A requiem for Gani Yambot
It will be the turn of the Philippine Daily Inquirer to hold a necrological service for its publisher, Isagani Yambot, tomorrow night. This is my own tribute to him.
I first came across the name Isagani Yambot when I was a journalism student at the University of Sto. Tomas. Our professor in newswriting, Jose P. Bautista, managing editor of the Manila Times, had told us to get copies of the newspaper’s stylebook. Among the authors of the slim handbook were Isagani Yambot and Crispulo Icban, now editor in chief of the Manila Bulletin.
But it was many years later before I met him personally, and in fact worked with him. We were Malacañang reporters during the administration of President Diosdado Macapagal, the ever-loving daddy of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.
At that time, there were only seven national newspapers, five morning dailies (Manila Times, Manila Chronicle, Manila Daily Bulletin, Philippines Herald and Bagong Buhay, a Tagalog newspaper) and two afternoon dailies (Daily Mirror and The Evening News.)
The Times-Mirror had a total of four reporters covering Malacañang, two for each paper: Gani Yambot and Manuel Salak Jr. covered for the Times, and Silvino Caparas and Gregorio Datuin for the Mirror. The rest of the papers had only one reporter each: the veteran Francisco de Leon for the Chronicle, and Amante Bigornia, also a veteran, for the Bulletin. Esperanto Curaming and Celestino Vega covered for the Herald and for Bagong Buhay, respectively. I covered for The Evening News. (I have to mention many other journalists because our work and careers were intertwined.)
President Macapagal often traveled to the provinces to deliver speeches, shake hands and distribute largesse to the local government units in preparation for his reelection bid. The Malacañang Press Corps went with him. The Times and the Mirror having two reporters each, one went with the President while the other stayed behind at the Press Office.
We took the train from Manila to Damortis in La Union, where we transferred to cars for the trip up to Baguio, two to each car. My usual riding companions were either Gani Yambot or Greg Datuin. Silvino Caparas said he was too old to travel and preferred to stay behind. Anywhere the President went up north, our base was Baguio, where we stayed at the Pines Hotel. Gani and I often shared a room because we were the two youngest.
In Baguio, we met two nurses working for the Baguio General Hospital. We always invited them to dinner and dancing at the hotel. I could see that Gani and one of the nurses were getting cozy, and every time the President went up to Baguio, he convinced his fellow Times reporter, Manuel Salak, that he (Yambot) would be the one to go with the President.
Journalism is a very stressful profession. Whether you are editor or reporter, you are always pressed for time, always rushing to beat the deadline. That is why journalists, after work, rush to the bars to drink, unwind and relax.
The Malacañang reporters went to the nightclubs on Roxas Boulevard. Our favorite was the Sportsman, one of the three most popular night spots then. Gani and I had our favorite hostesses, now called guest relations officers (or GROs).
Gani usually told me to hurry up. Then we would rush to the Sportsman and unwind and chase the stresses away with our GROs and drinks and music and dancing until the wee hours of the morning.
When I was news editor of The Evening News, I had an all-girl desk, some of the youngest and most beautiful journalists at that time: Julie Yap, Bobbie Malay, Minnie Montemayor, Carmen Hernandez, Mona Cabili, Melody Santos, and a few more.
After the afternoon papers were put to bed, we were usually visited by male colleagues from the other papers. Gani was one of them.
When martial law was declared, all the papers except the Daily Express were closed down.
The government tried to persuade Chino Roces to reopen the Manila Times, but the old man swore that he would never reopen it while Marcos was president. So his brother-in-law, Kokoy Romualdez, opened his own paper, borrowing the name of the Times, and came out with the Times Journal.
Kokoy recruited the jobless editors and reporters of the closed-down Times, including Gani and its editor, Jose Luna Castro.
When Kokoy was appointed ambassador to Saudi Arabia, he took Gani with him. “For God’s sake,” he told Gani, “grow a mustache first before going to Saudi Arabia. You will be raped there.” Gani had very fair skin and was good-looking. So Gani started growing a mustache and a goatee and only afterwards did he dare go to Saudi.
Through the years, Gani went through the diplomatic corps and back to journalism while I worked for many other papers. He became publisher of the Inquirer. That was the time I was invited by the Inquirer’s editor in chief, Letty Magsanoc, to write a column for the Inquirer after I resigned from the new Chronicle.
We elected Gani board member of the Association of Philippine Journalists, also known as Plaridel. When I heard that he had suffered a heart attack, I asked him how he was. He replied that he had an angioplasty but his doctors told him he still had to undergo bypass surgery.
Knowing that I had had bypass surgery, he asked me how it was. I told him the truth: It was very painful, not during the surgery itself, but afterwards.
Later, I heard that he had undergone quadruple bypass surgery but that he was recovering beautifully. I was preparing to visit him at Medical City when my cellphone rang. There was a text message. Gani had died of a heart attack after he was discharged from the hospital.
