MANILA, Philippines - It was during una gran cena de padres de amigos at the Casa Alvarez, now referred to as the Jesuit House, at Zulueta Street in the Old Parian District of Cebu, when my father first caught a glimpse of Manuel L. Quezon.
Forty-one years younger, dad witnessed firsthand how the Man of the Commonwealth made his way to the spacious sala with a partner. With movements masculine and yet graceful, he awed the guests with a confidence and charm that made him a splendid sight to behold.
My titas swooned over the gentleman like so many colegialas of the era. And, similar to the popular colloquialism of dancing with the Prince of Wales – who abdicated the throne to marry the woman he loved – they would know of a girl who danced with a man, who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince, who later became the Duke of Windsor.
It was as if they swirled and twirled with the Philippine President as well, as they imagined him, not merely as a powerful individual, but a dream boat who sailed his way into their hearts.
Meanwhile, some years ago, I met Ms. Philippines 1937, a beautiful and gracious lady formerly named Carmen Zaldarriaga before she married Antonio Arnaiz, a renowned and pioneering aviator, after whom Arnaiz Avenue, popularly known as Pasay Road, is named.
The lovely beauty queen described Quezon as one of the best-skilled in tango she’s ever encountered and had the privilege to share steps with at her family’s ancestral home in the island of Masbate.
However, the ultimate mystique of the gentleman lay in his life as a leader and a statesman. Last Aug. 19, on his natal day, the Museo ni Manuel Quezon, located at the Quezon Memorial Circle in the city that also bears his name, was re-inaugurated and opened to the public with five galleries which feature significant events, from his birth in 1878 to his death in 1944.
Gallery I focuses on his childhood and youth in Baler with vintage photographs of the provincial idyll. Basic information is tastefully printed on the walls, along with his school report cards and even his Bachelor of Arts diploma from the University of Santo Tomas. A ceremonial picture with his sword on his side speaks of a time when he committed himself to patriotism during the Spanish Revolution.
Most strikingly, there was also a monochrome with the young Sergio Osmeña. In tandem, they built parallel careers as public servants.
Gallery II displays the advent of his involvement in politics with the country under the American occupation, outlining the positions he held in government, from being governor of Tayabas, now province of Aurora, to being Senate President of the Philippines, with Osmeña as the House Speaker.
Perhaps the most significant aspect in this personal epoch was his role as the Resident Commissioner in Washington D.C., a moment of which was captured on film when the foundations of the politically complex and delicate relationship between the two nations was being laid.
A separate section is a replicated bedroom, with various well-preserved objects from a quiet life of fine domesticity. There is a matrimonial bed of narra covered in lace, three immaculately preserved ternos and a Vicente Manansala pastel painting of Doña Aurora, Baby Quezon’s baptismal dress and trunks from days of travel.
One can also find in this alcove the first lady’s green manicure set with her nail file and scissors, a sewing machine and her black leather bag with the AQ initials.
As Quezon was bound for America on the vessel Shinju Maru for the first Philippine Independence Mission, we get a closer look into their life as partners. Little did I know, his fiancée-cousin was on board as well.
What caught my eye was a rare photo of the couple as groom and bride, a memory of their wedding in Hong Kong at the American Consulate. Three days later they married in a Catholic cathedral.
In Gallery III, his presidential years of the Commonwealth Era are elucidated further. Information on governance goals at the time, which are still relevant today, such as social justice and nation-building, are highlighted in great detail.
The tangible setting of his days in Malacañang is made palpable with his ebonized narra table with leaf carvings at the front panel and cariole legs, on top of which was an ink dish with two pen holders, a folding desk frame inscribed with Appointments of the President and his daily schedule, a desk calendar, a cylindrical glass paper weight, a rubber stamp with a carved bust and a bell – a desk-ringer from the pre-cellular phone days.
Outside of the office, his life is painted with color through a selection of items he owned, such as his golf-clubs, with the game a beloved past time. Consistently fashionable, we find his hats – a staple of the gentleman-look at the time. There was a medicine kit marked Pres. M. L. Quezon, and the TIME Magazine cover of Nov. 25, 1935’s inauguration of the Commonwealth, as well as various gifts from leaders of other nations.
An interesting find, under a clear panel of glass, are the five poker cards that won him P70,000 on board the ship Madawaska.
Gallery IV tracks the invasion of the Japanese, Quezon’s actions during the war and his eventual exile to the United States. Relics from this tumultuous world include the first telegram Morse-code buzzer, the military shoulder bag and military suit of soldier and diplomat Carlos P. Romulo, a vintage World War II 1945 US Navy Combat field pack and an extensive and heart-breaking collection of images from the destruction of Manila.
His death is further memorialized in the fifth and last gallery which commemorates his life to its physical conclusion, with photos of his last days as he succumbed to complications due to tuberculosis. It was poignant to read the excerpts of eulogies from his colleagues. The flag that draped his casket during the funeral march to the North Cemetery is folded in the customary triangle.
There were other lasting memorabilia – 100 framed MLQ postage stamps and various coins, such as two 1936 tribute one-peso coins featuring US President Franklin Roosevelt and Quezon and commemorative Roosevelt silver coins made available during Quezon’s Centenary celebration.
One is then led closer to his marble tomb at the center of the three spires, lit by sunlight and joined with the remains of his beloved.
His mausoleum is prominently marked by the monumental 66-meter spire – symbolizing his age at the time of his death – comprised of three pylons representing Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao, designed by Filipino architect Federico Ilustre. At the top of the obelisks are angels by Italian artist Francesco Riccardo Monti, each holding funeral wreaths of sampaguita.
At first glance, the venue itself is actually rather small – only one floor with varying elevations – but executed in an intelligent use of space and overall composition. More than just information on Quezon, the historical context of the nation in his regime is also presented to achieve a clearer picture of not just the illustrious individual, but of the world that he and the rest of the Filipinos had to face in the collective pursuit of peace and progress.
During my visit, we witnessed an audio-visual presentation on the highlights of Quezon’s life, which included interactive facilities, such as a 3D hologram of the man delivering his speeches.
We later learned from curator Janice Tambo and shrine guide Jun Barnachea that the museum was closed for a year dedicated to research, brain storming and structural and curatorial work by the National Historical Institute, headed by Maria Serena Diokno.
The whole museum is now modernized and expanded to twice its size. Each exhibit is clearly and educationally expounded in both English and Filipino. Easily accessible for virtually all individuals, ramps are also present for the elderly and the disabled.
The overall portrait was of a great personage of vision, leadership, and compassion – all celebrated in the solemn center of his memorial.
However, unless my eyes have failed me, I did not see a single picture of Manuel L. Quezon the Dancer, which I personally missed as that would have affirmed the light-hearted stories shared by my parents and their compañeros from so long ago.
Alas, those now remain in the fond and secret memories of those who knew the Man who was Manuel Luis Quezon.
The Quezon Museum is open Tuesday to Sunday 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Entrance is free.