Malacañang Palace or Malacañang, if one would like to be historically and politically correct, was once upon a time a sort of a second home for me, having frequented its old structures and stature during the Marcos Sr. era.
I found myself as a regular fixture there, visiting my father in his office straight from school in Manila.
This was the era of presidential brother-in-law Kokoy Romualdez who wore sockless shoes and that unmistakable bush jacket. With him were Johnny Tuvera, Jake Clave, Jack Venus, and Ernie Maceda – all former little presidents aka executive secretaries.
But of course there was this plump little man by the name Celso Cabrera who wrote a satirical column for the Chronicle entitled “Inside Malacañang” which featured the latest gossip right along the corridors of power. He was a frequent visitor of my father.
The original ‘marites’ of the seventies and eighties. Cabrera almost always scooped everyone to it, making his column a must read if one wanted to know about the happenings right inside Malacañang.
One day, he surprised his readers when he wrote something in Spanish like “Porque estamos en el poder?” (What are we in power for?) Of course, he was quoting former Senate President Jose Avelino.
And then there was the Malacañang Clinic which was situated across the Pasig (or was it Arlegui?) where my destined circumcision took place and performed by Dr. Casanova, the clinic director. I still remember that man wearing a white gown who performed his “cutting edge” procedure on me one summer morning.
My visits to my father’s office resumed once school opened again from summer vacation. In one such occasion, I had the privilege to view the huge portraits that hung on the walls of the palace. Each portrait of our past presidents hang there.
Of these, one such portrait is unique and differs from the rest because the man was not elected president, nor did he succeed as vice-president. The plaque right below it simply says, “President Jose P. Laurel.”
I was immediately intrigued by this seeming abnormality because, as far as I can remember then, Laurel was invited by the Japanese government to serve in the wartime Philippine Executive Commission during the Japanese Occupation. He held several posts in the commission until he was shot by an assassin on June 6, 1943 during a golf game with some of his colleagues. The man was probably an anti-Japanese guerilla.
Laurel recovered quickly from a bullet wound and was offered the presidency of the Japanese-sponsored republic. He promptly accepted the offer and was installed on October 14, 1943. He served as president from then on up until the America liberating forces returned in 1945, which prompted him to leave immediately for Tokyo.
After the war, Laurel was indicted on more than one hundred counts of treason, but many believed he was just a little too comfy with the Japs.
Remembering “Dirty Harry” Fred Lim
I asked a math wizard what are the odds of winning the grand prize in the lotto or the sweepstakes. He said “a million to one.” I think it’s much more than that.
I remember back in 1990 how the late Gen. Alfredo Lim, then Philippine Charity Sweepstakes office (PCSO) head honcho, was asked to probe into alleged rigging of sweepstakes draws in that agency.
Surprisingly, after embarking on an investigation, he emerged as the winner of the grand draw of PhP 5 million. The winning horse, ‘Just Joking,’ was owned by the legendary Danding Cojuangco. Lim bought the winning ticket right in the PCSO office as a token gesture on his part to assure the people that the integrity of the PCSO remains intact.
So bizarre was this occurrence for him to win top prize, thus causing more image problems for the PCSO.
Thereafter, many people were so skeptical about Lim’s lucky win. Some people even said that top PCSO officials rigged the draw in his favor so he would be reluctant to go after top PCSO brass in his probe of their alleged rackets.
“No way!” said Lim’s friends and relatives who know him too well who swear that the general’s integrity could never be bought even if the prize was multiplied a hundredfold. To this I agree, having known him to be the cleanest “Dirty Harry.”
Remembering Ambassador JV Cruz
Who remembers JV Cruz, that flamboyant former Magsaysay press secretary and ambassadeur extraordinaire? I do.
He was a wonderful conversationalist and a friend of everyone and a complete diplomat.
But just a thought while in transit: the appointment of political ambassadors has been a practice by most if not all presidents. This power has been somewhat abused by our heads of state to accommodate wealthy friends and discredited officials to the disgrace of our country and the demoralization of career officers of the diplomatic service.
Of course, there were a few exceptions like Ambassador JV Cruz and a handful of others.
But in most cases, when political leaders want to boot out unfit or disgraced partymates, the inevitable solution is to send them abroad into “exile” as ambassadors.
Once abroad, these misfits, lacking proper training and preparation, make jackasses of themselves and make the country a laughingstock in diplomatic circles.
As it is, an ambassador could be a person who, after having failed to get an appointment from the head of state, is still given one on condition that he leaves the country immediately.
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