One of my most unforgettable working trips was when GMA 7 sent me to the advertising congress in Cebu in 1999. On the same flight with me were four of the most colorful characters in local show business: Alfie Lorenzo, Annabelle Rama, Lolit Solis and Dolor Guevara.
As they boarded the aircraft, the cabin crew must have wondered: Who would have been the bigger nightmare to handle — those four showbiz personalities legendary for their quirks or a band of gun-toting hijackers? All four surely had been their passengers in the past — but individually and never as a group.
But as we reached our destination, it turned out to be a very pleasant — fun even — ride for all of us. All four may be ferocious as enemies, especially when defending their turf and stable of talents, but they are among the kindest people in the entertainment profession. The key to having a harmonious relationship with them is simply to put down all your cards on the table and deal with them fairly. Respect them and they will respect you in return.
In Cebu we were billeted at the Waterfront Hotel and I always ended up having breakfast with Alfie — with him just about to turn in after staying out all night (the perks of being a talent manager: He didn’t have to work on that trip and his schedule was flexible). By then, I was already comfortable in his company — unlike during our first meeting when I was still on my on-the-job-training and was assigned to interview him in line with his movie talk show, Star Ka!, that he hosted with the late Douglas Quijano and if I am not mistaken, Norma Japitana.
They were actually among the first entertainment writers to make the transition from print to television. (Although Inday Badiday was ahead of them, the beloved Queen of Intrigues actually had her roots in radio.) That was the focus of the article and I was assigned to talk to Alfie.
Alfie set the interview at his Sta. Mesa apartment at the back of Famous Laundry. In his tiny living room, he spread his body on the leatherette couch that could have doubled for a divan. He looked every inch like Nero, but minus the fiddle. He made me sit on a stool at his foot and gamely answered all my questions.
Since it had always been part of Pinoy hospitality to offer your guest snacks, he felt he had to feed me something. I wasn’t sure if he had a stay-in help, but I sensed he didn’t want to bother getting up anymore, go to the kitchen and fix me something to eat. He threw me a bar of Nestlé Crunch and he half expected me to clap with glee.
The truth was I didn’t even have the energy to get up and give him a one-man standing ovation for his generosity. I was very hungry — and scared.
I was aware even then that he could be tough to handle. But he turned out to be very accommodating and he made the effort to put me at ease in his presence.
It also helped that a month or so before, I already sat down for an interview with Armida Siguion-Reyna. If you manage to get past Tita Midz, you’d survive anybody, including Alfie.
However, I still had the jitters in his company. Later, I found out about how a movie scribe who wrote something nasty about his talent was hit by Alfie with a teaspoon in a crowded Greenhills bistro. You may think that shouldn’t really hurt much. But a teaspoon thrown several tables away will give you all the right in the world to cry ouch and ask to be brought to Cardinal Santos Memorial Hospital for treatment.
In a matter of months, I was absorbed by the magazine and in practically just a whip of a wand I was made managing editor after the entire senior staff resigned one by one to go abroad, attend to family or just have a life outside that publication.
Alfie was taken in as a columnist and he gave the hottest scoops. I would have finally clapped with joy, except that it was an English language magazine that we put to bed and he sent his pieces in Tagalog. As managing editor, it was my job to call his attention to please submit his columns in English.
But a teaspoon violently coming my way was the last thing I wanted. Heck, I don’t even drink coffee. Even if I did I would have settled for a plastic spoon from McDonald’s or that red stirrer they give out in Starbuck’s to mix espresso.
To protect my head from bruises, I would translate his columns into the King’s language diligently — every week.
During one deadline, however, he interviewed Rosemarie Gil and he quoted the actress in their native Kapampangan. I had to go down to the accounting office, the cashier and even to the advertising department to look for somebody from Pampanga to do the translation. But they all turned out to be either Ilocano or Visayan. Oh, there was one from Bicol, too. And Palawan. But that’s geographically very far from Pampanga. The closest we had in that office that was Kapampangan was the tocino we had for lunch. Even the leche flan we ate for dessert came from Bulacan.
Out of desperation, I flung open the yellow pages for help, but was disappointed to discover that there was no Pampango embassy. I would have marched there had there been one — the way I would walk over to the Goethe Institute whenever I had doubts about German terms used by our music reviewer in his pretentious and hopelessly boring pieces on operas and concerts.
That was when I decided I would run Alfie’s pieces raw — the way he submitted it. I don’t recall any reader complaining. Circulation didn’t dip. And so we kept it that way until I transferred — out of spite — to the rival publication. It was his turn to clap because he knew I was getting the short end of the stick in my former place of work.
Since we didn’t have a working relationship anymore, I finally felt relaxed the few times I saw him. And I wasn’t scared anymore. The fear was gone. What I have for him today is respect.
Tomorrow, Lily Monteverde is throwing a birthday party for him. The uninvited are warned not to gatecrash. Century Imperial Suites Hotel has a full armory of flatware in hard stainless.
But Alfie need not throw a teaspoon at anyone anymore. Everyone now looks up to him for having fought, survived and got out of battles in showbiz with his head held high.
That is not easy to do in a profession where I only manage to get by because I know how to duck — and duck low — at the sight of flying silverware.
Happy birthday, Alfie! You may now put away the teaspoons along with the other utensils. But before you do, teach me how to aim.
I’ve realized that in this business, it doesn’t always pay to be nice. Sometimes only a teaspoon can put certain people in their place.