I can’t remember exactly when or how I got to meet THE Norma Japitana. What I know is that our friendship progressed at the speed of a Formula 1 race car — going from 0 to 100 miles in no time.
I recall that we started hanging out with Norma when we were young journalists working at the Manila Bulletin (then called Bulletin Today) and its Sunday magazine, Panorama. We were just out of the University of the Philippines College of Mass Communication — Chelo Banal, now Formoso; the late Angelita Consignado, who married another Panorama staff member, Albert Lee; and myself.
Occasionally, the new guys would join us, the late Mario Baluyot, who was also a classmate at UP Masscom, and University of Santo Tomas graduates Romeo “Butch” Pajarillo and Jojo Gatbonton.
We were known in the Bulletin as the Butong Pakwan Gang because we were always snacking on watermelon seeds.
As we did not drink much and were earning minimum wage, the National Press Club and other watering holes popular with media people were not for us. Norma’s second-floor apartment on L. M. Guerrero Street in Ermita, Manila, became our hangout several evenings a month. It was within walking distance of the Bulletin offices in Intramuros; we only had to walk across Rizal Park to get there. The defunct Luneta Theater was at the corner of Guerrero and T.M. Kalaw, a big attraction for us movie lovers.
At Norma’s place, we usually feasted on broasted chicken and soda while her sister Edith quietly sewed batik garments and accessories.
The narrow street, along with the surrounding area, was filled with honky-tonk bars, panciterias and other small eateries. It was a rich source of real-life tales that Norma mined for her first anthology of short stories, “1026 L. Guerrero and Other Stories,” published in 1976.
She eventually moved — very reluctantly, I think, as the new location was not as colorful – to Cordillera Street in Quezon City. But no matter: The diverse group of people that came to visit, not to mention the nephews and nieces from her 11 siblings, provided as much drama and diversity as the old place.
Lifelong friendships
Norma was a prominent figure in the entertainment industry as a talent manager and entertainment writer, but her nearest and dearest also included politicians, literary writers such as Greg Brillantes, right- and left-wing activists, and military brass, apart from show business personalities.
To think that the girl from Bacolod City only looked forward to a meal at Ma Mon Luk if and when she came to Manila after hearing relatives from the capital city enthuse about the mami-siopao place.
Former vice president Teofisto “Tito” Guingona was her lifelong friend, as was former president Joseph “Erap” Estrada. She never forgot how Erap helped her during some of the darkest times in her life, and voted for him in all his runs for a national elective position. When I chided her for voting for Erap for president, she said without hesitation: “He is my friend.”
But despite her closeness to the two politicians, she never took advantage of her connections. I often told her, half-jokingly, when Guingona was VP and Estrada was VP and then president, to wangle for me just that gig of witnessing the drawing of lotto winners because I had heard that each appearance merited payment of P10,000 at that time. No way.
And yet she could not refuse a friend no matter how inconvenient the request. A journalist once asked her to let his German girlfriend stay in the spare room in her Cordillera apartment. She agreed, and never complained that the foreigner not only raised her power bill but also increased the risk of a fire by leaving the electric fan in the room running 24/7.
Norma’s wide circle of friends included the then human rights lawyer Jejomar “Jojo” Binay, who once invited her to join a tour of Eastern European countries.
In one train ride, some drunk Eastern Europeans harassed Norma and her companion in the compartment, a nun. Hoping to make them behave, Norma pointed to her traveling companion and blurted out, “She’s a sister!” But the drunks misunderstood; they thought she was saying that the other woman was her sister and seemed to relish the idea of a good time with siblings.
Norma banged on the wall to catch the attention of the male members of the group in the next compartment. Jojo Binay came to the rescue. At five feet, two inches tall, the future mayor of Makati City must have come on strong; the drunks — all large, each standing over six feet – sobered up and left the women alone.
Dressed to the nines
Norma always traveled with the accoutrements of a showbiz personality.
The singer Rico J. Puno, who she managed for the longest time (we often jokingly introduced Norma J as the cousin of Rico J), often asked her good-naturedly just who was performing because she always brought more stuff than he when they were going abroad for one of the many concerts she negotiated for him.
She brought not only a lot of clothes but also many pieces of jewelry that she carried in her handbag. She would learn to travel light and cut back on the jewelry after her purse was stolen as they waited for their flight to be called at the Los Angeles airport.
When she and members of our Butong Pakwan Gang were invited to Sicogon Island, Norma brought a suitcase while each of us toted an overnight bag.
Sicogon was just a long and wide stretch of sand with a guesthouse and a few huts. Except for a handful of locals, we practically had the island to ourselves. But she brought a couple of evening gowns. Asked why when the trip involved, not formal parties, but swimming and sunbathing, she replied simply: “Someone might propose to me here.”
There was a time when we had to attend an event in Baguio City that then first lady Imelda Marcos hosted for her royal but poor European friends. The Imeldific did not allow jeans in her events, and the denim-clad photographer Manny Goloyugo was refused entry. Although the rest of us met the dress code, we decided to walk out to show support for Manny.
Norma was, as usual, perfectly dressed for the occasion, but she walked out with us just the same. We made a curious spectacle marching through the Baguio public market in broad daylight with a woman in an elegant red beaded gown trailing behind us.
But Norma was not so vain as to take offense when her fashion choices did not impress. She delightedly told us what her irrepressible nephew said on seeing her in jeans, a colorful shirt, colored sunglasses, and a rolled bandana for a headband: “So that’s how the Menudo (the popular Puerto Rico boy band that included Ricky Martin) will look when they grow older!”
She also happily shared how her Swiss boyfriend noted that she spoke French with a Visayan accent. Despite her years in Manila, she never quite lost the mellifluous Ilonggo accent that made it seem like she never got angry.
Speaking of that boyfriend, she always reminded us that if we were ever in Switzerland, Jean Claude would put us up in his chalet in the Alps. It was always delivered matter-of-factly, like she was offering a place in Palawan or Boracay.
Norma also tried to learn Russian and, with me, enrolled in the free language class offered by the embassy. The class was handled by the wife of a Russian diplomat. We ended up trying to improve our teacher’s English while she taught us Russian.
No fake news
The talent manager that was Norma did not make up stories just to keep her clients in the limelight. She was a true professional: Fake news was not her thing and sensationalism was not a publicity strategy.
She protected her clients even from true but negative stories and provided entertainment reporters tactful, noncommittal answers.
And she was unlike the talent managers who would go the rounds of television talk shows to badmouth clients with whom they have parted ways. Very few people knew Norma was terribly hurt when a talent she had nurtured from being a so-so movie person to becoming an award-winning actor unceremoniously dropped her as his manager. Hurt, but she kept her cool.
She was very scrupulous in handling her clients’ talent fees. Instead of having their payments delivered to her in full, she required that their payments be given to them directly in separate checks so there would be no suspicion that she was taking a cut from their fees.
When her purse was stolen in LA, despite the loss of her jewelry, she was only thankful that Rico J. Puno’s talent fee had already been given to him and was not in her possession.
When her other client decided to drop her as his talent manager, Norma found out that he had collected commissions from advertising agencies and other firms. These were commissions that were meant for her, who had negotiated the endorsements in the first place. Again, she kept her cool.
What a life she led — from her days in military intelligence, to her off-and-on career as an entertainment writer, to her column writing in newspapers and magazines, to talent management, to serving as public relations director of Vicor when it was just a music company, and the many other things she got involved in.
She was always eager to make new friends and tried to keep everyone of them. She accepted and respected any person regardless of color, political and religious beliefs, and sexual preferences.
She was an indulgent tita to many nieces and nephews — and, later, grandnieces and grandnephews. As the oldest in a brood of 12, she was always ready to help her siblings and their families.
Her relatives worked for and with her, and a number of nephews and nieces grew up in her home. (She and her kin finally settled in two adjoining townhouses in Sanville Subdivision in Quezon City.)
Norma Japitana passed away peacefully last Dec. 10. Her family and friends will truly miss her kindness, her effervescence, and her constantly sunny disposition.
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