One for the Road
By Fernando Tonolete ESQ
How does one live life in a fishbowl? How does one cope when one’s humdrum existence is suddenly transformed into instant celebrity status, albeit in a modest way? That seems to have been my situation when I received the wonderful news that the editorial board of Pinoy Herald had selected me as the new Editor in Chief. I was not expecting the honor, since I was pretty happy with my role as an occasional columnist writing on immigration matters. I have since shelved my part-time immigration law practice while I moved on to more noble pursuits, but I pledged to continue to write on a variety of topics ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. Although I was surprised by the unexpected honor, I was even more surprised by the depth and breadth of the Pinoy Herald’s circulation and reach in North America. I received calls from places as far away as New Jersey and Florida congratulating me on the appointment. One fledging publication in Toronto, CA wondered aloud if I might be interested in writing for their paper. There was instant recognition from people I encountered in the few social gatherings I have been to since the announcement. And of course, in quintessentially Filipino fashion, I had my share of innocent and well-meaning curiosity-seekers’ questions like “Saan po ang opisina ninyo? Kayo po ba ang nag-dedesisyon diyan? Magkano po ang sueldo ninyo? Mayaman po ba ang pamilya ninyo?”
As I told my audience during my acceptance speech at the prestigious National Press Club in Washington DC on the occasion of the Pinoy Herald’s first anniversary celebration, I was a twelve year old high school freshman in Leyte when I wrote my first article for a national magazine. It was for a popular publication known as the Philippine Free Press. Back in the fifties, in what I fondly harken back to as the golden age of Filipino journalism, the Free Press was quite a remarkable publication, because it accepted contributions from all quarters no matter how obscure the author was, how short his article, and regardless of one’s religious or political persuasion - Catholic, Protestant, Aglipayan, Nacionalista, Liberal, etc. I recall that one of the early fellow contributors was a fledging journalist named Gerry Espina, who has since moved on to greater heights and ended up founding a political dynasty in the Leyte subprovince of Biliran. In my little article, I ranted and raved about the order from the imperial powers-that-be in the centralized Manila government directing their provincial minions to stop using English as the military language in preparatory military training (PMT) and switch to Tagalog instead. In those days, before fiery nationalism became fashionable, the Waray-speaking inhabitants of Leyte were fiercely regionalistic, and telling a Waray high school PMT company commander to issue orders in Tagalog to his troops was probably the moral equivalent of the Redskins coach barking orders to the Cowboys football team in proper Washingtonian English. For how, pray thou, was one supposed to translate “Present Arms” into Tagalog? “Ihalukipkip ang inyong mga bisig?”
But the point of my little anecdote was that I received a personal note from the American editor of the Free Press - I believe it was Mr. Marquardt, who together with Messrs. Leon Ty and Teodoro Locsin Sr. were the paper’s principal editors, thanking me for my little contribution, and noting that I had the potential to be a professional journalist, and encouraging me to write more articles for the Free Press, and perhaps consider a career in journalism. But when you are age 12, a career goal was furthest in my mind, and with puberty approaching and hormones raging, all I was thinking about was how beautiful the movie actress Amalia Fuentes was compared to her arch-rival Susan Roces. In any case, I ended up pursuing a traditional Jesuit liberal education at the Ateneo de Manila and going to law school thereafter. Years later, when I reminisce about the long and winding road that my professional career had taken, following stints at Procter & Gamble, the World Bank, and a host of other multinational organizations including the federal government, I think about remembrances past and wonder what could have been if I had followed Mr. Marquardt’s advice. Would I have ended up like a Doroy Valencia, or perhaps a Joe Guevara or a Max Soliven? Or even an alter ego to Quijano de Manila, the nom de guerre of the revered Alejandro Roces of Kislap-Graphic fame? Would I have done proud my English professors at the Ateneo - Tony Romualdez, Rolando Tinio, and Emmanuel Torres, to whom I collectively owe my facility with the Queen’s English?
Only time would have told. In end, it really doesn’t matter, because in the final analysis, and in my own befuddled thinking , a lawyer is nothing more than a journalist with an attitude - and the attitude is - the lawyer knows the difference between right and wrong, the lawyer is always right, and the adversary is always wrong - end of discussion.
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