*271. HELLO DOLLIES!

SHE'S A DOLL! A little Kapampangan girl poses with her two dolls--a large American-made baby doll with composition head, hands and feet and a smaller doll also of composition. Dolls like these were rather expensive, so they were brought out only during special occasions--or when a child gets sick and needs comforting with toys. Mid 1920s.

Boys will be boys with their tirador (slingshots), pasi (tops) and teks cards—but girls will always be inseparable from their dolls—models of people made all sorts of materials like wood, clay, leather, cloth, modern plastic, vinyl and even ivory. In fact, old folks in Macabebe and Minalin still call dolls as “garing”, in reference to their similarity to ivory-headed saint figures lavishly dressed like dolls from the Spanish times. Today, of course, they are more commonly known as ‘munika’, derived from the Spanish term for doll-- ‘muñeca’.

Throughout history, dolls were traditionally used not just as playthings but also for folk rituals around the world —like the voodoo dolls of Haiti and the Daruma dolls of Japan that were kept as lucky charms. The era of mass production saw the importation of dolls to the Philippines in the late 19th century, but practical-minded Filipinos considered them more of a luxury. Girls only got to play with them when they got sick or when they sat for their studio portraits. After use, mothers put back the dolls in their boxes and stowed in the aparador.

The earliest commercially-made dolls that reached the Philippines came from large emporiums and Escolta bazaars like La Puerta del Sol, American Bazaar, Beck’s, Brias Roxas Inc., Osaka Bazaar and H. E. Heacock. They carried American and European made dolls of bisque, parian, composition, china, leather and cloth--plus doll accessories like miniature furniture. Well-known 19th century French and German dollmakers were Bru, Jumeau, Steiner, Simon & Halbig, Heubach and Steiff. Shops in Escolta also carried Japanese cloth dolls in their own glass cases, but these were more decorative rather than for playing. American made dolls from Horsman and Ideal Novelty (maker of Shirley Temple dolls) proved to be more popular because they were readily available and affordable by the time the 20th century rolled in.

As visitors flocked to discover our Islands, enterprising Filipinos put up curio shops that sold souvenirs—from shellcraft, abaca products, capiz lamps—and dolls. "Everything Philippines and nothing else but...!" was the come-on of Manila Trading Center and Exchange along Rizal Avenue, a popular shop that sold all sorts of handmade souvenirs for eager tourists--dolls included. The first commercially produced dolls were representations of Filipinos in native costumes, with heads, hands and feet of paper mache, clay or some form of terra cotta. Hand-painted with cloth bodies, they were dressed in native costumes faithfully executed in jusi, sinamay and cotton. Later, the heads and hands were replaced with cheaper composition material, made from wood and paper pulp.

Costumed Philippine dolls continued to fascinate tourists, spawning a cottage industry that prospered modestly in the mid 1920s-30s. Ethnic dolls also seemed to have an international appeal and Baguio-made Igorota cloth dolls with painted faces and dressed in traditional woven skirts were all the rage in those peacetime years. Nationalists in the late 1920s encouraged parents to give Philippine-made dolls as Christmas gifts for kids, this in the face of more expensive, imported dolls that could cry, talk, say “Mama”, sleep, walk and even wet themselves! Philippine dolls were not only cheap, but they also catered to both young girls and boys! Popular during this time were novelty paper mache dolls representing country boys and 'dalagang bukid' with their own paper mache horses, pigs and carabaos that they could actually sit on.

Alta Crafts was the biggest dollmaker in postwar Manila, creating cloth dolls that became the benchmark of other dollmakers in the 1950s. The standing cloth dolls personified the different ethnographic groups of the Philippines, dressed in indigenous costumes. It made Igorot dolls, Ilocana dolls, Visayan dolls in patadyong and even Central Luzon dolls in balintawak. Copied by other dollmakers all over the country, these cloth dolls have become our country’s signature dolls, even finding their way in San Fernando and Angeles gift shops, avidly sought by American servicemen and their families.

Closer to home, I remember a doll that was given by an aunt to my eldest sister in the mid 50s. It was a Saucy Walker plastic doll, which underwent countless horrible ordeals in our hands. In our boisterous games, this doll was kicked, tied and hung, tossed in the air, rolled down the stairs and, with hair pulled out, defaced with crayons until the garbage dump claimed the poor thing. As the years passed, the doll was quickly forgotten and my sister eventually married, settled in the States and we all grew up and led separate lives.

One day, however, while I was having a picture framed in an art gallery, I noticed a doll sitting on a shelf with the familiar auburn hair, close-open eyes and smiling mouth. It was an exact duplicate of the doll my sister once had. One look and I knew, I just had to have it.

Fortunately, the gallery owner didn’t care much about the doll, and it took just a little cajoling and a few hundred pesos for her to part with her doll. More than just a plaything, I have come to realize that this “munika” represented a piece of our family’s past, a most happy time in our youth now gone; when the joys of childhood could be had by simply spinning a top, rolling marbles, folding paper airplanes—and, in the case of little girls—creating worlds of make-believe with their dollies!

*224. The Reverend and His Flock: FR. OSMUNDO G. AGUILAR, World-Class Ornithologist

THE PADRE & HIS FLOCK. Fr. Osmundo G. Aguilar of Guagua, as a new graduate of San Carlos Seminary. He combined his love of nature with his religious calling, studying Theology and Ornithology at the same time. He is the founder of St. Michael's College, a well-known institution of learning in Guagua. Dated May 1930.

Fr. Osmundo Aguilar is well-known in Guagua as a never-say die priest who established Saint Michael’s College at the church convent from the ashes of World War II. Serving the parish of the Immaculate Conception from 1939 to 1948, Fr. Aguilar is also remembered for having refurbished the church (the altars of St. Joseph and the Crucified Christ were erected during his term) and for propagating Marian devotion through his founding of Children of Mary. But he was also famous for his colorful menagerie of birds from all over the world—a fabulous collection that, at one time, was considered the largest and rarest in the country.

The bird-loving priest spent his childhood years in rural Guagua, and pursued his religious calling at San Carlos Seminary in San Pedro, Makati where he graduated in May 1930. He had always been interested in pets and animals—and when it was time to choose a special course alongside Theology, he chose Ornithology, the study of birds. This would lead him to a lifetime pursuit of bird collecting.

His initial collection of 200 local and foreign birds consisted of parrots, peacocks, doves and cranes, which he began in 1924 and which he further expanded with birds coming from the jungles of Southeast Asia from 1937-38. Unfortunately, this collection was seized by the Japanese during the war.

Unfazed, he started to reassemble his collection after the war, investing about P30,000 for the acquisition of new birds, mostly from the American tropics. His collection of macaws (six of 18 species) was considered the largest in the world. One Royal Scarlet Macaw from Brazil set him back by $400. His garden became a veritable nesting place for white peacocks, pheasants, flamingoes from Cuba and red-breasted egrets from Africa. Fr. Aguilar also managed to bring home the most expensive parrot in the world—the 14 inch Queen of Bavaria’s Conures, found only in Paraguay and Brazil.

The Reverend’s obvious favorites were his 41 parrots, which he trained to speak in Spanish, English and Portuguese. He avidly researched on these birds, studying their habits and behavior. The most intelligent are the two African greys which were a donation to him from the Zoological Garden of Brussels, the only pair of the kind in the Far East in 1951. He was offered P62,000 for the pair, a big fortune at that time, but he turned it down.

That is not to say that his collection remained purposeless. In order to raise funds for the schooling of underprivileged boys at St. Michael's, he put up a pioneering show at the Assumption College along Herran St. (now Pedro Gil) which featured 41 of his most attractive birds. For fifty centavos, one could marvel at noisy cockatoos, talking parrots and colorful macaws in their cages, and appreciate the beauty of God’s most beautiful feathered creations. The first ever bird show drew curious Manilans to the school, ensuring the success of the good father’s fund drive.

So precious were the birds to Fr. Aguilar, that he even made an arrangement with the U.S. Government to fly the bird out of the country for safekeeping in the event of another War. Eventually, his bird collection was sold to such sanctuaries as the Honolulu and San Diego Zoo. The beloved priest of Guagua passed away in 1992. Fr. Aguilar was no Saint Francis, but like the patron of animals, the Reverend genuinely cared for his fine, feathered friends and you could say that they loved him back--with squawks, screeches and cackles!

*179. PATRIOTISM IN A PUFF

LIGHT MY FIRE. Then, as now, smoking was a favorite Kapampangan past time. It also spawned a backyard industry in many Pampanga towns, where contracted workers rolled and wrapped cigars in lithographed paper packages such as this "La Pampanguena" brand from Angeles. ca. 1920s.

Cigar and cigarette manufacturing in our islands officially began in 1782, under the tobacco monopoly introduced by Gov. Jose Basco y Vargas. The 1st factory was located in Binondo, with space provided rent-free to the government by the Dominicans. Under the monopoly system, the government had complete control of the cultivation (only select provinces like Bulacan, Nueva Ecija and Pampanga were authorized to grow tobacco), processing and manufacturing of cigars and cigarillos. Thus began the first application of the factory system in the Philippines, where thousands of laborers, mostly women, reported to a central place of work, which were often cramped, hot and humid. Nevertheless, factories provided livelihood and the tobacco business accounted for the government’s biggest share of revenue.


When the monopoly ended 10 years later, private entrepreneurs rushed to cash in on the lucrative cigar/cigarette industry, setting up factories in Manila and nearby provinces. To protect consumers from fly-by-night operations, a cigar tax was imposed. Quality cigars were churned out by the millions by Alhambra and Tabacalera.

The cigar industry, however, failed to respond to changing consumer preferences in smoking, which was about the time the Americans arrived. When cigar production dwindled and mechanization of cigarette processing was launched, Filipinos switched to cigarettes or cigarillos. Cigarette companies like La Paz y Buenviaje produced a variety of brands, like the “Dollar” brand, capturing a whole new market of “sajonistas” altogether.


Turn-of-the-century cigarettes were often distinctively packaged in batches of 24s-30s, in wrappers with detailed graphics such as these examples of Pampanga provenance. Local entrepreneurs probably bought processed cigar leaves and engaged backyard workers to roll and wrap cigarettes in these 2-color, lithographed packages carrying assorted visual themes, often irrelevant to the product, ranging from the patriotic (pictures of heroes, Katipunan) to the mythical and romantic.



Notable example is the “Sinukuan” brand, from Plaza Sto. Tomas Pampanga, which has a truly local Kapampangan theme, showing a barebreasted Mariang Sinukuan holding a billowing flag with a range of mountains in the background. The back panel shows a Aeta workers gathering palm leaves in the middle of a tobacco plantation (!) with their leader welcoming a cigarette-smoking stranger.


A unique Betis wrapper, "La Reina Malaya" (The Malayan Queen), on the other hand, contains a nationalist verse that calls upon Filipinos to patronize Philippine-made products and not those made by our colonizers--highly seditious stuff on print!


On the other hand, “Las Dos Hermanas” brand from Bacolor is no different from the way we name small businesses even today (as in “3 Sisters Carinderia”).


The inappropriate “Ates” brand also carries the name ‘Nemecio Leonardo’, who may have been the entrepreneur, the same way “La Soledad” banners the name ‘Maria Consolacion’ of Betis. “Los Enamorados” (The Enamoured Ones) from the Fabrica de Pampanga Plaza Guagua simply defies explanation with a European boating scene that hints of a menage a trois, in the middle of the sea abloom with lotus flowers!


Today, these cigarette wrappers are being collected not just for their artistic merit, but also for their value as cultural ephemera, defining our taste for leisure and recreation under our colonizers.

*135. HISTORY IN A BOTTLE: Reyna Soft Drinks

QUEEN OF ALL BOTTLES. A rare Reyna softdrink bottle with old ads from the 1930s Pampanga daily, Ing Cabbling.

Now here’s a bottle that’s considered the Holy Grail of local softdrink bottles—Reyna Softdrink, a pre-war softdrink brand concocted and bottled in Angeles by the Nepomucenos. Behind the seeming ordinariness of this bottle is an extraordinary story of family spirit in times of peace—and war.

The Nepomucenos of Angeles, led by the patriarch Juan de Dios Nepomuceno and wife Teresa Gomez, have always been instrumental in charting the progress and growth of Angeles. Their many enterprises—ice and electric plants, a high school that grew into a university, numerous prime residential and commercial developments-- helped define the future of Angeles by generating long-term livelihood opportunities, drawing students by the thousands from all over Central Luzon and reshaping the town’s layout.

One other homegrown business that they ventured into that is largely unknown is softdrink manufacturing. In 1928, the Nepomucenos opened a softdrink outlet along Sto. Rosario St., with 2 brands: the more affordable 2-centavo “Aurora”, (named after one of the couple’s daughter ) and “Reyna”, sold at 5 centavos. The drinks came in Orange, Strawberry, Cream Soda, Lemonade and the all-time favorite, Sarsaparilla. Root beer then was thought of as a health-giving drink, which explains sarsaparilla’s popularity. Family members and household helps capped and paper-labelled the bottle manually. The cases of softdrinks were delivered by trucks to outlets all over Pampanga and in Bataan.

Somehow, “Reyna Softdrinks” wide popular appeal worried the San Miguel Brewery, makers of “Royal Softdrinks”. The giant company filed a suit against the provincial factory, claiming that “Royal” was losing market share in the region because consumers could not distinguish the logos of the Nepomuceno’s “Reyna” from San Miguel’s “Royal”—as both brands started with a capital “R” with a similar curly “y” treatment. The case was amicably settled, with the Nepomucenos agreeing to re-spell their brand to “Reina”.

But the family’s softdrink business was fated to falter from the start. The bottles alone, imported from Belgium, cost 8 centavos a piece, while with contents—5 centavos. But since the business brought jobs to locals, the Nepomucenos could not bear to close it down.

However, in the early days of the Japanese Occupation, the Nepomucenos evacuated to Tarlac and upon their return, they found their machines destroyed and almost all the bottles smashed. They had no choice but to shut down the business permanently. Apparently, one bottle survived the rampage of Japanese soldiers, and today, this small, greenish bottle with the name “Reyna” in relief, has truly become the “Queen” of bottle collectibles.

*87. FELICIDADES! : The Charm of Vintage Holiday Calling Cards

BEST WISHES, KABALEN! An assortment of Christmas calling cards from Pampanga. Personal collection.

Many aspects of our Christmas traditions have their roots in colonial customs from a number of countries and cultures. Misa de gallos, noche buenas, belens and parols are but a few legacies of Spain. America introduced us to Santa Claus, Christmas trees and Christmas cards, which, in turn, evolved from the Victorian practice of leaving calling cards.

In 19th century England, these cards were essential part of social etiquette ranging from introductions, visits, invitations and gift-giving. When a caller comes visiting, he would leave a card (also known as “carte de visite”) on silver trays in the entry hall with the more socially prominent names displayed on top. Cards were often carried in attractive cases of ivory, leather, filigreed silver and papier mache. The use of calling cards became very fashionable in Europe and early illustrated samples were often collected and pasted in scrapbooks.

Victorian era cards were about 9 x 6 cms.; later examples approximated the size of modern day business cards. The cards bore only a person’s title and name, but by the end of the century, the address was added to the card. Soon, the all-occasion calling card was designed to fit a specific ceremonial event or season. For instance, mourning cards were edged in black. Formal calls were also made after wedding rites, childbirth or as acknowledgment of hospitality. During the holidays, Christmas greetings were also printed on the card.

The calling card fad apparently reached our islands and our province, what with our penchant for forming elite social circles and endless giving of regalos and aguinaldos. A few examples of vintage Christmas calling cards collected from Pampanga show marked Victorian influences despite their relative simplicity. The cards were decorated with color, embossing and die-cutting as printing techniques improved in the 1850s.

For instance, the calling card of Ms. Eduviges Beltran of Lubao, Pampanga, sent out on Christmas 1920, shows delicate pink and green color tinting on tiny violet flowers. Florenciana Lacsamana of San Luis opted for a very local motif, embossing her Christmas 1918 calling card with a figure of a woman in baro’t saya against a truly Filipino backdrop of a rising sun and palm trees. Messr. N. Diaz Carreon, on the other hand, chose a lucky horsehoe design fringed with anahaw leaves for his circa 19-17-1918 card. Warm Christmas wishes were sent out using straightforward Spanish greetings (“Felicidades!”) to more lyrical expressions in contemporary English.

The popularity of Christmas calling cards waned with the advent of the more festive, more visual Christmas postcards and greeting cards in the 1920s-30s, which allowed every inconceivable subject to appear in explosions of color: from Angels to Santas, rural scenes, animals to far-fetched imageries as snowmen, reindeer and fur-clad people. No matter, calling cards of our holiday past provide us with a rare, interesting glimpse of social protocol in our history, when Kapampangan hospitality and proper observance of etiquette were the order of the day—practices that are sadly being taken for granted in our present-day society.


(*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")

A VIEW TO A THRILL: Collecting History

Collecting is an obsession that has its roots in our childhood. In our youth, we amassed stamps, coins, marbles, cigarette packs, movie stars’ photos and autographs. We kept toys, premium items, bottle caps and comic books. As adults, we hoarded souvenir items from our travels: ash trays, matches, bells, spoons and figurines. To a great extent then, collecting takes a lifetime. As one inveterate collector said: “I know I will collect for as long as I live because I never stop looking for things”.

I like to think that we collect not for economic reasons alone. We want to enrich our life by surrounding ourselves with these objects which we alone think are valuable, interesting and beautiful. To a real collector, it is not often the material value that matters but the personal meaning of the object to him. With these thoughts, I started collecting old photos and postcard views with Kapampangan themes over five years ago. There was another practical reason why I chose photo and postcard collecting (“Deltiology”, as the hobby is formally called) —old photos were the only “antiques” I could truly afford. A real photo postcard then, in rich, sepia color, would cost just 5 pesos. Sometimes, I would pay just a few pesos more for whole albums and scrapbooks salvaged from garages or rickety aparadors, ready to be thrown away by owners.

But, like an expensive Ming vase or a colonial santo, photos and postcards—with their myriad subjects—are also capable of evoking pleasant memories of “the good old days”. A charming view of ancient Arayat, a century-old portrait of an Angeles matriarch, a departed don’s recuerdo de patay, a crowned Kapampangan beauty from some forgotten carnival, formal sitting of graduating Kapampangan high schoolers in prim and proper baro’t saya and americano cerrado—each picture, each view had a vivid story to tell.

And so it was, that I contacted SunStar Pampanga, the region’s most-widely circulated newspaper, proposing to start a column based on my old photo collection (and in some instances, on other Kapampangan ephemera like books, novenario covers and even current snapshots), on the premise that pictures, indeed, can paint a thousand words, and more. It was a proposal warmly received by then-editor Rollie Razon, General Manager Jun Sula Jr. and their staff. Thus, “Views from the Pampang” saw print on 15 June 2002, with the publication of initial photo essay entitled “Freeze Frames of References”. This book then compiles all the articles that I have written for the said paper, over a year’s worth of researching, writing and picture-sourcing, until the exigencies of my advertising job consumed the little time I had reserved for my fascination with Pampanga’s visual history.

By the time that “Views” finished its weekly Saturday run on Sunstar Pampanga on 4 January 2004 , I have met and corresponded by e-mail, scores of like-minded individuals from Pampanga and even from abroad, who provided details, corrected occasional lapses in research, recalled similar scenarios and conjured long-lost names of people on the featured snapshots. Today, they continue to engage me in meaningful remembrances of things past. To them, my deepest gratitude for their interest in my articles.

My photo collecting fever has not subsided a bit and this consuming passion continues to be a risky yet an irresistible game for me. Collecting is a study in trial and error and it brings the gambling spirit in all of us. As we seek, so shall we find---fabulous finds one day, expensive mistakes the next. It is the joy of the hunt that fuels us on, the thrill of pursuing our links to the past and the ever-present possibility of unearthing Cleopatra’s jewels among glass baubles.

A.R.C.