It’s not easy to dismiss Socorro Cancio Ramos for the simple reason that she has a very contagious giggle. Her face, which the English poet George Gordon, Lord Byron aptly paints as one that "tell of days in goodness spent", is, in and by itself, a novel worth reading. Ten minutes with her and I could understand why renowned writer Nick Joaquin portrayed her as the miracle behind the book trade giant National Bookstore. Simply because she’s a person you can’t easily say no to.
And for the last 50 or so years, this is how she has spent her life: going around the world and bargaining for books until she gets them to a price level that is Filipino-friendly. Her daughter, Cecilia Ramos-Licauco (National Bookstore’s vice-president for purchasing), maintains that Nanay Coring, as Socorro Ramos is called, is a real wiz in the art of bargaining for good, easy-to-afford books from big-time foreign publishers and dealers.
Her secret? Simple: she makes it a point to strike a sympathetic chord in her listeners. In fact, Nanay Coring is so convincing that if not for the lure of profit, she divulges, these publishers would readily give their books to her for free (and probably close to tears at that). She begins on a heart-rending note about how expensive some books are in the country, making it difficult for poorer Filipinos to get a hold of them.
However, she doesn’t employ this "tactic" as a street magician would a deck of cards or a rabbit out of a hat. Book lovers everywhere know how dispiriting it is to browse through a shelf with their favorite authors, and know all along that they don’t have enough money to shoulder the cover price. This frustrating sense of lack Nanay Coring understands all too well.
Using more than just sleight of hand, so to speak, this super salesgirl of the book trade makes use of the incalculable wisdom of years, bought by experience. Throw in the innate charm that time has gracefully polished, and you have a personality that is simply compelling.
Yet life was an uphill climb for the young Coring. For lack of a better description, hers is an honest-to-goodness rags-to-riches story. After fleeing to Manila to escape the threat of poverty in Sta. Cruz, Laguna in the early ’30s, Coring was forced by circumstances as a child to jaunt from one job to another, at the same time trying hard to be good in class. Obviously, child labor laws were not as definitive then as they are now.
Pragmatic as she is gritty, the wide-eyed, seven-year-old kid (who had a widowed mother and five siblings to support) flourished even in the most menial and mind-numbing of jobs–in a shirt and bubblegum factory. And while brimming with the hope of one day becoming a medical doctor, she went to the extent of salvaging tobacco fillings (from factory stock gone moldy) in her spare time just to make ends meet. Times were harsher then, she recalls, with the depression of the ’30s. Nonetheless, the girl was as tenacious as a salmon journeying to its birthplace to spawn.
As fate would have it, Coring would, without her knowing it, give birth to an idea that would be a part of this country’s history. Nanay Coring’s stint with books began after her graduation from high school in the early 1940s during the Japanese occupation of Manila. Now well on her way to 80, this lady still remembers people queueing to buy notebooks and other school supplies in a one-stall shop (Goodwill Bookstore) in a small makeshift stand in downtown Avenida where she worked as tindera.
Her people skills eventually brought her to the attention of the owner of the bookstore. She was thereafter put in charge of a small branch on Escolta at the ground floor of the Panciteria Nacional. She had no idea she was being watched by Jose "Tsip" Ramos, brother of Coring’s sister-in-law who owned the shop. As is often the case with bestsellers, what happened next was a whirlwind courtship that almost resembled the tragic story of Romeo and Juliet. I say "almost" because love somehow found a way for Tsip and Coring in the end. With a few clothes and barely P11.00 in her pocket, young Coring, together with Tsip, took a chance at life in the city. Amid war-torn Manila, she gave birth to their firstborn twins–Alfredo and Benjamin–with daughter Cecilia following after seven years.
The shop at Escolta flourished, notwithstanding heavy censorship from the Japanese who wanted to edit out anything that was pro-American. So, the couple hid the books and sold slippers, candles and school supplies instead.
"If the Japanese officers caught you selling books authored by westerners, patay ka!" she quips loudly and with much hilarity, while enjoying a serving of Tempura at Ben Kay, a plush Japanese restaurant at the Dusit Hotel.
In time, Tsip and Coring bought the Escolta shop and renamed it National Bookstore. Soon after, the Americans came and liberation spurred revelry everywhere, except in that small place at the foot of Escolta Bridge where the Ramoses had worked almost to the brink of exhaustion. Sadly, the fledgling shop was razed to the ground due to heavy bombings by the Americans.
From ground zero, the couple once more raised National Bookstore after a few years, this time at the corner of Rizal Avenue and Soler Street. By now their list of books had grown from military manuals to school textbooks. Perry Mason paperbacks came pretty much later, Nanay Coring discloses. But when a strong typhoon thrashed the bookstore to the ground, instead of being crestfallen, Tsip and Coring had the best excuse to expand. On the same lot that they had by then leased, the couple had a two-storey shop built, this time with a mezzanine.
Christened The Albecer Building (after their three children Alfredo, Benjamin and Cecilia), the new building ushered in a new life for the Ramoses, because from that time onwards, National Bookstore’s growth became what could only be described as phenomenal.
"We started with four people," Nanay Coring recollects with pride. "Mr. Ramos and I, plus a girl and a boy. My husband and I were both owner and janitor of the place! We did the cleaning, dusting and arranging of the books. We fixed the show window up to three o’clock in the morning. Kami lahat. We went from being janitor to salesclerk. But despite the apparent difficulty, it was fun."
Years passed, and the company took another turn for the better when Coring thought of selling greeting cards and post cards with Philippine motifs to augment their sales. With typical business savvy that is hallmark Coring, she immediately set out to accomplish this by commissioning budding artists on Mabini Street to design the cards, which were then displayed at National Bookstore. To put it more succinctly, the cards sold like hotcakes.
Then Hallmark Cards came along to buttress business and the rest was book- and card-selling history.
No wonder then that from a fledgling shop run by four young people, National Bookstore now has thousands in its employ, with more than 40 branches nationwide. And this does not even include the smaller stalls built all over Metro Manila and other cities. The business has likewise expanded to include three Powerbooks stores, an upscale bookstore located in Makati, Mandaluyong and Alabang.
This is not to say, however, that they have virtual monopoly of the bookstore business. On the contrary, National Bookstore might just have set a precedent for other similar businesses. But despite the stiff competition, the Ramoses’ business has continued to flourish.
"You cannot cover the sun with your ten fingers," Nanay Coring, who confesses that she is no bookworm, smiles as she spells out one of her business principles. "Light will still pass through. It is in the same sense that I love competition in this business. Lahat kami ay may kita dito," she smiles.
Today, National Bookstore is looking into the possibility of going on-line. Daughter Cecilia expounds: "We want to take advantage of new technology to boost our services. Computerization is our main thrust at the moment, and who knows, in a few years, we might even go into e-marketing."
With 85,000 SKUs or stock-keeping units involved (that’s 85,000 items to be logged in from book titles to ballpen brands), Cecilia is well aware of what the new project will entail. But like any good entrepreneur, she has no qualms of diving headlong into this endeavor. "I have my son Ramon to take care of it," she says with a naughty grin.
Walt Disney once said that there is more treasure in books than in all the pirate’s loot in Treasure Island– and that best of all, we can enjoy these riches everyday of our lives. Because of Nanay Coring, book lovers everywhere at least have this one place in which it is possible to be virtually happy.
"The secret is really an open-secret," Nanay Coring explains. "There’s no luck or marketing magic involved. National Bookstore grew because of pure hard work, and our determination to live off on a very modest profit margin. Let me say that again: very modest profit margin. Hindi kami nagmadaling kumita. That, hijo, is our secret."