The book launching of E. AGUILAR CRUZ: STORIES AND SKETCHES DRAWN FROM MEMORY will be held at Holy Angel University‘s HAU Café Juan on May 23 (Monday) at 3:00 PM. Heritage advocate Gemma Cruz Araneta (who wrote the introduction to the book), public historian Ambeth R. Ocampo (author of “The Paintings of E. Aguilar Cruz” published in 1986), and food writer Claude Táyag will highlight the event. For reservations, please contact Myra López at 09184561744 or kapampangancenter@gmail.com.
If you think that Joseph “Erap” Estrada was our country’s first actor-president, then you haven’t browsed that much on the colorful history of our film industry.
During the 1957 general elections, actor Regidor de la Rosa y Lim, popularly known by his screen name ROGELIO DE LA ROSA, capitalized on his fame and ran for a senate seat under the Partido Liberal. He was fourth in rank, garnering 33.6% of the total votes cast. In fact, he was only one of two Liberal senatorial candidates who made it to the winners’ circle; the other six belonged to Partido Nacionalista. The other Liberal who made it was Ambrosio Padilla, a former basketball player. 😂
De la Rosa and the other winners were given a mandate of six years. During his brief stint in the Senate, he engaged in issues regarding fisheries and agriculture. And since he came from the film industry, he co-authored a bill which led to the creation of the MTRCB.
But four years later, in 1961, de la Rosa decided to run for president as an independent candidate. He was up against two contenders: incumbent President Carlos García (Nacionalista) and Diosdado Macapagal (Liberal) who was his late sister Purita’s widow. His massive popularity during campaign sorties almost made him a shoo-in for the presidency. However, in a move that shocked everyone, de la Rosa suddenly withdrew his candidacy. He had several reasons: translating those massive audiences into actual votes was a different matter as he deemed the politics of his day as “really dirty”. Also, he got fed up with some of his campaign leaders who kept on asking him for money. He also withdrew in favor of his former brother-in-law, then already married to Evangelina Macaraeg (the mother of future president Gloria Macapagal de Arroyo), so as not to divide votes that might catapult reelectionist García to another term. De la Rosa’s move was a success — Macapagal won the presidential contest.
De la Rosa was born exactly 105 years ago today. 🥳 His first acting stint was with his future-brother-in law, Macapagal, in high school zarzuelas in their hometown of Lubao, Pampanga. He made it to the movies when his uncle, director José Nepomuceno, cast him opposite Fil-Am beauty Carmen del Rosario in the 1932 film “Ligaw na Bulaklak“. It was his uncle who gave him his now legendary screen name. His career went on a meteoric rise from then on, even becoming the country’s highest paid actor just a decade before he tried his luck in politics.
De la Rosa died of a heart attack in 1986, several months after the EDSA Revolution. Below is a video clip from the 1955 classic “Ang Tangi Kong Pag-Ibig“, with Carmen Rosales as his leading lady.
TRIVIA: All the characters mentioned here, with the exception of former President Erap, were native Spanish speakers. 😉
Short-sighted nationalists and run-of-the-mill historians (nativistas or those who continue to fantasize on a paradisiacal pre-Filipinas) commemorate today the anniversary of the Battle of Bangkusay (3 June 1571) with a nameless hero as its leader. This nameless fellow is said to have been the first recorded “Filipino” to die for “our” freedom. Some poor soul even wasted his time and resources to research and publish a book about this nameless fellow who’s heroism as a Filipino remains in question.
Now, the first question to ask is this: who is this “we” that these short-sighted nationalists and run-of-the-mill historians are referring to? Because during that battle, there was no “we”, i.e., we as Filipinos, as a national group with a solid, homogeneous national identity, did not yet exist. As I have mentioned time and again, what existed during that time were various ethnolinguistic groups, each independent from the other: the Tagálog group considered themselves as their own “country”; the Bicolanos considered Visayans as foreigners; the Pangasinenses must not have even heard about the Lúmads of Mindanáo. And so on and so forth.
Simply put, there was still no Filipinas during that time. Yes of course, the islands were already there with their resident tribes, but there were still no national boundaries in place as we know them today. These ethnolinguistic groups —tribes if you may— were not yet united under one banner, one faith, one country. It took a foreign power (this time from the West) to unite these disunited and oftentimes warring groups, a process three centuries in the making.
If not for this foreign interference, we wouldn’t be boasting today of a Luzón, Visayas, and Mindanáo to the world.
Second question to ask: did this nameless hero really die for our freedom? I do not doubt that he died for freedom, but certainly not for Filipino freedom. He died defending ONLY his turf. He didn’t die defending Batangas. He didn’t die defending Cebú. He certainly didn’t die defending Zamboanga. He died defending only his territory.
It is thus foolish to say that this nameless hero died defending our country which was not yet even established. It is doubly foolish to declare that he was the first Filipino leader to die for freedom when the Filipino National Identity has not even been formed yet.
We can agree that this nameless young hero of Macabebe (enshrined in 2016) is a hero to the Capampañgan people. But it is out of historical logic to proclaim him as a “Filipino hero”. Be that as it may, it is so unfortunate that our country is super obsessed with heroes to the point of proclaiming some of them as “martyrs” even if we do not really know much about them. Filipinos today don’t even emulate their “heroism”. They are instead taught to venerate instead of to emulate (photo: Macabebe Tourism).
Now, a quirk of history: had this “nameless hero” who was definitely NOT Filipino defeated the Spaniards (led by Martín de Goití), it would have caused a domino effect against the then prevailing Spanish conquest of the archipelago. The establishment of the Filipino State a few days later (24 June 1571) would have been delayed, or would not have happened at all. There would have been no República de Filipinas to speak of, nor a Filipino Identity at all.
TODAY IN FILIPINO HISTORY: 20 March 1942 — An escaping General Douglas MacArthur who arrived at Terowie, South Australia makes his famous speech regarding the fall of Filipinas to the Imperial Japanese Army in which he says: “I came through and I shall return”. That declaration has become one of the most iconic lines from World War II and in all of World History.
On a personal note, this speech reminds me not of MacArthur but of another historical figure who is almost forgotten in our country’s history: Simón de Anda, the irrepressible Spanish Basque Governor-General of Filipinas from 1770 to 1776.
De Anda was then an oidor or member judge of the Audiencia Real (Spain’s appellate court in its colonies/overseas provinces) when the British, on account of the Seven Years’ War, invaded Filipinas in 1762. While many high-ranking government officials, including then interim governor-general and Archbishop Manuel Rojo del Río, already surrendered to the invaders, de Anda and his followers refused to do so. Instead, he established a new Spanish base in Bacolor, Pampanga and from there launched the country’s first-ever guerrilla resistance against the British. He thus proved to be a big thorn on the side of the British until the latter left the archipelago two years later.
During those tumultuous two years under the British, de Anda made no promises and neither did he leave Filipinas. He stuck it out with Filipinos through thick and thin and gave the enemy an armed resistance that they more than deserved. But “Dugout Doug” was all drama when he said “I shall return”, leaving the Filipinos to fend for themselves against the Japs. And when he did return, it was a disaster: the death of Intramuros, the heart and soul of the country.
Yesterday, I attended a wedding for the first time as one of the principal sponsors (don’t laugh yet). A few minutes before the ceremony was about to begin, one of the wedding planners was calling out the names of the godparents to arrange how they would walk down the carpeted, flower-bedecked nave. When my name was finally called, I raised my hand so as to introduce myself to him. The wedding planner gave me a long, unbelieving look. This lasted for several awkward seconds. He must have thought that I was just making some kind of a prank, so he called out my name again, still searching the crowd. And I raised my hand yet again. Finally, he was convinced that I’m the one he was looking for. I was led down the queue of godparents, all of whom could have passed for my parents or uncles and aunties. No wonder the disbelief in the wedding planner. I better get used to this. 😂
With the newlyweds, Jaira Amuráo and Shaddai Villavicencio, with their godfathers at the Church of Saint Bartholomew in Magalang, Pampanga (photo courtesy of Cleofe Amuráo).
EL FILIPINISMO 