they would also establish Channel 7 in the 1960s. Robert would become “Uncle Bob” to many Filipino kids growing up in those years, the host of the popular children’s show, “Uncle Bob’s Lucky 7 Club”.

One of the earliest to join the radio bandwagon was Angelo Castro of Tarlac. A brother of former chief justice Fred Ruiz Castro, Angelo joined Manila Broadcasting Company at Insular Life Bldg. and was known as the “Good Time King”. In 1946, he became the chief announcer of Station KZOK. Under Pres. Carlos P. Garcia, he headed the Radio Department of the Office of the Press Secretary. Angelo’s sons, Angelo Castro Jr. (husband of June Keithley) and Naldie also became announcers.

The new broadcast medium was soon being discovered by advertisers as a channel to reach the masses efficiently, quickly. Philippine Manufacturing Company (PMC) was one of the first to sponsor Tagalog variety shows like "Ilaw ng Tahanan", "Gulong ng Palad", Dr. Ramon Selga and "Aklat ng Pag-ibig". But it was Tawag ng Tanghalan (Call of the Stage) that proved to be its longest-running hit. With Kapampangan Ben Pangan as its producer, the talent show started on DZBB with Dolphy and Panchito as hosts, but when PMC decided to bring the show on the road, Dolphy begged off due to his movie commitments. Lopito and Patsy—another Kapampangan-- took over and the rest is history.

Movie stars gravitated towards the radio as the broadcast industry boomed in the 50s. Rogelio de la Rosa, already an established star, hosted the early evening program, “Kasaysayang Panghapunan”. His brother Jaime, was on Camay Theater of the Air and Pista ng Caltex at DZBB. To complete the family act, 17 year old Mike Mallari, the 17 year-old son of Africa de la Rosa became the teen DJ for “Mailbag Jukebox”. Mike went on to bigger things and was eventually appointed as information officer for Gerry Roxas, Teofisto Guingona and a secretary of Pres. Fidel V. Ramos.

Other known Kapampangan personalities with radio experience include Artemio “Temyong” Marquez who wrote radio soaps for DZBC, his most popular being “Panata ng Puso”. Minda Feliciano of San Fernando also joined Eddie Mercado and Johnny Wilson at DZFM, only to resign and travel to Europe where she would meet and marry the actor Michael Caine. In 1953, Armando Datuin was hired at DZAQ and his voice would become associated with live shows, stars and prizes. Nick David, with his “basso profundo”, rose to become a popular narrator of dramas at DZXL. Meanwhile, Mila Balatbat from Sta. Ana, who started her radio career at age 15, found great success by becoming a successful independent producer of programs (a ‘blocktimer’) heard on DZRH, DZBB, DZAQ, DZMY.

But perhaps, the most influential and bombastic radio personality ever to emerge from radio’s golden years would undoubtedly be Rafael Yabut of Candaba. Fearless “Paeng” grew up in Tondo and started as a commercial reader for blocktimer Luz Mat Castro. During the Japanese occupation, he accepted an announcing job at Star Theater along Azcarraga. After Liberation, he became a barker for “Atomic Bomb”, a seedy, honky tonk place along Rizal Avenue.

In the late 1940s, he was offered by Hal Bowie, General Manager of MBC to do a daily Tagalog program called “Tayo’y Mag-aliw” (Let’s Have Fun). But instead of just providing pure entertainment, he made stinging news commentaries and impassioned attacks against certain elements and characters in the government. As a sort of ombudsman on air, he started attacking Pres. Qurino and praising Magsaysay. His program drew not only high listenership but also friends and foes alike. Soon, many Yabut wannabes like Benny Rebueno, Ernie Kimuyog and Abraham Cruz were imitating his fiery style.

By 1957, Yabut had accumulated so much pulling power as news commentator for DZRH that he was urged to run for president in 1957 against Carlos P. Garcia. Instead, he endorsed Manuel Manahan, then shifted to Jose Yulo. Both lost. For his political meddling and editorializing, Yabut was suspended from his broadcast work, leaving behind his high-rating programs like "Ruleta Musikal", "Tatlo Lamang", "Gumising sa Pagsikat ng Araw".

To complicate matters, Yabut’s second wife filed a bigamy case against him. But his most serious brush with death was when he was ambushed by a gunman along San Marcelino St., after his tirades against Philippine Charity Sweepstakes. He recuperated, joined DZFM, a government station, but by then his credibility was in tatters. After the People Power revolution, he joined DZBB, only to be assigned the graveyard shift. Not long after that, Paeng Yabut died.

The 1960s also saw the rise of a former seminarian from Minalin as the quintessential voice of news and current events. Orly Punzalan took the bus to Manila and auditioned for DZFM as a newscaster for the Department of National Defense. He passed the auditions and got a starting salary of 30 pesos a week, working with the likes of Jose Mari Avellana, Joonee Gamboa and Tita Muñoz. Making the transition to TV, he became a booth announcer for Channel 3 where he met and married Helen Vela.

Deep-voiced Bienvenido Parungao made his presence felt with his overly dramatic signature quips: “Oh, hindeeee!” and “Hangaaal!”. He became an announcer for DZAQ in 1966, an apt host for the program,”Ginoong Mananakot”. Taking on “Ben David” as a screen name, he was cast in “Da Best Show”, “Tang-Tarang-Tang” and “Buhay Artista”. His most famous character role is playing Hudas Iscariote to the hilt.

In 1961, Cesar Nocum auditioned for DZRM and got the job, only to be pirated by ABS-CBN. For his narrative program “Mga Kasaysayan sa Likod ng Langit”, he evolved the style of Eddie Ilarde, developing it into his signature snail-paced, monotonous delivery. Thus, “Kuya Cesar” was born. Rounding up our list of Kapampangan announcers with unforgettable voices is the broadcast dean of knowledge and trivia, Ernie Baron. He differentiated himself by developing an encyclopedic knowledge of every conceivable topic under the sun. His “Knowledge Power” ruled the airwaves until his passing in 2005.

Today, Pampanga has its own regional and community stations with some programs conducted in the Kapampangan language. This bodes well for the future of Kapampangan broadcasters, whose existence have been threatened by the coming of television, MTV and now, the internet. Contemporary Kapampangan radio personalities like Perry Pangan, Rox Peña, Max Sangil and Cecile Yumul continue to inform, delight, educate and keep me company as I drive through traffic or relax at home. Now who says video killed the radio stars?

*166. Power Couple: DR. PACIFICO L. PANLILIO and MARCELINA P. NEPOMUCENO

THE DOCTOR AND HIS NURSE. Dr. Pacifico L. Panlilio M.D. and his wife, Marcelina P. Nepomuceno, an early nursing degree graduate, both belonged to well-known families from Pampanga.

The Panlilios of Mexico and the Nepomucenos of Angeles are two of the most prominent and biggest families of Pampanga, populating the province with their progeny who went on to become achievers, professionals, successful businessmen, visionaries and community leaders. So when two members from these distinguished families forged a union through marriage, their future was already considered written in the stars. Indeed, the marriage of Dr. Pacifico Panlilio y Lising and Marcelina Nepomuceno y Paras consolidated their individual successes to emerge as a power couple in Kapampangan society.

Marcelina was born on 9 August 1881, the daughter of Ysabelo Nepomuceno y Henson and Juana Paras y Gomez. Ysabelo’s parents were Pio Rafael Nepomuceno and Maria Agustina Henson. When it was time for Marcelina to pursue her ‘karera’, she chose to study the relatively new course of Nursing, first offered at the Escuela de Enfermeras of the Philippine General Hospital. As part of the earliest batches of nursing graduates, Marcelina thus earned her place as a pioneering Kapampangan Florence Nightingale in the field of medical service.

It was at PGH that Marcelina met fellow Kapampangan, Pacifico or Pepe, as he was known by his nickname. A son of Juan Panlilio and Feliciana Lising of Mexico, the young Pepe was born on 30 October 1880 and attended a local school under the tutelage of Don Felix Dizon. He was then sent off to San Juan de Letran for his secondary schooling, and upon completion in 1896, he enrolled at the University of Santo Tomas then to the newly established University of the Philippines, becoming a Doctor of Medicine in 1909.

While taking his internship at the San Lazaro Hospital from 1910-11, he became a Doctor de Sanidad at Meisic, Manila. By December 1910, he was named as a health inspector and the next year, he served as a District Officer of Sibul Spring. In late 1911, he was stationed at the Dispensary of the Philippine General Hospital. Dr. Panlilio was also a member of good standing of the Manila Medical Society, the Malthusian League of London, and later joined the Masonry.

After their wedding in January of 1912, the couple decided to return to their roots and settled in Pampanga. Don Pepe had the chance to serve his town, becoming its Doctor de Sanidad from 1918-20. They divided their time between Mexico and Angeles as the couple also had some real estate property there. They would eventually raise 4 children: Josefina Guillermina, Noemi Guia, Filadelfo and Vladimir Crisostomo. The good doctor could have accomplished more, but on 9 August 1934, he passed away at the age of 54.

The widowed Marcelina and her children stayed on permanently in Angeles, living a full life and dying at the age of 78 on 16 April 1959. In the late 1960s, the children developed the property of their parents, a wedding gift from Marcelina’s uncle, Don Juan Nepomuceno. The plot of land along Jesus Street was transformed into a subdivision known as Pacimar—from Pacifico and Marcelina—whose united names lived on in this city landmark.