By Oscar C. Pineda
The Press Freedom Walk typically marked the beginning of the Cebu Press Freedom Week celebration in the past years. The walk fell on the Sunday closest to Sept. 21. This year, Sept. 21 is on a Sunday, launching the weeklong celebration of Cebu’s freedom of the press.
It was on Sept. 21, 1972, when President Ferdinand E. Marcos proclaimed Martial Law, which curtailed all freedoms, including the freedom of the press. The celebration in Cebu serves as a yearly reminder of the press freedom now enjoyed.
Cebu Press Freedom Week then was marked by symposiums, meetings, conferences and nightly parties. It was a nightly party for reporters, broadcasters and their news editors.
These unforgettable incidents, whether at a party or during the week, left a colorful mark on every Press Freedom Week. This exposed the character of media members, gauging “who’s more influential among us.”
Some senior media members believed that there was always a “Clash of the Titans,” so to speak, in this annual weeklong celebration.
Starting with the Press Freedom Walk, the parade along Osmeña Blvd. usually started from City Hall to the Capitol.
The parade was the epitome of what the media was and how society viewed it. Newspaper workers from SunStar Daily and The Freeman at the time, along with television and radio personalities, walked with pride and in high spirits, announcing their presence with a loud marching band.
Cebu City traffic officers stood at attention at every street crossing to guide the parade. They managed the resulting traffic as they would for a visiting president’s convoy.
Stalled commuters and motorists were left exasperated as they squeezed through their congested lanes.
But when media members flaunted their banners and streamers, held by famous media personalities, miffed travelers were transformed into a state of joy and excitement. They waved at their TV and radio idols as the media personalities waved back.
In seconds, the media tipped the scale in their favor.
Then the nightly parties followed.
It was a time when reporters and broadcasters converged not to cover national or major issues but to enjoy themselves without deadlines hounding them.
A line from the U2 song “Sunday Bloody Sunday” says, “We can be as one, tonight.“
Over the years, reporters’ and broadcasters’ notoriety sometimes went beyond social norms.
At one sponsored Press Freedom Week luncheon, two female reporters from competing tabloids clawed at and pulled each other’s hair. The fight was not over a scoop but was perhaps due to pent-up emotions from the race to get news first.
The behavior was not limited to certain reporters. Even two top “komentaristas” slugged it out on the air with fiery, personal tirades.
“I can’t believe the news today, Oh I can’t close my eyes and make it go away,” from U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday.”
Not even their bosses dared to stop them as they exposed each other’s well-kept and embarrassing secrets.
“And the battle just begun, There’s many lost, but tell me, who has won?,” from “Sunday Bloody Sunday.”
A senior and prominent newsman, Cerge Remonde, eventually intervened to stop them.
The clash of these two news giants happened during Press Freedom Week.
Exclusivity was a theme, not only in getting news but also at media parties.
During parties or leisure gatherings, attendees were screened. Telltale signs of an uninvited guest, like generic smiles and glancing in all directions, were observed, especially by female media members.
“Unsa imong news outlet?” was the question asked, which would serve as one’s ticket.
One might be allowed to join the party but without a raffle ticket.
Even politicians did not dare to join these media activities unless they were personally invited by media members.
Raffle prizes during parties were so grand that everyone was excited to know, ”Kinsa na sab ang sponsor unya?”
Raffle winners were scrutinized to ensure they were legitimate media members.
At one Press Freedom Week opening at the Capitol, the wife of a less prominent radio “komentarista” was embarrassed. Her raffle prize was forfeited on the spot.
But beyond the excitement, more precious than the grand prizes was the experience that touched the lives of media members.
Dancing with Bobby Nalzaro, sharing stories with Cerge Remonde and listening to Pachico Seares and Juanito Jabat during parties did not happen every day. Sharing one’s opinion with Jerry Tundag or a moment with Eileen Mangubat was something worth remembering. Enjoying a party with Michelle So and Thea Riñen was a chance of a lifetime.
One high-caliber “komentarista,” Leo Lastimosa, shunned media parties but supported other activities during Press Freedom Week.
Even after Cerge Remonde’s death, his wife, Marit Stinus Remonde, continued to support media programs and activities as a member of the media support group.
These made media members a different and misunderstood breed, misunderstood by their officemates and by ordinary people who looked up to them as their savior and only hope.
People could not understand why they would cheer for another news station’s Miss Press Freedom candidate rather than their own. Or why they sometimes shared hard-won news or a copy of an artist’s sketch with the competition before submitting it to their editors.
It was unthinkable for outsiders, because some media members were closer to their group of reporters than to their own news teams.
They had no qualms about seeing a dead person, a scene others abhorred. They were desensitized and sometimes unmindful of others’ feelings in the pursuit of news. Sometimes they became irresponsible with the power they earned.
And that made media members special.
“And it’s true we are immune
When fact is fiction and TV reality
And today the millions cry (Sunday, Bloody Sunday) We eat and drink while tomorrow they die (Sunday, Bloody Sunday)”
Congratulations to all media members, and with the new communication platforms, to bloggers and vloggers.
Happy Cebu Press Freedom Week to all reporters, “dinhi sa madangog nga kalibutan,” in the words of Bobby Nalzaro.