ValikVarsi Amihan Magazine

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Editors’ Note

A DECADE before its centenary, the Varsitarian

continues to hone the country’s journalistic and literary talents, and remains a trailblazer in campus journalism.

As one of the Philippines’s oldest campus papers, and certainly the oldest Catholic newspaper, it has been the breeding ground of the titans of the news media and literature. Its alumni roster is the envy of others and is a source of inspiration to the incumbent staff.

On its pages first appeared the bylines of F. Sionil José, Bienvenido Lumbera, Celso Al Carungungan, Paz Latorena, Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta, Cirilo Bautista, Federico Licsi Espino, Wilfrido Nolledo, Rogelio Sicat, Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo, Norma Miraflor and many other significant names in Philippine letters.

This was all made possible by the resourcefulness and courage of Jose Villa Panganiban and the other founding fathers of the V, who made true their dream of having “something to write on.”

As they say, the Varsitarian is not for the faint-hearted.

Being a Varsi staffer requires loads of energy and physical and emotional endurance. How could any Amihan forget

The Varsitarian’s maiden issue

being reprimanded for every heavily edited article? Or not being able to distinguish the dead of the night and the crack of dawn during presswork?

In the Varsitarian, generations of writers have slept under the same bridge, under the same punishing moon, mindful of the honor and privilege of being a part of such a great institution.

The V itself has gone through all sorts of upheavals – war, Martial Law, censorship, to name a few. But 90 years later, the Varsitarian has only flourished, if not prevailed.

Every year, its pool of staffers learn to cope with the pressures of academic life and the hard work of putting out a good newspaper to bed. A new challenge is to transition the V to the digital era and make it more relevant to a wider set of readers, without abandoning the print medium.

Today, we celebrate 90 sterling years of excellence in campus journalism, and look forward to joining all of you as we start the countdown to the V Centennial in 2028.

Minsang V, Mananatiling V!

Confession of Faith The Varsitarian’s first editorial, by Pablo Anido (Jan. 16, 1928)

DR. CHEYNEY of the University of Minnesota once said, “The

Alhex Adrea M. Peralta, Amierielle Anne A. Bulan and Bernadette A. Pamintuan The Varsitarian Editorial Board P.Y. 2017-2018

students ARE the university.” We believe in the rock-bottom truth of Dr. Cheyney’s statement and hence our great master will be the student democracy of the University of Santo Tomas.

THE VARSITARIAN will be an independent organ of opinion of “students” wherein they can express their ideas regarding vital questions in this university.

Knowing as we do that this college paper belongs to the student, we WILL refuse to be the Instrument of any individual, group of “clubs,” or any college.

THE VARSITARIAN, based upon the most democratic spirit of controlled, managed, supported and run directly by the student body

under the auspices of the U.S.T Literary Club, we believe that it is an indication of a progressive spirit towards students’ academic freedom – the exercise of self-government during college life which, incidentally, fortifies the student for the more serious work that is in store for them.

We believe that THE VARSITARIAN will strengthen the genuine fellowship existing among the students in the different colleges and will preserve their pledge of loyalty in their Alma Mater. This college paper will establish a closer relationship between the students, alumni and faculty.

We expect in return that all the students of this university will give full-fledged support and cooperation in this publication, for it is their own college paper.

Table of Contents 4

AMIHAN (n.) - Refers to alumni of the Varsitarian, who, like the northeast trade winds, always pass by, but are sometimes ignored

Editors’ Note

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Remembrances of Days at The Varsitaran

22-23 ‘V’ in Numbers

Maiden issue

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20-21

24 A Memoire of Varsi Days

Varsitarian History

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25 So many memories of the ‘V’

Literature and Nation

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26 Lasting Legacies from the 1980s

V Staffers and Thomasians Forever

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Confessions of a Once and Future Scribe

14-15 The Accidental EIC, Circa 1960 16-18 One Happy Season 19

Underwood Typewriters and Martial Law

27 About VarsiV 28 Controversies and Challenges 30-31 Extra Editorial Activities 32-33 Supplements 34-35 ‘V’ Website

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Nine decades of the ‘V’ ON ITS 90th year, the Varsitarian, the official student

publication of the University of Santo Tomas, continues to promote responsible journalism and literary and artistic excellence, as well as form the social, intellectual and spiritual consciousness of the Thomasian studentry as well as the community at large.

At the start, it would seem as if the Varsitarian could not go on. The infant was so poor it almost died at birth. But it did not. Although the Varsitarian was poor in the coffers, it was never impoverished in spirit. Through the years, the Varsitarian has grown.

It took more than three centuries since its foundation before UST came up with its own official school paper. It needed the resourcefulness and courage of Jose Villa Panganiban (who later became the head of the National Language Institute) and the other founding fathers before the wish of having “something to write on” was realized. Indeed, putting up a school paper then was next to the impossible – financially and administratively.

But for Panganiban, the idea of having an official student organ, one that would serve not only as a chronicler of campus events but also as a repository of student talents, was more than a passing fancy. It was a question rooted in raw optimism and constantly kindled by the burning passion to write.

One day in September 1927, a group of young Thomasians under the leadership of Panganiban, gathered at the University restaurant. The group drafted a petition addressed to the Rector, Rev. Fr. Serapio Tamayo, O.P., calling for the establishment of an official student organ in UST. The idea, however, became an unhappy victim of the Filipino ningas cogon.

Instead, the UST Literary Club was organized. It received official sanction from the Father Rector in December of the same year.

Despite the pessimism of everyone, of even some of the initiators themselves, about the possible success of the student paper in the University, the club, under the presidency of Pablo Anido (a junior medical student), revived the original plan of putting up a college paper.

At the same time, Panganiban, who was then working as a hot cake cook in the University restaurant, wrote a letter to the Father Rector and presented his views about the matter: “There are 2,000 students in Santo Tomas. Let us admit that 1,000 of these are slackers but we still have 1,000 students to help us in the undertaking. At [a] 50-centavo subscription from each of the latter, we can publish a college paper that will live until March 1928 at least. Besides, there is income from the advertisements and this will help a great deal.”

Prof. John Jefferson Siler of the English department and one of the moderators of the Literary Club admitted that the suppositions of the hot cake man were really convincing. So after a series of correspondences and conferences with the Father Rector and University authorities, and with the support of Professor Siler, the Father Rector gave his approval.

Consequently, on the morning of January 16, 1928, the maiden issue of the Varsitarian came off the press. Anido became the first editor in chief of the Varsitarian, with Panganiban, the hot cake man and fondly dubbed the “Father of the Varsitarian” as the associate editor, business manager and editor of the Alumni and Humor sections. Rev. Fr. Juan Labrador, O.P. (dean of Liberal Arts) and Professor Siler became the first moderators.

Through the years, the pages of the Varsitarian would be graced by some of the most sterling names in Philippine journalism: Teodoro Valencia, Joe Guevarra, Felix Bautista, Jose Bautista, Joe Burgos, Antonio Siddayao, Jess Sison, Jullie Yap-Daza, Antonio Lopez, Rina Jimenez-David, Neal Cruz, A. O. Flores, Jake Macasaet, Fred Marquez, Mario Hernando, Alfredo Saulo, Alice Colet-Villadolid, and Eugenia Duran-Apostol.

The titans of Philippine literature learned writing in the Varsitarian: Bienvenido Lumbera, F. Sionil José, Celso Al Carunungan, Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta, Paz Latorena, Cirilo Bautista, Federico Licsi Espino, Wilfrido Nolledo, Rogelio Sicat, Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo, Norma Miraflor, Eric Gamalinda and Vim Nadera.

Varsitarian alumni also distinguished themselves in public service and in other fields. There are the late Manila Mayor Arsenio H. Lacson, the late Manila Archbishop Artemio Casas, former Vice President Emmanuel Pelaez, the late Sorsogon Gov. Juan Frivaldo, Sen. Francisco Tatad, former Philippine Medical Association President Dr. Vicente Rosales, Sr., and National Artist for the Visual Arts J. Elizalde Navarro.

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Literature and Nation

By F. Sionil Jose

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N THE public mind, the writer is often regarded as a romantic if not a heroic figure.

All too often, we are evaluated on the basis of our writing alone, our so-called artistry.

Seldom are we regarded as ordinary mortals, capable of sin, of corruption, even betrayal.

This we must not forget particularly in writers’ conferences such as this where we are lifted to high pedestals.

We should ask again what is it that we writers really do. To be mundane about it, we tell stories, we entertain. We like to think, however that we are not just simple entertainers. Dignify, ennoble the writer then. Whether mediocre or brilliant, the writer is important to his people, his nation.

The written word as journalism is history in a hurry. The written word as literature is history that is lived. The writer then is the tenacious keeper of memory, and without this memory, there is no nation.

Look back then into ourselves, into our past these many years. Look back in anger, in sorrow, but look back without any mote in our eyes. Have we transcended our families?

Our ethnic loyalties? Are we paving the way to nationhood? My first real experience with literature happened when I was ten years old and in Grade 5. My teacher, Ms. Soledad Oriel, found out that I loved reading and she gave me the very first novels I read, Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, Willa Cather’s My Antonia and that Spanish classic, Don Quixote de la Mancha.

I was immediately engrossed with Rizal’s Noli. When I came to the part where the brothers Crispin and Basilio were wrongly accused of thievery, I was so stricken by the injustice of it all, I wept. Rizal of course, clearly defined his purpose. He wanted a

robust and free Filipino nation. More than a hundred years after his martyrdom, are we that nation now?

In 1955, the United States Department of State invited me to visit America for six months. Among my memorable experiences from that year was an afternoon spent with the American poet, Robert Frost, at his cabin in Ripton, Vermont. He was then already in his 80s but still hale and alert. He said that when America invaded the Philippines in 1898 several Americans including himself had strongly objected. It was unthinkable that a country that had won its freedom by revolution would now stop another country from doing the same. He asked me, after all these years, what is the American record in the Philippines?.

The American literary experience is instructive. Early American literature, being an import from England, was much influenced by the European romantic tradition. Then sometime in the early 18th century, Ralph Waldo Emerson suggested that American writers must break away from Europe and celebrate America. The appeal was accepted by a new breed of American writers--Walt Whitman, Willa Cather, Herman Melville, Edith Wharton--they brought about the “flowering of New England,” and after them, the agrarian writers, Eugene O’Neill, Faulkner, then Hemingway, Fitzgerald, the Harlem Renaissance, gave American literature its sinews. They also defined a nation. And remember, they didn’t attend workshops and got MFAs and Ph.Ds. In the 1950s and 1960s, I was able to travel widely. It was a time of frenzied post-World War II reconstruction as well as rethinking. I met academics, writers who became friends.

I am particularly fond of the Korean-American writer, Richard Kim, Hirabayashi Taiko of Japan, Mochtar Lubis of Indonesia and Edwin Thumboo of Singapore. Though our backgrounds were totally different, we had a felicitous meeting of minds. They were all politically engaged, concerned with government, institutions, liberty and, most

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of all, ethics. They believed in integrity and above all justice. They wrote beautifully while watching their countries emerge from the rubble of war and mature and prosper. I too wrote and wrote, but saw my unhappy country flourish briefly and then decay.

Let us now turn to the literature spawned by workshops and literary studies. I’ve read a lot of them and found much of them finely crafted but without blood, sweat and iron.

Pages and pages of massaged and boring verbiage. All those American-inspired culture models, have they made us better Filipino writers and artists? I emphasize the term Filipino. Are they appropriate for us? Maybe it’s time we do away with these writing courses and replace them with heavy doses of history, philosophy, anthropology, and the Eastern and Western classics.

I have said many times that colonialism is not dead; it lives on in the attitudes embedded on the colonized, their sense of inferiority. Their hankering for acceptance and appreciation in the lands of colonizers.

Colonialism has morphed and taken new forms and assumed new names. Globalization is one of them. It has also mutated--the new colonizers are not necessarily the farangs, the foreigners anymore. Our oppressors are now our own elites. As writers, do we recognize this?

When Random House finally published me in the 1980s, my work had already been translated into several Asian and European languages. My editor at Random, Samuel S. Vaughan, was formerly president of Doubleday. When Doubleday was bought by Random, Sam was retained as senior editor.

He had a prestigious record; he was also the editor of President Eisenhower and that American writing guru, Wallace Stegner.

I told him, do whatever you wish with my manuscripts, but do not make me less Filipino.

The Russians were the first to translate my novels. My Russian translator, Igor Podberezky, was Russia’s foremost Philippine specialist. He studied at the University of the Philippines; his Tagalog was archaic Balagtas but he also spoke my sidewalk Tagalog. I asked Igor if the Russians published me because they saw some Marxism in my

dexterity with the new technologies amazes me. But at the same time I am appalled by their ignorance of our history, our culture. I was shocked to hear some of them describe Marcos as our “best” President. How did my generation fail to tell them the truth? I am deeply saddened to realize I have not reached them no matter how hard I tried.

Who will teach them? Will they listen at all?

fiction. He dismissed my comment and said: there are hundreds of talented Marxists in Russia and Eastern Europe and of course in Asia. No, he emphasized, we published you in Russia because you express the Filipino condition beautifully and we want to learn more about your people.

I mentioned in the beginning of this presentation how Rizal’s novel had affected me.

Our national hero is the greatest influence in my life as a writer. I now realize that my major theme--our search for social justice and a moral order--echoes Rizal’s. Roots!

Whatever they are which enliven, inspire and sustain you--recognize them and nurture them with passion for it is they that will make you endure. Our country--the land.

Yes, the land!

This brings to mind my own youth--and a friend who also wrote. I edited my college paper and so did he. We shared a common past and we often talked about the future with determination and candor. After college we parted ways--he became a lawyer and politician and I continued writing. All through those years, I followed his career-he had become powerful and rich. We were in our sixties when we met again. He rushed to me when he saw me, embraced me then whispered, “Frankie, I hope you understand.” But how can I, ever? Does a dream wither with the years and die?

In Boris Pasternak’s “Dr. Zhivago” are some of the most beautiful descriptions of the Russian winter and spring. This is how a writer articulates his love of his native land. But the Soviets did not allow him to go to Stockholm in 1965 to receive the Nobel Prize; they decreed, he did not love Russia enough. Read Manuel Arguila’s lyrical evocation of the Ilokos countryside. He, too, expressed his love of country not just with words. He fought our oppressors, the Japanese, for which reason they killed him.

So then, what else do I have to say to young Filipinos who are determined to write?

First and foremost, be honest with yourselves. Celebrate our country, our Filipinoness. Write not only for yourself but for our people. Be true to them as you will be true to yourself. Be contextual. Be involved and politically aware of our peoples’ problems.

Be engaged, and be able to identify our enemies. Look closely at what you are doing-you maybe one of them without knowing it.

What is your vision of our future? Our lives--have they any meaning at all? Must art be moral? When we ask these ancient questions, we then come face to face with our humanity. Bertolt Brecht said, “We who want the world to be kind cannot ourselves be kind” for man’s greatest failing is his own inhumanity.

And now I return to Mr. Frost’s question about American colonial rule. I gave his question a bit of thought then said, I suppose it turned out to be all right; if not for the public school system that the Americans brought, I’d most probably be an unlettered peasant today.

But I knew even then that my answer was not complete. I recall an African’s response to European colonialism: They told us to go to Church, close our eyes and pray. We did but when we opened our eyes, our lands were gone.

I should have said, the Americans told us to go to school to get educated, and we did. But after we had become educated, something in us was gone. Our dreams perhaps, our identities, our Filipinoness. This we must now ask ourselves and be honest with our reply.

Are you aware of our own literary traditions?

Have you used them creatively? We all know that art and literature have no borders in the sense that the imagination has no boundaries. But what is the purpose of art? Does the artist have any responsibilities? Should his people, his country command his loyalty as much as his art? Does a particular novel or story ridicule us? For a Filipino to denigrate us and profit from it is beyond contempt. So does the movie maker who portrays us as savages and without redeeming qualities.

Are you in touch with the young? I have been speaking before high school students and teachers. Every so often young people visit me as if I were some oracle. Their

I survived darkness, and looking at the young, eager faces of my visitors. I hope to God that they will, too, that the dream which I know is deep within their hearts will not fade and that it will sustain them through the blight that looms before all of us, the lies that confuse and befoul the air, the dark stain that Marcos cast upon our history.

I pray that they will be brave and strong enough to survive like I did, and prayerfully to prevail, which I did not. What can I tell them, then? I repeat: master the language. It is with words that you shock and surprise, move your reader to pity, to anger and hate.

It is with words, too, that you give light, the truth.

Nurse your melancholy---all great literature has lots of it. From where does this melancholy spring? Where else but from our truest knowledge of the brevity of life-- God’s sweetest gift which we must enjoy while it lasts, which we must endow with meaning to deserve it.

Read, write and rewrite. Forgive, live, and love. But above all, remember.

And finally, all of us know writing is hard labor. In this country, it does not pay, and we are not appreciated. Why then must we persevere, why write at all? I’ll tell you why: we will do it because it is compulsion, because it is duty to God and country.

Thank you for listening to this tired old man.

Photo By Miah Terrenz Provido

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My classmates and I often retreated to the UST Chapel to seek God’s help during exams, finding comfort in its serene architecture. There were just the UST Hospital and Clinic and the High School building on campus at the time, so there were wide open spaces shaded by beautiful trees.

Graduation in March 1952 was at the Parade Grounds and while we finished with different majors, I recognized some fellow graduates as former staff members of the Varsitarian: Neal Cruz who became a broadsheet editor, Julio Esteban who became a business executive, Nena Zumel and Piedad Guinto who both joined the teaching faculty.

File Photo

V Staffers and Thomasians Forever!

By Alice Colet-Villadolid

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N THE 1950s, the ‘V’ or Varsitarian was the glamorous student publication of UST, with offices just right of the grand staircase of the Main Building. I was then an 18-year-old junior-senior student at the College of Liberal Arts. I would not have dared join the Varsitarian staff except that my good friend, Ma. Luisa “Nena” Zumel, persuaded me to take the qualifying exam for the 1951-1952 school year. We both passed and she became editor of the women’s section of the ‘V,’ while I was assigned as assistant editor.

Our editor in chief was a topnotch student at the Faculty of Medicine, later to become the distinguished Dr. Vicente J.A. Rosales. He assigned me to write a column about my colleagues in the UST Sorority, the Central Board of Students and Student Catholic Action.

Religion and Classical Studies were everywhere in UST at the time. In my third-floor classroom at the Main Building, we would be taught Natural Law by Dr. Josefa Gonzalez Estrada, who was also our dean of women. Prof. Lourdes Syquia Bautista taught us values and ethics. We learned Catholic Literature under Prof. Clemencia Colayco and History of Religion under Prof. Pilar Gonzalez.

UST in the summer of 1952 was so reassuring spiritually and intellectually that I also applied to teach, even though I had already taken an afternoon job as reporter for the prestigious broadsheet, The Manila Chronicle. Fr. Ciriaco Pedrosa, O.P. was still dean of Liberal Arts and he gave me English subjects to teach. Fr. Tomas Martinez, O.P., who was director of the UST High School, was looking for a teacher who could double as adviser for the High School paper, The Aquinian, and he found me. These two Dominicans were my bosses for the next 14 years I spent as member of the UST Faculty.

In 1965, Fr. Martinez was appointed regent and dean of a new college that would be called Faculty of Arts and Letters.

He asked me to join this new college which will be housed at a new building, the St. Raymund of Peñafort. Our classrooms had wide-open windows that let in the breeze, assisted by ceiling fans. Teaching was done through lecture-discussions, writing exercises, some research.

Fr. Martinez began introducing us to the use of audio and video tapes. There was no microphone system in the classrooms and one had to speak full volume to be effective.

In 1968, my voice began to give way and, after medial consultations, I discovered I had contracted pulmonary disease. Fr. Martinez was aware of my difficulty in projecting my voice, and he agreed with my decision to resign from the Faculty. However, the Good Lord helped me get journalistic assignments from foreign publications, chiefly from The New York Times. In 1986, I also became press undersecretary in the government of President Cory Aquino.

In 2006, with the help of Fr. Lucio Gutierrez O.P. and Dean Belen Tangco, I returned to the Faculty of Arts and Letters to teach communication policies, writing courses and media ethics. I became acquainted again with the Varsitarian as resource person for their training seminars.

Many of my students became ‘V’ staff members and when they graduated from UST, we got reacquainted on the news beats where they were reporters or broadcasters. And so, Thomasians forever!

Confessions of a Once and Future Scribe

13 Philippine bar, and asked her if I could write some of her speeches. I had not written a speech before, but when asked if I could do it, I threw all caution to the wind, and said yes.

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I gave her a sample of my work the next day, and got overpaid for it. She said she would call for me as soon as the need arose. But that same day, I met the congressman from my province, and was hired on the spot. This allowed me to enrol at the UST Faculty of Philosophy and Letters, home of the country’s top writers and journalists. After a year, I started writing for The Blue Quill, the college newspaper, and broke into international print.

Asia Magazine, the lone English-language regional magazine out of Hong Kong, ran a short story I had written in class—-A Morning Fare—-and paid me US$150 for it.

But instead, he asked, “What else do you do?” I found it rude. As if to say, writing is not enough, you’ve got to own a bank, a casino or perhaps

Then I was invited to become Literary Editor of the Varsitarian, without having to take any competitve test. I served for two terms, before I became the Contributing Editor. I would probably torch now everything I had written then, but I would commit to posterity the work of my contributors. These included the love poems of Prof. Opelia Dimalanta, the cantos of Cirilo F. Bautista, the short stories of Fr. Rodolfo Villanueva (aka Renato Madrid), Cesar Aguila, Bayani de Leon, and the poems of Jaime (now Jamil) Maidan Flores, Jose “Papen” Flores, Rida Gadi, Benjamin Afuang, Albert Casuga, Alfredo Cuenca, and Onofre Valdenor and many others.

By Francisco Tatad

O CALL oneself a writer in a society where one who writes a fat check for a fund-raiser is likely to earn greater respect than one who has written a poem, a play or a novel is to invite so much danger to oneself. The last time someone asked me, “what do you do?” and I said, “I am a writer,” I expected him to ask, “what have you written?” or “what do you write?” I could have talked about my six books, my unpublished novel, my memoir and my new history of the Philippines—-all works in progress, and the countless columns and lectures I have churned out.

That’s precisely what got me started; my eldest brother wanted me to take up law because “that’s where the money is,” and I hated it.

“Life isn’t about money,” I said... I started to write as I began to read. At grade traffick in drugs.

school, in my poor village in Catanduanes, where we had more typhoons than books, I copied certain things from a wind-blown page, and tried to pass them off as my own. My uncle, who was also my teacher, tried to ignore my theft. He gave me a good grade for it, but said, “Don’t forget to share this with your co-author.”

A visitor from Manila who stayed with us left a copy of Thomas Mann’s The Holy Sinners in hour house. I kept the book and read it, just to test my ability to read words. This increased my desire to write. From my village, I sailed to Manila to finish high school. I graduated with honors, but saw no chance of going to college.

After trying everything without success, I shamelessly approached Sen. Tecla San Andres Ziga, the first woman topnotcher of the

Kawabata, David Carver, Kathleen Nott; I also struck a friendship with Yevgeny Yevtushenkov an Jose Garcia Villa, who said I was one of two Filipino writers whose prose he liked. But my literary career had dimmed.

In Ottawa, I asked Michael O’Brien, author of Father Elijah and other novels, and for me the greatest living Catholic novelist today, what I should do about a novel which I could not find the courage to publish. Hold on to it, he said, it’s time will come if there’s any good in it. This was therefore how I answered the question, “What else do you do now?”—-“I’m waiting for The Last Holocaust to be published.” More than that, I said I was trying to do all I could to spare myself and all my friends from the horror which Leon Bloy imagined when he said “the only real tragedy in life is in not becoming a saint.” Having written or failed to write what I felt I had needed to write, I am now trying to put the final touches to my greatest oeuvre—my poor imperfect life—-which is all this poor writer could truly offer to our Triune God.

My campus career ended after my friends and I organized a symposium on Blessed Cardinal John Henry Newman’s “The Idea of a University;” and the program handout asked the question: “Is UST a university?” We were barred from the auditorium, barred from the university, and Philets itself was dissolved. Thrown out of the university, I took a job at Agence France-Presse. Three years later, I moved to the Manila Daily Bulletin as a diplomatic reporter and columnist. On my third year, at 29, I joined the Cabinet as presidential spokesman, press secretary and Secretary (later Minister) of Information. This enabled the university to honor me as its “most distinguished alumnus.”

The shift to journalism interrupted my career as a writer. It took a deeper plunge when I became the world’s youngest Cabinet minister, and one of TIME magazine’s “Faces of the Future” in its 1974 survey of rising young leaders around the world. It slid further down when I became a Senator. I continued to deliver speeches in various international forums, and through F. Sionil Jose and PEN International I met writers like Gunter Grass, John Cheever, John Updike, Yasunari

Photo grabbed from manilatimes.net

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The Accidental EIC, Circa 1960 Or, how I learned to love writing as a V staffer in a former Japanese internment camp

By Bernardo Bernardo THERE I was in 1966, still in disbelief that I was soon to graduate with a Litt. B degree in journalism from the Royal and Pontifical University of Santo Tomas. The mirror did not reflect that I was a survivor of the slums of post-war Manila; or, that I’ve led an itinerant life, having inhabited a total of 18 domiciles in my young life. Yet there I was, the latest editor in chief of the Varsitarian, looking dapper in my academic cap and toga, getting ready for the commencement exercises at the old UST Gym. Yes, the Varsitarian enabled me to complete my academic journey. The ‘V’ scholarship as a member of the editorial staff was a godsend. Of course, beyond that blessing, due credit goes to Prof. Felix B. Bautista, the ‘V’ adviser and my newswriting professor, for shepherding my personal and professional growth.

I remember Sir Felix during my first ‘V’ exam, peering through his eyeglasses, thick as the bottom of Coke bottles, looking at me intently. I’m pretty sure there was no trace of Teodoro Valencia in me. If anything, the vibe I must have exuded was that of a street-smart kid, like a weird postpubescent cross between Joe Quirino and Joe Guevarra.

I was accepted as a reporter during the second term of Jean Pope, who was the first woman EIC of the ‘V’. Not much later, Sir Felix even gave me a part-time job as a cub reporter-cum-researcher at the Evening News in Port Area, where I also began to moonlight as gofer for the desk reporters and columnists of the afternoon daily: On campus, I auditioned for UST’s Aquinas Dramatic Guild (ADG) on a whim, and was accepted; this seemingly innocent act triggered my life-long love affair with theater.

ADG gave me a booster shot of what could be best described as an addiction to acting.

After a series of shows, I was confronted with the absurd reality that compared with my fevered passion for acting, my dedication to writing for the Varsitarian absolutely sucked.

This was tantamount to Sacrilege! I had fervently desired to be an excellent journalist; consequently, I was blessed with a scholarship and the opportunity to be mentored by the best of the best. And then, suddenly, there I was wanting to be an artista!

Worse, there was no professional theater in the Philippines in the 1960s. And it was laughable to even consider a career acting in movies at the time when mestizo stars reigned; or, heaven forbid, to attempt appearing on television during its black and white inane infancy.

In any case, Sir Felix gave me his stamp of approval.

To further complicate matters, I began to realize that I was not just a budding journalist; I was also, quite possibly, a budding “bading.” Thus, with sexual identity issues compounding my gnawing insecurity as a ‘V’ writer, I began to flagellate myself (like a good Catholic teenager would) with thoughts that I was, at best, only a passable writer.

I lamented that I used to have a voice. Maybe often rude, raw, and sometimes grammatically incorrect, but always in pursuit of what was authentic; I was a true product of the streets.

However, the definitive Filipino attitude of “utang na loob” was deeply ingrained in me; this, coupled with fear of unknown consequences, taught me to become adept at quiet assimilation and unquestioning acceptance of life at a university “older than Harvard,” while coping with the discomfort of cluelessness as to why in the mid-1960s we still had separate stairs for teenage boys and girls in the Main Building. And, for that matter, why a Prefect of Discipline (aptly named Fr. Mata) was chasing after coeds who were wearing skirts that were deemed too short.

Having come from public schools, I found it overwhelming that a Catholic University was actually living up to its reputation as a safe, sedate, and conservative haven for learning. The atmosphere was unfamiliar, and I sometimes felt like I was walking through college life feeling strangely cut off from the real world; having neither interest, nor investment in the social struggles happening outside the campus walls.

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Sadly, when I became the EIC of the ‘V,’ I tried to make up for my cocooned existence in brash, uninformed ways typical of young fools. Extant copies of the Varsitarian during my watch now provide undeniable proof of my unfortunate parochial point of view: including an ignorant tirade at the student demonstrations and mass political protest movements (that I could not relate to), held at the University Belt, not two miles away from the UST Chapel; and, to my eternal embarrassment, my infantile outrage over the essay “A Heritage of Smallness” written by Nick Joaquin, future National Artist (topped by my cringe-worthy riposte: “Who does he think he is?”)

I felt secure knowing that the whole time I was doing journalistic pratfalls, Sir Felix was behind me, allowing me freedom to find my own voice and make my own mistakes. He backed me up when the new Art Director Raul Garcia, and I decided to give the ‘V’ a fresher look and younger tone that was more in tune with the times, to celebrate Mod and Pop Art, 1960s counter-culture, and the vibrant Age of the Beatles. Sir Felix shielded us from the complaints of the cassocked crew of the Dominican Order who were unsettled by the psychedelic change.

While I prefer to think that Sir Felix saw a potential journalist in the gangly boy from the quonset huts of Manila High School, it’s more likely that the deal was clinched when I casually implied that I grew up with the smell of printer’s ink, amid the clatter of linotype machines.

I followed through with a short list of fourth-estate colleagues he might know personally: Ramon Vecina, my half-brother, a news photographer at the Philippines Herald; Ignacio Santos, society photographer at the same broadsheet; and, my cousin, Pedro Coniconde Jr., its editorial cartoonist.

Furthermore, my nanay used to run a restaurant (a turo-turo really) where we lived, right across the Madrigal’s DMHM Building in Intramuros!

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I did not understand the anger of Sir Felix. Even when he tried to explain later about the photo being “an occasion of sin.” And it was never the same after that.

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Looking back, it was stupid of me not to cut him some slack. After all, for so many years, Sir Felix gave me enough rope to (almost) hang myself; because he believed in me. And I trusted him. It’s been 51 years, Sir Felix. I want you to know: I love you and respect you. Maraming Salamat.

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One Happy Season

My EIC was Jean Pope, the first woman to hold the post.

Felicito Bautista was News Editor with Cirilo Bautista as his assistant; Francisco (Kit) Tatad, literary editor with Albert Casuga as his assistant; Tish Bautista, co-eds editor; Eli Ang Barroso, alumni editor; Bayani de Leon, Filipino Editor with Marietta Dichoso as his assistant; Demosthenes Roja (an engineering student), Sports Editor; and Remedios Baquiren (a fine arts student), Art Editor, with Danny Dalena as her “alternate.” Among the reporters were Ben Afuang, the Cuasay brothers (who were medical students and whose older brother Ramon, also a doctor, had been a ‘V’ editor) Orlando and Nestor, and Arabella Gonzalez.

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Our newsroom was on the ground floor of the Main Building, which looked so old that at first I thought it had been transferred, stone by stone, from Intramuros to España, like the Arch of Centuries. It was a dark, cavernous, smoke-filled room, saved from gloominess by the floor-to-ceiling doors on both sides of the room, overlooking grassy quadrangles. There were slow-moving, fat-bladed fans suspended from the tall ceiling, enormous wooden desks for the editors, equipped with swivel chairs, heavy manual typewriters, and ashtrays, all of which qualified as antiques even then. There were also smaller wooden tables with mismatched chairs and even older typewriters for the reporters. And lining the walls behind the desks were wooden cabinets, with cloudy glass doors. These were crammed with sheets of both clean and used newsprint, copy awaiting copyediting, proofs awaiting proofreading, old ‘V’ issues, typewriter ribbons, and sundry personal effects like paperbacks, umbrellas, jackets and half-eaten sandwiches. It was a mess. And we loved it. We were stepping into a tradition!

By Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo

WAS 16 when I entered UST’s Faculty of Philosophy and Letters. I had been told this was where students went who wanted to be writers, to major in either philosophy or journalism. There were no creative writing programs then.

Philets was a tiny, laid-back college, occupying one third of the third floor of what was then called Education Building (now the AB-Commerce Building). We shared it with two other colleges, Education and Commerce. UST was still run by Spanish friars. Our dean, Fr. Alfredo Panizo, O.P., was a true intellectual, and a bohemian at heart. Most of the faculty had been Philets themselves and were practicing newspapermen or advertising executives. At least a third of the students were working students, already on their way to successful careers in media, advertising, or the new field of public relations. This soon cured me of any feelings of self-importance I might have acquired from my early successes in the small pond I had come from.

The University’s official student paper was The Varsitarian, which affected a format borrowed from Time magazine, except that it had a literary section of which it was extremely proud, since many of the country’s major writers (like Frankie Sionil Jose, Johnny Gatbonton, Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta, Rolando Tiño, Bienvenido Lumbera, Wilfredo Nolledo, Lilia Pablo Amansec, etc.) had first seen print there.

The printing press was at the far edge of the campus, on the corner of España and P. Noval. One had to cross the football field to get to it, moving in a diagonal line and passing the chapel along the way. The linotype machines, and little Mang Narcing, who was the very soul of patience, occupied the first floor. After the corrected proofs were done, they went to the tiny offset department on the mezzanine. Section Editors were responsible for putting their own pages to bed, although the editor in chief would go over all final proofs again afterwards. So for a few days each month, we all smelled of printer’s ink and suffered from eye strain.

I didn’t dare set my sights so high. I applied instead to be a reporter in the Blue Quill, my college’s paper, where many ‘V’ staffers got their start. It was a good decision, because its editor in chief was Joe Burgos (who said he was an upperclassman, when he had the time for it). Joe was already an excellent editor, and knocked off whatever nonsense was still left in me, by simply assuming we were all already professional journalists like himself. He was later to become an iconic figure, but none of us—least of all, Joe himself—was aware of it then.

We took an oath before the Rector Magnificus, swearing to “uphold and preserve the ideals” of UST, and were handed a typewritten list of 13 “Rules,” which included “maintaining order and discipline in the office at all times” and “using the typewriters and the telephone exclusive for official business.”

Julie Daza, the Varsitarian’s first woman assistant editor, a Philets senior (who was also working for the Evening News), encouraged me to try for the ‘V.’ It was the best training for a career in journalism later, she said.

Jean Pope, the Varsitarian’s co-eds editor, a Philets junior (and a writer for a popular section in the Manila Times called, I think, “Crew Cuts and Pony Tails”), also told me I should be in the ‘V.’ But I liked the Quill and decided to stay one more year.

And we did take our jobs very seriously, putting in many long hours on our own writing and on the editing of submitted materials. The magazine came out once a month, each issue with around 60-70 pages. We were paid a small allowance, which I later learned was spent by many of the staff on secondhand books in Sampaloc.

Toward the end of my sophomore year, I took the ‘V’ exam, and was accepted, initially as News Editor, and then, at my request, as Features Editor. The paper’s moderator was Fr. Jose Cuesta, O.P., and its technical adviser was Dr. Vic Rosales who taught in the Faculty of Medicine. Fr. Cuesta read every inch of copy before passing it on to Dr. Rosales, who did the hands-on managing. Fr. Cuesta had a deep, growling bass and a formidable scowl which quite intimidated me; but I was later to realize he was actually a most gentle old man. And Dr. Rosales, who was married to one of my Philets professors, Piedad Guinto-Rosales who taught Modern Drama, eventually became a good friend.

But by the time I was a senior, the ‘V’ had become more important to me than my studies, and I think, most of my fellow staff members felt the same way (except maybe for Theni Roja and the Cuasays). This may have been because we were all getting ready for the next stage in our life.

I realize now that the work habits that I picked up in that office have stood me in good stead all my life. To this day I can set aside personal problems and personal taste, and produce a competently written story on assignment, using the number of words specified and submitting it on time. This is what being a professional journalist means to me, and I learned it in the ‘V.’

I think we spent that much time in the office because we liked it there. We felt at home there. We had grown attached to the ratty furniture and the battered typewriters and the old-fashioned ceiling fans and the cigarette smoke and the mess.

But all that aside,

Of course we also enjoyed each other’s company tremendously. Many of my fellow staffers had been my friends in Philets to begin with, and the ‘V’ strengthened those bonds. These many years after, my memories of that office are among the warmest I have of my old school.

Jean (who by then was in graduate school and already assistant editor of the Sunday Times Magazine, I think) and Cito did another year with the ‘V’. Jun Pangilinan took over news; and Danny Dalena became Art Editor. Theni and I stayed on with Sports and Features respectively; Norma Miraflor joined us as Literary Editor with Nestor Cuasay as her assistant; Jake Macasaet came in as cadets editor; Roger Sikat took over Pilipino with Marietta Dichoso as his assistant; Tish became Religion Editor; Susan Santamaria and Daisy Uy took over co-eds. And Fely Consignado, Rey Datu and Luningning Salazar were among our reporters.

At 19, I had not yet decided what I would do with my life after graduation. The choices seemed to be to go to graduate school abroad or accept the offer of a part time job with the Manila Chronicle, for which I had been writing a weekly youth page column since sophomore year. In any case, I figured there was no harm in taking the ‘V’ exam again, and applied for the position of Assistant Editor.

When the results were released, I was stunned to learn that I was being offered editor in chief. I emphatically did not want to be editor in chief! To begin with I didn’t think I could do the job. Secondly, I didn’t want to be boss. Especially not female boss to a staff of mainly male writers, among whom were some who clearly wanted the position since they had applied for it.

Fr. Cuesta and Fr. Panizo actually paid my parents a visit to get their help in convincing me to take the job. Their idea was to name Cito Bautista and Manny Azarcon, Executive Editor and Managing Editor, respectively. “They can do the leg work and the press work,” Fr. Cuesta said to my parents. “Since she’s a girl, she will need help with things like that.”

To make a long story short, I acceded. For a long time I believed that I had simply succumbed to pressure. But now I think I may well have been simply in denial. Maybe I really wanted the job. What do I know?

Photo By Miah Terrenz Provido

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18 Having decided to take it on, I told myself that my first step ought to be to ensure the cooperation of the men who would be part of my team. Should I play the Helpless Female card? Or should I put on a Tough Woman act?

I need not have worried. Cito and Manny were both fine editors and perfect gentlemen. Jun stayed on as news editor, and Tish as co-eds.

Norma took over Features; Nestor took over literary, with Rita Gadi as his assistant. The other section editors were Anastacio de Guia, Jose Ser Sahagun, Ma. Concepcion Zamora and Ofelia Reyes. And among the new reporters was Bernardo Bernardo (who would become editor in chief after Jun, who would replace me). My Art Director was Ramon Dellosa, who had been handpicked by Danny. It was a good team.

This was before the university campuses became battlegrounds.

Though UP’s students had always been politicized, and the Collegian, always oriented toward national events, UST was still cocooned in an age of innocence. Today, going over my old copies of the 12 issues of that year when I sat behind the editor’s desk, I can’t help but cringe a bit. The First Quarter Storm was only a few years away. Our personal dreams and private struggles were about to take a backseat to politics.

But we were blissfully ignorant of it. I think now that the best thing about my editorials was the art work by Mon Dellosa on the margins.

In 1964, the University had set up a new College of Science, and merged Liberal Arts and Philets to form the new Faculty of Arts and Letters. Mine had been the last Philets graduating class. The new college needed teachers, and I was asked to teach one undergraduate literature course, which with incredible temerity, I actually agreed to do. I had also enrolled in the Graduate School. This meant that I was studying, and holding down three jobs—assistant women’s editor for Graphic Magazine, part-time teacher, and editor of the ‘V.’ Somehow, it all worked out. Today when young people refer to “multi-tasking,” I remember that time in my life, and think to myself: “Been there, done that.” Somehow, it all worked out. Youth makes everything possible.

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In 1964, the University had set up a new College of Science, and merged Liberal Arts and Philets to form the new Faculty of Arts and Letters. Mine had been the last Philets graduating class. The new college needed teachers, and I was asked to teach one undergraduate literature course, which with incredible temerity, I actually agreed to do. I had also enrolled in the Graduate School. This meant that I was studying, and holding down three jobs—assistant women’s editor for Graphic Magazine, part-time teacher, and editor of the ‘V’. Somehow, it all worked out. Today when young people refer to “multi-tasking,” I remember that time in my life, and think to myself: “Been there, done that.” Somehow, it all worked out. Youth makes everything possible.

After one year, I decided to give up the editorship of the ‘V’, but following the footsteps of my predecessors. I stayed on for another year as contributing editor and writing a monthly column.

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After work a few nights ago, over coffee in our favorite café, a friend said to me, “If you could go back to one period in your life, which would you choose?” And I answered, without missing a heartbeat, “College of course—when I was in Philets, was about to step in my twenties, and was working for the Varsitarian.”

Underwood typewriters and Martial Law Fr. Virgilio A. Ojoy, O.P.

T HE 70s were very exciting years for journalistic adventures.

We were so fortunate to have been taken in as members of the

Varsitarian staff during that era of martial rule and pre-digital printing. Back then, there were no computers and air conditioners at the Varsi office. We would write our articles through rickety Underwood typewriters that constantly reminded us that we belong to the oldest Catholic university in Asia. As we needed to pound the machines hard enough for the print to be readable, we literally sweated it out to beat our deadlines with minimal comfort accorded by dusty ceiling fans that seemed to have been working since the Spanish era.

After our editors have finished with the manual editing of our opera magna, we would be back once more to our Underwood to retype our articles, sometimes until very late at night. We had to secure three or four signatures before we can bring our articles to the UST Press for printing. Since the UST Press was also the oldest printing press in the Philippines, we had to contend with probably the most ancient printing machines we could ever find. The printing was long and tedious. The initial output from the press had to go back and forth from the press workers, to the writers, the editors, and the advisers. This required the writers and editors to also go back and forth from the Main Building where the Varsi office was located to the UST Press that used to stand where the Beato Angelico Building is now. Once the printed texts were thoroughly corrected and finally printed, the editors would cut them and then paste them according to a predetermined layout. To beat the deadline and to spare ourselves from the barrage of loud reprimands from those higher than us in the ladder of the Varsitarian Editorial Board, we usually worked until the wee hours of the morning. The cut-and-paste and the publishing tasks being done today are a walk in the park compared with the grueling journey that we had to go through in order to come out with an issue of the Varsitarian.

However, the real challenge of the 70s can be found in the larger society outside the walls of the University of Santo Tomas. It was the Martial Law era during which rebels, and writers who are critical of the New Society that Marcos wanted the Philippines to become were apprehended, tortured and imprisoned. The repression, instead of mitigating the opposition, fired up all the more the enthusiasm of the intellectuals, artists, laborers and students to dismantle the dictatorship. Students and laborers took to the streets to manifest their sentiments. Artists would gather at night to read poems, sing their songs, especially “Bayan Ko” which became the national anthem of the protest movements. It was inevitable that our words as student journalists would be affected by the life situation where we found ourselves. On the other hand, as student journalists we had the committed idealism that drove us to want

to change our life situation by our words, impervious to the dire consequences of our journalistic expressions. I vividly remember that one time we wrote an editorial regarding a series of bombings that triggered the declaration of Martial Law. The narrative of the establishment was that those bombings were perpetrated by the enemies of the State, particularly the communist New People’s Army and the Liberal Party headed by Ninoy Aquino. The editorial took the opposite view that those bombings were staged by the government in order to justify the declaration of Martial Law. That issue was a hit among the students and employees of UST.

The whole campus became a huge library where Thomasians were reading and relishing the words that we wrote. For a student journalist, that sight was a delight to behold.

Of course, that issue of the Varsitarian did not go unnoticed. For several days afterwards, the military and police in plain clothes, visited the Varsi office and looked for the writers of the editorial and the other articles that were adverse to the establishment. Fortunately, being a seminarian I was able to take refuge in the seminary. The other members of the staff were sought but were also luckily not found.

It was indeed challenging to balance our youthful idealism that drove us to write to change the world amidst the repression that was as real as every breath that we made. Not to mention the control that the UST administration had to impose on us student journalists in order not to offend the Marcos regime. Thanks to our seasoned advisers headed by Mr. Felix Bautista, we were able to slither our way through the turbulent times and contribute to the conception and birthing of the first EDSA Revolution.

Photo grabbed from Facebook

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Remembrances of Days at The Varsitarian

By Charmaine Pidal-Pahate

“We were dreamers trying to find our own space in University history. When I think of it, everything that transpired in my life as a ‘V’ staffer was peppered with luck” On my first year, I was tasked to write for both the Filipino and News sections. Carlo Leo Manuel, my news editor at that time, sent me to cover events with guest speakers the likes of former presidents Corazon Aquino and Joseph Estrada. I was starstruck with each and every encounter, but thanks to my ever-reliable tape recorder, I could play back and transcribe the interviews after. With the encouragement of fellow news writer Felicisimo Tejuco, Jr., reminding me every time “kaya mo ‘yan,” I survived my first year in The V. I admired Carlo for his writing and editing skills. He was the writer and editor of many of the articles in the controversial lampoon issue, The Vuisitarian, where he, together with photo editor Walter Villa and features editor Olmin Leyba, exhibited their excellent creative writing skills. Little did we know, it would be the last we would see an issue of The Vuisitarian published. The Vuisitarian caught the ire of some conservative officials. The three “legendary writers” along with our Editorial Board members Don Robespierre Reyes, Arisreed Marquez, and Elizabeth Mapula, and artist Ronald Samson were summoned before University officials led by the Rector, Fr. Rolando de la Rosa, O.P. Looking back as I flipped through the pages of that old lampoon issue, it got me thinking there was no way the University panel would grant them that pardon except for the power of divine intervention.

Photo By Deejae S. Dumlao

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“ AYBE I should write bits and pieces about my batch,” I tell myself as I walk up and down the stairs of our three-floor house, staring out the window of my room, figuring out what to write. I could write a nostalgic piece, rummage through a huge sack of old memories, and let this article be a tribute to my Varsitarian batchmates.

That would have been a good idea, although, technically, I do not have batchmates. I joined The Varsitarian (The ‘V’) in June 1996 after every one of my supposed batchmates was baptized at a summer retreat in May. I got onboard after a position opened in the Filipino section and an appeal from Christopher Cahilig to the Selection Committee that he needed one more staff writer. That cemented my

friendship with Chris, who would also become my classmate in Journalism. When the time came he volunteered to represent our batch to the Mr. and Ms. AB Pageant as Mr. Journ, I decided I had to support him all the way and against all the odds. I was there to help him plan and shop for his wardrobe. I supported his idea of a Filipino-inspired sportswear and cheered on as he got on stage barefoot, adorned with coconut husks mimicking the sport kadangkadang. I also made sure the ‘V’ staffers were there to cheer for him come pageant day. That was how we supported each other’s wildest dreams.

It was also in the ‘V’ that I had the best memories of the purest friendships. Two of my closest male friends were then special reports writer Christian Esguerra and sports writer Paolo Castro. Christian became editor in chief (1998), while Paolo was sports editor. Back in the days when we were more fun, a stocky boy reminiscent of cartoon character Johnny Bravo, who happened to be staff photographer Dax Bernini de la Cruz, sent me a singing telegram on Valentines Day. Two male singers came armed with a guitar and a rose to do their stunt inside the ‘V’ office. They sang as I prayed that Ian and Paolo were not anywhere near to witness this spectacle. Lo and behold! They were there listening and laughing their hearts out from the mezzanine floor. From then on, whenever they feel like annoying me, they would pull a stunt a ‘la singing telegram complete with whatever dead or living plant available as peace offering. And like always, we would end up in boisterous laughter.

It was not only Ian and Paolo who had a knack for singing. On a good day, one could get a glimpse of our Varsitarian adviser and Inquirer editor Lito Zulueta singing Beatle songs as if calming himself while he edited manuscripts of ‘V’ staffers. Playing music at the ‘V’ office

was a must in every presswork – from The Beatles, The Seal, Madonna, Sarah McLachlan, and Duncan Sheik. The playlist seemed endless like our youth.

In 1999, I remember being part of the organizing committee of the Valik Varsi that was held at the lobby of the UST Main Building. The preparations leading to the event were laborious, but nobody seemed to complain about the task given them. In fact, we took pride in what we were doing and were excited to meet our predecessors. Many of them are successful in their own fields. We wanted to hear their own stories of the ‘V’; after all, these stories that connect us all.

Looking at the faces of the Amihan gathered that night, I wondered if I would be as happy when my turn to attend a future Varsitarian reunion comes. We used to kid around envisioning how on that night we would bring our own children – naughty-looking creatures and little versions of ourselves. We’ve imagined how the little Jeremiah Opinianos or Francis Wakefields would look like. Although, with an abundance of Varsitarian couples, whose relationships blossomed from within the organization such as that of Art Director Ronald Samson and special reports editor Ces Fernandez, and artist Oliver Helis and Literary Editor Jonnie Lee, we knew our witticisms were not far from becoming reality.

Writing these random memories of times past, I realized how I genuinely miss the people who have formed a huge part of my University life. These thoughts would sometimes visit me, an overstaying but pleasant visitor, from where I would constantly draw strength during the lowest points in my adult life. The Varsitarian has given me lifelong friendships with former editor in chief Henry Barrameda (1998), deputy editor in chief Luis Donato (1998), news writer Eleanor Leyco (1998), literary editor Gerald Feljandro Ramos (1999), editorial board members Jasmine Jumawan (1999) and Elizabeth Mapula (1996), witness writer Wendell Capili (1986), and former Varsitarian adviser Chrisma Bangaoil.

There are so many memories of the ‘V’ that make me gasp. Omigod, that was 10 or 15 years and 100 pounds ago! But the moment that always amazed me was the day I met my husband on Chrisma’s wedding. Mark Wesley Pahate, who would later become our Art Director, was a vision in an old rose barong tagalog as he entered the Santisimo Rosario Church on a windy December afternoon.

Seventeen years since that fateful day, we now have three children whom we have regaled with our stories of how we met at the ‘V.’ At times, when Mark and I would like to escape the present, we listen to ‘90s music, exchange stories of our days at the ‘V,’ and stay for a while in the beautiful past.

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A Memoire of Varsi Days

By Mina Paras

By Sr. M. Regina Kuizon RGS The Exams The qualifying exams, the specialized exams, the retreat, the seminar-workshop, the interviews were among the events that run through my brain as I cram to write my memories and experiences at the Varsitarian.

IT WAS 1969. The country was in a euphoric state.

Gloria Diaz, our representative to the Miss Universe pageant held in Miami, Florida, had just come home to an adoring public. She had bagged the most coveted international beauty title, the first Filipino to do so. Miss Universe was, and still is, the most prestigious beauty pageant in the world, despite the preponderance of other latecomers such as Miss International and Miss World. And Gloria Diaz, with her wit and aplomb, brought home the crown.

Naturally, she was given a ticker tape parade, awaited at every corner by loudly cheering throngs.

Now how does Miss Gloria Diaz’s win figure in a personal memoir of my days in Varsi? Because after the parade, Diaz proceeded to the Education Auditorium as guest of a Varsi event. Raul Ibañez, the Literary Ed and I, newly appointed assistant lit ed, were tasked to emcee the event. In spite of my stage fright, I rose to the challenge. Just as I was introducing Father Rector, there was pandemonium. Gloria Diaz, in her queenly finery, wearing her crown, had just come in the auditorium.

My emceeing stint lasted all of 10 seconds. Even Fr. Rector smiled, resigned to be second most-important guest to the newly crowned beauty queen.

Before the Varsi, I was with the Flame, the Faculty of Arts and Letters’ college paper. As an awe-struck “promdi” fresh from a small high school in Angeles, Pampanga, I spent my freshman year’s first semester familiarizing myself with the big university‘s culture.

As a high school valedictorian, I was put in the honors class, along with the other valedictorians and salutatorians from all over the Philippines.

So many memories of the ‘V’

My seatmate was a salutatorian from Bicol. But others came from the UST High School itself. Rose Hilario was my classmate and later, a “barkada.”

We had this professor, Chit Almario, who had asked Rose how she was related to Gil Hilario, the Filipino businessman who had bagged, so to speak, the crown by marrying Armi Kuusela, one of the earliest Miss Universe (if not the first) queens. By the way, Rose was indeed related to Gil; he was her uncle.

By the end of the first semester, I had flexed enough muscle to test the waters; I applied for a slot in the Flame. I was made reporter. In my second year, a writing test was given to aspirants. The formidable OA Dimalanta oversaw the test. When the results came in, I was Literary Ed, in a tie with Duds Obnamia. The one thing I remember of that stint was that it was difficult to get submissions for our section. Our editor in chief then was Gene Reyes.

By the third year, I had set my sights on writing for the Varsitarian, the university organ that was judged as (one of the) best college/university papers by the College Editors Guild. There was no test that I remember; I just started submitting articles. Before long, I was doing the features, and doing book reviews and art critiques. Jullie Yap Daza, our art appreciation teacher, taught us well. I remember that she held some classes outside the classroom. One time it was at the home of Ronnie Veloso Yap, the chinita beauty who covered the Miss Universe pageant when it was held in Manila, and was thought to be one of the contestants.

Photo grabbed from Mina Paras Facebook Account

There was excitement to see the list of those who passed the qualifying exams and an anxiety that the specialized exams would follow.

“Meron pa pala, akala ko isa lang, nakuwento ko na sa Ate ko.

Makakuha na rin kaya ng exams as photographer since at that time I was a member of the UST Kameradare Camera Club, and I learned to shoot from professional photographers like Noli Yamsuan,” I told myself.

Retreat Having hurdled the specialized exams, incoming V staffers were gathered one summer morning in front of the University of Santo Tomas Main Building, to board the bus that would take us to Betania Retreat House in Pansol, Laguna. The retreat was a prelude to our seminar-workshop that would be participated in by current staffers. It was a welcome treat, for me. I guess for everybody. Every recollection in the University was great. What was new to me was the retreat master, Fr. James Reuter SJ. He was invited by then Publications Director Felix B. Bautista and Assistant to the Publications Director Jesselynn G. de la Cruz. “Ay puwede pa lang Jesuit ang retreat master sa UST, a university run by Dominican Fathers.”

editors, Vicente G. Rosales Jr, Benajmin Co and Regina Bautista led the group of V staffers from the various colleges in the University. A group of students with different dreams and ambitions but with the same passion for writing, and for sharing the truth or being an agent in truth telling. In spite of classroom activities and assignments, we found time for the “V.” There was not a single computer in the V, so we had no problem with printers running out ink but with ribbons and old typewriters. Deadlines, presswork—at the historic UST press at the corner of P.Noval and España.

Young writers Several years after graduation, I returned to the V as Assistant to the Publications Director. That was the year when the people were wary of the snap elections and then several months later were euphoric because of the gains of the 1986 EDSA People Power. Students were fired by enthusiasm, love of country and hope for the future.

In 1990 I left the V to join the RGS (Religious of the Good Shepherd), but wherever it is located, the V office is one place that I love to visit, every time there is opportunity.

Truly those were days of quiet, of prayers, of gratitude, and conversations with God about what mattered in life.

Journalism seminar-workshop Balayan, Batangas was the site of our journalism seminar-workshop, where The Varsitarian alumni and seasoned journalists gathered at the beach house owned by Maria Lopez, fondly called Lola Marucha, to share the best practices in journalism. We were there to listen and to learn from the wisdom of highly respected media practitioners.

That was the year before the death of Ninoy Aquino.

At our seminar-workshop what I learned in journalism classes were emphasized—principles that were important before and we should not let go of today such as accuracy, seeking the truth, verifying information, identifying sources of information, impartiality, integrity, among others.

V staffers Guided by Sir and Jesselynn, the V editors and staff members gathered regularly for meetings, learning from one another and evaluating every issue that we published. The V

Photo By Vladlynn Nona Maryse L. Tadeo

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26 Photo grabbed from Facebook

In between, we would join civil disobedience rallies (I still remember the long march from Sto. Domingo Church to Luneta in February 1986 a few days after the February 7 snap elections), take part in the historic EDSA People Power Revolution, and cover and publish a special ‘V’ issue for the visit of the newly sworn President Corazon C. Aquino. Or, in lazy afternoons after an issue is put to bed, we would just hang out in the ‘V’ office, playing charades, or eat out in Tapsi or the Lopez Canteen.

Lasting legacies from the 1980s

By Andy Saracho

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N LATE 1983, I applied in the Varsitarian with only one purpose: to hone my writing skills.

Earlier during the year, on August 21, Benigno Aquino Jr., a former senator and opposition leader who was returning to the country from self-exile in Boston, was shot and killed. His assassination put the country in tumult and would give rise to a series of significant events in the history of the Philippines in the succeeding years.

Against that background, I decided to try it out in the ‘V’ as a venue to express myself through writing, a skill that I came to discover back in my elementary days.

Coming off as a technical staff writer in the Commerce Journal, I thought it would be one step forward if I joined the ‘V’ and, perhaps, become a better writer. Never did I think doing so would give me more than I what I had wanted.

The summer workshop in Pugad Marilo in Balayan, Batangas in 1984 was my “initiation” in an organization that I would later embrace as my second family in college.

It was at this point that my working relationship with my ‘V’ colleagues began to grow, with some nourishment here and there from the senior staffers. Balayan also became the treasured ground for genuine friendship that has endured the challenges of time.

The country’s political climate in the aftermath of the Aquino assassination made our stint in the ‘V’ a most memorable one for many of us in our batch. Our days in the ‘V’ office were spent cranking out (from our old but reliable manual typewriters) news stories, feature articles, opinions and editorials, and even poems and cartoons that were full of anti-Marcos sentiments. Our nights would end at the UST Press Office with Mang Carding, looking over the negatives, proofreading the articles and checking the layouts again and again.

I am proud that in those years in the 1980s, we were able to leave what I would claim as lasting legacies. It was during our time that the summer sportsfest was introduced with only two teams: ITALS and the rest of the world (Sorry, guys. You can have your own version of the story). In 1986, Vim Nadera founded USTETIKA, now the country’s longest running university-based literary competition. It was also in 1986 that ‘V’ artist Michael Marbella gave birth to Tomas U. Santos, who has since become a symbol of the simple Thomasian student. Who doesn’t know ‘V’ adviser Lito Zulueta? He came from our batch, too! And, finally, it was during one of our senti moments at the ‘V’ office that we came out with the now-popular term Amihan to refer to “outgone” (incoming, incumbent, outgoing, outgone – gets?) ‘V’ staffers.

The senti joke was that former staffers will not be any more given attention when they visit the ‘V’ office, just like air: it’s there but you don’t mind it. The original word was actually utot, which one would surely mind; it doesn’t smell good. Thus came Amihan, the cool northeast wind, whose presence one would certainly feel.

About Varsi

By Fr. Rolando V. de la Rosa, O.P

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ET ME begin with a confession. Since I began studying in the University of Santo Tomas, I had wanted to be a member of the Varsitarian staff because it appeared to me as an exclusive clique composed of students with a great talent for writing. To be a Varsi staffer was, for me, a status symbol, something that set me apart from my classmates and other students of UST.

I thought the slogan “Once a V, always a V” was a declaration that, like priesthood and baptism, the Varsitarian would give an indelible imprint in my soul that, at the time, neglect, or my surrender to mediocrity could not erase.

So, I was overwhelmed with pride when I saw, for the first time, my byline. It gave me, not only a sense of power and superiority, but an assurance that I will forever be remembered. I had my first reality check when I saw students not reading the Varsitarian but using it as protection from the sun and the rain. I also saw my own classmate sitting right on the page where my article was printed while he rested on one of the benches in the UST seminary garden.

Did I become a better writer after I joined the ‘V’? Probably I did. I don’t know.

What I’m sure of is that I became a better person because of the ‘V’, and part of what and who I am today are my ‘V’ friends, my BFFs, with whom I share good memories and to whom I give my gratitude for the lasting friendship that we have.

The late Mr. Felix Bautista, who perhaps had the longest tenure as publications director of the Varsitarian, gave me another reality jolt when, during his orientation talk, he told us that writing was a service, not a status; a gift but also a responsibility; and that we were chosen not because we were good writers but because we had shown an infinitesimal potential for becoming one.

The most effective reality check that firmly planted my feet on the ground was when three of my succeeding articles were rejected by the editor in chief because she considered these as poorly written, full of grammatical errors, and too verbose.

My sense of being a member of the privileged intellectual and literary elite was further diminished by the torrents of disparaging remarks from others. One of my friends, who was writing in a campus paper in another school, smirked when I proudly showed him the Varsi issue that carried my article. He asked: “What’s the meaning of ‘Varsitarian’?”

I never really thought about the word until that question popped up. When I consulted the dictionary, I was shocked to learn the word was not there. What I found was the word “varsity” but it appeared to be a vulgarized form of the word “university.” Varsity refers more to an athlete or athletic team of a school. I surmise that the one/s who coined this word originally intended to use it to express the intellectual processes that are going on in the studium.

God forbid that readers of the Varsi today would associate it more with the cacophony and meaningless outbursts in a stadium.

27 I cannot recall everything that transpired during the one year that I stayed in the Varsi.

What stands out in my memory is our winning an award because we succeeded in obtaining from the city hall a closure order for a beerhouse located near the university. I wonder why the Varsi no longer takes on such an advocacy. There are many establishments within UST’s vicinity that sell liquors or engage in illegal activities adversely affecting the students.

Looking back, I can honestly say that my brief stay in the Varsi and my co-staffers have instilled in me a passion for truth.

In our Catholic tradition, truth is inseparable with faith. And according to St. Thomas Aquinas, our University’s patron, faith is not a blind leap in the dark; it is rather a conscious intellectual assent that presupposes rigorous study. In short, the quality of our faith is conditioned by our primary commitment—an uncompromising and non-negotiable commitment—to truth.

When talking about truth, I cannot escape talking about faith because UST is the Catholic University of the Philippines and the Varsitarian, its official student publication. The main mission of the University is to evoke authentic faith and to do this, it must foster among its stakeholders an uncompromising commitment to truth. This helps direct a student’s entire career. This encourages students to stand fast through difficult, discouraging and dogged moments, as it works against the vices and the narrowness of mind that make dishonesty and pretense so prevalent in our society.

In many instances, the Varsitarian, like other student publications, seems to have been caught in a time warp, oblivious to the fast pace of technological innovation. Our world has been irreversibly changed by communications technology; the incredible speed with which news, opinions, even jokes travel through cell phones, the internet; the deterioration of our understanding and use of language because of texting; the gradual loss of our interest to read (we are now a generation not of readers but watchers, not participants but spectators); the relativization of truth through surveys, statistics, opinion polls, etc.

It is now, more than ever, that The Varsitarian should actively share in the mission of the University, and help it in creating an atmosphere where truth is explored, understood, transmitted, loved and lived. But not just any kind of truth, it must be a truth related to our Catholic context, appropriated, valuable, and a guide to true wisdom. In short, it should be a truth that can make us better Christians, better Catholics, better human beings.

I am grateful and thankful to the ‘V’ for being part of its 90-year history. At lagi akong mananatiling ‘V’.

Photo By Alvin Joseph Kasiban

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Controversies and Challenges

‘Lemons and cowards’ The Sept. 30, 2012 editorial of the Varsitarian, “RH bill, Ateneo, and La Salle: Of lemons and cowards,” was argued to be the most controversial editorial in Philippine campus press history. The V received heavy criticism after slamming Ateneo and La Salle professors who openly support the Reproductive Health (RH) bill.

F

OR THE past nine decades, the Varsitarian has polished its legacy in the Philippine campus journalism scene, serving as one of the vanguards of truth and justice in the country’s dark and bright moments in history The worst of times When the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos declared Martial Law on Sept. 21, 1972, one of its immediate effects was the temporary closing down of all schools—including all student organizations.

Only schools whose administrators vowed responsibility of maintenance, order, and enforcement of Marcos-sanctioned regulations were allowed to reopen.

Former UST Rector Fr. Leonardo Legaspi, O.P. assumed that responsibility, resulting in UST’s reestablishment.

Recognizing The Varsitarian’s importance in dissemination of information, Legaspi allowed UST’s student paper to continue publication despite the prohibition.

On Nov. 17, 1972, the Varsitarian published an article titled “Fr. Legaspi issues directives relating to Martial Law” wherein the Rector emphasized new rules the UST community must adapt, including withdrawal of recognition of all student organizations; penalty for subversive activities; and the wearing of ID cards, and proper uniforms, among others.

During the era of restraint, the Varsitarian served as the binding force to unite the Thomasian community, publishing articles which dealt mostly about ultimate realities until Jan. 17, 1981 when Marcos was forced to lift the Martial Law in time for the visit of the late Pope John Paul II. Fight for democracy In 1985, the Varsitarian volunteered to be part of the National Movement for Free Elections (Namfrel) media to closely monitor the campaign when Marcos called for a snap election. And when Marcos unsurprisingly stole the election, the Varsitarian took the side of the people and participated in the civil disobedience campaign against the dictator, a prelude to the euphoric 1986 Edsa revolution. ‘V’ was there to

witness history—the fall of dictatorship, and the rebirth of democracy.

Abolition of ROTC program Meanwhile, the Varsitarian also played a crucial role in exposing corruption in the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) program, and, ultimately, its abolition in 2001. A December 1999 V special report titled “In the Line of Fire” caused uproar and upheaval as it investigated alleged extortions of ROTC ranking officers.

And in 2001, the Varsitarian ran an investigative story on corruption in ROTC based on an interview with ROTC cadet and whistleblower Mark Welson Chua, an Engineering student.

Chua’s complaint resulted in penalties sanctioned by the Department of National Defense against ROTC, including the sacking of UST-ROTC Commandant Demy Tejares and the whole UST Department of Military Science and Tactics staff.

A month later, Chua was found dead, with his body floating on the Pasig River. The murder became a national scandal.

In May 2001, the Varsitarian ran another special report titled “Final Salute” which served as justice call for Chua.

No less than former Rector Fr. Tamerlane Lana, O.P. led the University Belt (U-Belt) Consortium in calling for the abolition of the ROTC as UST drafted the statement, “The ROTC: Excising a Cancer.”

UST had the support of other U-Belt schools. Soon afterwards, student activists from many universities staged rallies of protests and boycotts against ROTC. In January 2002, Republic Act No. 9163, or the National Service Training Program Act of 2001, which allowed students to take up Civic Welfare and Training Service and Literacy Training Service, was passed.

Upholding the value of life Staying true to UST and the Catholic Church, the editorially-independent Varsitarian has remained firm with its stand against artificial contraception, abortion, and the Reproductive Health (RH) bill (now RA 10354) since 1998 when Albay Representative Edcel Lagman first filed the bill.

The Varsitarian has criticized the bill, which sought billions in public funds for a massive contraception program, as anti-life and unconstitutional, citing the provision in 1986 Philippine Constitution wherein the state guarantees protection of the unborn from the moment of life or conception.

In 2011, Manila Archbishop Gaudencio Cardinal Rosales echoed the Varsitarian editorial titled “News RH bill: Deadly, anti-constitution,” saying that the bill attacks human dignity, in protest mass against RH bill attended by around 300,000 people.

The best of times On a not-so-lighter note, the Varsitarian published a lampoon issue, the Vuisitarian in 1970 to the ire of the UST administration.

Following the complaint of then Vice-Rector Andres Narvasa of the Office of Student Affairs, the V staff members were suspended.

The controversial piece, which became a trending topic on Twitter, said professors must respect the stand of the Catholic Church against the RH bill and labelled them as “intellectual pretenders and interlopers,” drawing negative reactions from netizens and the traditional media.

Ateneo and La Salle’s student publications released separate statements titled “Our duties as student journalists,” and “With all due respect,” respectively against the Varsitarian’s editorial.

The “V’s” adviser publicly apologized for the commotion the editorial caused in a phone interview with GMA News Online but stressed that the critical use of words was necessary to convey the editorial’s message.

Hazing tragedy The Varsitarian was also at par with the mainstream media in reporting the probe on the death of UST law freshman Horacio “Atio” Castillo III due to hazing rites. Castillo was found dead last Sept. 18, 2017 after attending initiation rites the night before.

What followed was an administrative hearing presided by Atty. Reginaldo Oben.

The first Varsitarian interactive website was launched containing real-time updates on the investigation of Castillo’s death.

Even though the hearing was still going on, the UST administration gave notice of expulsion on Nov. 7, 1970 to at least 20 students, including then publications adviser Celso Al Carunungan.

Due to the hazing tragedy, the revision of the Anti-Hazing Law or Republic Act (RA) 8049 was eyed by lawmakers to ban hazing rites in fraternities, sororities and other organizations.

Only five students were able to return to the University after repeated explanations and apologies. The Varsitarian came up with three more lampoon issues to date.

30 The quiz contest settled finally with “Pautakan” in 1982.

In 1986, former UST Rector Fr. Norberto Castillo, O.P. suspended Pautakan and other extra-curricular activities due to political turmoil. The competition resumed the following year.

Extra Editorial Activities

Greeting the new millennium with technological changes, Pautakan 2000 introduced buzzers. In 2008, Pautakan reverted to its pen-and-paper format to prevent technical difficulties.

Photo By Michael Angelo M. Reyes

Not just a campus paper Inkblots

Photo By Deejae S. Dumlao

The workshop accepts 16 fellows, with the intent of preparing them for Gawad Ustetika, the annual literary contest also organized by the Varsitarian. Their works are critiqued by some of the country’s award-winning and established writers.

UST-Alfredo M. Velayo College of Accountancy secured its third championship title in the group category of the 40th installment of Pautakan, dethroning the Faculty of Engineering in their two-year streak. The Faculty of Arts and Letters also defeated Engineering in the individual category.

Gawad Ustetika

The workshop accepts 16 fellows with the intent of preparing them for Gawad Ustetika, an annual literary contest also organized by the Varsitarian.

It was during the 18th Inkblots in 2016 when the VarsitarMarking its 40th year last May 2017, Pautakan, the longest ian website was launched in front of student fellows from intercollegiate quiz competition in the country, continues to around the country. be the venue of healthy competition between the brainiest students of UST’s colleges and faculties.

Creative Writing Workshop

Founded in 1977 by editor in chief Jesselyn Garcia-de la The Varsitarian’s Creative Writing Workshop is an annual Cruz, the “Annual Inter-Collegiate Quiz Contest” aimed to go beyond the conventional quiz competitions which were seminar for budding Thomasian writers. boxed in score games.

With fiction and katha being the sole focus since the With staffers having a hard time agreeing to what the contest workshop’s inception in 2004, the two-day activity was should be called, it reverted to the “Annual Inter-Collegiate previously known as the Fiction Workshop.

Quiz Contest” in 1980 and was renamed “Brainstorm” the It was renamed Creative Writing Workshop when poetry and following year. tula were added to the roster in 2012.

These works won Lana the titles “Tomasinong Kuwentista ng Taon” and “Tomasinong Mandudula ng Taon” in the same year.

Ustetika has the following categories: poetry, short story, essay, one-act play, tula, katha, sanaysay and dula. The contest used to have the children’s short story category and its Filipino counterpart, maikling kuwentong pambata, but these were removed in 2002. They were included anew in 2015 but removed again in 2016.

The Parangal Hagbong is given to Thomasian writers who have excelled in the Philippine world of letters.

The first awards were conferred posthumously to two esteemed Thomasian writers and Varsitarian alumni, Rolando Tinio and Rogelio Sicat, during the 13th Gawad Ustetika in 1997.

Photo By Amparo Klarin J. Mangoroban

ANC reporter Christian Esguerra, former editor in chief, pioneered Inkblots in 1999.

Rodolfo Lana, Jr., later a multi-Palanca winner and creative head at GMA Network, was the first recipient of the revived RLA, for his katha titled “Tiririt ng Paru-Parong Ligaw” and dula titled “Exodo.”

Parangal Hagbong

Pautakan

With the objective of raising campus journalism standards in the country, the Varsitarian holds “Inkblots,” the annual UST national campus journalism fellowship. It is a three-day seminar on news, opinion, lifestyle, sports and feature writing as well as cartooning, layout, photography and campus paper management.

The RLA is given to works that best reflect “the University’s Catholic vision of grace and redemption” by the Rector Magnificus himself.

Photo By Miah Terrenz Provido

Gawad Ustetika is the oldest campus literary derby in the country. It started as a literary contest in 1946, as a way for Thomasians to celebrate Christmas.

This paved the way for the annual Varsitarian Literary Contest in 1959, which then became the Rector’s Literary Award (RLA). It ran until 1970.

To revive the University’s literary spirit, former Varsitarian editor in chief Victor Emmanuel Carmelo “Vim” Nadera, Jr. established “Ustetika,” a portmanteau of “UST” and “estetika” (aesthetics), in 1985.

Since then, Ustetika has been the breeding ground of Thomasian writers who would later break into the country’s literary scene.

When Fr. Rolando de la Rosa, O.P., former Varsitarian witness editor, assumed the rectorship in 1991, the Varsitarian revived the RLA and included it in the Gawad Ustetika.

The award’s name came from the Tagalog word hagbong, which means a crown of leaves.

Cine-Vita The Varsitarian champions social awareness and the culture of life among Thomasians through the films that were shown in CineVita, a film festival that started in 2007.

The title is a combination of two words – “Cinema” and “Vita” (life). Hence, cinema as an influential means for expression of various life themes.

CineVita was called “Mendoza filmfest” in 2009 for showcasing award-winning films directed by UST Fine Arts alumnus Brillante Mendoza, like “Serbis,” Cannes Film festival 2008; “Foster Child,” South Africa International Film Festival 2008 Best Film; “Tirador,” Berlin International Film Festival 2008 Caligari Film Award winner; and “Kaledo,” Jeonju, South Korea Film Festival 2007 Netpac Award winner.

CineVita held its first film workshop in the summer of that year.

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SUPPLEMENTS 90 YEARS after its legacy started, the Varsitarian gambled for greater heights in the hopes of extending its hold on the history of school publications.

Being one of the oldest student newspapers in the country, it might be clear to some that hard news should lead at the helm of the ‘V,’ which totally changed on its 42nd year.

Muhlach, a UST alumna, was followed by other notable and outstanding Thomasian alumi in different fields such as medicine to showbiz.

On June 1970, the four-decade student publication pursued a more comical counterpart to the Varsitarian—in the face of the “Vuisitarian,” the newspaper’s lampoon issue.

In 2010 Breaktime was renamed “Tomasino.”

Vuisitarian served as the platform of humor, popular culture cross-overs with inside jokes within the University, to provide a lighter heart of stories amid the amid the dictatorship of strongman Ferdinand Marcos.

On, Oct. 17, 1970 the four-page issue came out. Primarily accepted by most of the Thomasian community, it eventually faced a bedlam of flak, an affair that almost expelled the 21 Varsitarian staffers then.

But despite this matter, this didn’t hurdle the Varsitarian staffers to produce more special issues and magazines to try their hands at the newspaper’s flexibility as a publication.

Over the years, the Varsitarian published supplements featuring the visits of the late Blessed John Paul II to UST in 1981 and 1995. In 2005, the publication released another issue after the death of the Holy See. In 2013, a special supplement was released for Pope Francis’ visit in UST. In June 1996, former literary editor Carlomar Daoana spearheaded “Montage,” a literary supplement. First of its kind, it was named after a collection of poetry by the former assistant literary editor and “lady polyester” Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta.

Following Montage, the Varsitarian released “Breaktime,” the newspaper’s lifestyle magazine that came out to press in April 1999. Former Miss Universe candidate and Filipino beauty queen and television personality, Charlene Gonzales-Muhlach graced the very first edition of Breaktime.

A sports magazine was released in 2006 following the UAAP Season 69 championship run of the UST Growling Tigers. It also featured the championship of the men’s judo, women’s swimming, women’s chess, women’s table tennis, and the historic five-peat streak of the UST Salinggawi Dance Troupe.

This was followed by a supplement on the ten most outstanding athletes from the University.

Alongside the major supplements the Varsitarian has produced in the past years, two literary folios which comprised of winning Ustetika entries in 2000, 2001-2005.

Ustetika is the longest-running collegiate literary derby in the country.

“400,” the UST quadricentennial supplement was released in 2011, in celebration of UST’s rich history and feat in the past 400 years. “Toward 500,” a neo-centennial issue was also released, as a preamble for the next hundred years of the University.

A collection of spiritual and enlightening stories from students called, “Heaven’s Kitchen,” was published in 2002.

It was followed by the Witness stylebook, the V’s contribution to its Catholic heritage.

In the 90 years that the Varsitarian has existed, it became the breeding ground of well-known names in Philippine literature, journalism, history, medicine and even in show business.

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‘V’ Website and social media ‘V’ blazes trail for the campus press in the digital era The Varsitarian was among the first campus news organizations to go online, launching its website in 2000 to reach out to a wider audience.

It has since undergone major redesigns, the latest of which was in 2016, with a transition to an enhanced and more responsive platform for the campus paper’s extensive digital operations.

The new website was immediately recognized by industry practitioners, winning an Award of Excellence in the 2016 Philippine Student Quill Awards.

The V’s website and social media accounts now provide 24/7 updates on UST-related events and coverage of pressing national issues. It features all the stories from the print edition, as well as breaking news, information about the publication and its digital archives.

Breaking news, photos, videos, art graphics and announcements in the form of infographics are posted on the V’s Facebook account, which now has about 100,000 followers. It won a Quill award of merit on 2017.

The V’s Twitter account (@varsitarianust), which won Best Twitter Page in the Catholic Social Media Awards in 2016, now has 64,000 followers. The V’s Instagram account (@varsitarian.ust) has 2,600 followers as of January 2018.

The publication, in its continuous pursuit to serve the Thomasian community, has also adapted to the digital era through Issuu, a social media platform for online viewing of newspapers and magazines.

With Issuu, PDF versions of the V’s issues for different publication years and its supplements are uploaded and thus made available for viewers on the internet –transcending the limits of print media and extending its reach to thousands of readers.

The V also extends its video content to Youtube, with its 5-year-old account The Varsitarian. It has 1,825 subscribers and 250 videos.

Milestones The V regularly posts videos dubbed “Newswrap,” a short and fast-paced summary of the week’s events.

The Filipino language and literature are highlighted in “Tomasalitaan” and “TOMASining,” respectively.

“TOMASining,” a collaboration with the Literary section, adopts a “Berlin Artparasites” style, and goes with poems from winners of the Varsitarian’s Gawad Ustetika, the longest-running campus literary derby in the country.

“Tomasalitaan” is a collaboration with the Filipino section that features Filipino words and their meanings, together with a graphic from the Art section.

“TOMASining” and “Tomasalitaan” are published twice a week and are posted as well on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

The photography section has also contributed to forming a strong online presence for the publication. In 2016, the V began posting a weekly gallery called “LENSPEAK” wherein top photos are chosen by the chief photographer and featured in the V’s social media accounts.

“Daily life in UST” photos are also posted on social media to increase engagements with followers.

In 2017, the V’s Online Team came up with its first-ever interactive webpage, tackling the hazing death of law freshman Horacio Castillo III. The webpage has been widely visited, with engagements extending to over 20 countries.

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Publication Year 2017-2018 AMIERIELLE ANNE A. BULAN Editor in Chief BERNADETTE A. PAMINTUAN Managing Editor ALHEX ADREA M. PERALTA Associate Editor MARIA CRISANTA M. PALOMA News Editor HANNAH RHOCELLHYNNIA H. CRUZ Assistant News Editor RANDELL ANGELO B. RITUMALTA Sports Editor NEIL JAYSON N. SERVALLOS Special Reports Editor CHELSEY MEI NADINE B. BRAZAL Features Editor NIKKO MIGUEL M. GARCIA Literary Editor JOLAU V. OCAMPO Patnugot ng Filipino LEA MAT P. VICENCIO Witness Editor EDRIS DOMINIC C. PUA Science and Technology Editor AUDRIE JULIENNE D. BERNAS Circle Editor CHRISTIAN DE LANO M. DEIPARINE, THEODORE JASON PATRICK K. ORTIZ Online Editors SHAINA MAE L. SANTANDER Art Director DEEJAE S. DUMLAO Acting Chief Photographer

Publication Year 2017-2018

News Kevin A. Alabaso, Samantha-Wee Lipana, Job Anthony R. Manahan, Julia Claire L. Medina, Jacob Marvin D. Urmenita, Pauline Faye V. Tria Sports Jan Carlo Anolin, Mia Arra C. Camacho, Ma. Angela Christa Coloma, Ma. Angelica D. Garcia, Ivan Ruiz L. Suing, Justin Robert Valencia Special Reports Ma. Consuelo D.P. Marquez, Louise Cleindale L. Penera, Arianne Aine D. Suarez Features Louise Claire H. Cruz, Daphne Yann P. Galvez, Julia Camille B. Ocaya Literary Karl Ben L. Arlegui, Elmer B. Coldora, Hailord N. Lavarias Filipino Erma R. Edera, Chris V. Gamoso, Winona S. Sadia Witness Marem A. De Jemel, Lady Cherbette N. Agot, Lexanne O. Garcia, Pearl Anne M. Gumapos Science and Technology Alyssa Carmina A. Gonzales, Miguel Alejandro IV A. Herrera, Beatriz Avegayle S. Timbang Circle Klimier Nicole B. Adriano, Kathleen Therese A. Palapar, Lyon Ricardo III M. Lopez Art Mariyella Alysa A. Abulad, Blessie Angelie B. Andres, Rocher Faye R. Dulatre, Joelle Alison Mae Eusebio, Mari Kloie D. Ledesma, Nathanael Jonas S.J. Rodrigo Photography Ann Margaret De Nys, Alexis Jienrich B. Gorospe, Miah Terrenz Provido, Maria Charisse Ann G. Refuerzo, Michael Angelo M. Reyes, Vladlynn Nona Maryse L. Tadeo, Pauline Faye V. Tria Editorial Assistant Jose Miguel Luis G. Del Rosario FELIPE F. SALVOSA II Assistant Publications Adviser JOSELITO B. ZULUETA Publications Adviser

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Valik Varsi Working Committees Theodore Jason Patrick K. Ortiz Chairperson Jolau V. Ocampo Vice Chairperson Publicity/Invitations/Food Head: Neil Jayson N. Servallos Audrie Julienne D. Bernas Beatriz Avegayle S. Timbang Chris V. Gamoso Christian de Lano M. Deiparine Elmer B. Coldora Hannah Rhocellhynnia H. Cruz Job Anthony R. Manahan Julia Claire L. Medina Louise Claire H. Cruz Marem A. De Jemel Nikko Miguel M. Garcia Pearl Anne M. Gumapos Samantha-Wee Lipana Winona S. Sadia

Logistics Committee Head: Jan Carlo Anolin Ivan Ruiz L. Suing Randell Angelo B. Ritumalta Jacob Marvin D. Urmenita Kevin A. Alabaso Tech Committee Head: Karl Ben L. Arlegui Hailord N. Lavarias Miguel Alejandro IV A. Herrera Exhibit and Research Committee Head: Maria Crisanta M. Paloma Ma. Angela Christa Coloma Ma. Consuelo D.P. Marquez Erma R. Edera

Marketing Committee Head: Klimier Nicole B. Adriano Arianne Aine D. Suarez Alyssa Carmina A. Gonzales Daphne Yann P. Galvez Job Anthony R. Manahan Julia Camille B. Ocaya Registration Committee Head: Edris Dominic C. Pua Louise Cleindale L. Penera Kathleen Therese A. Palapar Ma. Angelica D. Garcia Lexanne O. Garcia Programs Committee Head: Chelsey Mei Nadine B. Brazal Audrie Julienne D. Bernas Lady Cherbette N. Agot Mia Arra C. Camacho Lea Mat P. Vicencio

Documentation Committee Head: Deejae S. Dumlao Alexis Jeinrich B. Gorospe Miah Terrenz Provido Michael Angelo M. Reyes Charisse Ann G. Refuerzo Vladlynn Nona Maryse L. Tadeo Pauline Faye V. Tria Ann Margaret De Nys Creatives Committee Head: Shaina Mae L. Santander Blessie Angelie B. Andres Rocher Faye R. Dulatre Joelle Alison Mae Eusebio Mariyella Alysa A. Abulad Nathanael Jonas S.J. Rodrigo Mari Kloie D. Ledesma