Conching Sunico, who was so vital, so full of joie de vivre, had passed away. She was ill for a few months, then she died. It seemed that our group was dwindling away slowly but surely. There was Peggy Lim, P.L. Lim’s second wife who was such a happy person, who died in a plane crash, so young, what a waste; Minna Gaberman, wife of Benny Gaberman who was with the stock exchange; then Paching Gana who was Conching’s cousin; then Chona Kasten. We felt like the 10 Little Indians and then there were none. Chito Madrigal Collantes and I are the only ones still here.
Conching had been a Miss Philippines. From then on, she was sought after and became one of the most popular girls in Manila.
She had many suitors who were no match for her. She was a strong and independent woman. She gave the orders and everyone followed.
Since the time I met her, she was involved in charity work. Throughout most of her grown-up life she produced fashion shows, different kinds of benefits, concerts, balls, etc. for the Community Chest, the Red Feather and the Anti-TB Society. Conching was so well-known that she could get anyone in society to take part, sell tickets, help out, so that the benefits were always a success. Some of the women from the Spanish community in society like Jessie Zulueta, Muchi Brias, Maruja Roxas and Gloria Zobel Padilla were always there for her. Gloria was a dear friend of Chona and mine. They’re all gone now.
The last years of her life she dedicated to the Manila Symphony Society and the preservation of the Metropolitan Theater, which was the theater where she staged her musicals, many of them in Spanish, a language she spoke fluently. Towards the end, she was putting up her own money to pay the musicians of the Symphony Orchestra and to keep the Metropolitan in arrears.
There has been no one that I know who can organize any kind of benefit with such know-how, glamour and pizzazz. Now, our dear "Mother Hen" is gone.
Chona, Chito and I called her mother hen because she always used to keep us in check. She would admonished us when she thought we did something wrong or when she thought we were out of hand.