*374. THE SUBJECT WAS SHOP

IF I HAD A HAMMER. Lubao Elementary School Shop Class for boys. 1936-1937.

 My least liked subject during my elementary days was Industrial Arts. Taught to fifth and sixth graders, industrial arts was meant to equip students with manual and vocational skills that one may find useful in a future career in woodworking, cottage industries and native crafts.

 American teachers paid attention to this non-academic subject as Pampanga’s economic activities seemed to revolve around those industries. Crafts such as buntal hat and basket weaving, pottery, blacksmithing, furniture making were known in such towns as Betis and Apalit. Which is why, when the Bacolor School of Arts and Trade made its curriculum, it included advanced courses in carpentry, furniture-making and iron works. It was just a matter of time that the subject was adopted in public elementary schools, under the name ”Industrial Arts”.

 I was a total klutz when it came to handling tools, and I couldn’t even tell a screwdriver from a can opener. So it was with much anxiety that I entered the Industrial Arts building located at the rear of the school—students simply called it “shop”. It was lined with long work tables and had cabinets full of carpentry tools, each little gadget in its own space. The teachers manning the ‘shop’ had a reputation for being ‘terrors’ so this did not help me in appreciating this subject.

But luck was on my side when I found out that our class was assigned to the more mild-mannered Mr. Dimabuyu. My parents knew him personally and they requested him to go easy on me. I had such a weak constituent that even a simple chore like pounding a hammer could trigger an asthma attack. So, for the next weeks, I was spared of carpentry work and was given drafting duties instead. I learned to draw schematic diagrams of every conceivable geometric figure known to man, using a T-square, a triangle and a ruler. I wonder if I could actually make a living out of this. After awhile, boredom set in and I started watching and helping my adept classmates with their handiworks that were becoming more interesting every day.

 The first project was a dustpan fashioned from old cooking oil cans and a piece of wood. The next was a shoe mud scraper made from soda crowns hammered onto a plank of wood. Simple enough. But the succeeding projects became even more elaborate, requiring more sophisticated tools and skills.

For the fruit tray, one had to be good not just in handling the jig saw but also in weaving rattan strips that constituted the side of the tray. The serving tray was the piece de resistance—individual bamboo tiles had to be cut and glued into place much like parquet—and then made even with a shaving plane. The surface was then hand varnished to gleaming perfection. Each finished piece had to be presented to Mr. Dimabuyu for grading.

With his critical eye, he took note of the accuracy of dovetailed pieces, the craftsmanship and the over-all aesthetics. Every flaw was met with a frown while the outstanding ones merited words of praise. In Grade 6, I felt courageous enough to take part finally in our shop class even if I was now under a terror teacher.

The first project stumped me though, a wooden animal pull toy with wheels. I simply could not handle a jigsaw, so I cheated by asking Sidring, our househelp, to do all the sawing, drilling and assembling.

Every day I would bring the pull toy, a work in progress, to the shop, sandpapering it to death so it would look like I was busy with it. I did the painting though, a no-brainer, but still I got a deduction for painting the toy dog green.

 Later, in the school year, a radical set-up was introduced for intermediate students—both boys and girls-- which took us by surprise. The role-reversal experiment called for the girls to take Industrial Arts and Gardening, and the boys to study Home Economics. We had to learn the parts of the sewing machine, do kitchen work and hawk merienda food from class-to-class. That was the worse part as the sight of boys in aprons selling kakanins always caused people to snicker. The girls, on the other hand,  were actually doing well with their bamboo-and-paper parol project.

 It was only when I began living alone that I learned to appreciate this subject now absent in most school curriculum. Industrial arts did not make a handyman out of me, but it sure did prepare me in coping with the challenges of home improvement and repair, which I think I am now capable of doing. With my basic knowledge of carpentry, I could frame pictures, install shelves, mend broken furniture—thanks to the subject I loved to hate—industrial arts!

*332. Hands on the Future: LEARNING THE INDUSTRIAL ARTS

OUT ON THE FARM. Young farmers pose for a pcture before the Domestic Science building of Mexico Elementary School. Ca. 1920s.

In revamping the curriculum of Philippine schools, emphasis was given by American teachers to subjects called Industrial Education (for boys) and Domestic Science (for girls).

To improve the basic motor skills of children, schools started offering vocational and manual training, teaching boys handicrafts, carpentry, weaving, toymaking and gardening.

On the distaff side, girls were trained on home arts that included sewing and embroidery,  marketing, cooking and house cleaning (yes, there is a systematic process in waxing and buffing floors!).

I was one of the hapless students of the 1960s who took up this required subject at Mabalacat Elementary School, which was quite an ordeal to finish. First, I was never handy with tools, and second, I hated gardening under the hot sun. I was eventually exempted from the subject because of my fragile health, but relief would not come easily; I was cross-posted in the Home Economics class of the girls where I ended up peddling snacks from room to room.

 Students have no one to blame but Harvard graduate Fred W. Atkinson, who, in 1902, was appointed as General Superintendent of Public Instruction in the Philippine Islands by Gov, Gen. William Howard Taft. The 35 year old former high school principal quickly reformed the school system—imposing the use of English as the language of instruction, the importation of teachers (known today as Thomasites), and of course, the integration of industrial and domestic arts in the elementary level curriculum.

 As was expected, the importance of the subject was lost on Filipino parents who sent their children to school—in the first place--to save them from a life of hard, manual labor. Unpopular with teachers, Atkinson was dismissed and was assessed as a failure. He was replaced by David Prescott Barrows who included the education-deprived barrios in his goal to develop a ‘cultured peasantry’. He re-skewed the emphasis on academic subjects, like Reading, Writing, Grammar and Spelling. He argued that manual training will only chain Filipinos to a life of peonage.

 But of course, Industrial Arts continued to be taught in primary schools all the way to the 70s and 80s. Manual training subjects became less and less laborious, in the case of needlework and drafting. Garden plots gave way to new school wings and Home Economic buildings were either knocked down or adapted for re-use as spare classrooms, until the subject of practical home arts was no more.

 My manual dexterity has not improved a bit in my use of a simple coping saw and hammer. Nor am I exactly a green thumb today. But for sure, the training has given me a better appreciation of the skills and efforts of people who use their hands for a living—from the anloagues, pandays, masons, cocineras, modistas and bordaderas of yesteryears to the talented Kapampangan furniture makers, culinary masters, potters, parol makers, and landscape gardeners of today. In their deft hands, they shape the future of our commercial, industrial and agricultural progress.

*302. BOTTLED FRESHNESS: Pampanga's Soda Pop Industry

YUNG MAY PULP BITS SYEMPRE! Thirsty Filipinos take a break at a soda stand with a sip of Royal soft drink. in Mandarin Lemonade flavor. The Kapampangan counterpart was the Reyna softdrink of the Nepomucenos. Later, Royal filed a case against the makers of Reyna for alleged copyright logo infringement. Ca. late 1920s-early 30s.

Pampanga’s Soda Pop Home Industry The pause that refreshes for most Filipinos in the early 1900s meant taking a sip of cool mineral water bottled from such places as Los Baños, Majayjay, Daet and Sibul Springs. Water from Los Baños, already a favorite resort at that time, was loaded with medicinal minerals like magnesium and sulphates and was deemed perfect for cooling and for reinvigorating the body. It was bottled by Isuan, which was to become a leading softdrinks factory in Manila during the peacetime era. Aerated water was also made by pharmacists along Escolta, another precursor of drinkable soda.

The introduction of more appealing soda drinks changed the way Filipinos refreshed themselves. Brands like Coca-Cola (concocted by Georgia pharmacist John S. Pemberton and sold at Jacob’s Drugstore in Atlanta in 1886) and Pepsi-Cola (formulated by Caleb Bradham of North Carolina in 1898) found their way in Philippine homes during the American Period, sold exclusively in café and ice cream parlors like Clarke’s. The invention of the crown cap by William Painter in 1897 further revolutionized the bottling industry. A beverage called “Tan San” was marketed in the Philippines by Clifford Wilkinson in the 1900s, giving us a new term for metal crown caps.

 Soon, Philippine soft drink dealers and makers sprouted all over the country to give imported brands some competition. In the Binondo-Sta. Cruz area, Sosa Street became the center of the softdrink trade, with scores of soda dealers lining the road, offering cool sips like Dry Ginger Ale, Tru-Orange Squeeze, Lemonade, Orangeade, Singapore Sling and Root Beer—all from Isuan Inc., which had established a large plant in Paco. During the Commonwealth years of the Manila Carnival, Isuan came out with a special “carnival”line of flavors: Orange, Strawberry, Grape, Chocolate and Sarsaparilla. By then San Miguel Brewery along Aviles St., was already marketing Royal Softdrinks.

Just before the war, Balintawak became an enclave for many soft drink factories, churning out Dalmar, Ang Bayani, Imperial H Soda, Malayan and Sinukuan Beverages. But brands were also made outside of Manila: New Banahaw (Batangas), Kasikatan (Biñan, Laguna) and Dainty (Manaoag, Pangasinan), Mabuhay (Bataan).

 In Pampanga, soft drink making became a backyard industry for some enterprising Kapampangans. Juan D. Nepomuceno and wife Teresa Gomez of Angeles, already successful with their ice plant and electric power plant business, ventured into soft drinks making with the launch of their Reyna and Aurora brands in 1928. Reyna Softdrinks was available in orange, strawberry, cream soda and sarsaparilla flavors. It came in green bottles imported from Belgium, crown-capped and labelled manually with paper labels by the Nepomuceno househelps and their children. It sold at 5 centavos, even if the customized embossed bottles alone cost 8 pesos to produce!

Despite being a losing business proposition, the soft drink was awarded first prize in the 1933 Pampanga Carnival fair and Exposition. San Miguel Brewery, makers of Royal Tru-Orange later filed a complaint against the Nepomucenos for the logo similarities between “Reyna”and “Royal”, which had similar typefaces, leading to consumer confusion and lost market shares for the brewery brand. The case was settled out-of-court with the re-spelling of “Reyna”into “Reina”, using an adjusted font.

 Aurora, on the other had, was a price brand, sold at 2 centavos each. It was available in the same flavors, with sarsaparilla as the best seller. Both bottled sodas were distributed in Pampanga and Bataan outlets. The business faltered and eventually closed during the War. In Guagua, La Familia Soft Drinks was positioned as a drink perfect for the whole family, and came in green embossed bottles with paper labels. It was another popular drink during the Commonwealth period and was even advertised in local papers.

Today, there is virtually no trace of Pampanga’s soft drink home industry, except for an occasional collectible local bottle and ads on trade papers and vintage dailies. The small-scale business had all been swallowed up by corporate giants like San Miguel, The Coca Cola Bottling Company and Pepsico, which have modern bottling and distribution plants in San Fernando. The resilient Kapampangan however, continues to cool the neighborhood with such alternative refreshments as homemade halo-halo, ice candy, ice buko, gulaman at sago-- true to the soft drink slogan, “Thirst knows no season”.

*251. HANG ON TO THAT HAT!

PASS THE HAT! Women working on buri hats, made for local use and for the international market. Pampanga hat makers flourished in the towns of Arayat, Apalit, San Simon and San Luis, where buri hats proved to be the most popular. Ca. 1915.

Whenever my late Ingkung Dandu would go someplace in town like hear Mass, he would wear his trademark white pair of pants, striped polo, two-toned shoes and then would saunter out with his walking cane in his hands and a straw boater hat with a ribbon on his head. Though small in stature, my Ingkung stood ten feet tall in that outfit, looking jaunty and smart, especially with that black-banded, flat-brimmed hat that came from a shop in Sta. Cruz, Manila. I remember that his younger brother, Ingkung Lolung, also sported a similar hat when he dropped by the house for his regular weekly visits, and many times, I was tempted to try his hat only to be prevented by my father’s stern stare.

It is almost mandatory to wear some form of head protection in this tropical weather—either under a scorching sun or rainy weather. Before commercial hat shops were established in Pampanga, everday functional hats—"kupya"-- were made all over the province. Apalit was once a hat center, and in Barrio Sucad, ‘kupyang ebus’ by the thousands were woven and commercially sold in town markets from as far as Tarlac, Baguio, Bataan, Zambales and Manila. But due to the scarcity of ‘ebus’ materials, production was not sustained and gradually slowed down in the 1920s.

In Bulacan, weavers put Baliwag on the national map with their export-quality “balibuntal’ hats and their characteristic fringed brim. Pangasinan has its 'Calasiao hats' while Laguna is famed for its ‘buri hat’. In Pampanga, Arayat gained recognition for its 'Arayat hats' that were made in commercial quantities for the international market). Other hat-making towns included San Luis and San Simon. Weavers not only made generic ‘kupyas’ but other hat forms, like the ‘turung’, cone-shaped men’s hats that were made in Minalin. The ‘turung’, made from ‘sasa’ leaves, came in different sizes—the biggest being the size of an ‘igu’ or a native circular sieve. Workers of the field often wore the ‘turung’ in tandem with a ‘takuku’, a cape woven from 'sasa' leaves that functioned as a raincoat during downpours.

The "sumbreru" (sambalilo, in Tagalog), is also a common worker’s hat that had a wide brim to protect the eyes from the glare of the sun . Very similar to the Mexican ‘sombrero’, the local sumbreru has a finer weave despite its being plain. Katipuneros, of course, pinned the brim to the front top of their hat for better visibility, and this has become part of their trademark ‘revolucionario’ look.

Hats made from natural sources include the ‘salakut’, fashioned from dried gourds and squashes. Other examples are made from tortoiseshell strips and finely-woven ebus or buri, which were more conical in shape. The top of the head rested on a trivet made from woven bamboo. ‘Salakuts’ were prized possessions of menfolks, whether plain or fancy. The rarer ones were embellished with silver appliqués made from melted Mexican coins, with matching silver neck clasps and topped by silver-tipped finials.

Americans introduced Kapampangans to whole new sense of style, and hats were staple fashion statements for many young men growing up in the 20s and 30s. There were tophats for formal functions, derby hats for casual strolls (Rizal wore one to his execution) and boat hats for outdoor recreation. Straw boater Italian hats were popularized by Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire who wore them in their movie musicals. Panama hats – actually, of Ecuadorian origin—were widely worn by Filipinos, emulating Hollywood stars who donned them in movies such as “Casablanca” and “Gone with the Wind”. American-invented sports like golf and baseball--so well-received in the Islands--gave rise to golfer's hats and baseball caps that are still cool and hip to wear to this day.

Pampanga shops that operated in the 1930s sold hats of all shapes, sizes and materials. In San Fernando, one could go to La Fernandina, Zapateria Moderna or to the Japanese bazaar of T. Tsuchibashi along Mercado St. and the Indian Bazaar of Battan Singh. "Sombreros del pais y del extranjero" (local and imported hats) could be bought in Macabebe at the Bazar L. Magat, while "El 96" in Angeles offered a few headwear selections.

Today, of course, the hat is staging a comeback; young people have taken to wearing hats again to complete their fashion statement. The most popular is the ‘fedora’, originally a woman's hat, made of fabric, felt or straw and embellished with colored bands, feathers or flowers, then worn smartly at an angle. The only difference is, kids never seem to take them off—be they inside classrooms, churches or malls. It’s all part of Kapampangan ‘porma’, of course, of which our youths are prime subscribers, and though one may agree that ‘clothes make the man’, hats certainly have a way of making him hold his head up high!

(Thanks to Joel P. Mallari of the Center for Kapampangan Studies for additional info on hat-making in Pampanga)

*239. THE ART OF THE KURAN

GONE TO POTS! Clay pots sold by street hawkers in a neighborhood market, a common sight in rural villages all over the Philippines, including Pampanga. Utilitarian earthenware vessels were indispensable staples of everyday life, used primarily in cooking and storing food and water. Ca. 1910.

A favorite plaything from our childhood was a set of little clay kitchenware consisting of a small kalang (clay stove), kuran (cooking pot), tapayan (water jar), banga (water pot) and matching clay plates and tumblers. “Kurang-kurangan”, we called these glazed, functional ware—we actually used them to cook rice and simple viands when we played house in my sister’s ‘bale-balayan’. These earthenware toys were found for sale everywhere—in front of the big church after Masses, in public markets. But to my mind, the best ‘kurang-kurangans’ were those sold during fiesta time, which came in all sorts of colored glazes and finished with painted designs. There were more pieces to choose from, and I remember building an extensive set which we kept in the ‘banggera’ of our play house.

Making pottery was an early art adeptly practiced in old Pampanga. Earthenware vessels were known in our pre-colonial history, and shards have been found in Porac, Lubao, Guagua and Candaba that date back to the 13th to 16th centuries, a period of active trade with our Asian neighbors. Some have been dated to the Metal Age of Philippine pre-history. Indeed, places like Balanga (Bataan) and Iba (Zambales) were derived from pottery terms—and at least one barrio in Mabalacat bore the old name of “Iba”—which, according to local history, was the home of many “maniba”, or clay pot makers.

The basic pot that Kapampangans know is called “kuran”, used for cooking rice. Variations of this vessel include the “balanga”, which has a wider mouth and is used for cooking dishes. For storing water or other liquids, the "banga” is used which has a higher rim. There were, of course, other creations of clay that were used for other purposes like the bibingkaan (round clay deep dishes for cooking rice cakes), pasu (flower pots), tuliasi (2-handled pot), tapayan (water dispenser), oya (rimless jars) and lariu (bricks). In all cases, the same ‘kuran’ technology is employed in their manufacture.

The process of making these earthenware vessels is long and tedious, with many steps involved. First, clay (pila) and sand material had to be sourced from swamps (pinac), open clay fields, riverbanks or even termite mounds. The materials are mixed by hand, foot or by machine. A lump of clay is then prepared for molding, which could be done in several ways—by tampi or pukpuk (by paddling, for ordinary kurans), gilingan ( by foot-powered turntable, ideal for tall vessels) and by moldi (by casting, as in the case of bricks).

Finishing involves incising designs, cleaning, smoothening the surface of the pot and slipping, in which a fine solution of clay and sand is applied to the pot to give it a distinct color (e.g. black sand or ‘kapalangan’ mixed with clay will give the inside of pots a desirable black color, while ‘balintawak’-red pottery is a result of using a red-slip solution of fine red earth and water. When the pots are dried, they are ready for final polishing (buli) using a whetstone or a shell. The last step is firing, through an open fire pit (dapugan) or a closed kiln (tamban). The pots are then dried on a bed of hay, away from direct sunlight.

Today, the art and technology of the kuran is slowly vanishing. Gone are the days when you could find pottery stalls practically everywhere in Pampanga—from Calibutbut-Telabastagan to the barrios of Floridablanca, Sasmuan, Lubao and Tabun in Pampanga. Even the ‘kurang-kurangans’ of my childhood past are getting harder to find—the last time I saw a set was in this year’s Mabalacat fiesta, offered by a vendor whose wares came from Pangasinan. The pieces were very crude and garishly painted with lacquer—which meant that you could not possibly cook in them lest your guests die of lead poisoning!

Happily, the town of Santo Tomas still maintains a flourishing pottery industry, unlike nearby Apalit which once had a dominant pottery business. True, there are more decorative pieces of pottery now than kitchen earthenware—made obsolete by metal pots and pans—but the creative mangkukuran of Sto. Tomas should still be given credit, for in their deft hands, the traditional art of the ‘kuran’ survives.

*217. CARVING A NICHE IN HISTORY

KA-ARTE MO! An advertisement of "El Arte", owned and operated by academically-trained sculptor Maximino J. Jingco of Betis, touts the services of the shop. The artisans made monuments, wooden statues, mrble figures, and many more. Dated 1933.

Sculpture is an art where Kapampangans reign supreme as masters. Paete may have their manlililoks, but their works are often imbued with folk quality, while the carvers of northern highlands limit their carving to ethnic and souvenir art. Kapampangan sculptors on the other hand, are a versatile lot—sculpting everything from religious statuaries, rebultos, furniture, monuments and decoratives.

Many of the early sculptors were untrained and unschooled, most often coming from Betis, regarded as Pampanga’s old carving district. There was a lot of wood in those days, coming from logs that floated on Betis River, cut from the forests of alta Pampanga and the nearby provinces of Bataan and Zambales. The historian Mariano Henson notes: “In the matter of carving images, altars, ornaments, furnitures, the people of Betis during the 17th and 18th centuries, again are mentioned here to be masters in the art of their own time”.

It is no wonder that the 19th century works of Kapampangan sculptors and carvers were kept in Spanish museums. Some of the sculpted pieces featured in a 19th c. Madrid exhibit included a bamboo woodcarving made in Mexico, a pair of polychromed wooden busts of El Mediquillo (Medicine Man) and La Comadrona (The Midwife) from Sta. Rita, and another pair of tipos del pais figurines from the same town.

There was a demand for religious sculptors about this time, and Isabelo Tampinco filled this need. Born in Binondo but descended from Lakandula, Tampinco was the first to popularize the use of Filipiniana motifs like anahaw leaves, banana and bamboo in his carving, known today as estilo Tampinco. Considered as his obra maestra are the decorations he did for the church of San Ignacio, as well as the magnificent image of San Ignacio itself, both destroyed in the last war.

One of his workers was a talented young man from Guagua, Maximiano Jingco. Born on 6 July 1904 to Sabas and Irinea Jingco, Maximino grew up in Manila, finishing his primary schooling in Quiapo in 1914. He finished his secondary course at Manila High School in 1917. Unlike unschooled artisans, Maximino attended the University of the Philippines and enrolled in Sculpting, one of the few Kapampangans to do so (Note: Graduating from U.P. even earlier was Hipolito Lampa of Bacolor, who finished Fine Arts in 1916). In 1926, Maximino finally became a successful “graduado en Bellas Artes”.

Commercial workshops or talyers of sculptors sprouted in Quiapo, mostly catering to the santo trade. Maximino chose to specialize in secular art (non-religious) and, in 1927, he opened his own shop back home in Guagua—“El Arte, Taller de Escultura y Pintura”. A 1933 ad described his shop thus: “Iting taller a iti metung ya caring peca maragul a oficina quieti Capampangan a maliaring tatanggap qng obrang escultura antimo ding macatuqui: Monumentos, Estatuas en Madera, Marmol. Pintura, at aliua pa. (This shop is one of the largest offices in Pampanga which has the capacity to accept commissioned sculptures like the following: Monuments, Statues in wood and marble, Painting and others.) Jingco lived by his motto: “Magluid qñg capanintunan” (Long live livelihood) and his business prospered for many years.

Equally successful was the prodigious Juan Flores (b.1902) of Sta. Ursula, Betis. He started as an apprentice in the shop of Maximo Vicente, and progressed to being a restorer of santos and ecclesiastical arts for Luis Araneta and went on to help build the Betis woodcarving industry. His carvings adorn many churches, palaces and hotels here and abroad. In 1972, he even won a sculpting competition in the United States organized by the University of the California. Back home, he and his Kapampangan team helped refurbish the Malacañang Palace, carving wooden ornamentations and wooden panels for the various rooms, including the three wood and glass chandeliers in the Ceremonial Hall.

Juan Flores passed away in 1995. Happily, his torch has been passed on to contemporary mandudukits who are active to this day: Spanish-trained Willy Layug (an architecture graduate from U.P.), Boyet Flores ( a Flores descendant), Peter Garcia, Salvador Gatus and Nick Lugue of Apalit. In their hands, Kapampangan creativity lives on.

*151. THE HOUSE THAT PUYATS BUILT

DON GONZALO PUYAT OF GUAGUA. The Puyat Patriarch still reporting for work at his Escolta office in 1960. He started the "House of Puyat" that became well-known as a premiere maker of furniture, billiard tables, bowling alleys and steel mill products. His son, Gil J. Puyat, became a well-known industrialist and a Senator.

During the Pinatubo eruptions, the unattended ancestral house of my granduncle was damaged not just by ash falls but also by looters who took advantage of the catastrophe by spiriting away the contents of the mansion. It was for this reason that I asked our workers to secure what’s left of the furniture there.

The only thing that the thieves left behind because it was too big and heavy to be carted away was a glass-panelled narra bookcase that used to hold the thick, legal tomes of Atty. Rafael G. Morales. While cleaning the dust-caked case, I found a sticker still attached on its back: Made by the House of Puyat.

From the 1920s to the 1960s, the most sought after furniture pieces in the Philippines came from the House of Puyat, a premiere woodworking business established by Guagua-born entrepreneur, Gonzalo Puyat. His rags-to-riches story is the stuff that today’s telenovelas are made of, a tale of hard work, honesty, perseverance and thrift. Gonzalo was born on 20 September 1878 of impoverished parents. He reached the equivalent of 2nd year high school, and in 1906 came to Manila with his wife, Nicasia Juco, and two children to work in a billiard hall in Quiapo for 18 pesos a month. From 6 a.m to 12 midnight, he cleaned the hall, set up balls, fixed the cues and ran errands for the customers. After the day’s toil, his family slept in the lobby, which he rented for 5 pesos a month.

Jose Martin, the Spaniard who owned the billiard hall, realized Gonzalo’s good services and so he upped his salary to 25 pesos a month, from which he managed to save 1 peso a month. In 1907, his kind-hearted boss decided to lease the billiard hall to him—a modest start for the House of Puyat.

In 1909, Gonzalo engaged himself in the repair of billiard tables which he learned by trial and error. With his additional savings, he bought a hammer, a plane, a chisel and a file and set up his repair shop. Once, he bought a pool table discarded by an American from Fort McKinley and tried to repair it and re-sell it, but to no avail. He converted the pool table into a smaller utility table which got sold instead. This jumpstarted his furniture business. In 1912, he exhibited a billiard table at the Manila Carnival and his furniture product won a Gold Medal and Diploma.

In 1920, Gonzalo expanded his thriving business by constructing bowling alleys and classic and modern furniture. By 1924, he had incorporated, involving his sons Gil (a senator and industrialist), Eugenio and grandson Jose into his diversifying business. He also manufactured parquet floorings, doors, windows and decorative wood panels. Briefly, he also was into making galvanized iron sheets with material imported from Japan, until he set up his own steel mill industry.

But the House of Puyat found lasting fame on its well-crafted furniture that not graced Filipino homes—from modest residences, posh mansion to the Malacañang Palace. House of Puyat showrooms started sprouting all over Manila, displaying the latest art deco bedroom suites, Ambassador living room sets, sleek narra bookcases, rattan sofas, chairs and upholstered moderns. The furniture factory was set up in a sprawling one and a half-hectare property on Rodriguez Arias St. in San Miguel district. To ensure a constant supply of fine woods, Gonzalo had lumber concessions in Surigao and Mindoro. Gonzalo Puyat and sons oversaw their business empire from their spanking 7-storey Escolta building that used to be Heacock’s.

In 1960, the House of Puyat was the largest furniture shop in the East, employing 350 woodworkers who regularly churn out furniture and billiard tables of all styles, colors, shapes, sizes and prices. Today, the company is still in business after nearly 80 years. I am glad that I rescued my granduncle’s bookcase, which, though a little worn and weatherbeaten has become more than a piece of furniture but a legacy of an enterprising Kapampangan, the country’s furniture king, Gonzalo Puyat.

*149. ON THE SAME BOAT: Cruising Pampanga’s Waterworld

ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT. Candaba's townsfolk negotiate the flooded waters of their town, using a trustworthy bangka, a necessary mode of transport for those living in low-lying Pampanga towns. Ca. 1927.

Kapampangans, being riverbank dwellers, have taken to water like ducks to a pond. The province’s complex network of river highways, its swamplands and river deltas have shaped the way many Kapampangans lived, traveled, devised their leisure and earned their keep. These bodies of water located all over Pampanga have been creating ripples of history since time immemorial. Through a river, Tarik Soliman and his fleet of boats sailed from Macabebe to Bangkusay to meet his heroic death. When the Grand Duke of Russia, Alexis Alexandrovich visited Apalit, he cruised along Pampanga River all the way to the home of his hosts, the Arnedos, whose mansion had a small pier.

Kapampangan traders from Candaba, Apalit, Bacolor and Guagua used the river channels and tributaries to ferry livestock and farm produce to the canals of Manila. Barrios were named according to their proximity to water: Guagua (from ‘wawa', mouth of a river), Macabebe (“bebe”- bordering the river bank), Sapa Libutad, Sapang Bato and Sapang Balen. Fiesta rites revolved around water as in the “libad” (fluvial procession) of Apalit’s Apu Iru.

Taming the waters was a necessity for riverine residents and those living in low-lying areas. Early Kapampangans, especially those from Candaba and the coastal villages of Sasmuan, mastered boatmaking, fashioning bangkas from hardwood trees like molave, tanguili, or guijo. Balacat trees were preferred for their straight posts that were used as masts.

Boat types included the parau (a large passenger or cargo boat), dunai (a simple boat propelled by a bagse or a paddle), casco (a covered cargo raft) and baluto (canoe). Even steamships were not unknown to Kapampangans as they were seen regularly cruising the waters of Guagua, now known as Dalan Bapor.

Directions were reckoned according to the directional flow of rivers. When one says “Pauli na ku”, he actually means he was riding a boat to go downstream. “Lumaut ku”, means one is going out to sea; today it means to go somewhere distant. “Luslus” means to head south by boat, towards Manila Bay, which, today has been modified to mean long distance travel, even by land.

In the late 19th century, passenger boats set sail every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from Guagua to Manila and back. The fare was $2.50, one way. With our modern and time-saving expressways linking whole towns and provinces to key cities like Manila, travel by bangka has fallen from passenger favor in recent times, being demanded when catastrophic floods occur. But for towns like Candaba, Macabebe, Sasmuan, Minalin, Masantol and Bacolor—where cyclical floodings no longer surprise, bangkas continue to be rowed, sailed and paddled, a practice that has become a way of life for the “pampang” people.

*148. MUEBLES DE PAMPANGA

FULLY FURNISHED. An officer's house in Clark Field, furnished with Pampanga-made wicker furniture, including a rocking chair, a writing desk, cabinets and a lounge chair.

The center of Pampanga's woodworking industry is Betis, which has long been recognized as one of 11 Pampanga's most important towns at the turn of the century. Its name is derived from a first class timber tree, betis (Bassia betis merr.). The abundant supply of wood--old boatmakers remember the days when logs from the forests of Alta Pampanga and Bataan were floated on the old Betis River--gave rise to a furniture industry that has thrived and survved with time.

Indeed, “dukit Betis” has become synonymous with fine quality, detailed woodworks that counts not just fine furniture but also religious carvings and images. Besides Betis, lumbering was done in Lubao, Floridablanca and Porac. Most of the lumber is consumed locally, but some is exported to Manila. Lumber was also sourced from trees cut in Magalang and Arayat, like rattan, mitla, balacat, balanti, balete, baticuling and bangcal—materials ideal for furniture making.

Colonial furniture made locally adapted European styles popular in those times—rococo, baroque, neo-classical, although some elements of Chinese influences were integrated into the design. The use of bone inlays to decorate wood furniture became a trend in the 18th century, and Betis craftsmen were singled out for their skill. Historian Mariano Henson noted that Betis anloagues (woodworkers) were masters in the art of inlaying carved furniture with mother-of-pearl, bone and hardwood.

The American regime introduced new art forms like Art Deco and sleek, streamlined furniture pieces like Ambassador sets and Cleopatra dresser became the rage in the 1920 through the 40s. Americans took to furniture made from indigenous materials. Officers’ houses in Stotsenburg were furnished with attractive living room sets made of hardy rattan, which can be bent into different shapes, even mimicking expensive bentwood pieces from Austria. Their porches featured lounge chairs made from mountain bamboo (bulu) or with sillones and butacas with sulihiya (cane-woven) seats. American ladies sat on gorgeous peacock chairs of wicker , virtual thrones for the queen of the house.

Commercial furniture shops sprouted all over Pampanga during the peacetime years catering to different tastes and whims. In Guagua, Moderna Furniture manufactured “aparadores, catres, tocadores, vegillas, sillas made of narra and tanguile”, all with “first class workmanship and reasonable prices”. In Angeles, Sibug Furniture on Calle Rizal was the place to look for the latest furniture styles. Mabalacat had its won Bazar y Tableria de Tuazon y Lim, a “fabrica de diferentes clases de muebles”( a factory of different kinds of furniture). On Calle N. Domingo in San Juan, two enterprising Kapampangans, Clemente Dungo and Estanislao Dalusung opened Pampanga Furniture Company.

The rise of Clark Field in the 50s through the 1970s induced the flourishing of Pampanga’s furniture industry. Balibago in Angeles was lined with furniture shops with pieces catering to American taste. American servicemen particularly found South Pacific design themes appealing and so, rattan furniture gained more popularity, with cushions sporting floral and palm leaf upholstery. Kon Tiki masks, monkeypod pieces, dinettes with lazy susans and carved coffeetable trunks graced American as well as Kapampangan homes.

A notable woodworker who worked during this period was the versatile Juan Flores (b. 9 September 1900) of Sta. Ursula, Betis. He not only sculpted figures of heroes and saints but also made carved furniture that incorporated local patterns like bulabulaklak (floral) and kulakulate (design simulating vines). Flores and his platoon of Betis carvers re-did the guest rooms and various suites of Malacanang, furnishing them with exquisite furniture sets and various Renaissance style carved ornamentations.

Today, the Pampanga furniture industry is alive and well. One only has to see the many talyers lining the Olongapo-Gapan and Bacolor-Guagua Roads, with their roadside displays serving as showcases of Kapampangan woodworking expertise. Thanks also to successful, modern day entrepreneurs and furniture exporters like Myrna and Jose Bituin of Betis Crafts, the world has started to see what hard-working Kapampangan hands and creative Kapampangan minds are capable of.

*131. NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOE BUSINESS

IF THE SHOE FITS. A 1936 advertisement for a shoe cum laundry shop, ran by the enterprising Kapampangan proprietor along Azcarraga (now C. M. Recto Ave.), Sta Cruz, Manila.

Marikina may be the enclave of the country’s shoe industry today, but before the war, Pampanga also had a thriving footwear business with name zapaterias that supplied Kapampangan men, women and children—including the fashionable and the well-heeled—with the latest Esco, Ang Tibay and local shoe brands. San Fernando, Angeles and Guagua were the leading towns that manufactured considerable quantities of shoes and slippers during the peacetime years.

In San Fernando, two pioneering shoe stores made their mark as the town’s favorite places to go for made-to-order shoes. First was the Zapateria Moderna, established in 1907 by Adriano Tuazon. In a 1929 ad, the shoe store proudly proclaimed: : “Queti aquit yu ing macatuqui: Zapatos Hike, Esco, botitos Mariquina, cupia, gorra…subucan ya at eco sumisi” (Here you will see the following: Hike shoes, Marikina boots, hats, saddles..try and you won’t regret it.). Zapateria Moderna’s fame rested on its customized shoes, which were accurately measured by the shop’s master shoemakers, cut and crafted in style from the softest, supple leather for the most comfortable, perfect fit.

Nearby was Zapateria La Moda y Bazar, owned and managed by Alejo T. Roque. “Matibe. Mura at Masanting”, states an early ad for the store. “Ing calaganapan da ding gagamit zapatos, corchos ampong chinelas marca “LA MODA” ampon ing maragul ng pañiulung niting zapateria quilub namu ning macuyad a panaun, matibe caustan qñg iting zapateria balu nong tuquian a buri ding suqui na” (The growing number of those wearing shoes, fancy velvet and ordinary slippers with the “LA MODA” mark in just a short time, is strong proof that this shoe store knows what their loyal customers want..”).

Roque and Tuazon were actually relatives, and eventually, Zapateria Moderna merged with La Moda to become the town’s premiere shoe store. A 1910 ad for the merger now says "Zapateria"MODERNA" nang Torres y Roque, San Fernando, Pampanga--"Queti carin la magagaua ding miayaliuang forma at tabas a SAPIN amacapariquil caring lalaqui't babay anac ya o matua yaman; anti murin gagaua lang sia't botas. Ding sapin, macalulan lang caja, agpang qng carin Menila. Ing balat a magagamit masanting at pili; iti manibatan Estados Unidos ampon queti Filipinas. Subucan tala caprovinciano qng bacong magcaman qng lugal na niting Zapateria, tulid ne ning pisamban.."(Here are made the different forms and styles of shows that will fit men, women, children and adults alike; here also are made horse saddles and boots. The shoes--as in those sold in Manila--are in boxes. The leather used is of choice quality; from the Unites States and the Philippines. Try them, provincemates, so you can be familiar with the location of the shoestroe, it's across the church..) . Zapateria Moderna was in operations for around 70 years, the management taken over by the Tuazon heirs, until the business was closed in the 1980s.

San Fernando was clearly the province’s shoe store center as other shops also enjoyed loyal patronage from Kapampangans all over, like Zapateria Popular (put up by Donato Bamba in the early 1930s) and La Fernandina, Chineleria y Zapateria, in Sto. Niño, owned by Paulino P. Cuyugan, whose 1933 ad encouraged San Fernando visitors to “Visit our shoe store—where you can buy shoes and slippers at a very reasonable price!”

Elsewhere, footwear shops that made their mark include Zapateria Miranda in Angeles, established in 1922. El 96, managed by Rufino Yamzon also of Culiat, advertised its footwear-making skill in 1933 –“gagaua keng sapin, botitos, zapatilla, sinelas, botas at aliua pa” (we make soles, shildren’s boots, children’s shoes, slippers, boots and others)—backed by 26 years of leathermaking experience. On 1423 Azcarraga (now Claro M. Recto St., Manila), an enterprising Kapampangan, Tomasa A. de Simon, put up La Guagueña, Lavanderia y Chineleria—a unique laundry cum slipper shop.

Now, with many Kapampangans favoring finished contemporary international brands like Bally, Nine West, Hush Puppies and Cole Haan , the tradition of making ready-made shoes in Pampanga has become a vanishing art. The shoe industry in the province may have come to a halt with commercial shoe-making, but its place in our commercial history should not be forgotten, for in its heyday, it not only shod the feet of of Kapampangans with footwear for all his life stages but also provided livelihood, sustained families and livened up Pampanga’s economy for many generations.

*127. LEARNING FROM MY TEACHERS

SPARE THE ROD, AND TEACH THE CHILD. Three Guagua teachers ponder on their classroom teaching aids during a tecaher's training program held in that town in the 1920s.

Before the term “child stress” was invented, I think I have been experiencing that condition since my grade school years back in the ‘60s. I remember being tense every time I went to my classes, and I faced each day with a certain amount of anxiety, and sometimes, fear. It did not help that I was sickly as a child, and so I became the class runt—small, bright, yes--but always absent. I was so inconsistent that one year I would top the class, and the next, I would be hovering somewhere between 7th and 10th place.

I was such a worrywart, dreading class recitations, especially those involving numbers. In Grade 1, I remember how we were taught to count using a funny-looking abacus. The beads were carved in different shapes—a pink pot, an orange fruit, an eypol —and we were drilled every day by our Arithmetic teacher how to add, multiply and subtract using this strange contraption. I never knew how to work that abacus, either the figures or the instructions confused me.

Music was taught the same way—a student had to identify the notes drawn on the scale by singing them out loud—and this quiz was done individually. Every wrong note merited a whack on your leg with a wooden ruler. I learned how to suffer corporal punishment quietly, and most of the time, the humiliation outlasted the pain for days. Industrial Arts, a subject promoted by Thomasites, was another field where I was a complete and abject failure. In sixth grade, I failed to submit a class project because, once again, I fell sick. Worse, on the day I came back to school, I had no medical certificate to show. My rear was given such a bad wallop with a 2 x 3 stick that my parents threatened the teacher with a lawsuit that forced him to come to our home to personally apologize.

There were certain teaching methods that I just can’t get, especially the ones that involved writing lessons on Manila paper. For some reason, I always found myself in classes that held “school demonstrations”—where ‘new training methods’ were presented by a teacher, with the day's lessons always written on--you guess right-- Manila paper. My printed-in-America Dick and Jane Reader, salvaged by my Dad from the family of his American tenants, were more visually stimulating! I remember a teacher who cajoled me into giving up one of my Dick and Jane books—she wanted to cut out the colorful illustrations and use them for her Manila paper school presentation. I can't even remember why I agreed.

If I couldn’t stand Industrial Arts, I loathed every minute of our P.E. class. Our daily exercise consisted of running around the school courtyard, or doing chin-ups using the scaffolding of the school water tank. There were silly games that we were allowed to play on the stage—like “bending” and “jump-partner-and skippy-domino”, whose mechanics escape me now. The crowning achievement of our P.E. classes is always a field event, where we showed off our robotic calisthenic moves, combining bends, jumps, marches, and using props such as flowered arches, hoops or if there was no budget, ribbons on your fingers.

The few moments that I looked forward to were the periodic visits of Clark Air Base teachers to our elementary school. I remember a Mrs. Davies, a matronly teacher who quizzed us with her strange American accent that was music to my ears. Then there were the feeding programs conducted by the Clark medical staff, as well, where we lined up with our paper cups to get a taste of free “Made in America” milk. Back then, it seemed to taste better and fresher than the diluted Darigold I drank at home.

Then there were the Art Education classes that I really enjoyed. We learned to do paper mosaic, dots-and-dashes, string art, paper folding and skills like spattering and printing using bamboo stalks and Parker Ink. My creations were often posted on the bulletin board to show off as great examples of classroom art. There was a year that my artworks were entered in an inter-school competition, and I remember my teachers gushing at my excellent chances of winning. But I lost, which prompted one teacher to say within my earshot that our entry (meaning me) " had no sense of proportion and he drew everything big". Sour grapes!

The teaching methods of grade school teachers have evolved and changed. Grade schoolers today have individual books which they can read, write on and discard the next year. Why, our books were unblemished as they were meant to be handed down to the next student, the next year. Whatever happened to subjects like Home Economics and Industrial Arts? Do boys still make dust pans out of cooking oil tins? Do girls still practice satin stitch, daisy chain and sewing button holes? I wonder.

I do know that today, grade schoolers are exposed early to technology. Why, they even have lab subjects—actual sessions with a computer. I was surprised to hear my niece rattle off computer parts like mouse, keyboard, monitor--and she was only 5! Amazing how we have made so much progress in our educational system and teaching methods. We only had flash cards back then. And lots of Manila paper.

(*NOTE: Feature titles with asterisks represent other writings of the author that appeared in other publications and are not included in the original book, "Views from the Pampang & Other Scenes")

*116. STARRY, STARRY NIGHTS

SHINING, SHIMMERING, SPLENDID. Maitinis in Mabalacat. A lantern and religious float competition highlight the Christmas celebration of this Pampanga town. 2006.


The holidays are once again upon us, and as always, the Pampanga landscape is alit with its most brilliant contribution to the festivities of the season: the Christmas parul or lantern. And the place that started it all—San Fernando-- has not just become the province’s premiere city, but has also rightfully earned the title of “The Christmas Capital of the Philippines”, what with its long tradition of creating the most colorful, most dazzling and largest paruls in the country.

The lantern, of course, represents the Star of Bethlehem that lit the night when Jesus was born. They have always been part of ancient history, used both for rites and everyday use. The Chinese caught fireflies and put them in transparent paper container to help light their way. The Japanese had their own crinkled paper versions while the Indians made star-shaped lanterns to celebrate the Diwali Festival. But nowhere in the world can one find holiday lanterns of the most mesmerizing variety than in Pampanga, giving rise to a renown industry that has produced that distinctive ‘parul sampernandu’.

It is said that the Pampanga lantern tradition originated in Bacolor during the La Naval festivities. Cross-shaped, candle-lit lanterns often accompanied images in processions of old. The tradition may have spilled over to neighboring San Fernando in 1904, to where the capital was transferred from Bacolor. According to local historian Mariano Henson, Angeles residents were already processing their La Naval image accompanied by white papel de japon lanterns as early as the 1800s. Lanterns from Angeles, however, remained small. There were even unusual fish lanterns with movable fins and tails, perhaps a way of impressing lubenas (procession) audiences.

The traditional Pampanga lantern is small; it was only in the 1960s that the proportions grew larger in San Fernando, perhaps to signal a barangay’s growing prosperity and attract more crowds. Kalburo (calcium carbide) replace candles as a lighting medium, and later, car batteries. The simple 5-pointed, bamboo-framed lantern evolved in the hands of skilled and inventive Kapampangan parul makers. Mario Datu of Del Pilar is credited with using an iron wire framework for the lantern body. A certain Mr. Linson popularized the use of layered cardboards to give a lantern a 2-dimensional carved look—“dinukit a parul”.

A rotor system also replaced the more primitive “kalakati” method (where an iron rod was run against a row of nails) of making the lights dance and twinkle, an innovation introduced by Crising Valencia. Here, a rotating tin cylinder covered with tape is manually turned to create the characteristic kaleidoscope play of lights. Today, in the annual Ligligan Parul (Lantern Contest), big generators are used to turn lanterns into psychedelic supernovas that light up to the beat of music.

The main parts of a typical San Fernando lantern include the lantern center, called tambor. From this center radiate the siku-siku, or right-angled designs that define the star shape of the lantern, the puntetas or rays, while the palimbun—circular trims—line the outer rim. Enlarging these parts create the giant parul, which may attain dimensions from 20-40 feet, and which need from 3,000 to 5,000 bulbs to light. But in December 2002, 100 craftsmen created the world’s largest lantern in San Fernando—a Christmas parul with a diameter of 26.8 meters (almost a hundred feet) built at a cost P5 million, sponsored in part by Walt Disney TV.

Our holidays in Pampanga may never be “white”, but with our local paruls illuminating our nights, all our Christmasses are sure to be merry and bright.

MASAYANG PASKU AT MASAPLALANG BAYUNG BANWA PU KEKONGAN!

(*NOTE: Many thanks to Joel Pabustan Mallari for much of the research information needed for this article. Feature titles with asterisks represent other writings of the author that appeared in other publications and are not included in the original book, "Views from the Pampang & Other Scenes")

78. LOST HOME ARTS

TOO MANY COOKS. A Home Economics class in Guagua emphasizes the importance of culinary arts in maintaining the perfect Kapampangan household. Under the watchful eye of their teacher, young girls learn the rudiments of cooking using coal-powered ornos or ovens. Circa mid-1920s.

In my elementary days, one of our first-week assignments was to bring pakiling (or isis) leaves to class. Pakiling leaves, when dry, have the texture of sandpaper, and it was our task to clean and smoothen the surfaces of our wooden desks using these leaves and sudsy water, making “isis” until the wood was rid of pencil scrawls. Handling these bristly leaves was definitely tough on our delicate hands and I simply detested this back-to-school ritual. Thank heavens, I didn’t have to scrounge around for these rare pakiling leaves—an old tree grew at the back of our house which provided me with these cleaning staples—the same reliable pakiling leaves that mothers of yore had used in cleaning wooden floors, banggeras and pasamanos.

Back in our Spanish colonial days, running a household efficiently was a challenge, what with the bahay na bato’s numerous rooms to clean, gardens to maintain, and loads of laundry to be done. The home arts of the era also included needlework, confectionary and music. Cooking entailed various kitchen tasks including daily marketing. Hence, the moneyed doña of the house often hired individual lavanderas, cocheros and cocineras to assist her in running the affairs of the house with the least of efforts. Household helps were paid anywhere from 3 to 5 pesos a month, while specialized Chinese cooks commanded more, getting as much as P20 monthly. Stay-in muchachos provided all-around help—from housecleaning and gardening to whisking flies off the dining table during mealtimes.

Normally, the first task of the day was daily marketing which was personally handled by the lady of the house who kept a tight pamalengke budget of 50 centavos to 2 pesos (early 1900s rate), ably assisted by a muchacha. Back in the kitchen, the doña orchestrated the sorting, cleaning, chopping, dicing and cooking of ingredients for the noonday meal. The kawas, tacho and other cooking implements were kept in tip-top shape with found cleaning materials like sand and ash. Fragile crystal was handwashed with bath soap and the first rice washing. A 1930s cookbook even had a special section on domestic arts—Kabaluan King Pamibale-bale (Household Knowledge). It featured tips on cleaning household items like silverware, with the ingenious use of chalk: “Kailangan ingatan mayap ding kasangkapang pilak. Iti ing gamitan yu: 4 a tasang tisa, pabukalan king ½ litrong danum. Parimlan at dinan 1 onzang ammonia. Basan ing kapirasung basan at iti ing ikuskus kaibat kuskusan yung mamuza o bulak” (One needs to care for silver well. These are what you will use: 4 cups chalk, boiled in 1/2 liter water. Cool and add 1 oz. ammonia. Wet a piece of rag to wipe the silver clean, then wipe off with cotton).

Housecleaning, on the other hand, was done at all hours of the day. To bring out the shine of wooden floors, a mix of melted candle wax, kerosene and achuete (for coloring) was boiled to serve as floor wax. After application, the floors were buffed with old burlap (langgotse) bags often with kids joining in the cleaning. Children were made to sit on the rags band dragged around the room! The bamboo slatted floors of humbler nipa homes were shined with banana leaves. Other cleaning aids included the ubiquitous plumero (feather duster), palis tingting and bunut made from coconuts.

Pieces of furniture were also polished with coconut oil while mirrors were cleaned with starch paste which was then wiped off with wet rags after application. Katol was advertised as early as 1928, so dealing with mosquitos was no problem. Bedbugs or suldot were another thing. To kill them, boiling water from a kettle was poured into the crevices of beds and sulihiya covered-seats. Iron grills were sure to be rust-free when cleaned with coconut oil and kerosene mixture.

Laundry was done in a wooden batya, using the speckled blue and white sabun intsik to rid clothes of dirt and grime. Other stain removing aids before the advent of modern day deodorants included kamias, kalamunding and sunlight. Tina, a blueing agent, brought out the whiteness of clothes, while gogo, local commercial starch, was used to stiffen butterfly sleeves and barongs. After drying, clothes were ironed on a dulang or pakabayo, using a plantsa korona, an open circular flat iron (sometimes made of brass) loaded with live embers. Care must be taken in applying the iron as sparks from the live coals can sometimes escape and burn holes on fabrics! To ensure that the plantsa glided smoothly, it was made to run on banana leaves every now and then.

The American regime offered a glimpse of hope for homemakers, as modern concepts in the areas of sanitation, scientific inventions and culinary arts were advanced and applied. It was only a matter of years before the Kapampangan household—as was true for every home in the Philippines--was magically transformed into a modern showcase of efficiency and design.
( 13 December 2003)

68. WHISTLE WHILE YOU WORK

HEARTH AND HOME. Future mothers go about their Home Economics class with seriousness and youthful zeal in Guagua Elementary School. Schools often had a small structure that replicated a real house complete with kitchens and rooms for reality training. Ca. late 1920s.

GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS. Boys in an unidentified Central Luzon school tend to their vegetable plots lush with “mustasa”, watched over by their gardening teacher. Ca. 1920s.

In my elementary days, the subjects I least liked were the so-called Industrial or Vocational Arts, which required mostly manual labor and nothing else. For several years, I feigned sickness of all sorts and used my frail health as an eternal excuse not to take up “shop” where my classmates made wicker baskets that no one could use and dustpans recycled from old cooking oil cans. But in my gardening class, there was no escape. My teacher, Mr. Jose Rodrillo, reasoned that the outside air was going to be good for my lungs and so, I had no choice but to take his dreaded class. Mr. Rodrillo had a reputation of being a terror teacher, and the image of him screaming directions to us on the proper fertilization of our mustasa, pitse and okra plots as he puffed away on his cigar, remains vivid as a scary memory of my Grade 5 days!

Education under Spain did not have these subjects; instead, instruccion primera (primary schools) offered such courses such as grammar, rhetoric and poetry, Latin, Greek and good manners and hygiene. The coming of the Americans changed all that. In their first decade of rule, the superintendent of Public Instruction of the Philippines, Fred W. Atkinson (1900-1902) emphasized the need for industrial and manual education for Filipinos, perhaps imagining a new generation of Filipino greenthumbs, handymen and perfect homemakers. The Director of Education further amplified in his 1926 report: “ The aims of Industrial Education are found in the capacities and needs of the people and in the natural resources of the Islands and their backward state of development. The people possess a considerable degree of manual dexterity coupled with infinite patience, while their economic and social well-being is below that existing in many countries.”

There were 4 principal areas of Industrial Education: Household Industries, Mechanical Trade, Housekeeping and Agriculture. Thereupon, elementary schools enriched their curriculum with culinary arts, trade, farming and business. Later, this expanded to include needlework, woodwork, pottery, rope-making, ironwork, carpentry, nursing and masonry as school kids progressed to higher grades.

The Bacolor School of Arts and Trades holds the distinction as being the oldest vocational school in the Far East. It was founded in 1861 by Don Felino Gil of Porac as Escuela de Artes y Oficio, on land donated by affluent residents headed by matriarch Dña. Geronima Suarez. When the insular American government put a special emphasis on vocational training, the trade school, which was partially damaged during the last war, revitalized its program in 1909 with advanced courses in furniture and cabinet-making, blacksmithing and iron work for its two hundred students.A second trade school, located in Apalit, was similarly run by Americans. Today, the Bacolor School of Arts and Trades is known as Don Honorio Ventura College of Arts and Trades, renamed after Pampanga’s governor who hails from Bacolor town.

Agricultural training in Pampanga began under Spain with the establishment of an agricultural school in Magalang. It ceased operations in 1898, but was reconstructed and re-opened in 1917 with the help of American teacher Kilmer O. Moe and Assemblyman Andres Luciano, with funds donated by Gov. Ventura. Garden Day fairs, another American invention encouraged by Director of Education Frank Russell White (and Tarlac’s 1st American teacher) were occasions to celebrate and show off the agricultural produce of schools as well as the progress of towns, capped with mass calisthenics, sports competition and the search for Garden Day Queens. For girls, Home Economics was offered as a specialized course in elementary and high school levels. The School of Household Industries, in an effort to attract more women workers, opened 6-month ncourses in lacemaking and embroidery.

“To raise the standard of living, to improve the home and homelife, to provide better methods of doing routine work..and to provide the home with necessary household conveniences..”
Such were the goals of this major educational thrust that the Director of Education proudly proclaimed. But critics were led to observe that the tragedy of the American effort to encourage Industrial Education in local schools lies in the fact that it merely catered to selfish pro-American interests. Linens, tablecloths and lingerie—produce of many a Home Economics course—were chiefly made for American consumers. Trade schools were built in response to the American government’s need to have more buildings. Likewise, agriculture was emphasized, not just to feed Filipinos they say, but to answer America’s raw material requirements.

Today, gardening and home economics have all but disappeared in school curriculums, replaced by new practical art subjects that require simple manual skills (as in assembling pre-cut wood pieces !) and hi-tech tools rather than sprinklers, needle and thread and coping saw. After all, who needs back-breaking manual labor when life is hard enough?
(4 October 2003)

18. A STITCH IN TIME

PADYAKIN MO, BABY: Kapampangan lads and misses try their hand at tailoring and dressmaking with their foot-powered Singer sewingmachines in a roadside class. Sewing was an important skill for most Filipinos, a source of steady income then, as now. Dated 5 May 1924.

I grew up with the constant whirr of a sewing machine almost every afternoon in our house in Mabalacat. My mother was quite handy with her electric Singer sewing machine, and for hours, she would sit in front of that trusty, well-oiled machine and sew mostly everything—from pundang ulunan (pillow cases), curtains, skirts to kiddie outfits. Her most unforgettable sartorial masterpieces were her elastic shorts creations, creatively recycled from livestock feed sacks. Back then, before the advent of plastic sacks, animal feeds came in colorful, printed fabric sacks, which were surely more eye-catching than burlap bags. The only problem was, these cheap feed sack fabrics were very coarse and stiff, and it would not take more than an hour before you start feeling the itch on your skin and you begin scratching your singit, an uncomfortable feeling that would linger even after hundreds of washings!

Our aparadors (cabinets) were full of these feed-sack shorts with prints and colors of the widest, wildest variety, and these basically comprised our childhood wardrobe. We would wear these shorts after school, on week-ends and summers and even in our Manila trips to visit my cousins . My city relatives would laugh at our one-of-a-kind short pants and our rural fashion sense would be the brunt of endless jokes. But hey, these were our mother’s fullest expressions of maternal care in the lean days of our childhood and the best testaments to her creative expertise with the needle, the scissors and her old trusty Singer.

Sewing was a way of making a living for women with deft hands at the turn of the 19th century. It was not exactly a well-paying job—a sewing woman, engaged monthly, would earn about P5.00 to P6.00, inclusive of meals in 1898 ( in comparison, a cochero or a rig driver would make P7-P12 monthly). In 1902, her average wage rose to 40 centavos a day. Filipinas found stiff competition from Chinese tailors who could take measurements without using a tape measure and create a suit of tweeds, English style, for just P12, that often came with a guarantee—“no fitee, not takee”.

Singer sewing machines came to our Islands in the mid 1800s. As of 1885, Singer had sold 602,392 sewing machines on installment payments of 10 reales (P1.25) a week. In trade cards distributed all over the country, Singer proudly proclaimed its contribution in uplifting the lives of indios in the Philippines. An 1892 advertisement card featured Filipinos at work with their sewing machine with the following back caption: “ …the Spanish inhabitants, as well as the native Indians, use and prize our “Singer” Machine, which has found its way to this Island of the Sea…”

The American system of education recognized the importance of sewing skills, integrating needlework lessons as early as in elementary schools. Here, kids learned all kinds of tai and sulsi (from Spanish tejer, to sew and zurar, to darn). Embroidery and lace-making were likewise included in Home Economics courses, alongside housekeeping and cooking instructions. In 1912, a School of Household Industries offered 6-month courses in the sewing and embroidery of linens, handkerchiefs and lingerie for the American market.

Nevertheless, many a costurera (sewer) learned her craft not through formal education but by apprenticing herself to someone who worked well with needles and thread. She did not actually design dresses, but could copy a sketch or another dress as a guide, with minor alterations. Modistas (modistes), on the other hand, were more a progressive lot, honing their skills with formal cutting, designing and sewing education. Unlike costureras who called on clients for business, modistas had shops with a caratula (trade sign); customers went to her shop for orders.

As a craft and business, dressmaking came into being in 1910 with the appearance of the country’s first fashion couturiers. Pacita Longos was a pioneer in this field, designing and creating gowns for high society, beauty queens and dressing polticians’ wives and the country’s elite. Fashion schools sprang like mushrooms, often featuring stylish names like Mme. Kollerman’s School of Fashion in Quiapo. And, in the provinces, sewing classes were offered in humble shops and talyeres, as this vintage picture shows. Here, Kapampangan would-be modistas and sastres, practice various sewing skills from cutting, pattern-making and actual dress construction under the watchful eye of a teacher, and with lots of help from their Singers. Then as now, making a living has never been sew easy with one machine that touted itself as “…in the Philippines, as in every other part of the world, one of the foremost factors of civilization..”

(19 October 2002)