The Grinch who Stole the Noli me Tangere
In my previous blog, I wrote about how
the Mi Ultimo Adios original was stolen and retrieved from the
Rizaliana thief.
Review Act 1. The three Rizal original
documents were stolen on 8 Dec. 1961. It appeared like an inside
job. On Feb 2nd, Friday, Anding Roces met with
the thief “emissary” and by sheer personality, sleight of hand, and bravado, got
the Mi Ultimo Adios without paying a single cent for ransom.
Review Act Two. On Monday Feb 5, the El Filibusterismo negotiations
at Luneta Grandstand ended at Barrio Fiesta restaurant, a few kilometers from
the Bonifacio Monument at Balintawak, Caloocan City. The El Filibusterismo was
returned intact in a box. No money passed hands, except an
assurance from Roces saying, “Ako ang bahala sa iyo.” (I’ll not leave you on a lurch.)
In this blog, the third of a series, I continue with the last chapter
of the greatest heist in the history of the three original works of Dr José Rizal.
Newspaper Headline, Feb. 8, 1962, Manila, Philippnes |
Act Three, Scene 1.
In
the previous incoming calls to Roces in his office, he noticed that he had two different phone pals.
One was
very articulate in English, very smooth and slick. He had a tone of authority, suggesting to
Roces that this thief is used to giving orders.
The
second person seemed more retrospective. He kept saying, “Give me some more time
to think,” when Roces asked a direct question.
Roces
knew the third guy, the contact man, who in his view was just the lackey of the
true masterminds. He also seemed to be the youngest among the three and was
used to following orders.
Feb. 9, Friday, 1962.
That
day, Roces cleared his telephone line and waited for the call that would inform
him of the return of the Noli me tangere. The much-awaited
phone rang at 11:45 am. The meeting was
set for the following day, same place and same time at the Luneta Grandstand.
He
was instructed to wait for further instructions at 1:00 pm.
At
exactly 1:05 pm. Roces heard the voice, belonging to the main culprit and
mastermind. Anding Roces strained his ear and in the deep recesses of his brain
he filed away in his cranium specific characteristics of the voice: the register
was low and quavering at high pitch, the tone was demanding and sure, the semantic
sentence structure is declarative and verbose, the voice timber and the quality
of expression is punctuated by long drawn-out
prefixes of “aaaah.” Roces said he'll be able to identify this criminal by his speech and linguistic pattern.
Roces
was instructed to bring a written affidavit containing the dictated text:
1. That I recovered, retrieved
and repossessed for and on behalf of the Republic of the Philippines the original
manuscripts of Dr. José Rizal’s Mi Ultimo Adios, El Filibusterismo, and Noli me
Tangere without having paid or given any consideration, by way of money or
otherwise to the person or persons from whom I repossessed them;
2.
That these documents were
given to me by this person or persons as a noble gesture and out of their
voluntary will;
3.
That I will not file any
criminal action in any court of justice against the person and persons, who to
my knowledge and belief now, were in any way responsible for the loss of the
aforementioned documents.
This
mastermind thief used an arsenal of legal-ese terms. Instead of "return" of the stolen documents, he repeatedly used "repossess." The main culprit must have
had a long experience in writing letters or affidavits of authentication,
revealing a top position in the José Rizal National Centennial Commission’s
hierarchy.
Roces
had an idea of who the Grinch who stole the Noli might be by noting
phrases like “for and on behalf,” “given
any consideration,” “by way of money or otherwise,” “to my knowledge and
belief,” "aforementioned" or “ in any way responsible.”
No
ordinary thief talks this way. He must have at least a professional law degree--another indicator for the police robbery department's suspect file.
Act Three, Scene 2.
As in the previous two instances--on Feb. 2nd (Friday), and 5h (Monday), Anding Roces and the thief met at Luneta’s Grandstand.
As in the previous two instances--on Feb. 2nd (Friday), and 5h (Monday), Anding Roces and the thief met at Luneta’s Grandstand.
"If you don't mind, I'll call you Pare (short for Compadre.) I just don’t want to use the name of Rizal in vain,” said Roces approaching in a simple gait. It was as if they were old friends, connected through Roces’ patronizing mood and Pare’s criminal stance.
Pare looked haggard in his trubenized
off-white short-sleeved shirt. Roces was
immaculate in his official government official embroidered jusi Barong Tagalog.
“Here’s
the letter that you required,” Barong
Tagalog pulled out a typed sheet of 8 by 14 inch size “A” legal size paper from
his briefcase.
“Sign
it right here,” Trubenized replied, briefly
scanning through the letter and pointing to the bottom of the affidavit. Trubenized shirts made of polyester was the stylish rave in the early '60's.
After
folding the letter and pocketing it, Trubenized addressed Barong Tagalog:
“Wala sanang onsehan.”
Onsehan! That’s the number eleven or Onse in the local dialect. There are two straight lines that represent eleven. If one rearranges these in the perpendicular it becomes a cross. The slang message
was “Don’t double cross us.”
“Was
that an implicit threat?” Barong Tagalog
asked sharply and angrily. “Don’t bully me."
The
culprits originally asked for a million and a half pesos---went down to
100,000 last Thursday, then whittled down to 10,000. Today the thieves settled for a piece of paper! Roces whistled beneath his breath, "Pambihira! (Incredible!) This is the biggest bargain since the Indians sold Manhattan."
Act Three, Scene 3.
The
thief told Sekretaryo to go to Baclaran, south of Manila in the direction of Parañaque,
Rizal. From there Roces was directed
towards Jale Beach, a resort of some
unsavory reputation frequented by couples.
In 1962 it was in a deserted stretch of the Manila bayshore. This district was also
known as the “The Strip” where motel rooms are rented by the hour.
Roces
said to himself, “This will be a long ride.” His brow was heavily beaded with perspiration as if he was wearing a hat-full
of nails. They entered the resort premises.
It
was 4:00 pm. The man who called himself “Rizal” got off the car and
reconnotiered the beach cabañas or cabins.
When
he reappeared, Roces braced himself with a handy jack steel bar. The man was brandishing a gleaming steel-blade balisong, a sharp pen-knife smelted by
the industrious and skillful men of Batangas, known for their blinded fighting
spirit coupled with their fierce murderous knife thrust prowess.
However,
Roces’ self-preserving reaction boded no evil among the protagonists, for under the arm of the
thief was a package wrapped in shiny Manila paper tied securely with abaca twine.
With
a sharp penknife action the twine was cut, and like the wing span of a crane,
the wrapping paper flapped open. A
crusty, crumbling, parched, yellowish manuscript revealed its soul peering
through the page-filled distinct penmanship of Dr. José Rizal himself.
It
was the Noli me Tangere, now at last safely repossessed in Anding Roces’s possession!
It
took 62 days since it was stolen from its display case at the National Library
on Dec. 8, 1961.
The
thief asked for a handshake. Roces was
magnanimous in victory.
He
saw “Rizal” get buried beneath a cabaña awning. But before walking off, the culprit revealed a
particular moral conscience by asking that a message be delivered to President
Macapagal:
“Order the shut off of these houses of
ill-repute,” the thief spitted out in disgust.
Without
looking back, Roces stepped on the gas.
Anding Roces shows his wife, Irene Viola Roces, the recovered original Noli me Tangere, before it was deposited in the National Treasury vault. Kislap Aliwan, Mar. 21, 1962, p 32. |
****
Upon
reading Roces’ effort to Save the Noli, I could not help but think of a time in
Dec. 1886.
Rizal was in Germany. He finished writing the last chapters of the
Noli in Wilhelmsfeld. Later in Leipzig, in order
to save on printing costs, he edited out and cut off two chapters. Now ready for
printing in Berlin he had run out of money and was living on a starvation
allowance. In a moment of deranged thought
and severe depression, he thought of feeding the warming hearth fire with the Noli manuscript. However, a “Savior of the Noli” appeared in the person of a
“countryman,” the scion of a wealthy haciendero from San Miguel, Bulacan who
dished out on Dec 4, 1886, the 300 pesos needed to print the Noli me Tangere.
His name was Dr. Maximo Viola (my paternal grandmother Juliana Viola's brother.)
His name was Dr. Maximo Viola (my paternal grandmother Juliana Viola's brother.)
Viola helped Rizal in
canvassing for the cheapest printing house in Berlin. Then Viola helped proofread each galley print delivered daily by the copy man. When the book was finally completed in March 1887, Rizal
dedicated the first copy to Viola inscribing; “To Maximo Viola, the first one who read my book. José Rizal."
Then he wrapped his pen around the galley proof pages and presented it to his friend.
Fast forward to Feb 9, 1962. Roces was considered the “Modern Savior of the Noli,” for having retrieved the stolen Noli me Tangere from the thieves.
But wait…ladies and gentlemen,
my blog followers, and loyal readers… there's something serendipitous about this whole drama. This is a
déjà vu moment, because…
....Drum Roll…
Another Viola came to the rescue of Rizal's Noli me Tangere. The truth is, Alejandro Roces is a Viola by
consanguinity. Anding Roces was married to my beauteous cousin, Irene Viola, a direct grand daughter of Dr. Maximo Viola.
Sources, Collection of Lisa Viola.Newspaper coverage,
1962, Feb . 3, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, March 1, 21.
The Manila Times, The Daily Mirror, The Manila Chronicle,
1962, Feb . 3, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, March 1, 21.
The Manila Times, The Daily Mirror, The Manila Chronicle,
The Evening News, Kislap Aliwan Magazine, March 21, 1962.
Wow!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Edwin.
ReplyDeleteHave you read "The Greatest Heist: The Thief who Stole Rizal's El Filibusterismo. Its a tear-jerker.
Penelope
Crazy, amazing story!
ReplyDelete