JOURNALIST and activist Julius Fortuna will be buried this Thursday in his hometown of Odiongan, Romblon. (Julius died of a heart attack a week ago at the age of 61.) He loved this rustic hometown of his. Almost every other week, he crossed the sea to go home to Odiongan, which is located on an island near the main island of Romblon, home province of National Artist NVM Gonzalez, famous for his Mindoro stories.

Julius’ provincemates have been urging him to run for mayor, or even governor of this province long starved for good leaders. But his journalist colleagues told him “it is a trap. Once you are in, you cannot get out even if you want to.”

“Besides,” Julius agreed, “I have no money. What will I use for the campaign?” The political leaders urging him to run had no money either. They were probably hoping to get some spending money from Julius. People from the provinces usually have the mistaken notion that people from Manila have gold mines hidden somewhere.

But Julius is the perfect poster boy for the poor provinciano trying his luck in the city and seeking ways to improve the lives of poor families. That is why, early in life, as a student, he became an activist and was among the organizers and leaders of the First Quarter Storm against the Marcos martial law. His fellow activists remember him as a silent but effective organizer.

For which reason he was arrested and detained by the Marcos administration, implicated in the smuggling of arms aboard the MV Karagatan off Isabela. He was detained for almost eight years—the longest martial law prisoner next to Satur Ocampo who was detained for nine years—while the military tried to make him admit participation in the Karagatan fiasco and to rat on his fellow communists. But how could Julius admit participation in a caper that took place off the coast of Isabela when his place of assignment was in Metro Manila?

During those eight years, he was tortured repeatedly by the military, but Julius gritted his teeth and bore the pain patiently and silently without ratting on his colleagues.

Years later, after he was released, he bore no grudge, no ill-will, no hatred, no anger and no desire for revenge against his torturers. On the contrary, when he became a journalist, he helped many military officers, colonels and generals, who could have been among his jailers and torturers. Often, Julius would arrange interviews for journalists over lunch or dinner with news sources who were military officers. Such was the forgiving nature of Julius.

I have been a close friend and colleague of Julius for perhaps the longest time. I first worked with him when I became executive editor of The Daily Globe (with Yen Makabenta as editor in chief). When I became editor in chief of The Manila Chronicle, I took Julius with me and as many of the Globe staff as I could. I made Julius and Noel Cabrera my deputy editors; but while Noel liked the job and the rank, Julius said he would be happy with being a columnist.

Ever since, we have formed a friendship that lasts up to this day. Julius had a character that commanded the loyalty of younger journalists. Until today, many years after the Globe and the Chronicle were closed due to labor troubles, we stayed close to our former colleagues from both papers and other newspapers we worked with. We held frequent reunions and parties in each other’s homes.

After the astounding success of the Kapihan sa Manila which I helped organize and which I still host today (the first such breakfast forum which we started during martial law), Julius asked me to help organize Kapihan sa Sulo at the Sulo Hotel in Quezon City; Noel Cabrera asked me to help him organize a similar weekly breakfast forum in Greenhills. Both forums are alive until now. Kapihan sa Sulo will resume this Saturday after it was suspended for one week because of the death of Julius. Only several months ago, Julius delivered a eulogy during the necrological services for Noel Cabrera. Last Saturday, friends, colleagues and relatives listened to eulogies for Julius.

Every Saturday, Julius and I saw each other during the Sulo forum, after which we had lunch together with close friends. Every Monday, we saw each other at the Kapihan sa Manila after which we had lunch with friends at a Chinese restaurant. In-between, we usually had dinner or lunch that Julius arranged with news sources, usually at a restaurant or hotel on Morato Avenue, QC. At other times, we had meetings of the Association of Philippine Journalists (APJ a.k.a. Samahang Plaridel) of which Julius was a board member and I am chairman. We often called or texted each other by cell phone. So Julius and I had almost daily contact.

Last Saturday, June 20, Julius and I were together at the Sulo forum, then had lunch with friends. The following Monday, he did not show up at the Kapihan sa Manila and the APJ lunch. Early the next morning, I was awakened by a call from my driver.

Julius was dead, he said excitedly.

Where did you learn that? I asked.

From the driver of Sir Julius, he answered.

I verified from the family. It was true. Our dear Julius was dead. By midmorning, the news was all over town.

One thing I can say about Julius: He liked to travel well. Now he would be traveling in the sky with Farah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.

Up there they would be met by Noel Cabrera, Joe Capadocia, Nelly Sindayen, fellow detainee Ninoy Aquino, and Elvis Presley and John Lennon. There would be a happy reunion. Perhaps they would organize a concert and set up a breakfast-forum-in-the-sky.

Then they would look down below at their former jailer—FM.