FPJ: From real to legend by Nick Joaquin

If there would be anything that Fernando Poe Jr. and Nick Joaquin shared, it would be the ability of creating a legend without knowing it, and sticking to it through thick and thin. After buying the rather pricey book circa 1977 Ronnie Poe and Other Silhouettes, we only have the memories of our not-too-often encounters with them both.

Nick Joaquin (a.k.a. Quijano de Manila) had his own legends, and Ronnie had his, but one they shared was a love for beer drinking, but never getting drunk. We would tag along with reporter Baby K. Jimenez to parties Ronnie would host. Of course, we were expected to drink and could go home only when he did. But he never got drunk so we would sneak out only to be accosted a month or so later by Da King who remembered everything. Nick, on the other hand, when invited to be commencement speaker at a school or university would simply give his address in San Juan where a case of San Miguel Beer should be delivered. That was his talent fee, and he would be present at the school, to share his advice to the students.

The first story in Quijano’s book was a short account on FPJ titled Batang Taquilla, written in June 1958. His style is reportorial, yet poetic and cinematic at the same time. During a break of the location shoot of FPJ, he and Ronnie got to discussing reporter Franklin Cabaluna. Quijano quoted Ronnie as saying, “I don’t know how I offended Cabaluna but he was already hitting me even before I met him last year.”

This incident stuck to our mind. It’s not in the book because perhaps it didn’t happen and Quijano, the reporter, wouldn’t print anything not based on fact. Our story on hearsay says that Cabaluna continued bugging Ronnie to the point that he went after him and gave him the supreme insult. Not by beating him to the pulp, but pissing on him! What a great sequence that would have made in an action movie! From that time on, it is said, Cabaluna stayed away from FPJ. We know now that Ronnie Poe had started becoming a legend till the day he died.

The story of Batang Taquilla gives us the biography of FPJ with lessons learned as the eldest son of Fernando Poe Sr. who made his children toe the line. When his father died from dog bite, Ronnie at age 11, took care of the family and set aside earnings that would go into the family coffers. Then in 1957, he was seen playing basketball by one of the Santiagos and got cast in Lo’ Waist Gang, and his slow rise to fame began.

The Santiagos were known in the industry as one of the original Big Four of the ‘50s to ‘60s (Sampaguita, LVN, Lebran and Premiere). Premiere specialized in action pictures, but to us and many others, the shining star of Premiere, considered the greatest Filipino director that ever lived, was Gerry de Leon, and it was Manong Gerry directing FPJ in Kamay ni Cain 1958, who gave him his first acting nomination.

FPJ was earning more, shooting more and more movies, until he formed FPJ Productions in 1961 with Batang Maynila for its initial offering. From that time onward, Ronnie became the first of his generation of stars to become his own producer. In his musings, Quijano wrote, “Ronnie had learned his lesson: one shouldn’t be at the mercy of the big companies…Ronnie changed the pattern, risked his own capital on himself. The ‘indies’ and Ronnie Poe together broke up the local movie Establishment.”

There are many other stories in Quijano’s reportage one wishes he could have expanded into a book. There are the “true-to-life” stories, and the “urban legends” accepted as fact. The first was Mga Alabok sa Lupa, the true story of a priest “who tamed a slum.” It gave FPJ his first FAMAS Best Actor.

Another was Celso Ad. Castillo’s true-to-life action film of a schoolteacher named Teodoro Asedillo which gave FPJ his second FAMAS Best Actor. Both were portrayed so convincingly by Da King. The only problem is that in Asedillo where FPJ dies in the end, the Muslims in Mindanao, great FPJ fans, refused to have their hero killed and began shooting at the screen. That started the practice of not having FPJ die in his film.

 A legend does not die; he just goes up to heaven. Which is exactly what direk Celso did to his film. The ending shows a sequence of FPJ carousing with the angels, and drinking beer but never getting drunk? Perhaps that is just our personal urban legend.  

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