‘Apo Pidiong,’ first Ilocano president

LAST NOV. 20, the nation marked the 125th birth anniversary of Elpidio Rivera Quirino, our first Ilocano president and certainly one of the greatest to occupy this position. During his lifetime, he was often judged harshly by a critical public. But with the passage of time, the heavy and unfair criticism has been softened and rectified by the truth.

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When I was baptized at the Philippine Independent Church (PIC), a breakaway faction of the Roman Catholic Church, there were only two sponsors—Alicia Syquia Quirino and Quintin Paredes. Together with Bishop Santiago Fonacier, one of the high priests of the PIC who officiated at the baptismal rites, the three represented different power blocks in the Ilocos region. Elpidio Quirino, husband of Alicia, was from Ilocos Sur, while Quintin Paredes hailed from Abra. Both were considered rising political figures of the North, while Bishop Fonacier, from Ilocos Norte, was himself a political leader to reckon with in the region. It appears that my father had all bases covered politically.

But my father’s older sister, Cristeta, a devout Roman Catholic, member of the Third Order of Our Lady of the Scapular, and one of the leading figures of the local Catholic Women’s League, was not too happy about my baptism under the PIC. The day after, my aunt took me up to Baguio City and immediately had me re-baptized under Catholic rituals. It must have been a terrible weight on her conscience to realize that she had allowed someone in her care to be a participant in the religious services of a splinter group. To this day, I am unsure which part of the church I belong to. At any rate, I mention this story to let our readers know the background of our ties to the Quirinos.

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After the Liberal Party team of Manuel Roxas and Elpidio Quirino defeated the Nacionalista tandem of Sergio Osmeña and Eulogio Rodriguez in the April 1946 presidential election, Vice President Quirino was appointed concurrent secretary of foreign affairs. He organized the Philippine Foreign Service and recruited noted writers and newsmen, who became pioneers of our infant diplomatic service. My father was appointed Philippine consul general to Hawaii, home of the largest Filipino overseas community outside of continental United States.

But we did not stay there very long.

With Waikiki Beach just outside our home, Diamond Head in the background and beautiful Hawaiian maidens in swaying grass skirts providing entertainment, we were residing in the most popular tourist destination in the country. But my Dad was itching to get back to his first love—the world of newspapers.

And so when Don Vicente Madrigal asked him to reopen the Philippines Herald, offering him the job of publisher and editor in chief, without thinking twice, he agreed and that was the end of our sojourn in paradise.

In his new role as head of one of the leading dailies of the day, his ties with President Quirino grew even stronger than before. He was considered by many as an influential member of Quirino’s kitchen Cabinet.

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After graduating from UP High, I entered the Philippine Military Academy and lost track of much of the political developments taking place in the country.

Sometime in 1953, one could not help but come across rumors of a “golden orinola” and a P5,000-stainless steel bed in Malacañang, proof of the alleged growing corruption in government. As a second-year cadet, I often wanted to challenge much of what was being said about Quirino among my colleagues, but there was not much I could offer to blunt the accusations.

During the election campaign, I knew that my father supported Quirino up to the end, unlike others who early on jumped the sinking ship. After Ramon Magsaysay won in a landslide victory, I could sense my father’s deep disappointment.

In December 1953, I received a letter from my father. He rarely wrote, but when he did, I knew there was a special reason. He mentioned he was taking a short leave from the newspaper to work on a project he had developed from his stint in Hawaii. Along with an old family friend, Salvador Peña, they would collaborate on a tourism-oriented venture to jumpstart the local industry.

I felt he really wanted to say something else and after a few words on the aftermath of the elections, he recalled an old Spanish phrase: “El arbor caido, todos hacen lena.” His translation read: When a great tree has fallen, everyone makes firewood of it. (My apologies to the Spanish-speaking community for any error.) He ended by saying that the family looked forward to my spending Christmas with them.

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President Quirino died on Feb. 28, 1956, a month before my graduation from the PMA. As a soldier, I remember him for his dispatch of battalion combat teams to Korea during the Korean War. It was the first and one of our finest contributions in the fight against communist aggression, and Korea has never forgotten the support we gave in their time of need.

Although Quirino was never anti-American, they were not too comfortable with him as he was adamant on working with the US government as a partner rather than as a lackey. Insisting that US bases be located outside Metro Manila, he forced the US military to abandon Manila South Harbor, Fort William McKinley, Nichols Field, and the Diliman housing area. Columnist Teodoro Valencia credited him “with the guts to stand up to US Ambassador Paul V. McNutt” (“So Help Us God,” Eduardo and Jonathan Malaya, p. 145.)

Perhaps his greatest act, considering the circumstances surrounding the death of his wife and three children at the hands of Japanese Navy personnel during the Battle for the Liberation of Manila in 1945, was his grant of executive clemency to 114 Japanese prisoners of war who were being held at the Bilibid Prison, allowing them to be repatriated.