True crime, 1899-1901
There is more to Netflix than Korean content. I usually turn to the “Documentaries” channel in search of History or Biography, ending up disappointed with the selection which is usually dominated by True Crime, mostly about serial killers.
I have always wondered about the archives of the Manila Police Department, how far back the records go, and if these are organized and open to researchers as in other countries. Researchers will need special skills to read through illegible police blotters or make sense of bad narrative style. Fortunately, for historians, there is the Manila Times, which I have combed through from 1899 to 1901 in search of odd bits of information.
In August 1899, it was reported that Gen. Pio del Pilar was not killed in the south line but was alive and well. “He was superintending the work of fitting ammunition to a machine gun captured from the Americans… and through carelessness on the part of the workmen, the gun exploded, one of the pieces penetrated General Pio del Pilar’s left breast, inflicting a painful wound that may prove fatal.”
In February 1901, Jose Luna, brother of Juan (the painter) and Antonio (the general), was jailed for publishing a piece of music composed by Julian Felipe (composer of “Lupang Hinirang”) known as “General Luna Paso Doble” (General Luna Two-Step).
Carmelo and Bauermann did the lithography for the sheet music, with a picture of General Luna in uniform on the cover. Jose Luna composed the lyrics that came with the tune. Translated from the original Spanish, it went: “To the strife, to fight for the freedom of the country/ Our faith will attain the rejection of the cruel invader/ At last there will shine a new sun that will light the poem of eternal redemption/ And the vile dominion of the oppressor (Long Live General Luna!) will be covered with ignominy/ In the sheen of a glorious light the spectre of slavery will die/
Our temples, free from blushes will be shaded by the folds of the tri-colored emblem.”
These words encouraged the continuation of the Philippine-American War and were considered subversive by the American authorities.
More famous names pop out of the news: Emilio Aguinaldo, Pedro Paterno, Antonio Luna, Licerio Geronimo, etc. But what I found fascinating was the conduct of the war from reports sent in from outside Manila, then technically within the walls of Intramuros. News on obscure or forgotten people were also quite engaging, like the arrest of a gay man in August 1899 under the story “An Insurgent Spy. Disguised as a Woman. Captured Near Mariquina by the 24th Infantry.” The prisoner, caught in the company of two women, gave his name as Baldomero de Leon:
“The trio carried baskets upon their heads containing salt, cigarettes, and rice. The arrest was made because the soldiers had reason to believe the trio were endeavoring to smuggle contraband articles through the lines. The salt especially aroused the suspicion of the guards, which at the time they believed it to be salt-petre (salitre to Pinoys—it’s the main ingredient in pork tocino but could also be used for gunpowder). De Leon is adept at playing the part of a Filipino woman. So cleverly does he imitate her manners that even the keen eye of the chief of police found difficulty in assuring himself of the sex of the prisoner. If Baldomero only had smaller feet and not such large swollen hands, he could pass for a woman on the strength of his outward appearance anytime. Naturally, the soldiers had considerable rude fun at Baldomero’s expense, but he took it well and smiled so sweetly back and was so decidedly feminine in all his actions that he completely won the crowd to his side.”
There were reports on carabao rustling or carabao meat being sold as beef. Robbery, murder, and prostitution were common, but a case of murder and cannibalism in Capiz was not. Neither was the discovery of a barrel containing the remains of an adult male and a child unearthed during sanitary operations in Intramuros.
Reading all these made me realize that crime is the same today as yesterday, but some of the more notable or sensational cases should be dug up and made into true crime documentaries. When friends who write fiction complain about the difficulty of finding the right material for a short story or a novel, I advise them to look into history. More so if they are young and have yet to collect experiences of their own, because history can sometimes prove to be stranger than fiction.
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