*437. PAULINE C. LIEB: Wartime Philippines’ “Joan of Arc”

LIEB AND LET DIE. Filipino-American freedom fighter, she joined the resistance movement and fought side-by-side with male soldiers. She was captured in the foothills of Montalban in 1944. 

In 1960, a Filipino-American couple moved into a quiet Angeles neighborhood, then still a town. They were seemingly an ordinary couple—Mr. Eugene Lieb, an engineer, had just accepted a job at Clark Air Base while his wife, a Manileña, appeared to be a typical mother hen to their two daughters. 

But little did their neighbors know, that the life of Pauline C. Lieb was anything but typical. For in their midst was a war heroine, whose largely forgotten role as an underground guerrilla fighter needs to be retold, for hers is a story of love, struggle and survival.

Pauline was the daughter of Paz Canovas, of Spanish-Filipino descent, and Edward Costigan, an American. Costigan had arrived in the Philippines in 1898 where he quickly found work as a manager of a cold storage facility in Manila.

Pauline was born on 6 June 1917, and grew up speaking Spanish and English in a multi-cultural household. As a young girl growing up in Manila, the pretty Pauline was squired by handsome swains, that counted the tall and handsome Lubeño, Regidor dela Rosa—who would go on to become the matinee idol, Rogelio dela Rosa. Another admirer was said to be the scion of the La Tondeña Distillery.

The onset of World War II would put on hold the lives of millions of Filipinos—and that of the Costigans would be affected most profoundly. At the height of the war years, Pauline did what she thought was right for her country and joined the underground resistance movement, prodded by Tom Myers, an American shipping magnate who organized the guerrilla group.  She took up arms, and under  Capt. Myers,  became part of the combat forces which attacked and ambushed Japanese enemy soldiers.

The Japanese military began putting the heat on the American and Filipino guerrilla fighters (Huks)  and waged campaigns to purge them out from the mountains. It was in this way that Pauline and Capt. Myers were captured in the hills of Montalban, Rizal sometime in 1944. The American was beheaded, while Pauline was whisked off and imprisoned at the Bilibid Prison in Manila. A fellow prisoner was Claire Phillips, aka Clara Fuentes, a Filipino-American spy who would write about her war experience in the book, “Manila Espionage”.  ( Her life story later was turned into a Hollywood movie entitled, “I Was an American Spy” in 1951.)

Fortunately, Pauline escaped imminent doom and was freed from incarceration with the bloody liberation of the Philippines. She was sent to the United States to recuperate, and after the dust had settled and the rebuilding of the nation went underway, the Costigans started life anew. Eventually,  Pauline found employment as a cashier at the reconstructed Manila Hotel, the country’s premiere hotel. It was here that she would meet a dashing American military personnel from Ohio, Eugene L. Lieb, who was first assigned to the Port of Manila after the war. 

After a short courtship, they got married in Catholic ceremonies in Malate and settled in the new suburb of Makati. Mr. Lieb, a civil engineer, was later tapped to head the Roads and Grounds services division at Clark Air Base in Angeles, Pampanga. This necessitated the Liebs’ move to Angeles in 1960.

Here, in a Balibago neighborhood, the Liebs would raise their two daughters: Pacita (now Vizcarra) and Mary Ann (now del Rosario), now based in the U.S.  Pauline would live a long life, passing away on 24 February 2009, at age 91 in her adopted city of Angeles. A U.S. newspaper got wind of Pauline’s wartime exploits after her death and an account of her life and times saw print on a Los Angeles daily which dubbed her as “Joan of Arc” of World War II, a fitting appellation for a freedom fighter who heeded to the calling of her inner voice-- to  put country first, before herself.

CREDITS: Photo and information provided by Mr. Benjamin Canovas, a relative of Pauline Canovas Costigan Lieb. 

*422. San Fernando's LOURDES S. SINJIAN, Dama de Honor, Manila Carnival 1924

OUR LADY OF LOURDES. The statuesque Unding was a princess in the Manila Carnival court of Queen Trinidad Fernandez. She was a grandchild of former San Fernando gobernadorcillo (1844-1875), Don Bernardino Singian de Miranda.Author's Collection.

The earliest known Kapampangan participant in the Manila Carnival of which there is pictorial documentation is Lourdes Sinjian (Filipinized into Singian) of San Fernando. There was another Kapampangan entrant by the name of Benita S. Reyes who topped the preliminary voting in Pampanga, but apparently, her candidacy did not prosper and virtually nothing is known about her.

On the other hand, Lourdes did much better, joining the court of the 1924 Manila Carnival Queen, Trinidad Fernandez, as one of the 6 lovely “damas”. Lourdes, nicknamed “Unding”, (b. 23 October 1903) was the grandchild of Don Bernardino Singian de Miranda (former gobernadorcillo of San Fernando where he served several terms between 1844-1875) with second wife Clemencia Gotiangco of San Fernando. Her parents were Anselmo Singian and Paz Soler.

A statuesque “mestiza Española”, she spoke flawless Spanish, Kapampangan, Pilipino and Cantonese, in a voice that was strong and vibrant. Her patrician manners only served to complement her elegant bearing. At the coronation of the Queen, she was escorted by another mestizo, Ito Kahn. 

A niece, Gabriela D’Aquino recalls that during the Japanese Occupation, Unding’s imposing height and no-nonsense demeanor served her family in good stead. Japanese officers who had come to invite her young cousins to parties were often intimidated by Unding and left the house alone.

 After the war, Lourdes and her mother went to Hong Kong, to follow her sister Maria Paz (Nenita) who had left the Philippines to marry a Hong Kong native, Gaston D’Aquino. Choosing to reside in the British Colony, Lourdes was never at a loss for company. Vicente Singian, for example, was the Philippine consul in Hong Kong in the 1950s. The famed surgeon Dr. Gregorio Singian, together with his wife, made frequent travels there as well. Both were her cousins. 

 Relatives would recall that Lourdes made a perfect tour guide whenever family members came a-visiting. In one such shopping spree at a Hong Kong store, she would pretend to be a stranger, but when she would sense a dishonest deal, she would berate the shop owner in eloquent Cantonese! 

With her relatives though, Lourdes spoke in Kapampangan, often reminiscing about her days in Pampanga and Manila. Lourdes did not leave Hong Kong until her mother, Paz, fell ill and had to be flown back to Manila for treatment at Clinica Singian. After her mother’s death, she remained in the Philippines only to return to Hong Kong in the 1960s to care for her ailing sister Nenita.

 Upon the death of her sister, Lourdes took over the household and continued raising her sister’s children Gaby, Gaston Jr. and Gerardo, running a household with discipline and efficiency. Known for being nimble and spritely even in her old age, Lourdes remained unmarried until her death in Hong Kong on 4 July 1993. Her remains were brought back and interred at the Mount Carmel Church in Manila.

*340. Dr. Coconut: CONRADO S. DAYRIT M.D

DOCTOR OF RESPECTED GUIDANCE. A cardiologist, pharmacologist and educator, Dr. Conrado Singian Dayrit from San Fernando, was later known to champion the health benefits of coconut, leading people to give him that monicker. His son, Manuel, became a Health Secretary during GMA's term. Ca. 1957.

 As a child, I was afflicted with all sorts of ailments of the serious kind—asthma, pneumonia, respiratory infection, and the worst of all—rheumatic heart disease. I remember missing school for weeks every year, due to my condition, and I still recall the worried looks on my parents’ faces as they shuttled me from one doctor to another. I was always on the edge every time we made those trips to Manila in the 60s because I detested being pricked by needles by nurses, and being poked by stern-faced doctors alone, in their cold examination rooms.

 One doctor stood out, however, for his warm and welcoming presence. He had an office at the new Polymedic Clinic back in the late 60s (now Dr. Victor Potenciano Polymedic Hospital), and I vividly recall our first visit there—because we had to take an elevator—my first ride ever. When I met him, he spoke to me in a calm, unhurried voice and he took his time with me, explaining the tests he would do, assuring me that the electrocardiogram session was not going to be painful at all. Most of all, he would confer with my parents in Kapampangan after, and their conversations would include a lot of family talk in between.

 I would hear later from my mother that Dr. Conrado Singian Dayrit was our Del Rosario “kamag-anak”, so that put me at ease even more. I was also told he was an accomplished doctor, one of the most capable in the country. Sure enough, over the years, I would hear more of Dr. Dayrit and his medical legacy which included being a pharmacologist, heart specialist, medical professor and naturopath.

 He was born on 31May 1919 in Manila, to parents Conrado Sr., (formerly with the Bureau of Public Instruction) and Eufronia Singian. A true-blue Atenean all throughout his elementary, high school and college days, he enrolled at the University of the Philippines and earned his medical degree in 1943. That same year, he passed the board as a topnotcher and was immediately employed as assistant professor at U.P. College of Medicine.

 In 1946, he was named International Fellow in Pharmacology by the Kellogg Foundation and stayed in the U.S. for 2 years. He took his postgraduate studies at the University of Michigan Medical School and the Cornell University Medical College.

 When he got back to the Philippines, Dr. Dayrit resumed his teaching at U.P. In 1955, he was named Officer-in-Charge of the U.P. Department of Physiology. Due to his work at the Philippine General Hospital as a physician to outpatients with cardiovascular problems, he was inspired to found the Philippine Heart Association and served as a member of its Executive Committee from 1952-1958. He has also been a member of the Asian Pacific Society of Cardiology, the Cancer Society, the Manila Medical Society.

 An tireless researcher, Dr. Dayrit has authored many scientific articles on such areas of interest as cardiology, pharmacology and medical education. He made a study on the “bangungot” phenomenon, as well as various papers on heart disease, its medical and surgical treatment as well as the pharmaco-dynamics of various drugs.

His research papers --over 70 of them--have earned for him many awards, including 1st and 2nd prizes for the 1954 and 1955 Manila Medical Society Research Award for Basic Science and Clinical Researches and Best Papers Read at the 49th Annual Meeting of the Philippine Medical Association. He was cited as “The Most Outstanding Young Man In Science” by the Sunday Times Magazine in 1955. In 1977, he was honored with a Gregorio Y. Zara Award in Applied Science by the Philippine Association for the Advancement of Science.

He held many important positions that included the presidency of the Federation of Asian Scientific Academies and Societies and of the Philippine National Academy of Science and Technology. He was named an emeritus professor of pharmacology at the University of the Philippines College of Medicine. He would also be a recipient of the Republic Cultural Heritage Award.

 Dr. Dayrit married the former Milagros A. Millar of Lucena, Quezon. They settled in San Juan and raised 5 children: Manuel, Conrado III, Antonio Fabian, Eduardo and Rafael. Eldest son, Manuel, also a doctor, became our country’s Secretary of Health from 2001-2005, under the term of Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

 Later in life, Dr. Dayrit championed the medicinal values of coconut and its by-product, virgin coconut oil especially on its efficacy on HIV, which started a national craze for naturopathy. Quite unexpectedly, our paths would cross again when he was invited to grace the launch of a new coconut based-cooking oil, the advertising of which I handled.

The venerable doctor, now over 80 years old, still commanded respect and awe for his profound knowledge on cardiovascular health. I shyly re-introduced myself to him in Kapampangan and namedropped my parents’ names and my Del Rosario surname, briefly recounting how I became his patient. He broke out in his trademark grin and answered back in crisp Kapampanga, “A wa, kakilala ke I Ma mu, ampo reng Del Rosario, kamag-anak mila..komusta naka?”. That acknowledgement certainly made my day.

 Dr. Conrado S. Dayrit passed away on 5 October 2007, at the very same hospital where he had his clinic for many years.

*316. Gotta Travel On: MACARTHUR HIGHWAY

THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD. The main road in Dau, circa 1915. By the the Commonwealth years, the Americans had built 220 kms. of concrete roads in Pampanga, ending in Dau., to accommodate Pampanga's motor vehicles, which ranked 5th in number, nationwide.

In the early ‘60s, before NLEX and SCTEX, the only way to travel to Manila from Pampanga was by the old Manila North Road—or MacArthur Highway, as it was more popularly known to motorists. Named after Lieutenant General Arthur MacArthur, Jr, the military Governor-General of the American-occupied Philippines from 1900 to 1901, the long highway stretched from La Union, to the provinces of Central Luzon (Pangasinan, Tarlac, Pampanga, Bulacan) and finally to the city of Manila. Under the American Regime, road-building was at its most brisk, and by 1933, Pampanga had over 220.1 kms. of 1st class roads, ending north in Dau.

As a child, I remember some of those trips so vividly well as they were moments to look forward to. After all, it was not very often that kids like us were taken out for long rides to the big city. So, every time our parents announced that we would be going to Manila, we knew the occasion would be something special—a family reunion, a fiesta in Blumentritt or perhaps, a visit to our cousins in Herran (now Pedro Gil St).

Our trips were always scheduled on weekends, and as early as Friday morning, our parents would already be preparing for the trip. Dad would be checking on and tuning up the Oldsmobile, while Ma would be looking for tin cans that would serve as our emergency “orinola” (urinal) or vomit bag, in case of motion sickness or incontinence. We always left in the early dawn, with most of us still drowsy and asleep--no later than 5 a.m. , as mandated by my ever-punctual Dad. With water bottles and half-a-dozen or so hardboiled eggs, we thus began our 99 km. journey to the capital city.

From our house in Sta. Ines, Mabalacat, my Dad would drive out onto the main highway, towards Dau and Angeles. Past those familiar places, we proceeded to the capital town, San Fernando, with Manila still 57 kms. away. We would just coast along till San Vicente in Apalit, the highway a bit dusty and bumpy at this point. Upon hitting the rickety bridge of Calumpit, I knew we were no longer in Pampanga—we were in the Tagalog province of Bulacan, home of my favourite ensaimada de Malolos. I knew, because we would always stopped in the capital town to buy these pastries, cheese-topped and overloaded with red eggs.

From Malolos, it was off to Guiguinto, a town with an intriguing name for a 6 year old—I had often envisioned it either overrun with salaginto beetles or sparkling with golden lights. I remember the tall electric posts that lined the highway as we approached Bigaa, Tabang, then Bocaue. I once overheared adults talking about the “kabarets”of Bocaue in hushed whispers, but I've never seen girls dancing on the highway! Fixing my gaze on the world outside through the car window, i would see early risers buying bread from bakeries, Mobilgas stations and their lighted signs wishing travellers “Pleasant motoring!, Baliuag buses picking up passengers, ricefields that stretched as far as the eyes can see.

I would already be impatient and bored at this time, even as the features of the bucolic towns of Marilao and Meycauayan (where are the bamboo trees?) loomed clearer with the rising sun. But all this fretting would stop as soon as we got a glimpse of this tall obelisk in the distance—the Monumento—a landmark that told me that, at last, we were in Manila. If we were going to Sta. Cruz, we would veer towards the Monumento, gawking at the sculpted images of the revolucionarios and the doomed Gomburza padres as we made a half-loop towards Manila proper. After some two hours of driving, we did it--the “promdis” have finally arrived!