Nick: A Portrait of the Artist Nick Joaquin

By Tony Joaquin

Years after his death, Nick Joaquin's legacy continues to live on. 

Through his prolific writing—both fiction and non-fiction—this National Artist for Literature awardee has left his mark not only in the Philippine literary and journalistic community, but more importantly, in the hearts and minds of those who hold him dearest—his family and close friends. 

With black-and-white photo folio.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anvil Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9789712729331

Book preview

NICK

A Portrait of the Artist Nick Joaquin

by

Tony Joaquin and Gloria C. Kismadi

ANVILLOGOBLACK2

Copyright to this digital edition © 2011 by

Tony Joaquin, Gloria C. Kismadi, and Anvil Publishing, Inc.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form

or by any means without the written permission from

the copyright owners and the publisher.

Published and exclusively distributed by

Anvil Publishing, Inc.

7th Floor Quad Alpha Centrum Building

125 Pioneer Street

Mandaluyong City 1550 Philippines

Sales and Marketing: [phone], 477-4755 to 57 locs. 815 and 817

[e-mail]

Fax: [phone]

www.anvilpublishing.com

First printing, 2011 (np)(bp)

Second printing, 2013 (np)

Book design by Ariel Dalisay (cover and interior); Felix Pio (interior)

Sketch on back cover by Ding Roces

Photos used in the folio are from the collection of Charo Villegas. Sketch of Nick Joaquin

on page 69 is used with the permission of Benedicto Cabrera.

ISBN 9789712729331 (e-book)

Version 1.0.1

remembering Nick Joaquin…

Knowing how Nick felt about his cherished country, we pay tribute in this biography to the Philippines, most especially to the Filipino people who have enjoyed his writings, and to others who still have to discover them.

To Chita Joaquin, for her constant and unflagging loyalty, and to the rest of the Joaquin clan, who lent their support to this project, proud to have as member a gifted brilliant fictionist and literary icon, Nick Joaquin.

TJ

To Kis, who was always there to point out the majesty of mountains, the serenity of quiet nights, and the peace that stillness brings. And to Budhsi, our daughter, who continues to inspire by trusting that everyone can continue dreaming and doing.

GCK

To the many who, in one way or another, gave their time and efforts, their encouragement and support, and in so doing showed their respect and love for Nick Joaquin, we would like to express our deepest thanks, most especially to the following:

The National Commission for Culture and the Arts

The Ramon Magsaysay Foundation

Publishers, editors-in-chief, and columnists of leading newspapers

F. Sionil Jose

Gregorio C. Brillantes

Lito Zulueta

Joel Salud

Alfredo Ding Roces for the cover design

Dine Racoma

Pete Lacaba

Marra Lanot Lacaba

Charo and Bing Villegas

Our families

And many other individuals, too many to mention, who gave their advice, suggestions, and moral support so willingly.

Without them, this book would never have come to be.

The Authors

Preface

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Introduction

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Chapter I

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Chapter II

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Chapter III

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Chapter IV

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Chapter V

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Chapter VI

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Chapter VII

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Chapter VIII

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Chapter IX

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Chapter X

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Chapter XI

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Works

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Awards

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The Artist

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The Authors

Early on the morning of April 29, 2004, Nick Joaquin passed away quietly in his sleep at the age of 87.

For about a month, he had been telling his close friends that he was in this phase of not feeling well. He had been saying it every now and then, but since he continued to go out with them, except for one week when he refused to leave his house or see anyone, his friends, while apprehensive, did not really suspect that his passing would happen so quickly. Such remarks would occasionally come from him on days when he was not in the right mood for seeing people, or just wanted time to be alone.

His closest friends, however—those who knew and loved him, and who had started to notice little changes in his habits—began to be quietly worried. On occasion, whenever they would go to his favorite jazz haunts, he no longer would sing along with the band when they played his favorite songs, nor did he drink as much beer—San Miguel Light from the very start and later on, San Miguel Pale Pilsen—which he had immortalized as his trademark. Everyone who had ever met Nick would always remember that he was rarely seen without a bottle of beer in his hand. Although these close friends may have noticed, no one dared ask him about his health.

One time, as he was listening to a familiar jazz tune—one of his favorites, no less, he quietly commented, "Hasta ahora estamos, pero hasta cuando?" An astute person might have noticed that Nick was being more reflective than usual, but no one ever questioned his changes of mood, or his silence. Nick was Nick. He did what he did the way he wanted to and said things the way only he could say them. Nick Joaquin was just being himself.

A month or so before he passed on, he had even turned down an invitation from one of his closest friends for dinner at Kamayan, something that was not expected of him, Kamayan being one of his favorite dining places. Turning down an invitation was not particularly out of the ordinary for Nick Joaquin. It was not the first time he had done that. He might just have had his own reasons for it, like finishing an assignment, or wanting time for reflection—but not being in the mood for Kamayan? Especially when the invitation came from one of his good friends! That would hardly have been expected of Nick.

At that time, no one even remotely thought that within a month, Nick Joaquin, the greatest Filipino writer of his generation, would sadden the Filipino literary world with his absence forever. Perhaps his intuition had been whispering to him that the end was coming, but that was something between him and God, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else in on the secret.

When he did go, his well-known writer and journalist friends filled reams of newsprint with the pieces they wrote about him, grieving over his passing, at the same time honoring his contributions to Philippine literature. But as vocal and evocative as those friends were, many more who knew and loved Nick for the personal attention he gave them lamented their inability to express their loss and share their grief.

Had they been asked, Nick’s colleagues, and perhaps even his critics, would have been only too happy and willing to write a biography of Nick Joaquin. When the Joaquin clan came together, however, the decision was that if a biography of Nick would be written, the first one should be from the family, for only family would know Nick as he really was, or would know his family background—his parents and his siblings, his upbringing, the values that were instilled in them, and the experiences they went through as a family—everything that made them into the men and women they became, especially the fifth child, Nicomedes Marquez Joaquin, who became the most distinguished Filipino writer of his time. The literary world has always known him as Nick Joaquin, but to the family, he was, and always will be, Onching, Tito Onching, or Lolo Onching, a much-loved son, brother, uncle, and granduncle. These members of his family were the ones who knew him in a totally different light—a man who lived, loved, teased, argued; who was always there when they needed him; who gave so generously of himself. Onching was and always would be one of them. They looked up to him in awe every time he received an award, but he was, nevertheless, the familiar, funny, loveable, and very giving Onching—perhaps a bit strange at times, or frightening when he pretended to be angry and growled at them, but still…our Onching.

To others, he might have been the literary genius that everyone lauded and held in high esteem, but to family, he was someone who could always be counted on whenever he was needed, the tito who never refused a request; who was always there for them, no matter what kind of schedule he had; who never reneged on a promise; who would drop everything for them because they mattered to him—and who, occasionally, would even slip them a hundred-peso bill.

Many may not see this work as a biography. It certainly is not in the style or manner that most biographies are usually written. The reason for this is that the family wanted to share with others the Onching they knew, who was and will always be one of the Joaquins. Most people know the Nick Joaquin who brought Filipino literature to a height as yet unequalled. But that was Nick Joaquin. Our Onching had a much-loved persona that few knew. The family thought others should know not just the portrait of the artist, but that part of the man most people never saw, Onching, who always put others above himself, especially those whom he held near and dear, even if they themselves were often not always aware of it.

Nick Joaquin is honored and hailed by many for what he did for arts and letters in this country. This biography is really a reminiscence and touches more on the man known only to some so that others who did not really know him may get to see—and love—the man he truly was.

At the time of his death, Nick’s only remaining sibling was the youngest of them all, Carmen, fondly called Mameng, and who is Tita Mameng to the family. When asked whether she would want to put down on paper her memories of her Kuya Onching, she smiled shyly and said that all the talent for writing that her father Cadio or her mother Omeng had in them must have been passed down only to Nick. She herself had never written anything and did not think she could. The inventory of likely writers came down to the current generation of Joaquins. None other would even entertain the thought of writing anything about their renowned relative.

Being the only other published writer in the family, the task was given to me, Tony, the only son of Nick’s oldest brother, Ping. Thus, by a process of elimination, I was unanimously singled out by the family because of my experience in writing my own autobiography, Simple Glories, and collaborating with Fred de la Rosa, my brother-in-law, in the completion of Mama Sarah Joaquin’s own autobiography Of Laughter and Tears. As it was for Tito Onching, writing has also been my passion, although admittedly, I never pursued it the way that Tito Onching did—nor could I have done so. In each family, I suppose, genius is given only to the one most deserving and capable, and that one person among the Joaquins was Tito Onching.

Writing Nick Joaquin’s story has been a rare privilege. Many of his close friends, and many published writers, would readily agree to take over, given the chance. I bow to their abilities, talents, and experience. They would certainly do an excellent job of writing Nick’s biography. Writing, after all, is their milieu. It is what gives them life, as well as their bread and butter. This particular biography, however, one requested by the family, is not conceived or written as a literary piece. One of the advantages, I believe, is this: to all of them he was Nick Joaquin, whereas to me, first and foremost, he was, and always will be, Tito Onching, one of the Joaquin clan who returned not only the five talents that were given to him by the Master, but who as the good servant, doubled, nay, increased them a hundredfold. In so doing, he not only brought writing to a new height, but also brought Filipino literature, history, and culture to the Filipino people’s imagination and consciousness. More precious to the Joaquin clan, he gave all of us this example and brought honor to the family.

What the clan wanted in this life story of Tito Onching is the perspective of Nicomedes Marquez Joaquin’s story from within, one that can bring out the metamorphosis of the familiar Onching from the shy, reclusive bookworm to the man he came to be, a writer whose many distinctive traits and talents have won him readers and admirers in the Philippines and beyond, and in so doing brought honor to his country. Before that, however, he had a life in a family that shaped him and loved him and gave him the freedom to become Nick Joaquin.

I can only attempt to do my best to come up to the expectations of those who read this reminiscence, and I ask that they forgive the many inadequacies they find within these pages. Foremost in my mind is to have a book that the Joaquins today and for generations to come will hold in their hands, read, and say with pride: "This is Nick Joaquin, my Tito (or Lolo) Onching. He was the greatest Filipino writer that ever lived!"

The year was 1976, the date, March 27. On this evening, the Philippine Government was holding a rare and significant event—a special ceremony to award the title of National Artist for Literature to Nick Joaquin.

The auditorium was already brightly lit and aglow. Elegantly dressed in their finery, Manila’s cultural and literary elite gracefully ascended the broad staircase, greeting friends and acquaintances before finding their seats in the main theater. No less important were the well-known Filipino artists, writers, journalists—all those whose contributions to Philippine arts and culture were already acknowledged and recognized.

Holding on to my arm was Sarah Joaquin, my mother, resplendent in her terno. With us were my sisters, Nenita and Baby, with their respective spouses, and other members of the Joaquin clan. We were warmly hailed and greeted before being ushered to special seats in the front row, center.

The entire Joaquin clan had all come to witness the ceremony that was about to take place. That evening would usher in what to us was a historic moment that would bestow honor, not just on one individual, but also on the entire family that had raised and nurtured him to be the person he was and had suddenly become at that hour.

His name? Nicomedes Marquez Joaquin, the Filipino fictionist, poet, and playwright known to all as Nick Joaquin, who was also the journalist known as Quijano de Manila. It was he who was the honoree on which the title of National Artist for Literature was to be bestowed.

As guests found their seats and exchanged greetings and small talk, the houselights began to dim gradually and the atmosphere changed to one of expectancy. The chattering died down and the occasional coughing was silenced. By the time the house was in complete darkness, a hush had come over the entire theater and the sense of drama and anticipation for what was to follow was electric. The entire Joaquin clan held their breath.

This was not Nick Joaquin’s first award. He had started gathering awards and honors long before that. Even on this night, he was already regarded by many writers in the Philippines and abroad as the most distinguished Filipino writer in English. For Nick wrote in a variety of literary genres and with a deep and unmatched understanding of so many aspects of the Philippines, its history and culture, its customs and traditions, its people and events—all of which he brought to life in stories, plays, poems, and essays that personified the Filipino soul and character. Moreover, he had enriched the language to the point where critics had coined the term Joaquinesque to describe his baroque, Spanish-flavored English or his reinventions of terms and expressions based on Filipinisms.

After some time, the house lights slowly began to dim, until the entire theater was in complete darkness. A mellow, authoritative voice, magnified by the theater’s excellent sound system, requested the audience to kindly rise for the Philippine National Anthem. As the final strains of Lupang Hinirang (popularly known as Bayang Magiliw) faded, the main curtain began to open, slowly and gradually, to reveal the lone figure of a man standing center stage.

He stood there, unmoving, wearing a barong Tagalog, his head bowed, and he stayed that way until the curtains were fully open and the stage lights came on. Only then did he raise his head and stand upright, as a spotlight focused on him, making him look even more gaunt … and lonely. Unsmiling, he looked straight at the audience, his serious mien never changing, looking out at a sea of faces in the darkened theater, until he caught sight of his family seated in the front row, center. A faint smile then came to the stern face, softening his look and making his entire face more human and welcoming. Most of his friends in the audience took this in as well—his natural attitude of never taking himself too seriously finally taking over. As the audience recognized this all too familiar figure, the few, scattered rounds of clapping gradually swelled to become one solid sound of applause lasting for almost five minutes, filling the entire auditorium, with people rising from their seats and cheering Nick Joaquin.

I glanced down at Mamá, who by then was so overcome with emotion that the tears were flowing down her cheeks. Close to tears myself, I reached down into my pocket for the handkerchief that I had brought along with me and passed it on to her. The rest of us Joaquins, those occupying that one row, along with other cousins, aunts and uncles, and in-laws scattered throughout the theater, were on our feet as well, clapping vigorously, wiping away tears, tears of pride and joy, our heads held high, acknowledging the honor being bestowed on one of ours. Nick made all of us proud to be Joaquins.

After the applause died down, the same announcer’s voice resumed its task of announcing the distinctive qualities that the honoree had consistently shown in all his works, the qualities that had earned for him the title of National Artist for Literature for the Year 1976.

It was an award that was late in coming. Word had it that the document naming him National Artist had actually been signed in the year 1972. Many in the audience were curious to know why it took several years for that document to take effect. Not many knew that the reason had to do with the political climate of the time. The country was in the grip of martial law, declared by President Ferdinand Marcos in September of 1972. In that instant when martial law was declared, all oppositionists, writers, and media practitioners who had shown themselves to be against Marcos in their writings and pronouncements were summarily herded and taken to detention centers. Among them was Nick’s friend, Senator Benigno Ninoy Aquino, President Marcos’s number one nemesis, who was the most likely to challenge Marcos for the presidency.

When Nick was first informed of the award, his immediate reaction was to decline it outright, and he was adamant in his refusal. But after careful thought and counsel, he came to understand that this was an honor given not just to him, as a distinguished Filipino fiction writer, poet, and playwright, but, by extension, also to the people to whom he had reached out and who had read

Reviews for Nick

[Vincent Liberato · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Mahusay, at napakadetalyado ng pagkakasulat, wala akong masabi! Mabuhay ka Nick Joaquin! Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!