To Ethel Ramos with love and gratitude

August 1 is the day we are told to be careful because this is the start of the ghost month  when danger is said to be lurking around.

Aug. 1 is also the anniversary of the Bureau of Internal Revenue  and so we should really be careful… about paying our taxes, I mean.

Aug. 1, however, takes on a celebratory mood in local showbiz when industry members are one in greeting happy birthday to the lady dean of entertainment journalism, Ethel Ramos.

A UST journalism graduate, Ethel initially used her full name Ethelwolda at the start of her career that also included writing stories for komiks  one of which I know was even turned into a film.

But she made a deeper impact writing showbiz news and commentaries and for decades now had been known and respected for her credibility. She also branched out into movie public relations and eventually managing talents.

Aug. 1 was actually a day that brought so much life and color to Escolta from the ’70s till the ’90s. This was when everyone trooped to Ethel’s office called El Oro in a building in one of Escolta’s side streets.

But why was it called El Oro? The way I know it, it used to be the office of the film production outfit of Elizabeth Oropesa (thus the name El Oro) and Ethel never bothered to change it when she eventually took over after the actress stopped producing films.

El Oro was a convenient hangout for everyone involved in making movies in those days  when film production and booking offices were still located in the Escolta district. In fact, it wasn’t unusual to see the likes of Gina Alajar and Armida Siguion-Reyna walking on the streets of Escolta back then since film previews were also held in private screening rooms there.

I was still doing practicum work when I was first introduced to Ethel and eventually found my way to El Oro. I was with TV Times and was initially assigned to do the cultural beat that included dinner theaters that were fashionable in those days.

To work out the cultural calendar spread, I was constantly on the phone with Cory Quirino and Charisse Chuidian (I recall that her name was still hyphenated), who were public relations managers of big hotels then. Weekly, I was on the phone with Joy Virata and my editor was aghast that I casually called her Joy when she was the wife of the Prime Minister then, Cesar Virata.

The scope of my duties was expanded when most of the other writers began leaving the publication and from the cultural scene, I was also made to cover what was happening in the world of entertainment.

How do you do that? Call El Oro. Initially, I talked to Emma Guevara, Ethel’s secretary for the longest time. One day, I found myself speaking to Ethel herself and I had no idea that she was the empress because she sounded so friendly and never made an attempt to intimidate an ignorant newcomer like me who was then still unsure with the ways of show business. Then as always she tried to be helpful.

When I was asked by one of the senior writers to get the score between Joseph Estrada and Perla Bautista when they were made a romantic item (again  after two decades) as part of the promo of the movie Kumander Alibasbas, I called up Ethel to confirm that bit of news.

I wasn’t done with my first question when Ethel  sans fanfare  told me at the other end of the line: “Here, talk to the girlfriend.” In less than a flash of a second, I was indeed talking to Perla Bautista, who cheerfully engaged me in conversation.

That was when I realized that everything you need and want to know  you get from Ethel and El Oro.

Then came that time I was invited to the fabled day  Aug. 1. Ethel and I had not met personally and she had to call me up to tell me of that day of showbiz days (of course, she didn’t make much of it  like it was just an ordinary event). Normally, you don’t need an invitation to that birthday gathering, but I was new and had yet to be indoctrinated in its unwritten ways.

I got the direction to go to El Oro and that was easy since my dad held office for years in the same street  but on the other side of Escolta. And then I needed a gift. For ladies’ needs, all I had to do back then was check out my mom’s personal department store in her room. She had a closet where she kept items that always came useful during last-minute emergencies  like in that case, Ethel’s birthday.

What size is she? Mother, the personal department store owner doubling as sales clerk wanted to know. No idea. We had not met. She pulled out a red silk bathrobe that fit all. I had it wrapped and Ethel on the day of her birthday said she didn’t expect it, especially since I wasn’t making my own money yet.

She also had to excuse herself because she could not attend exclusively to me since there were several (and I mean many, many other) guests who kept coming in and out of the El Oro office, which wasn’t exactly very spacious and I still wonder in my head how we all fit in there during those many first days of August.

Ethel did not have to provide me with entertainment. Movie stars kept trooping in and the glamour of it all kept me dazzled. There was also food galore and Ethel need not prepare anything, except for the laing that came from her house, and dishes, desserts and drinks kept pouring in like those sprouted from a cornucopia.

I can never forget that giant cauldron of oxtail kare-kare Imelda Ilanan (pre-Maricel Laxa days) sent. It was enough to feed all the armies that fought in the Pacific, Korean and Vietnam wars.

Not even the internal revenue can make an accounting of the boxes and boxes of cakes that had poured in during all those Aug. 1 birthday celebrations of Ethel. And the number of slices I ate.

The last Aug. 1 party I attended in El Oro was in 1994. Ethel moved out of that Escolta building after the mid-’90s. I also left for the US around that time and since I came back slightly more than a decade ago, I became clueless about the celebration. I hear they had moved it to restaurants since  for sure no longer in a scale that big.

Those Aug. 1 El Oro birthday celebrations for Ethel I now miss. It may be a tradition gone, but I feel lucky to have caught its heyday.

And I feel most fortunate to have met Ethel early in my career. Happy birthday, Ethel! Thank you for guiding me and lighting the way for me in those days of blissful ignorance. I would not have stayed this long in a profession I have learned to love if not for your early guidance.

This greeting may be a day late, but here’s to you, Ethel, with much love and gratitude.