The Marcos 14-year martial law and authoritarian rule may have ended 16 years ago, but to many of today's veteran journalists the memories are fresh. After all many of them were either just starting out in their careers or were in their prime. When it first came, many Filipino journalists simply took for granted that they could write anything and, save for legal safeguards, still expect to live the next day. All of a sudden that guarantee, previously enshrined in the constitution, was gone.
One such journalist was Nap Rama, a frequent critic of Marcos, who was nearing the end of his second term in office. According to the constitution, Marcos could not seek further re-election. His critics, Rama included, suspected him of organizing a constitutional convention to clear that legal obstruction. His friends dared him to run, and won.
In the first few weeks I filed a resolution to ban Marcos from running for a third term. I wrote that no former president could run under this new constitution for president, nor their wives as proxies. Of course, Marcos was so mad after it became the most popular resolution. He drew the line: those who were pro-Marcos didn't sign it, and the anti-Marcos signed it. We were able to get the majority. He could not stop it. So he declared martial law.
I was the first guy to be picked up, just two hours after martial law was signed. Ninoy Aquino and I and nine others [these included Jose Marie Velez, Ramon Mitra, Jose Diokno, Soc Rodrigo, Max Soliven, Chino Roces] were put in the same prison cell. We were released because we asked the International Press Institute to help us. Marcos told them because we were jailed because we were writing against the martial law. But at that time, there was no martial Law yet. (Pua and Tee 2000)
Of course many journalists were behind Marcos, even those from the supposedly solid Ilocano bloc. Manuel Almario says that Malacañang authorities summoned his former editor, Luis Mauricio, because an article Almario wrote on the 1968 Jabidah massacre of Muslim recruits on Corregidor. Marcos called the article "libelous." Almario learned he was on Malacañang's anti-Marcos list:
As editor of the PNS [Philippine News Service], I allowed the anti-Marcos elements especially student activists to use our wires to give out press releases to the newspapers because the PNS was the only Filipino news service at that time. It was closed in 1972 and replaced with the Philippines News Agency.
The PNS was owned by the publishers of all the major newspapers so that the president and members of the board rotated. The president when martial law was declared was Chino Roces of the Manila Times, but the board of directors included the publishers of the Manila Chronicle, the Philippines Herald, the Evening News, Daily Mirror and all the major newspaper. It was a pool which gathered news reports from the provinces. We had our office on the second floor of the National Press Club. The provincial correspondents sent their reports to the service, we edited them, and sent them to the newspapers and radio station. We were the only news service that covered the Philippines nationwide. After martial law, no private news agency was ever reestablished. (Young and Sy 2000)
When Marcos declared martial law, Almario hid for a week, but everyday he went to the National Press Club where he learned the military was after him. Finally in the middle of the night, three MPs roused him from sleep and took him to Crame, where he stayed for three months with other journalists and politicians. "Many of us thought that our lives might be in danger," he recalls. "The leader of a government employees' union, said that if we were going to be shot, he wanted to be first. He was an old man, he said, with only a few more years to live. If he was shot by the martial law forces, the authorities might be satiated and wouldn't kill us anymore. There I saw some heroism."
Vicente Tirol had just been back at the Manila Times a month at after a year with The Asian in Hong Kong when martial law was declared. He was working the night shift when the soldiers came in, "stopped the presses, hung up the phones and padlocked the premises." A colleague, oblivious of the situation, wanted to know if they could just finish printing.
Like most journalists, Tirol lost his job. Eventually the government permitted some newspapers to reopen. Journalists who wanted to go back to work also needed a permit. Tirol said his request for a clearance was never even acknowledged. He heard horror stories about military officers sitting with the editors and telling them which stories could be used and how they should be slanted. "I couldn't work under these conditions so I chose not to go back to newspapers." (Arguelles 1999)
Omar Acosta on kuryente:
Walang ginawa itong isang reporter kundi mag-sauna bath. Darating kunwari sa beat, yung nagsusulat na kaming lahat ng istorya. Walang gagawin 'yan kundi mangopya, isusulat niya, i-fa-fax sa opisina nila. Nainis kami. Minsan kinoryente namin. May ginawa kaming istorya na kunwari may mga presong nakatakas, tapos napatay on their way out. Ginawa niya, pare! Nag-page one sa dyaryo niya! Napagalitan siya. Hindi naman niya kami ma-sisi! Sabi namin, "Tarantado ka kasi. Kopya ka nang kopya." Yun ang koryente. Then one day, mayroon namang isang pumutok na malaking istorya. Ginagawa namin. Nung hapon dumating siya, tingin nang masama sa amin. "Hmp! Koryente na naman 'yan!" Hindi niya ginawa. Kinaumagahan, scoop! Patay siya! Pinagalitan na naman siya! (Austria 1999)
Manuel Almario on his martial-law arrest and detention:
My editor, Luis Mauricio, was called to the Palace. [President] Marcos was very angry because he saw the article I had written about the [March 1968, Jabidah] massacre of Muslims on Corregidor. He said that this was libelous and asked Mauricio who who wrote this, to which Mauricio replied, "It was Almario, your kababayan from Ilocos." At Malacañang, I was told that I was on the anti-Marcos list. Even before that, as editor of the PNS [Philippine News Service], I allowed the anti-Marcos elements especially student activists to use our wires to give out press releases to the newspapers because the PNS was the only Filipino news service at that time. It was closed in 1972 and replaced with the Philippines News Agency.
The PNS was owned by the publishers of all the major newspapers so that the president and members of the board rotated. The president when martial law was declared was Chino Roces of the Manila Times, but the board of directors included the publishers of the Manila Chronicle, the Philippines Herald, the Evening News, Daily Mirror and all the major newspaper. It was a pool which gathered news reports from the provinces. We had our office on the second floor of the National Press Club. The provincial correspondents sent their reports to the service, we edited them, and sent them to the newspapers and radio station. We were the only news service that covered the Philippines nationwide. After martial law, no private news agency was ever reestablished.
I was arrested when martial law was declared by Marcos, and was charged with subversion. I stayed more than three months in Camp Crame with other journalists and politicians... Many of us thought that our life might be in danger. I was arrested in the middle of the night. It was actually a knock in the night because I hid for about one week. I used to come to the National Press Club everyday but then one time when I was in the NPC bar, somebody told me that the military was looking for me here. So I went to other places like the Front Page Restaurant in front of the U.S. embassy. One night, they came knocking at my house in Project 6. I had to go with them, three military police. When I woke up in the morning, I saw some familiar faces. One of them was of an old man, the leader of a government employees' union. He said if we were going to be shot, he wanted to be the first. He was an old man, he said, with only a few more years to live. If he was shot by the martial law forces, the authorities might be satiated and wouldn't kill us anymore. There I saw some heroism. (Young and Sy 2000)
Priscilla Arias on crank calls:
This woman was here mga 2 p.m. Kokonti pa lang ang tao. She said, "Thank God I was able to contact you because I have been calling since yesterday. I called probably 40 times." Kasi diba kami, wala naman kaming time. We just come in here, pag tapos na kami, layas na kami. Tanong ko, "Bakit po?" Sagot niya, "Kasi ET contactee ako, Extra-Terrestrial contactee. And the ETs are relaying your name to me. They said that I must contact you for an encounter. Can I invite you to the Intercon Coffee shop on this particular day. And then we'll proceed to Laguna so can see the ETs." (Mahinay 1999)
Ray Arquiza on witnessing the hot seat:
I was a neophyte reporter at the time of the execution of Maggie de la Riva's [convicted] rapists. But I was already assigned to cover event. Every reporter from the major dailies was there. We were standing in the sides of the room approximately not bigger than 12 feet by 16. On the far end was the electric chair with big belts to restrain the person to be electrocuted. We witnessed the electrocution of the five [convicted] rapists one after the other. When one of them was brought into the execution chamber, he could still walk, but when he entered the room and saw the electric chair he suddenly became weak, collapsed and the prison guards had to literally drag him to the chair. The same behavior was displayed by the four others. (Rocha 1999)
Teodoro Benigno on the birth of the FOCAP:
Martial Law had been declared, and the Philippines was living in an atmosphere of fear and trepidation. We in the foreign press began to feel it also because we were being censored. Kit Tatad, who was Information Minister, had the temerity to censor me, when he was just my cub reporter [at the Agence France-Presse]. I got outraged and I said, "This cannot happen. We have to group together. We have to unite, to complain about the censorship." Eventually censorship was lifted. I made moves to organize the foreign correspondents into a single and unified organization, which we eventually called Foreign Correspondence Association of the Philippines. (Chan and Belgira 2000)
Butch del Castillo on trying to keep his nose clean:
One time I wrote a series about a government bank and the irregularities of its president. The editor ordered me to get the bank president's side. So I went to his house, in Quezon City. The bank president said, "Mr. del Castillo, what do you have against me?" and I said, "Nothing sir, I don't even know you. Trabaho lang ho." He opened this suitcase with lots of money and tried to bribe me. But I said, "Sir, I just want you to answer these questions." But his answers were not in anyway connected with the questions because he was trying to draw my attention to the suitcase. The next day he sent this letter to Chino Roces denouncing me. It was all fabrications. Good thing I was then with Ding Pascual, the foreign-affairs reporter whom I had to bribe with halo-halo so he would accompany me. I asked Mr. Roces to send for Ding Pascual for a report on what actually happened. So, Roces sent for Ding. Sabi ni Ding Pascual, "Naku sir, nilabasan ng pera itong si Butch." (Garcia 1999)
Butch Galicia on covering Mindanao:
I made friends with the rebels. I made friends with the military. The only lesson I learned was that trust is basic. One time, the rebels fetched me from the house. We went to the camp and that was a big camp. Camp Abubakar. I had an interview with the highest official. We befriended each other. Okay ang relationship namin. When I returned, nakahantay yung military jeep. Pagbaba ko ng sasakyan ng rebelde, tinawag ako. 'Pinapatawag ka sa itaas.' Punta naman ako sa military camp. The first question the General asked me was "Did you see a still footbridge inside the camp?" I only told him one thing, "If I told you what I saw inside their camp, would I tell them what I saw inside your camp?" That ended everything. What I know is what you see in the newspaper. Up to now the relationship goes, with the rebels and with the military. I have close contacts with them. I'm not a spy, I'm a reporter. People want me to provide them with the truth. (Mercado 1999)
Marianne Go on covering Malacañang:
Malacañang was supposed to be my most important beat but I hated it. I only stayed there for one week. I had been so used to talking to businessmen who'd tell me the truth. I hated the politicians who kept on changing their stories. Aside from that Malacanang at that time had a bad press corps, the brat pack. Where you write your story tapos nanakawin sa 'yo, and then somebody would print it in his paper and come out with his byline. Also, I didn't like running around after the President. In business [reporting] may structure. You have regular press conferences, as opposed to Malacanang where you had to wait out in the gazebo and "ambush." (Barcelon and Henson 2000)
Jay Gotera as Overseas Filipino Journalist:
Working in Saudi Arabia, for one, was a cultural shock for a journalist used to the liberal ways of the Philippine press. In Saudi Arabia there was no press freedom. Reporters could not roam around the country gathering news. That was impossible in Saudi Arabia where the Muslim tradition of controlled secrecy was strictly enforced. In terms of ability and resourcefulness, Filipino journalists are world-class. The only thing that separates Filipinos from their foreign colleagues is the availability of high-tech facilities. (Tolentino 1999)
Larry Henares on writing a column:
My column in Manila Times was called, "Ways and Means," and I used it to sell my viewpoint as chairman of the National Economic Council. Then, I wrote for the Mr. and Ms. because I wanted to do my bit to throw Marcos out. Ninoy was a very good friend of mine so we shared the same ideas. If I got elected with them, I would have died on the tarmac with him. When the Inquirer was born out of Mr. and Ms., Eggie Apostol told me: "Larry, column writing is different from writing a thesis or a literary masterpiece. You are just a minute hand of the clock of time. You don't write for eternity. You only write for a moment." She said that what I wrote before was as if I was throwing jovial thunderbolts from Mt. Olympus. She said, "That will not do for column writing. You can't write like Renato Constantino, Claro M. Recto, and Alejandro Lichauco or any of these literary giants. You have to go down to the marketplace. You write primarily about people. You twit their noses; you tweak their ears; you tickle their funny bone; you kick him in the ass or you kick him in the balls, but you write about them. And only incidentally about great ideas; you have to write about people because they are the ones who make history." So that's what I've been doing. Eggie told me: "Your workings must have a millennial component. You must include something and it's got to last forever." (Tan and Yabot 2000)
Manolo Iñigo on the sports section and censorship:
Naglalabas kami ng picture ni Dante Silverio, coach ng Toyota. Palibhasa nga "up-to-date," modern, mahaba ang buhok ni Silverio. ‘Yun ang style eh. Tinawag sa Crame, kami ng columnist ko, si Willie Hernandez. [Sabi ng sundalo:] "Sinabi na bawal ang mag-publish ng mahaba buhok!" Sagot ni Willie, "Bakit si Bongbong Marcos mahaba ang buhok hindi pinagbabawal?" In short naramdaman nila na mali naman yung policy nila. (Chua 2000)
Joel Lacsamana on what excites journalists:
During the EDSA Revolution of 1986 I found myself with a couple hundred other journalists at the Kalayaan Hall in Camp Aguinaldo with then Defense Secretary Juan Ponce Enrile and PC Chief Fidel V. Ramos. Enrile turned to us and said, "This is it, ladies and gentlemen! Marcos is about to bomb this building in the next 30 minutes. Anybody is free to step out right now and save their hides." We all looked at each other and nobody moved. That to me was a turning point in my career. And from then on I covered coup attempts until 1989. I was right in the thick of them and it was quite an exciting period. (Hermanos 1999)
Felix Lloren on the Plaza Miranda bombing:
Yung PRO ni Ramon Mitra tinawag ako kaya fter the National Anthem, nag-cross ako ng stage. Wala pang isang minuto bumagsak na yung first bomb. Yung kasama ko sa inalisan ko natamaan. Swerte ko nga dahil tinawag ako. At yung kasama kong taga Manila Times, si Ben Roxas, gusto siguro kumuha sa mga casualties. Nag-cross siya, nasalubong niya yung second blast sa stage. Wasak ang leeg niya. Pero ako naagos ako sa mga tao. Nakatalon ako mula sa stage. Umikot ako sa likod. Maraming namatay, maraming nasugatan, sina [Jovito] Salonga, [Eddie] Ilarde, [Ramon] Bagatsing. (Iledan and Ong 2000)
Raul Locsin on why Business Day was hardly censored:
Marcos was a smart man. He felt the business paper was being read by people who were his enemies anyway. So it wouldn't make much of a difference. If I were writing for a mass circulation daily, like the Bulletin, then he probably would have closed us down. But this he could turn around. As a matter of fact, in an interview with the Philadelphia Inquirer he said, "So you say there is no freedom of the press in this country and yet we allow such a notorious newspaper like Business Day to keep on publishing." So he used us as an instrument to indicate that there was freedom, that there was a sort of democracy still prevailing in the country. His was not martial law. His was an authoritarian government primarily to save the nation from communists and to be able to improve the economic standards of the people. (Rillo and So 2000)
Teodoro Locsin Jr. on how he acquired the Daily Globe:
Daily Globe was started by the Ramos boys, Fred and Ben, together with their classmate, Yen Macabenta, sometime in late 1986 or early '87. I wasn't a part of it. I was in Malacañang as President Aquino's legal counsel and speechwriter. I think it was sometime in 1988, when Jarius Bondoc, who was either managing editor or columnist of the Daily Globe, wrote a column saying that I had met secretly with Danding Cojuangco, who is the enemy of Mrs. Aquino. Of course, when I got back from the States, I got into trouble here. I sued the Daily Globe and its owners for libel. The Ramoses settled by turning over the Daily Globe to me: "Instead of suing us, why don't you take over the Daily Globe, you run it and then you can fire the guy who wrote about you." But I didn't fire him. Instead we became good friends.
And why he shut it down:
The Daily Globe was a good paper. Hard-hitting, but its treatment of the news was very responsible and conservative. It hit hard on the opinion sections, but news was news. Apparently, this does not sell very well. It suffered losses. It continued to need a subsidy. Basically, the money was coming from National Bookstore. But one day, the workers in the Daily Globe decided to organize a union and asked for a collective bargaining agreement that would include profit-sharing. The Daily Globe had no profits to share. So we should've just granted it. But we couldn't do that because we were part of a larger group of companies. We also had an oil-exploration company and a real-estate company. If you granted something like that to them it might start a snowball effect. Then the Inquirer stuck its nose in and decided to support the union. It was a weekend. I said, "By Monday, if you put up your placards, I'm leaving for the States on a six-month vacation. And you know what that means, the Ramoses will close its paper." They replied, "You don't mean it, Mr. Locsin. You know you don't." I left. The Ramoses closed it. And that's what happened to it. It's a pity. (Ng 1999)
Antonio Lopez on how he became a foreign correspondent:
For about a month after martial law was declared, I had no job. I was put on leave with pay by the Manila Times. Fortunately, I befriended a Japanese official at the Asian Development Bank, which I covered when it was still on Ayala. He asked me, "Can you cover the death of a Japanese straggler?" My mission: locate the body of the straggler, and take photographs. I learned that the body would be brought to the Loyola Memorial morgue in Guadalupe and the Japanese lent me his camera. The doctor opened the refrigerator containing the body. It was a gory sight because his head had been cut off for autopsy. His body was cut up. The pictures were very bad because it was my first experience at photography but the story was very good. The Japanese newspaper, the Mainichi, was very happy about it. For about two months we looked for Shiroo Onoda, another straggler. This was a very important story for the Japanese because it showed the devotion of Japanese soldiers to their emperor. After two months, we found Onoda and I got a series of scoops. I got the bio data, the pictures of his hiding place in Mindoro, on Lubang Island, and I was able to interview the doctor who conducted a medical examination on Onoda. The Mainichi was very impressed. They sent me on my second trip to Japan, this time with my wife. It was 1974. In Japan I was chauffeured in a black limousine. I was greeted by the editor-in-chief in a formal dinner. It was my first recognition as a foreign correspondent. Naisip ko, maganda pala ang foreign correspondent kasi ang bayad dollar.
[In 1977] I had a business column in the Times Journal which the Asiaweek editor, T.J.S. George, noticed. He asked me to contribute to Asiaweek, then a very small magazine. He was trying to give me 5 cents per word. Sabi ko sa kanya, "I like the concept of, but I'll just help you kasi the money you are trying to offer me is not even good enough for coffee." In 1978 they also asked me to do political reporting. There was going to be an election for the Batasan Pambansa and they liked it. In 1982 I left Times Journal and became a full-fledged Asiaweek correspondent. In 1985 Asiaweek was acquired by the Time Warner group and, suddenly, I was in bigtime journalism. (De Guzman and Macatubal 2000)
On secrets Marcos shared with him:
I was the first journalist to interview the President right after the Aquino assassination. Siya lang mag-isa. "Mr. President, who killed Ninoy?"
"I'll tell you a secret: Galman."
"Why would Galman kill Ninoy?"
"I'll tell you a secret: because Ninoy was screwing the wife of Galman."
"Why would Ninoy screw the wife of Galman?"
"Well, you know him."
One afternoon in Hawaii, I asked him: "Mr. President, did you steal money from the government?"
"Oh, just how much can you steal from the government?"
"Then, why are you rich?"
"I'll tell you a secret: I discovered the treasure of Yamashita."
The following morning I interviewed the First Lady, Imelda.
"Ma'm, totoo ba, [that] the President discovered the treasure of Yamashita?"
"He told you that?"
Biglang pumunta sa kuwarto ni Presidente. Palagay ko nagaway sila. In the afternoon sabi sa 'kin ni Presidente Marcos, "Tony, bakit mo naman sinabi sa First Lady that I discovered the treasure of Yamashita?"
"I'm sorry sir. You did not tell me that you did not tell her." (same)
Manny Mogato on the enterprising reporter:
At the height of the Rizal Ali incident of 1989 when they took hostage a general in Zamboanga City, Gen. Renato de Villa, AFP chief of staff at that time, assembled a special police team to rescue the hostage. I was talking to some people if I could go with the team. They said I couldn't because it was a purely military mission. So I sneaked into the plane at Villamor Air Base and hid myself in the ammunition compartment. It was all bullets inside. It was only one hour after the plane took off that I went out of the compartment. Gen. De Villa was really mad at me. He demanded, "Who authorized you to come here?" But I was already on board and they caould not turn back so they took me in. I only had P30 in my pocket, I had no spare clothes, and I stayed in Zamboanga for five days. (Santiago 1999)
Junep Ocampo on Xerex Xaviera:
Maybe I'm also proud to have started a trend among tabloids. Xerex Xaviera was a gimick, a creation of five young men who had so much time in their hands with so much creativity in their between their ears. Mahilig ako sa Playboy, Penthouse. Xaviera Hollander was a writer we all admired. Sabi ko, 'Sige gawin natin Tagalog version ni Xaviera Hollander. Anong pangalan? I-xerox na lang natin sa Xaviera. From the word xerox came the word Xerex, Xerex Xaviera. Kaya lang 'di naalagaan, eh. There was really no program or initiative to develop the column. Hanggang ngayon yun pa rin eh, parang sex experience pa rin siya. Originally, we intended it to become a clinical column offering advice and tips on how to improve sex life. Kaya lang hindi na hindi napunta sa ganoon dahil siguro ano na rin, nagkatamaran. (Castillo 1999)
Kitch Ortego on the hazards of being a film critic:
I became a movie reviewer for the Weekly Graphic and I had threats everyday on the telephone. Directors and producers did not like their movies being criticized. But the directors of art films were on my side -- Gerry de Leon, Lamberto Avellana, Chat Gallardo, Armando Garces. They wanted me to criticize their work, as a matter of fact, because that was their argument before the producers for asking for an art film. But at one Famas Awards night, a director punched me in the face and I could not hit him back because everybody held me back. In another incident, pumunta ang tatay ng isang artista sa Weekly Graphic. Yung tatay malaking tao, nagalit because I criticized the performance of his daughter in a film with Sampaguita Pictures. Sabi sa akin, dahan dahan ka sa pagsusulat mo baka pareho tayo mawala rito sa Maynila. (Abiog 1999)
Ruby Paurom on Marcos-era journalism:
My first beat was health. One time at the Department of Health, in San Lazaro, nasiksik ako sa isang conference of nutritionists. There were statistics released on the ratio malnourished children to those who were healthy. I reported what they said that the nutrition level was very low. This was contrary to what the First Lady Imelda Marcos was brandishing that they were telling every body that there’s a progress in nutrition of the children. I wrote that government was making headway in providing adequate nutrition for children but according to that closed-door conference, it was really very low. There was supposed to be no media there for some reason napasiksik ako doon. Some of my contacts thought I really was a nice person. They didn't notice that I was a media person. They were all shocked the following day that the front page of the Daily Express gave a report that two out of ten schoolchildren were malnourished. Di naloka na, na naboljak ako the following day. Pinatawag ako ng editor namin si Mr. Bejo Romualdez who asked where I got my facts. I stood by my story na yun talaga yung. Hindi ako pinagalitan ng boss ko, kasi peryodista din siya at alam niya kung ano ang mga nagyayari. (Alcancia and Sim 2000)
Jimmy Perez on the vanishing newsroom:
You had to go back to the office to type your story. Lahat during that time until the late 1980s ganun yung style. Ngayon tatawag ka at ifafax mo lang ang story. So I would say the greatest invention that benefited journalists is yung fax at yang mga computer, mga modem. Right now I don't see my editor anymore. In fact, some of my co-reporters don't even know my face. They only know my name. Suweldo namin ATM. Dati punta ka ng opisina para sa suweldo. The whole of 1999, minsan pa lang ako nakapunta ng opisina. (Bernabe 1999)
On the EDSA Revolution:
Nakulong kami sa Crame. There was an order from Marcos to bomb Camp Crame tapos eto na yung mga helicopter. I remember telling my photographer, pareho kaming binata pa: "Tol, nandito na tayo. Come what may, basta tayo mamatay as heroes." And just as the helicopter was about 10 minutes away biglang nagwave ng white flag yung head pilot, signaling that they were defecting to the side of the people. Nakita ko nagyakapan nang nagyakapan yung mga sundalo, unreserved.
In another incident, naiyak ako kasi one of the fatalities was a boy not older than 15. Tinamaan siya ng bomba dropped by the loyalists to destroy Channel 4. Nakabisikleta siya. I saw his body, yakap-yakap niya yung mga supot ng semento. I think that boy was sent by his parents ipagbili siguro semento perhaps to buy some food tapos yung bisikleta mukhang binuo lang. (same)
Nap Rama on what sparked martial law:
In 1971 there was a move to amend the constitution. My friends told me, "You are always criticizing the government. Now is your time. You become a delegate to the constitutional convention." So I did. Marcos was not entitled to re-election that's why he batted for a constitutional convention so that his tutas would amend the constitution to allow him to extend his second term. In the first few weeks I filed a resolution to ban Marcos from running for a third term. I wrote that no former president could run under this new constitution for president, nor their wives as proxies. Of course, Marcos was so mad after it became the most popular resolution. He drew the line: those who were pro-Marcos didn't sign it, and the anti-Marcos signed it. We were able to get the majority. He could not stop it. So he declared martial law. I was the first guy to be picked up, just two hours after martial law was signed. Ninoy Aquino and I and nine others [these included Jose Marie Velez, Ramon Mitra, Jose Diokno, Soc Rodrigo, Max Soliven, Chino Roces] were put in the same prison cell and were Marcos' prized prisoners of Marcos. We were released because we asked the International Press Institute to help us. Marcos told them because we were jailed we were writing against the martial law. But when we were writing, there was no Martial Law yet. (Pua and Tee 2000)
on Ninoy Aquino's sense of humor:
We were picked up early in the morning. Then we were sent to the gymnasium in Camp Crame, about 500 of us. Everybody in the opposition was there. Sabi ni Ninoy, "Well, we can be shot." In the afternoon, eleven of us were put on a bus to Makati. When we were near Buendia, sabi niya, "Nap, if we turn right, we're going to Luneta to be shot." Max Soliven was very nervous. "Why do you make that joke?" he asked. Fortunately, we went straight and were deposited in Fort Bonicacio. I asked Ninoy, "Why are you always cracking jokes? You know Max Soliven is getting peeved." Then Ninoy said, "I've just taken a shower so that when I meet my creator I'm clean." Max Soliven wanted to know, "Why do you kid and joke?" "Why are you kidding Max Soliven?" I asked, "He's a nervous wreck." Ninoy said, "I'm happy because there's still eleven of us. One of these days, I'll be alone, and that's going to kill me." And true enough, he was able to predict his own doom. (same)
Don Reyes on the new media:
If I were to make a different career move, it would be to the electronic media or broadcast journalism. I think that newspapers as we know them now would be gone soon. Magiging paperless na yan in the future. Newsprint becomes too expensive in the first place considering that we get the materials from trees. Almost everyone too has computers. Information would tend to be specialized and there would be outfits to service this need. Unlike the newspaper, it has its limitations like the updating of news. Newspapers will become obsolete. (Mendoza 1999)
Val Rodriguez
On shooting the Marcoses:
During martial law Malacañang cleared pictures for publication. Kung lumuluha si Marcos hindi puwede, kase may sakit siya noon. Kung doble ang baba ni Imelda hindi puwede. Noong dineklara yung martial law naitago ko pa yung transmitter namin kaya nakapagtransmit kami ng photos. One month lumalabas ng Pilipinas na hindi nila alam. Naugulat sila, kaya pinainbentaryo kami. Lahat ng mga litrato namin dapat pakita sa Malacanang. After one year nagtiwala din sila na ilalabas naming litrato mga magaganda as far as Marcos was concerned. Gusto namin, kung puwede nga lang, kumakamot ka sa tainga, sumusubo, humihikab kasi iyon ang human-interest photo, hindi yung nakaupo lang... It was hard to cover Marcos. Maswerte ka kung makadikit ka ng 10 feet. (Encarnacion and Icasas 2000)
and the Aquinos:
In 1982 I went to Boston and covered Ninoy almost eight months before his assassination. On his return to Manila in 1983 I was the first Filipino photographer on the plane with Ninoy until he was assassinated at the NAIA. I was the only photographer to ship out film. Kung natatandaan niyo yung P500 na kuha ni Ninoy na nakaganoon, it was my photo. And the picture of Ninoy [after he] was shot on the tarmac, it was also my photograph. It was a good thing I had with me my American reporter. Noong nangyari yung assassination siya na lang ang pumunta sa Hong Kong. I gave him the film kaya iyon ang nakalabas at iyon ang ginamit ng Time, ng Newsweek.
With Mrs. Aquino hindi ako nahirapan kasi I had all the privilege as her personal and official photographer, for six years. I had to shoot her inside the Presidential office anytime. I was able to shoot the whole family, yung mga apo niya, her daughters, and Congressman Noynoy. Everything I shot iyon din yung kanyang calendar photos at family photos or for press release. Everytime she'd go out of town and Manila or out of the country, state visit, working visit, I was always there. Pagbukas mo ng pinto nandoon na ko. Ginagawa ko yung album ng mga litrato ng visits sa provinces, ng mga officials sa Malacañang, and some foreign countries na aming nabiyahe. And the family. During the Holy Week, the whole family goes to La Union for swimming. May kuha akong nagswiswimming siya na ako lang talaga nandodoon. It's not for public use. All the negatives kase nasa kanya. She'd buy her own film. It was not the government's money. She'd pay everything, for the film, for the prints. (same)
Ben Rosario on covering Erap the Mayor:
I covered Erap nung mayor pa lang siya. I was the president ng press corps ng northern district, from Valenzuela to San Juan, Quezon City. Ganun na talaga si Erap, pikon, lasenggo, babaero. He was very protective sa mga tao niya, sa mga katabi niya, sa mga pulis niya. Actually, binibira namin siya then sa juetengan at sabungan, dahil very rampant ang sugalan. It seemed that he didn't want to do anything about it. Iniisnob niya yung media and iilan lang naman kami. Kapag tinanong mo, minsan hindi ka sasagutin. (Siy 1999)
Leah Salterio-Gatdula on junkets:
I attended Warner Brothers' junket to promote Apollo13, in Houston. They shouldered everything. I get invitations abroad, usually libre naman lahat yon. Yung most memorable ko was when I interviewed Mel Gibson, my idol, in Kuala Lumpur. Kasi talagang super idol ko, sabi ko magpapakamatay ako pag di ako nasama sa junket na yon. I interviewed him was for the movie Conspiracy Theory. In Houston I got to interview Tom Hanks, as in one-on-one. And then I got to visit NASA. I've interviewed the Spice Girls in Bali in April 1997 when they were still intact. I was invited to watch the filming of Tomorrow Never Dies in Bangkok as backdrop for Vietnam, and its Asian premiere in Tokyo where I interviewed Pierce Brosnan.
When Thelma [San Juan] was around, I got so many opportunities, like all the trips abroad, the junkets, one after the other, because she was so unselfish. She really let me go on all these junkets. Parang wala siyang insecurity na kahit na ikaw imbitahin personally, kahit siya yung editor, okay lang yung sa kanya. (Sy 1999)
Jenny Santiago on she had to do to get an interview:
During martial law, a group of Samar priests walked out of their jobs because of the arrest of their colleagues. These priests were suspected of being communist supporters, if not communists. I was already working with Tempo, the tabloid of Manila Bulletin. I went to Samar with Yvonne Chua of the [Philippines Daily] Express and we were able to get an exclusive interview with Father Kangleon while he was in military detention. But to do that, I pretended to be the cousin of Kangleon whom I hadn't met before. Yvonne and I were accompanied another priest from Samar, one of Kangleon's colleagues. We were first interviewed by the military officer in charge of Kangleon. While I was being questioned about my background, the priest who accompanied us was really shaking. We were offered coffee. Nagra-rattle yung kanyang coffee cup. Nanginginig siya while taking his coffee. Ako naman, okay lang. Of course I didn't say we were from media. I said, "I'm an Ateneo law student and my cousin, I understand, is detained here." (Lagman and Misa 2000)
Ana Santos on being caught in the crossfire:
I was covering for the SPD then and we were told that government troops were positioned on the corner of Roxas boulevard and MIA road, and they were expecting the group of Gringo [Honasan]. The government troops were bracing up for a confrontation. With other reporters, I went there and we were interviewing the government troops. After a few minutes, we decided to leave. Suddenly firefight erupted between the soldiers and rebels. This Manila Times reporter bigla akong hinatak. Siguro nakita niya na wala akong direksyon. Hindi ko alam kung saan ako tatakbo. Closed na yung mga establishments. Meroong parang stairs na may mababang fence, doon kami yumuko para huwag kami tamaan. Pagtigil ng putukan, may mga wounded na soldiers and some of them yung kausap pa namin, including the officer we were interviewing. Despite my brush with death, kahit ganoon natakot pa ako. When I was to file this story, sinabi nilang sarado na yung pahina. Bale wala rin. (Santos 1999)
Vicente Tirol on the early days of martial law:
After a year at The Asian in Hong Kong I rejoined the Manila Times in August 1972. In September, Martial Law was declared. I was working at the newsdesk the night the paper was shut down. A colleague working that shift told us later that when the military came they stopped the presses, hung up the phones and padlocked the premises. My colleague was quite naïve and asked the soldiers, "Pwede ba, can you just let us finish the printing of the paper?" Of course not, they said. I lost my job just like all the others. If you wanted to return to work in a newspaper, you had to fill up a form requesting for clearance to work as a journalist. They would see whether you were subversive or critical of Marcos. In my case they didn't even acknowledge my request for clearance. I heard about how censors were working in the newspapers, military men sitting around the news desk to look at all the stories and saying which couldn't be used, which should go in. Then they got tired of that and put up a civilian censor. They also got tired of that, so everyday someone from Malacañang press office would what the headline would be. "Hindi pwede yan, baguhin ninyo yan. Whose picture is on the front page? Hindi pwede yan. Ilagay si Imelda. You have a story about demonstration? Hindi pwede yan. A story about a military casualties, di pwede yan." I couldn't work under these conditions so I chose not to go back to the newspapers. (Arguelles 1999)
Sol Vanzi on her first hard-news assignment:
Kinausap ko si Mr. Joe Luna Castro, at ang sabi ko, “Pwede ho kayang bigyan nyo naman ako ng news assignment? Masyadong pangbabae ang art critic. Not challenging enough for me.” Sagot nya, “Sige! Gusto mo bang kumober ng hard news? Koberan mo yung election sa Ilocos Sur.” Tuwang-tuwa naman ako. Imagine, Ilocos Sur? Doon lang ako makaka-out of town. Di ko naman alam na wala palang tumatanggap ng assignment ng Ilocos Sur elections. Patayan! Barilan! Ala-5 pa lang ng hapon nakasarado na lahat ng bahay. But I went. Pinanindigan ko na, I had to learn how to speak Iloko in one week.
Hindi Manila Times ang nagbigay ng baril sa akin kundi NBI. On election nakita ko itong mayor ng Sta. Catalina, Ilocos Sur. Ayaw niyang ipaboto ang hindi niya botante. Sabi ko, "News ito!" I took my camera out and started taking pictures of him. Nakasuot pa siya ng uniform ng PC Rangers. Meron siyang baril at saka ang dami niyang bodyguard. Naka-itim silang lahat. Tinututukan nila yung mga di nila kakampi at di pinapaboto. Saka ako nagkukuha ng pictures. He told me to stop, but I said, "Hindi pwede, press freedom! It’s my right. The public has to know." Binaril ako! Buti na lang nagtago ako sa likod ng momumento. We were in a public plaza. But he was not intending to kill me. We were friends by then dahil nakita niya ako at naguusap na kami. Tinamaan ako sa left knee at sa right thigh. Dalawang bala. I stopped. Tapos I walked away. Di ko pa nafi-feel yung pain. Ganun pala yun. Tago muna. Nakita ko na hindi na niya ako pinansin. Maya-maya hindi na ako makatindig. Para na'ng bali ang paa ko. Dinala ako sa clinic at ini-stitch ako. I had to go back to Manila. Di na ako makalakad e. But it was all part of the job. As a matter of fact it wasn’t even, "Wow pare, nabaril ako!" Wala yun e. (Pascual 1999)
On martial law:
Inannounce ang martial law September 23. Nandun ako sa office ni Kit Tatad. May binigay sa akin si Kit. Typewritten tapos maraming sulat ni Marcos. Maraming mga pinapalitan, maraming sinisingit. Sabi ko, “Ah sa Teleprompter. Meron tayo non, hindi pa nagagamit kahit kelan.” “Sige, type-in mo yan.” Wow, important! Ako ang unang-unang nakahipo ng proclamation ng martial law. Umaga yon. Nahanap ko yung typewriter, walang ribbon! Kasi walang gumagamit, hindi pa nase-setup. Wala yung may hawak ng ribbon dahil nag-martial law, hindi pumasok. Naghanap ako ng palakol. Nagsira ako ng mga lockers hanggang mahanap ko yung ribbon. Tapos gabi na namin natype. Kaya dapat yung martial law proclamation nabasa sa umaga; gabi na nabasa. Dahil lang sa ribbon.
On the 1986 snap election
[As a staff member of the Malacañang Press Office] I was the one who arranged the live interview via satellite with David Brinkley when Marcos was forced by the State Department to announce that there would be a "snap election." Dun ko nalaman na it was not Marcos who announced it. The State Department people had called him in the afternoon and told him that he would be ousted if he did not announce a snap election...
In my opinion, American-orchestrated yun. David Brinkley and ABC news made it appear na pinikon lang si Marcos para mapikon at sabihing, “Sige, kung gusto niyo ng eleksyon eh di eleksyon.” Actually nakasulat na yung script 2:30 p.m., although the interview was at midnight. So, it was not spontaneous. Sabi sa akin ni Hermie Rivera at Cip Roxas, who were answering the phones in the study room of the President, that afternoon tumawag ang State Department tapos galit na galit si Marcos pagkababa ng telepono. Nagdictate si Marcos ng press release ng snap elections but he did not want it to appear na bigla lang niya in-announce. Kailangan magkukunyari na may nang-pikon sa kanya, may nag-dare sa kanya.
