By next month there will be a whole batch of graduates who will have to decide what to do with their lives. Those wrapping up their secondary education have to choose which course to take in college and I know a lot of kids today who wish to enter television, preferably in front of the camera.
If I got my statistics right, most of the on-cam talents on ABS-CBN and GMA 7 are either from the State University or the University of Santo Tomas and most of them are graduates of communication arts. Majority of the executive and associate producers, who actually call the shots (read: bosses) within the program — in my observation — are either from Centro Escolar University or the Polytechnic University of the Philippines (they are so diligent that they are able to work their way up).
For those aspiring to be on-cam hosts and reporters, I have this warning for you: If you think it’s a glamorous job, I’m already telling you — it’s not! If only somebody bothered to invent — aside from the audio-visual systems of television — a device that could be connected to our olfactory nerves, you’d probably smell the sweat of all those TV news reporters, who stay under the sun and chase after their subjects the whole day. Sure, Mel Tiangco, Mike Enriquez, Ted Failon, Karen Davila and Julius Babao may all look good on the primetime newscasts, but don’t forget that these ladies and gentlemen also went through the wringer before they got their jobs as main anchors.
As for young men who still get assigned regularly to do field reporting, I’ve always intended, but keep forgetting to ask them if they bother to bring face powder with them during assignments (I’m sure the women do).
In my case, I get to do both studio and field work. While Ricky Lo and I have Sander Andan to provide clothes and Ernal Forte to slap powder on us before every Startalk telecast I don’t get that privilege when I do coverage work. On the second week of December 2008, during the wake for MarkyCielo in the Mountain Province, I bravely went in front of the camera — live — with a naked face and everyone thought I looked like a raccoon because of the dark circles under my eyes (hey, it took us 16 hours to get there after getting lost and didn’t sleep). So what’s glamorous there?
The truth is, being on television — whether in front or behind the camera — can be a very difficult and even dangerous job. When I watched GMA 7’s documentary on its five decades of news reporting, I sighed with relief that we still have Jessica Soho alive and in one piece today.
Unfortunately, the UNTV reporters who were killed in that infamous Maguindanao massacre were not as lucky. But facing danger had always been part of a TV reporter’s life.
As a Startalk host, I don’t necessarily have to dodge bullets and play hide-and-seek with rebels, but the job has its own challenges and there were instances I was put in embarrassing situations — like getting caught trying to sneak into the wedding of Danica Sotto and Mark Pingris (the couple had always been nice and accommodating to us though, except that the venue where the rites were held was strict about allowing TV crews inside).
But nothing can top that assignment December of last year when I had to look for Hayden Kho after it was reported that he was found alongside a pineapple plantation in the Silang area of Cavite. Supposedly, he was brought to a hospital (he was actually brought to several) in Manila, but where?
Startalk executive producer Reylie Manalo told me that Hayden was brought to the Makati Medical Center. I checked with sources there and they were positive he wasn’t there. Process of deduction: I knew that his father was a resident physician of a hospital in Metro Manila. I wasn’t sure which one though. So I called up a doctor in Belo Medical Center who was clueless why I was asking that question. It turned out that it was common knowledge in Belo that Dr. Hayden Kho Sr. was connected with the Manila Doctors Hospital and so I decided to search there.
Upon reaching the hospital, the people in information denied that Hayden had been admitted there (they weren’t lying — his name just wasn’t listed). But my instinct told me otherwise.
After some sleuthing around (the key there is to be charming with everyone and if you find somebody friendly enough, seize the moment and squeeze whatever information you can get), I discovered the exact floor where Hayden was confined. On my way there, I saw Ginger Conejero of ABS-CBN and obviously her mission was the same as mine. We decided to join forces and went to the nurses’ station — only to be told that no visitors were allowed.
Then Hayden’s mother Irene wandered into the corridor and upon seeing us, instead of taking the elevator, she took the stairs. Ginger ran after and it was then that I realized what nice, long legs she has. When she lost Mrs. Kho, she came back panting and ABS-CBN should really commend Ginger for her dedication to her work.
Since Ginger and I were working in pair, I decided not to join the chase since something could happen on the floor we were guarding. True enough, I saw a tall man with an imposing figure and I asked if he was Dr. Kho (Hayden’s father). He turned around and uttered the coldest and steeliest “Yes” ever heard in the history of sound. I told him the reason I was there and icily, but still politely, he said they don’t grant interviews.
After a while, a lady resident physician approached Ginger and I to inform us that we should leave because the patients in that floor were complaining about our presence. I wanted to be smart-alecky and tell her that — on the contrary, their visitors were even having their pictures taken with us. But the doktora was very nice and I kept my mouth shut. She confirmed that Hayden was really there (by then we already knew the room he was in, except that we couldn’t barge in just like that) and said that he was there because of the flu.
Then came the head of security and it didn’t take long before the entire force swooped down on us. They were very polite and I comforted myself in the fact that they couldn’t have a beautiful woman like Ginger arrested — and an old man like me — handcuffed and sent to the police station.
Although they never displayed any kind of rudeness toward us, we sensed that they really meant business and it was time to pack up. Ginger left and before I headed for the elevator, I apologized to them for whatever inconvenience we may have caused and I still apologize to them now (the hospital staff and the Kho family).
Downstairs, we went to the convenience store for some refreshments and later bumped into the head of security. I told him we were just buying food and were leaving. He accompanied us to the exit and though we exchanged warm goodbyes and apologies, I saw the look of relief on his face when I stepped out and never had I felt so unwanted and unwelcome.
Oops, now I recall there was another far graver instance: At the wake of Halina Perez in Sta. Maria, Laguna in 2004. The family had obviously gone on a deal with another show for the coverage and when relatives saw me, I heard curses (“ang kapal ng mukha!”) and other expletives that can never be printed here without me getting banned in this paper for life. I swallowed all that and just bowed my head.
To their consternation (bhee!), I was able to forge a bonding with Halina’s father, Rene, when he was in jail (we were “cosa”) three years earlier during the time Startalk reunited them and he dragged me to another house in the neighborhood where we did our sit-down interview. I can never thank him enough for that.
After the live coverage, we quickly got out of there and although some of the neighbors were friendly, we felt like we were dredges of society being driven away by an entire community.
Now, what’s so glamorous about doing investigative work for television?
(Next: Tips on how to get your story.)