A letter from this newspaper?s management last June 2, signed by publisher Isagani Yambot, said it has accepted my ?resignation? effective Thursday. He alleged that I had made and announced my ?decision? to resign last March in a meeting between him, opinion editor Jorge Aruta and myself. But as I wrote in response, I never resigned nor did I make such announcement at that meeting, which was called to thresh out guidelines for the coverage of the recent elections. After 25 years of continuous service in this newspaper and as a co-founder of sorts and original stockholder, I would have been more formal about my intention and put it down in writing. I stress this fact since the Inquirer is proud to banner its ?fearless news and balanced views.? At that March meeting, I was told I was too partisan against one candidate, raising a number of issues against him. But were all my fellow columnists ?neutral? and ?nonpartisan?? Let the readers be the judge.
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Ironically, this proud paper was born as a very partisan effort to strengthen the political opposition to Ferdinand Marcos. The legendary Eggie Apostol, sensing the pressure for Marcos to call snap elections, thought of spinning off the black-and-white Mr. & Ms. Magazine, which had covered the birthing of that opposition since the assassination of Ninoy, into a newspaper to cover that awaited event. I made arrangements for her, Letty Magsanoc and myself to consult, among others, opposition leader Ramon Mitra late in November 1985. Mitra?s reaction was, if it ain?t broke, why fix it? He was afraid Mr. & Ms. magazine, which at one time hit the still-unsurpassed half-million mark in street sales, would suffer if we would put up a newspaper. Years later he admitted that he was wrong.
In the early months, the fax machine was only beginning to be popular. Soon everyone in the newsroom was on computers, except for Ramon Tulfo, Nestor Mata and myself. But that was also the time when huge brownouts were hitting us and one could hear groans as computers conked out?except for the three of us who continued merrily to pound our Underwoods. Finally I computerized and was forced to learn the modem and then the e-mail. As I roamed around the country and the world over the years, my far more tech-savvy husband, would patiently assist me, sending my columns from atop Angkor Wat, aboard a speeding train in Europe or while on an exciting safari in South Africa.
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Iconic CNN anchor Larry King, in celebration of his 25 years in broadcast journalism, polled what his listeners considered the 25 most significant events in these years; the 9/11 bombings in the US and the election of the first US black president came out on top. Over the two weeks since Gani Yambot?s love letter I sought to look back at my quarter-century in the Inquirer and all kinds of vignettes came rushing back through the mist of memory. I had witnessed the swearing-in of three presidents: Cory Aquino, whom I had followed all over the country as a reporter for Mr. & Ms., at Club Filipino on Feb. 25, 1986; Fidel Ramos at the Luneta on June 30, 1992; and Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo on Jan 21, 2001 atop a makeshift stage at the Edsa Shrine, and again on June 30, 2004 in front of the Cebu Capitol.
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I remember how Evelio Javier, Lorna Verano-Yap and I dared to talk to the towering Jovito Salonga one morning in his Pasig home, to convince him not to run in the snap election, so as to unite all opposition forces behind Cory. I recall the icy snub Cory would give me, as though she was staring through clear glass, in Palace receptions when I began to be critical of her governance. I recall how then AFP Chief of Staff Fidel Ramos singled me out and scolded me during a press con, for interviewing rebel leader Gregorio Honasan on the golf green of Camp Aguinaldo in August 1987. The latter had met little resistance in entering the camp where my family lived then, and hearing this over the radio I went looking for Honasan and then dashed off my interview to the Inquirer. Ramos was furious. In the 1989 coup d?etat, Chief of Staff Renato de Villa called to ask if I had any contact with my husband. He was worried that my husband?s loyalist troops were too close to enemy lines!
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Looking back on the Estrada years, I recall the weeks we spent in the Senate gallery monitoring the impeachment trial against Erap. One afternoon, I heard that civil society leaders were fiercely arguing in the office of Sen. Tito Guingona on when to stage a protest walkout. Long years as a journalist had told me that timing was always of the essence. I passionately argued for delaying the walkout. A week later, 11 senators nixed opening the second envelop. We all got up on chairs to boo loudly and pandemonium broke out. Cecile Alvarez, whose husband Sonny had filed the impeachment complaint, and I and many others rushed to the Edsa Shrine, then dark and quiet. The moment had come. Many times later I would wonder: What if we had walked out earlier, would Edsa 2 have happened?
In the long Arroyo years, I cannot forget the long night of the knives in the House that ousted Jose de Venecia during his fifth speakership. I felt real pain that the brilliant synergy and partnership between GMA and JDV had come to an end.
Then there?s the funeral of Pope John Paul II in April 2005, where my husband was privileged to join Arroyo?s tiny delegation. I tagged along (even if it meant forking out a princely sum from personal funds) for the hectic 36-hour visit to Rome. Cecile, Cerge Remonde and I were seated in the gallery overlooking the VIP section and at the moment when JPII?s coffin was about to disappear into the cavernous basilica, we repeatedly yelled at the top of our lungs, ?John Paul II, we love you!? During the ride home aboard PAL, Arroyo, in a jogging outfit, would work on her computer, watch a film and then doze off. About 15 minutes before landing, she changed into pants and long-sleeved shirt. Trade Secretary Mar Roxas met her at the lounge and with nary a hint of jetlag, Arroyo was off with him to inspect the markets.
