MUST READ: Young journalists and those who want to peek into the Malacañang menagerie must read the book “From Macapagal to Macapagal-Arroyo” written by Carmen “Ching” Suva after she retired as Press Undersecretary in 2004.
Ching, she says of herself, is not a writer. Nor a historian like her great lolo Epifanio delos Santos, I might add. But her work, while not literary, is a writer’s delight and a valuable historical document.
She takes us on a journey of 42 years on a presidential train that had among its distinguished passengers Diosdado Macapagal, Ferdinand Marcos, Cory Aquino, Fidel Ramos, Erap Estrada and Gloria Arroyo. She served all six.
Her career line is straight and uncluttered. She started as an office secretary in 1962 equipped with a manual typewriter and rose to become Press Undersecretary and “Tita Ching” to her brood of Malacañang reporters.
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INSIGHTS: The presidency is largely a matter of relating to and communicating with the people. That makes the Office of the Press Secretary, where Ching served the press and the public, crucial to the presidency.
The book’s straightforward narrative flashes insights into what made each president a unique communicator. Without intending it, the book also explains why Ching had endeared herself to presidents, press secretaries and the working press.
Before I forget, the book is available at the National Book Store and the La Solidaridad bookshop.
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MARCOS U.S. VISIT: In Chapter 9, Ching recounts the Marcos state visit to the United States in early autumn of 1982. The Philippines was then under martial rule.
She was with a Malacañang team tasked with ensuring that the media coverage did not stray from the guidelines or result in anything that would steal the thunder from Marcos.
She mentioned two incidents that nearly upset the elaborate plans:
1. Then opposition operative Sonny Alvarez stole books and publications displayed in a Honolulu pavilion where Marcos was to address an international gathering of media moguls and replaced them with anti-Marcos literature.
2. Exiled opposition leader Ninoy Aquino walked into the Holiday Inn in Washington, DC, where the media were billeted. Apparently he wanted to engage newsmen, many of whom were his close friends.
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ENCOUNTER: On pages 62-64, Ching recalled among other things that Federico “Dick” Pascual, then of the Daily Express, broke the rules and talked to Ninoy in the hotel lobby — and even followed him the next day to Boston.
Without meaning to dispute Ching’s narration of Manila media’s awkward encounter with Ninoy at the hotel, I must say that I do not remember having talked to him when he strode into the lobby.
But then that was some 30 long years ago and Ching must have kept some notes while I did not.
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LOBBY SNUB: What I remember is that when Ninoy approached the table where Doroy Valencia (“Over a Cup of Coffee”) was holding court, Doroy’s fellow-Batangueño Joe Guevara (“Point of Order”) looked on expectantly — but was ignored.
Snubbing him was probably Ninoy’s way of expressing pain and resentment over the unkind cuts in Joe’s column in the Bulletin Today.
Many senior newsmen who were quite close to Ninoy must have been intimidated by Marcos’ eyes and ears all over the place, so thought it best to get scarce when word got around that he was coming.
I was shocked by their being afraid to be seen with Ninoy, an old friend and unfailing newsmaker.
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SOLO FLIGHT: But Ching’s report was correct that I detached myself from them the day after. There was this inner compulsion to talk to Ninoy even if I had to seek him out in his Boston base.
I discussed my plan with fellow Timesman Maning Silva then covering for a foreign wire service (I think VizNews). He agreed to fly with me to Boston with his gear and score a scoop on film.
With my light overcoat and a shoulder bag with the bare essentials for a parachute interview, I went down to the lobby very early the next morning.
But when Maning failed to show up, and with security’s omnipresence making my heart race, I decided to move fast and risk a solo flight.
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RENDEZVOUS: To shake off anybody who might tail me, I ran across the street, walked briskly several blocks in an irregular pattern as I moved away from the hotel.
When I spotted a traffic light about to turn green, I jumped into a cab, told the driver to step on it and make a quick right turn. We then rushed to the airport.
I joined a queue boarding a flight to Boston. I paid cash to the stewardess who worked the aisle like a bus conductor.
As I sat back, I felt sure Marcos’ boys were unable to follow or to guess that one of their wards was on his way to rendezvous with the dictator’s nemesis.
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COMUSTA NA?: Being on my first trip to Boston, I relied mostly on my instincts as a Boy Scout, a former travel editor and a newspaperman.
First thing I did upon emerging in the Baggage Claim area was look for a phone and call Ninoy.
“Where are you?” he asked. “Here in Boston,” I said, “at the airport.” “Where at the airport?” “Don’t know exactly, but I’m now outside Baggage Claim.” “Stay there, I’ll get you.”
In a short while, a small car stopped in front of me, the front window rolled down — and there was Ninoy waving and telling me to get on. He was alone, at the wheel.
After the quick “Comusta na, pare?”, “Okay naman”, “How is Marcos?”, “Not so okay”, he drove on while we continued to catch up on each other’s situation.
(NB: I ended up staying overnight at Ninoy’s place. I want to detail what we talked about and did, etc., so I’ll pick up the story in coming Postscripts — time and memory permitting.)
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