Thanks for the memories

A month ago, Tita Muñoz, who must be the first multi-media artist in local entertainment (she did theater, radio, television and the movies), left us at the peak of summer. I promptly did an obituary on her for this paper, but I have to admit that I had difficulty looking for more materials on her. I just based everything on our first and only meeting — in 2000 — when I interviewed her for Startalk.

Two weeks ago, however, I bumped into Mary Ann Muñoz (a friend introduced to me by Ali Sotto) at the Gold’s Gym and she thanked me for writing that piece on Tita. It was only then that I found out that her husband was the nephew of Ms. Muñoz.

From Mary Ann I confirmed the fact that Tita Muñoz had always opted for independence — and that she didn‘t want to be a burden to anyone. And that she left this world comfortable.

In an apartment in San Juan, she stayed by herself and was only assisted by a helper who would only visit a couple of days a week to help clean and maintain the house. But Tita wouldn‘t have it any other way. That was how she wanted it because she wanted her independence.

“But she was a very nice person,” swears Mary Ann. “And we all miss her.”

Still on Tita Muñoz, I got via mail a letter from Luning Bonifacio-Ira and I’m publishing her letter in full because it is very interesting and quite informative:

Hi Butch,

I‘m very glad to have read your piece on the late Tita Muñoz and her eventual forays into TV, film and the theater. I often wondered where she was, but then one hardly gets to hear about people who don‘t work in the same field of endeavor.

It came to me as no surprise that your research into Tita Muñoz’s bio data did not, or could not have allowed you to stumble on The Magic Barrel, which preceded all of her later interests. (That was when I was walking on air working in my first job as PR assistant when another PR staff, Lydia Vicente, also joined the large oil company Standard-Vacuum Oil Co. and we were happy to welcome Tita Munoz who had been contracted to do the presentations. She was something of a celebrity then, although we were clueless as to what connection.)

The early ‘50s was when The Magic Barrel was introduced in Manila as well as other big cities as a public education service to familiarize people with the many things derived from petroleum. It included first of all fuel that makes our cars run, LPG gas for stoves, kerosene for light, candles for formal dinners and tiny ones for kiddie parties and asphalt for our streets, a plus barrel-ful of other things. In brief, the story of oil as a boon to mankind.

Keep in mind that this period was eons before OPEC (Organization of Petroleum Exporting Companies). And ages before the violent student demonstrations that erupted worldwide in 1973. But the early ‘50s? It was a paradise that we thought would never alter when gasoline was 35 centavos per liter, 55 centavos to see a movie at Avenue Theater and to hear Belafonte, Mathis or Nat Cole at the Big Dome at popular prices.

And just how was Tita Muñoz on her mission to go about persuading traditionally cynical audiences? One guess might be: Through sheer force of personality. She came across strong with her perfect diction and enunciation. She had unflappable poise, an earnest “dating.” Furthermore, she was young and movie-star beautiful. If it came to that, she might have sold washing machines to the laundrymen of Mandaluyong if those could have been had at the time.

We didn’t get to know Tita Muñoz until her “unwinding hours” in between presentations when she would relax and exchange pleasantries with PR and other company people. We shared light moments, eating and laughing the hours away. Once, we wound up in my tiny P. Noval apartment for pizza and how I wish somebody had taken our picture. It would have been something to bring back a piece of that fabulous time now in everyone’s senior age.

Although Tita Muñoz strictly was not a personal friend, her relaxed friendliness melted elements away, leaving only the warmth. She was what you would call a regular fella. Small wonder that having known her but briefly — some months? A year? — it was such a vivid episode.

Rest well, Tita Muñoz. To some mortals here, you are unforgettable.