A short 1930s film: Manila, Queen of the Pacific

Old American Manila, Philippines. Most notable are the neat clothes that everyone was wearing. (Get a load of those ladies wearing Ternos!) Also, views of old neighborhoods and buildings that no longer exist due to being destroyed in World War Two.

Sites from the Book: Manila Carnivals: 1908 to 1939

"In 1935, Pinky decided that she wanted to be Carnival Queen."

One of the things that the Americans colonists were good at: Public Relations. Within 10 years of winning the islands of the Philippines from the Spanish, they started an annual Manila Carnival that was somewhat based on a typical American State Fair. It featured the best of Agriculture, Industry, and Business. It had rides and games and exhibitions. And of course, lots of competitions, including the selection of the Carnival Queen.

This was a big deal. Young ladies from all over the Islands came to compete for the crown. Tears were shed, hearts (and wallets) were broken.

But better you get that story from the brilliant website of Alex. R. Castro: Manila Carnivals, where you will be drawn in to a whole world that is now gone-with-the-wind. This site is huge and you can spend days reading the well researched articles and viewing rare photographs. You can almost smell the popcorn.

I came upon this site while doing research for The Yellow Bar. This is where I got the first idea of the character Auntie Pinky, and who she really was. My Pinky would make it to the Carnival, but not as a beauty queen; the real winner that year was Conchita Sunico, who is mentioned in the book, and is on the second photo on the left.

Today in the Philippines, beauty and talent contests are part of its culture. In fact, it borders on obsession- from the small barrio fiesta queens to the oh-so-important Miss Philippines pageant. (I have personally witnessed everything from Best Baby to Best Female Impersonator.) I wonder if it all started with the Manila Carnivals?

Thank you Alex (and Ms Sunico) for the inspiration!

Photos courtesy of Alex R. Castro.

Sites in the Book: San Augustin Church

"You don't happen to know Ave Maria, do you?" 

Click photo to see large version.

If walls could talk, then I would press my ear against the San Augustin Church. It is one of Manila's oldest structures, and still stands relatively intact since it was built in 1586. With its history, this is nothing short of a miracle. 

Take a look at the photo on the left. See the little red circle? What you see is the only building left standing in the destroyed walled-city of Intramuros: San Augustin. All the other buildings (including the Manila Cathedral and 5 other churches) were pulverized into dust during the Battle of Manila. 

But that's just part of the story. The site was consecrated as a house of worship in the 1570s. This was the time of Spanish conquistadors, whom strutted around wearing iron armor in the tropical heat. Manila wasn't much more than a wooden fort on the bay, and most of the invaders spent their time searching for gold, or converting the native Filipinos into Catholicism. Business was good; they decided to stay. Entombed in the church are some of the city's founders: Miguel López de Legazpi, Juan de Salcedo and Martín de Goiti. They lie here still in Baroque splendor.

 

San Augustin has witnessed and survived Chinese pirates, looting by the British in 1762, earthquakes, floods, riots, fires, assorted plagues, and the Spanish-American War in 1898. (The peace treaty was signed here.) But its real trial-by-fire came during World War Two.

18 February 1945: Most of the Japanese Army has retreated into the walled-city. They are surrounded by the American Army, whose high powered shells are ripping into Intramuros. Homes, schools, hospitals- everything is exploding and crumbling to dust. The Japanese are killing any civilian they see: men, women, children, infants. Not satisfied, they enter churches and hospitals, massacring everyone in sight. They come to San Augustin Church, where many people have taken refuge, and round up some 125 men, including 37 priests. They are marched a few blocks to the front of Manila Cathedral. There, they are forced into underground air-raid bunkers and buried alive. Only six would survive.

Somehow, (by God or Good Luck) San Augustin remained standing. Even the magnificent trompe l’oeil has ceiling survived. The church still functions today, and is the place to go for a big, fat, Filipino wedding. If you’re ever in Manila, come take a look at this jewel of a Baroque church and the adjacent museum. And remember, you are on sacred ground.

B/W photos courtesy of John T. Pilot.

Sites in the Book: Malate Church

"Auntie," I said, "Get ready to run."

A mere twenty steps away from the the Aristocrat Restaurant is a small park that borders the Malate Church. This baroque-style church and open area have enjoyed the same view of Manila Bay since the sixteenth century, when it was built by the Augustinian friars. The Malate district was originally a small fishing village, but as the years passed it was swallowed up by the city of Manila. At the time of the Japanese invasion, the area was a very fashionable suburb, consisting of Filipino elites, American colonists and even some old pensioners from the Spanish days. Imagine tree-lined streets, gardens and fashionable mansions. 

Malate Church 1930s

In the 1940s, the parish was run by Irish priests and the church services were in English. These priests (who, like most chaplains were not interned by the Japanese) were instrumental in helping the imprisoned foreign nationals in Bilibid and Santo Tomas prison camps, providing food, medicine, news, and of course, spiritual guidance. 

Horrible things happened here in February 1945. The Malate district was caught between the battling Americans and Japanese. (Now imagine this beautiful neighborhood being bombarded from both sides: burning houses, trees with their leaves blown off, and screaming, panicked families searching for safety...) Many residents fled to the Malate Church, hoping for sanctuary.  They would not find any.  Periodically, the Japanese would enter the church, round up all the males in the square, and take them all away, never to be seen again. This included the Irish priests, who are believed to have been bayonetted to death along with the others. 

Malate Church and it’s neighborhood were hammered by the Battle of Manila. The church caught fire and burned down. However, the original walls survived, and it was reconstructed in the 1950s. It is hard to imagine the original Malate district these days; most of the area is now filled with business buildings, bars and high rises. But if you poke around its streets, you’ll still find some old and elegant suburban houses from days gone by.

Click on photos to see larger size. B/W photos courtesy of John T. Pilot.

The Yellow Bar is based on a true story

The Yellow Bar is a work of fiction, but the main story line is based upon true stories my father in-law, Felipe Reynaldo, told me in the 1980s about how he and his family survived World War 2.

Here's the true part:

Felipe's family had the biggest house in Culi-Culi due to the successful notions and home goods store that they had. During the World War Two occupation, the Reynaldo's were kicked out of their home and forced to become servants in their own house for the Japanese pilots. As the war years went on, these pilots would become kamakazi. Felipe (Pepot) was just a child at the time. He told me how the pilots lived, celebrated, and ultimately went to their deaths.

After the horrific Battle of Manila and the return of the Americans, a relative began selling homemade booze (lombanog) to the American GIs and the Yellow Bar was born. The bar ended up being the most popular bar for visiting servicemen in Manila for over 30 years. (The stories he told me about the Americans at the Yellow Bar after the war could make up of book of its own, and may be my sequal one day.) By the time I met and married my wife, Leonor, in the 1980s, the Yellow Bar was long closed and had been converted into the local wet market, but it's art deco entrance still remained– loose chickens, cats and dogs dodged in and out its door. It was intriguing. It deserved a story.

I decided to approach the novel though 10 year old Pepot's eyes- a simple story of how a family survives World War Two. Although it is set in 1940s Philippines, I didn't want it to be an exotic travelog about the wonders of that island nation. (Let a future James Michener write that.) No, it needed to be easy to relate to. Therefore you will find very few Tagalog words and references to quaint social customs, such as balut. The Reynaldo's story could have happened anywhere, to any family.

Manila: 27 February 1945.

B/W photo courtesy of John T. Pilot.

Sites in the Book: Intramuros, the Walled City

The Spanish capital of Manila was born in 1571, by decree of Miguel López de Legazpi. By the 1590s, the first walls of Intramuros (Latin for inner city) began to go up and work continued sporadically until the late 1800s. With walls up to 40 feet thick, on 160 acres on the shores of Manila Bay, the walled city reflected Spain's glory days of exploration and power. Other similar structures from that era can be found in St. Augustine, Florida and San Juan, Puerto Rico, but I think none matched the scale and sublime beauty of Intramuros. As stone-walled forts became impractical (and useless) when military artillery became more powerful, the city began its second life as the cultural cradle of Spain: palaces, government offices and elite homes were built. Schools, universities, and grand baroque churches, including the Manila Cathedral, stood there.

When the Americans took over in 1898, things changed quickly. Land reclamation projects on the bay land-locked the old city, and its surrounding mosquito filled moats were filled in the create a golf course, giving it a park-like appearance. (The picture on the top left gives you a bird's eye view of what it looked like in the 1930s.) As you can see, the Americans went on to create a new Manila– one that looked a bit like Washington, DC.

Enter World War Two and one of the most horrific events of the war. As the month-long Battle of Manila drew to a close, the Japanese holed up behind the walls of Intramuros and refused to surrender. They began slaughtering the native residents of Intramuros: civilian men, women, children, priests and nuns. At 7:30 AM on 23 February 1945, the American Army let loose with everything they had, bombarding Intramuros for exactly an hour, blasting 350 years of art, history and culture into rubble. (Including the Filipinos trapped inside.) Not much was left after it was over. Intramuros looked like a smashed sand castle.

It sat there for years, avoided, neglected and feared for its ghosts. Once again it was First Lady Imelda Marcos who spear-headed a restoration effort who got the blasted walls rebuilt. The work continues oh-so-slowly up to today.

I lived in Manila in the late 1980s, and one of my favorite things to do was walk around in the remains of Intramuros when I was in that part of town. These lonely walks, where I first became aware of what actually happened in World War Two, would later give me the inspiration to write The Yellow Bar.
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The Manila Cathedral had been rebuilt, but that was about all. (With the exception of a tall. ugly 1960s newspaper tower, destroying the sense of scale and history.) In the 80s, it was only safe to go there in the daylight hours, because the ruin of Intramuros was where the homeless and destitute lived. Stray dogs, beggars, burning garbage and weeds owned the site. It was spooky. It still is.

The two color photos are from 2007. Even now, (though a bit cleaner) most of the old walled city is still in ruin and neglect. The main reasons for this is political infighting and budget constraints. However, more and more Filipinos are starting to realize what a neglected treasure it is. Hopefully, this movement will provide the political will to restore the grand dame Intramuros. Or at least give back some of its dignity.



Click on any picture to see a larger image.
B/W photos courtesy of John T. Pilot.

Sites in the Book: The Santa Ana Cabaret

"Santa Ana was where people went to sin..."

It's funny the things one can find when researching for an historical novel. As I searched long and lonely nights on the internet for information about World War Two Manila, I landed at the Santa Ana Cabaret. Yes, it really existed and had a long life in pre-war and post-war Manila. Its owner was John Canson and he advertised his place as the largest cabaret in the world. I don't know if that's true or not, but from the photo below you can see that it was huge. Mr. Canson also had a long and storied history; he was a real gypsy who had a life full of big ups and downs. Bar owner, entrepreneur, POW at Santo Tomas and more. He was an impressive man and deserves a book of his own.  In The Yellow Bar, I gave him a cameo role as the buddy of Eric Lawson while they were interned in the Santo Tomas. (I felt is was the least I could do. Stories like his should not be forgotten.)

There are many conflicting stories about the original Santa Ana: Some say it was nothing but a whore house, others say it was a classy place for a date. (I think it was a mixture of both.) Things I do know: He started the cabaret way back in 1914. The Santa Ana survived the Battle of Manila, probably because it was on the outskirts of town. Mr. Canson re-opened it after the war, and the club stayed intact until a typhoon finally knocked it down in 1970. Wow, that was a long run!

Sites in the Book: Dewey Boulevard

In 1912, a monumental thoroughfare was built...

In the early part of the 20th century, the Americanization of Manila began in earnest. One of the grand plans that came to fruit was Dewey Boulevard, named after Spanish American war hero, Admiral George Dewey. Its original concept came from architect Daniel Burnham, the man responsible for much of the new spatial planning for the cities of Manila, and Baguio City up north. Mr. Burnham was an early proponent of "the City Beautiful" movement which advocated building beautiful cities along scientific lines. One could say that with Dewey Blvd. that he succeeded. The 1930s postcard you see can give you an idea: a sweeping double lane thoroughfare runs along the shore of Manila Bay. Mango and coconut trees were installed to offer shade and protection from the sea. (If you squint your eyes, you can see some beach at the far end.) A favorite thing to do in those days was to cross over to the park, walk its broad sidewalks, fish or swim, and watch the famous sunset over the Bay. It was beautiful and useful, just like Mr. Burnham wanted.

Just before the Battle of Manila in 1945, large sections of Dewey Boulevard were blocked off with barbed wire and heavily guarded, so that it could be used as an emergency aircraft landing field. This would severely hamper escape from Manila by its residents.

Flash forward to the 21st century. Dewey Boulevard is still there, however in the 1960s it was renamed Roxas Blvd. in honor of President Manuel Roxas, the 5th president of the Philippines. That's not the only thing that's changed; since the war there have have been many land reclamation projects that continue up to this day. Large parts of the boulevard are no longer on the Bay. I have mixed feelings about this, because a lot of the beauty has left. However, Manila is on its way to becoming a "super city" and the needs of its citizens come first. Dewey/Roxas doesn't look that special any more. (However, it's still one of the easiest and fastest roads to navigate in Metro Manila.) If you have the time, park your car (I recommend near Malate Church) and carefully cross over the boulevard to Manila Bay. If a breeze is blowing and the air is clear, it can still be a pleasant sight.

Sites in the Book: The Metropolitan Theater

"It sat there alone in the moonlight, looking like a magnificent art deco birthday cake."

You may have noticed by now that several locations in The Yellow Bar still survive to this day. Over 90% of Manila's buildings were reduced to rubble. All the others were shot or burned to hell. The Manila Metropolitan Theater is one of the survivors. Just barely, but I'll tell you about that in a minute.

The MET was built in 1924 and no expense was spared; it was a palace made out of marble, wood and stained glass. Italian and Filipino artists heavily decorated the theater with sculptures and reliefs. It was (and still is) an art deco masterpiece.

The MET stayed open through most of the Japanese occupation, staging plays, operas and variety shows. It was heavily damaged in the Battle of Manila but was quickly repaired after the war.

But by the 1970s, she was not looking too good and there was talk of the MET meeting the wrecking ball, as the Metropolitan is on a prime piece of real estate on the heart of Manila. Once again, First Lady Imelda Marcos (Love her or hate her, she was a patron of Philippine arts.) came to the rescue and had the MET restored.

Things were fine until the Philippine Revolution of 1986 kicked the Marcos out from power. Funding was lost and the theater once again went back into ruin. The fine garden behind the theater was converted into a bus terminal. Political infighting almost doomed the Metropolitan but 2010 it seems  that a compromised was reached. The theater has been renovated and there are plans to keep her running as a legitimate theater. However, I must say this: Manila is not known for being kind to its historical sites. Real estate speculators (those snakes in the grass) have no love for history. For example, in 2000, the historical Manila Jai Alai was demolished upon the orders of Mayor Lito Atienza to make way for a project that that never built. I hope that there is enough political will to keep the Metropolitan standing for hundreds of years to come.

Interior of the Metropolitan after restoration.

B&W photos compliments of John T Pilot.
Click on any image to see a larger version.

UPDATE 2013

Below are three new photos of the Metropolitan Theater that I took on my Manila December 2012 trip. I went early on an early Sunday morning to avoid the traffic. I found a lonely standalone building with no one around. Buses are now using the driveway for impromptu pick-ups. Weeds are growing in its cracks and paper trash is building up in several corners. It doesn't look like it has been used in a long time. At this point, all it will take is a stray cigarette butt to set the whole place on fire.

A shadow of its former self.

This is one of the most historical and beautiful buildings in Manila. I can't for the life of me understand why it has been abandoned so. All the new, trendy towers and malls that are now being built in Manila haven't got half the glamour of the Met. In any other city, this jewel box would be THE place for shows, ceremonies and other events.

If anyone has any information on groups or individuals that are actively trying to save the Met, please feel free to email me or post a link here. Maybe it's not too late.

Broken stained glass window

Paper Fire Traps

Memorare Manila

In the heart of old city of Manila, Intramuros, you will find this memorial to Manila's World War Two civilian war dead. It's quite a contrast to the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial, with its stately placed rows of white crosses and manicured lawns.

The Memorare Memorial was only unveiled in 1995, some 40 years after the war. It was created by artist sculptor Peter Guzman. It is an emotional tableaux you will see-  a modern-day pieta actually. I have been there several times. It sits in a small, quiet garden. Some days there are small bouquets of flowers placed lovingly on the figures by people unknown.

These are the photos I took during my last trip to Manila in December 2012. Read it and weep.

Click to see larger image.

Sites In The Book: Manila Central Post Office

"Little puffs of smoke danced on the neoclassical facade."

One of the most beautiful buildings that survived World War Two is the Manila Central Post Office. Built in the 1920s by Juan M. Arellano, the building resembles the grand post offices found in Chicago and New York. This is not an accident, as the Americans wanted Manila to reflect their own image. 

The photo you see here was taken just after the battle and it was basically just a burnt out shell, but was still standing. Amazingly, other government buildings still stood after the battle. The reason for this is because they were built with the strongest materials available, to be earthquake proof. (Reinforced concrete is as hard as stone.) This would prove to be a big problem for the American GIs when they were trying to flush out the Japanese fighters hidden inside.

Soon after the war, the Post Office was restored and up until this posting in 2012, still goes about the daily routine of delivering the mail. Recently however, there has been talk of converting this icon into a 5 star hotel. I do not like this idea because it would limit access to the public. Only the elite would be able to walk its halls. A cultural icon such this deserves better treatment. If the Manila Central Post Office is now redundant, wouldn't it make better sense to convert it into a museum? Perhaps a museum dedicated to the Battle of Manila?

Sites in the Book: Neilson Field

"It was Neilson Field that made my family rich."

The area where the Reynaldos lived outside of Manila is called Makati. It has had many different spellings over the years, and the meaning of the word is still debated until this day. (I tend to believe the Spanish version which translates roughly into: hot mosquito plagued swamp.) For hundreds of years, not many people choose to live there, other than farmers.

Things started to change when Neilson Field, Manila's first private airport, was built there in the  1937. Suddenly, elite "high flyers" were landing in Makati from all over the parts of the Philippine archipelago, Asia and the rest of the world. However, this all ended in 1941 with the invasion of the Japanese. Neilson was turned into a Japanese military installation. Towards the end of the war, kamikaze pilots would launch from here. This post-war photo shows what it looked like. Notice the wrecked Japanese planes. (Click the photo to see a larger version.) The building inside the red circle is the control tower and terminal. It survives unto this day.

This is what the Makati area looked like in 2011. Big difference, huh? Neilson Field did not last long after the war. Manila was practically destroyed and many people, especially the rich ones, decided to homestead in Makati where it was prettier and safer. The original runways became the main boulevards of Paseo de Roxas and Ayala Avenue. It is now the most expensive real estate in the Philippines. The control tower and terminal still stand in a small park at the intersections and are used as a museum today. (Click on the photo to see the tiny building inside the red circle.)