A future of parks

Media Wise Communications Inc./Musebooks has been carving out a name for itself as a producer and publisher of quality coffee-table books. Led by its CEO and executive publisher, visual artist Ramoncito Ocampo Cruz, the company has garnered a slew of Philippine Quill and Anvil awards for its efforts. These have included corporate annual reports and programs, such as Department of Tourism’s Biyaheng Sinko-Sinko in 2005.

Its flagship product Muse magazine on arts and culture gained a special citation from the Catholic Mass Media Awards in 2008, the same year it was recognized by the International Association of Business Communicators during the Philippine Quill Awards.

A true-blue Atenean, Cruz has produced several coffee-table book collectibles for his Alma Mater. 150: The Ateneo Way, which celebrated the sesquicentennial of Jesuit education in the Philippines, won a Phiilippine Quill Award of Merit in 2009 and an Anvil Award of Merit in 2011. Veritas, Integritas Justitia: 75 Years of the Ateneo Law School won a Quill Award of Excellence in 2011 and an Anvil Award of Merit in 2012. Jesuits in Mindanao: The Mission was honored with a Quill Award of Excellence in 2013.

Two other recent books produced by Media Wise Communications Inc. are Years of Enkindling Hearts, published for the Sacred Heart Parish of Cebu, and The Philippine Arena: A Monument To An Enduring Faith, with INC executive minister Eduardo V. Manalo presenting the first copy to President Benigno S. Aquino during the inauguration of the Philippine Arena on July 21, 2014.

Now comes another landmark publication and collectible: Parks for a Nation: The Rizal Park and 50 Years of the National Parks Development Committee, published by the latter (NPDC). The elegant book has 2013 as its copyright year, but I understand that it was only released late last year.

Once again, it shows how a team of well-selected individuals can honor and celebrate a subject in an excellent way. No one else could have served as editor for this book than Paulo G. Alcazaren, whose Saturday column in this paper, titled City Sense, has been one of the most popular and well-read, and whose lifelong advocacy for parks and well-designed public spaces continues despite increasingly Sisyphean conditions.

The book design and art direction are credited to Chris H. Bayani, while photography is by Bebot Meru. The editorial team should also take a bow: Ditas Bermuez, Lynette Corporal, Martha Fernandez and Nicole Bautista.

There’s so much to learn and appreciate in this book. Surprisingly, a lot of facets that are featured here we have yet to become familiar with. 

From its opening chapter, “Maynilad to Manila — y sus arrabales: Parks and Open Spaces from the 16th to 19th Centuries, one learns of the “Origins of the Luneta, Pre-Hispanic to the 17th Century.”

“Inside the Intramuros, the settlement was organized according to the Leyes de Indias (Laws of the Indies), which were laws and guidelines set by Spain for its colonies… The pattern of the city was a grid with a core built around a formal open civic space, a plaza mayor, surrounded by key edifices of church and state.

“… Intramuros also had two minor plazas, north and south of the main plaza. These were the first formal urban public spaces in the country. Until the end of the Spanish period, all towns and cities had these elements, which were often framed with trees, and used for community gatherings and fiestas. 

“This pattern of plaza, church and government structures, along with the grid of streeets, was replicated all throughout the islands. The Spanish sought to use urbanization to bring all inhabitants of the islands bajo de las campanas (‘beneath the bells’).

“… The area that today is the Rizal Park was, at first, a no-man’s land. Its relatively soft ground was crisscrossed by esteros. Eventually, dwelling and structures, even a church, filled the space. By the 18th century, the area was an established suburb, or arrabal, called Bagumbayan.

We learn that “Boulevard comes from the word bulwark, or baluarte in Spanish,” and how by the 18th century, “European cities had overgrown their rings of fortifications,” with inner bulwarks demolished, the stones used for construction of new buildings, the walls for paving the remaining space.

“These ended up as fairly wide roads that followed the original lines of fortification, thereby connecting several districts of these cities. The bulwarks became boulevards.

“Another element is that of the arrow-shaped or crescent-shaped bastion that the French called lunette, the Spanish equivalent of which was luneta. Manila had several of these — and the word would eventually be appropriated for the place that was accessed by it from within.”

We learn that the two paseos (drives), the Malecon and the Calzada, merged at the corner of the Baluarte de San Diego, reaching the edge of Ermita. Here was where promenaders from Ermita and Malate joined the evening throng that enjoyed the sea breeze from late afternoon. They met at the open field, which then necessitated the creation of a roundabout.

“This space was given a formal name, the Paseo de Alfonso XIII, but it became more popularly known as Paseo de Luneta or the Luneta for short.”

So many other interesting tidbits are offered in this book, which leaves no stone of development unturned. Fr. Jose S. Arcilla, SJ. has a brief, illuminating essay on “The British Occupation in the Eyes of a Friar.” And when that “excitement” of 1762-64 died down, “Manila settled back into its languid pace.” 

“The Luneta became the main venue for social display, with the elite at the time copying a fashion in Europe, which was an offshoot of the development of public parks. Parks evolved out of the need for open space as a corrective for over-crowded cities, providing access to natural settings and spaces for passive and active recreation.” 

More salient trivia: “Sebastian Vidal y Soler was director of the Jardin Botanico from 1871 to his death in 1889. His statue was lost in the liberation of Manila.” Also: “Cementerio del Norte was the city’s tree nursery and a temporary park.” 

Luneta had its dark chapter in history (which) seems to have faded from collective memory. Well before Rizal’s martyrdom, or even that of GomBurZa, it had become an arena for executions, “as early as 1843 with the execution of 82 non-commissioned officers and soldiers of the Tayabas regiment.” While the numbers remain a gray area, it has been estimated that some 800 people were martyred at the old Bagumbayan.

Chapter two, “Luneta in Peacetime: War and Independence 1905-1935,” and chapter three, “From Commonwealth to Republic (1935-1961), are equally riveting, starting with the “dream that was (Daniel) Burnham’s Manila, a City Beautiful.” So many visionary heroes are pantheoned here.  

Captain George Ahern, head of the Philippine Bureau of Forestry, “wrote extensively on forest conservation laws.”

William E. Parsons, the consulting architect charged with implementing the Burnham plan, also “designed most of the early American colonial era landmarks like the Elk’s and Army Navy Clubs and the Philippine Normal School.” Add to those the Philippine General Hospital, the Paco Train Station and the Manila Hotel.

Walter Howard Loving formed and led the Philippine Constabulary Band, which competed against the best bands in the world at the 1904 St. Louis Exposition and won 2nd prize. At the 1915 Pan Pacific Exposition in San Francisco, John Philip Souza declared the band to be the best.

On “Zoning and Greening the City,” architect Juan Arellano, famed for his buildings, Manila’s Post Office and the Metropolitan Theater, among others, also proved to be a champion of visionary design.

He wrote “Landscaping Plans for Manila” for the Philippine Magazine edited by A.V.H. Hartendorp, addressing his ideas to the City Beautiful Committee. He proposed moving “unsightly power lines and electric posts from important avenues… and to extend the park system wherever possible…” He suggested an aquatic park for Intramuros’ sunken area to replicate the old moat. He specified particular trees and foliage for Padre Burgos Avenue, foretold what became the Quirino Grandstand, presciently proposed the establishment of a Metropolitan Commission.

Also found in this section are photos of the shortlisted entries to the Rizal Monument competition, as well as fascinating features on the conduct of the Manila Carnival from 1908 to 1939, the now late-lamented Mehan Gardens, and the Philippine International Fair of 1953 (designed by Architect Otilio Arellano).  

“Much of the sculptural work at the fair was by Francesco Monti, a 25-year-old Italian expatriate, who also taught at University of Santo Tomas. The entrance pavilion was made more colorful by a massive mural of Philippine history by Botong Francisco. (This disappeared for years, hidden in the National Library, until spotted by historian Ambeth Ocampo.)”

Then there was the (thankfully) aborted project, a Cultural Center for Rizal, that was supposed to have been built behind the hero’s monument.

Chapter four is on “The Five Decades of the NPDC, 1963-2013” — inescapably featuring journalist Teodoro Valencia and First Lady Imelda R. Marcos as “the dynamic duo that oversaw the development of Rizal Park.” Chapter 5 is on “Parks Nationwide” (the five other city parks and protected national parks under NPDC), while chapter six is on “A New Rizal Park and the Future of the NPDC.”

Unquestionably, it’s a continuing narrative of oftentimes willy-nilly and pell-mell evolution, often betraying the Filipino’s predilection for horror vacui and penchant for rebelling against the “if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it” principle. But it is riveting nonetheless, like a mirror to that soul that seeks the essential health provided by open spaces.

Would that our future be that of a beloved motley of parks.