By
Philip M. Lustre Jr.
(Nota Bene: Last week, or June 23, I bought a copy of the book, “Arsenio H. Lacson of
Manila,” which happens to be the biography of the colorful former Manila mayor.
It is authored not by a historian, but a once Riyadh-based Filipino overseas
bank worker named Amador Brioso Jr. I did not regret spending P495 to acquire a
copy. It was a well-written book by a professional banker. Proof: It won the
National Book Award in 2016.
I
am not new to this guy. The name Arsenio H. Lacson first came into my
consciousness, when I heard Paeng Yabut interviewing then Manila Mayor Arsenio Lacson over
his spat with a certain Marcelino Calinawan Jr., whom then President Carlos P.
Garcia assigned to probe the reported massive corruption at the Bureau of
Customs (it’s a pity that this
corruption issue still nags that office after 55 years). That was in 1960. Lacson challenged
Calinawan to a gun duel at the Rizal Park on a designated day and time after
the latter made a public statement to say that his father Roman was an
illegitimate son of grandfather Hilario, a fairly rich landowner, who fathered several
kids out of wedlock.
“Ang
pagkakasala ng aking mga magulang ay hindi ko pagkakasala (the fault of my
parents is not my fault), Lacson thundered in heavily Visayan accented Tagalog
over the airwaves. It was a single line statement that still reverberates in my
ears whenever I come across the name Arsenio H. Lacson. On April 15, 1962, an Easter Sunday, Lacson died suddenly of a heart attack. I vividly remember
the morose faces of my mother, my Lola Feliza, and uncles, who all harbored the
opinion that Lacson was too good to die quite young.
I
don’t possess memories of personal encounters. I was eight years old when he
died. The many things that I have had heard about him came from secondary
sources, mostly older journalists, whom I had the opportunity to interact, when
I became a journalist. From those colleagues, I came to learn that Lacson was
also a journalist before he launched his political career – and he wrote well. These
people showered me with kindness their insights of the man. Practically every
colleague held him in high esteem. They had high respect for the man, as they
spoke glowingly of him.
From
the late Benedicto “Ben” David, son of the illustrious human rights lawyer Juan
T. David, and who used to represent NBC News, U.S.-based network, during the
dark days of the Marcos dictatorship, I have learned that Lacson was “the best
president the Philippines never had.” Ben David (he should not be mistaken with
a deceased radio talent who had the same name) told me that if Lacson did not
die early, Ferdinand Marcos, the president and eventual dictator, would not be president
because Lacson was more popular than him. Lacson would surely beat him in honest,
clean, and orderly elections, he told me.
But
what enthralled me with Ben David’s recollections of Lacson was his frequent
use of the nickname “Mambo” whenever he referred to Lacson. I did not bother to
ask Ben about such term of endearment. I heard the same nickname from other
colleagues. It was much later did I learn that Lacson earned it from
journalists, who noticed that he could dance the Latin dance “mambo” with
unparalleled grace and skill. Somehow, that nickname had stuck even after his
untimely death.
From
Teddy Benigno, the Agence France Presse’s’ Manila bureau chief, who later
became Cory Aquino’s press secretary, I learned that Mambo (yes, he used the
same endearing nickname to refer to Lacson), died a poor man, leaving his
family in almost penniless state. Despite his high political profile and vast
powers as Manila mayor, Lacson left nothing but a good name to his family, which
had to fend for themselves to survive after his untimely death.
From
the late Joaquin “Chino” Roces, publisher of the pre-martial law Manila Times
and the revived post-Marcos Manila Chronicle, I gathered that Lacson was an intrepid
and fearless man, a larger than life political figure, who stood against
practically every president. He was never afraid of any politician of his era.
Likewise, the late columnist Ben Lara of Manila Bulletin, the late writer
Maning Almario, and other older colleagues liked to regale younger colleagues
like me with vignettes about the guy they all preferred to call Mambo.
The
following is my book review of Brioso’s book about Arsenio H. Lacson, whom many
politicians called “Arsenic” for his hard hitting style and profane tongue.
This is for the millennials, many of whom hardly know our history. This is also
for other netizens, who need to update their knowledge about this guy.)
(Part
One)
NO,
SIRS and mams, the distinction of being a colorful political leader does not
belong to President Rodrigo Duterte, but to Arsenio H. Lacson, who was mayor of
Manila for 11 years to cover 1951-1962.
While
they are both profane and irreverent, Duterte is vulgar, who uses gutter, or “imburnal,”
language without feeling guilty. Duterte personifies ill breeding and lack of
culture, or reflects the mentality of a typical lumpen proletariat, or a dreg of
society, Duterte insults the helpless and powerless, or even women, but keeps
quiet, or appears cowardly, on people, who bear arms and, ergo, exude power.
Lacson,
who was “Arsenic” to friends and foes alike, but “Mambo” to working journalists,
who liked his sweeter side, was the exact opposite. Although prone to give acidic remarks at the
slightest provocation, Lacson possessed the gift of language, using
Shakepearean prose whenever he criticized the high and mighty, and the corrupt
and powerful. He had tremendous following among the best and the brightest, or
even the less fortunate and the downtrodden among our people, making him a
perennial presidential timber during election time.
According
to Amador F. Brioso’s biography book “Arsenio H. Lacson of Manila,” the 35-page
paperback edition of which was published this year by Anvil Publishing, Lacson
was born the stormy night of December 26, 1912 in the idyllic town of Talisay
in Negros Occidental. Lacson was the fourth and youngest of Roman Lacson and
Maria Rosario Sison. Three girls – Soledad, Amparo, and Estrella – were born in
succession before Arsenio came into this world. Because his father feared that
the young Arsenio would grow effete in the presence of three sisters, he hired
kids in the neighborhood to box with him. This enabled Arsenio to know and
understand boxing.
(Incidentally,
Soledad was the mother of the late Manila Times business editor Alfio Locsin
and the late BusinessDay and BusinessWorld publisher Raul Locsin. The late
Philippines Free Press publisher and writer-editor Teodoro Locsin Sr. and son
Teddy were their relatives. Arsenio Lacson was also a journalist before he
became a politician.)
After
studying in his hometown, Lacson went to Manila to complete his intermediate
and secondary education. It was in 1922, when he first set foot on Manila,
which at that time, underwent massive changes to reflect the U.S. colonial
rule. He went to the Jesuit-run Ateneo de Manila and stayed in the dorm for
boys. Although he stayed most of the
time in Manila, he did not lose touch of his origin, as he went home every
summer.
At
15, Lacson joined the Ateneo football team, which competed in several inter-university
competitions and foreign tournaments. By 1930, he completed his high school
education, took his two-year pre-law course there, and continued to play for
the Ateneo football team. Afterwards he went to the University of Santo Tomas
for his law education. Diosdado Macapagal was among his classmates in the law
school. He also played for the UST football team and captained the national
football team.
According
to the biography book, Lacson originally wanted to take up medicine, but had a
last minute change of heart as he opted to enroll in the law school. Lacson was
not limited to his law education; he honed his writing skills during those days.
Lacson had the flair for writing, which proved useful when he pursued a career
in journalism.
He
was a 20-year old law student when he met the comely 18-year old Luz Santiago,
a daughter of Geronimo Santiago, a veteran prewar political leader in Manila,
and Ildefonsa Sychangco, owner of the National Drug Store chain. Don Geronimo
was described as instrumental in paving the way for Lacson’s entry into Manila
politics, while his mother-in-law earned a fortune from her business. When they
got married, Lacson’s parents-in-law gave them a house on a piece of property
along Earnshaw Street in Sampaloc. Their Earnshaw residence was the venue for a
number of political meetings during his career as politician.
Lacson
passed the Bar examinations in 1937. He was employed in the law office of the famed
Vicente Francisco, who was regarded the local version of the famous American
lawyer Clarence Darrow. Lacson was in the legal team which Francisco formed to
work for the defense of Ferdinand Marcos, then a University of the Philippines
law student, who was one of the accused in the Sept. 20, 1935 murder of Julio
Nalundasan, the Ilocos Norte politician who defeated Mariano, Ferdinand’s
father, in the first congressional elections under the Commonwealth government.
Marcos
lost in the defense and went to jail. But his legal team succeeded in their
appeal to the Supreme Court. The legal strategy of the Vicente Francisco team included
using Ferdinand to raise his own arguments and appeal to the Supreme Court, the
chief justice of which was Jose Laurel Sr., who later became the wartime president
and postwar senator. The legal strategy worked, leading to the reversal of earlier
decision at the lower court and Ferdinand Marcos’s acquittal.
Lacson never held Marcos in high esteem, particularly when they both
became politicians in the postwar era. Lacson treated Marcos with derision and condescension,
as indicated by his deprecating description of the latter. Since Lacson, as
part of the defense panel, had intimate knowledge of his participation, Lacson
described Marcos as “Nalundasan’s murderer” as their paths crossed several
times in the postwar era. Ferdinand Marcos, who later became president and
dictator of this country, never fought back and did not bother to counter
Lacson’s shabby treatment of him.
In
1938, Lacson transferred to the Department of Justice to work as one of its
lawyers. By this time, he support his growing family, he wrote a regular column
in the 20-page Philippine Commonweal, one of the prewar publications. His
column “Straight from Shoulder” discussed mainly sport matters and, on several
times, even non-sports, which included politics. His column gained notice in
the journalistic community. Arsenio H. Lacson could write. And he could write
well was the consensus. But his journalistic career was stopped by the outbreak
of the war. (to be continued)
(Part
Two: Lacson’s Political Career)