Thinking of Ronnie

I thought of Ronnie Nathanielsz today. As always, it was not easy, or comfortable, and seemingly even more so now that he had finally been laid to rest days ago. He had that effect on me, and many of us in the industry. And perhaps it’s high time to face the reason why. Though being Filipino meant the world to him, he really was not made in the mold of a Filipino, simply because he was led by his mind and heart to speak, rightly or wrongly, about what he believed in, regardless of what it might cost him.

Because of his loyalty to the Marcos regime and family, Ronnie was hated by some, and severely disliked by others, until his dying day. His infamy kept him out of television for a few years, and off-camera for even longer. When we first started working together in the early 1990’s, he was dying to get back on camera, even if it was the PBA, a sports entertainment coverage and not hard national news. He was denied. He was too much of a hot potato, and putting him in people’s living rooms was feared to possibly cause adverse reactions to the league itself. So he maintained his unreciprocated love behind the scenes, paying the price for his love and loyalty to those who were good to him years after they were ousted.

Ronnie told stories of the heyday (do they still use that word?) of DZHP and the way Larry Cruz ran the formidable team that won the equivalent of the Catholic Mass Media Award five out of six years running. Joe Cantada’s forceful mitts were destroying typewriter keyboards, and a young Recah Trinidad was learning the ropes. Ronnie was only supposed to stay a year or so, he never left, even when things were outright dangerous for him, even when people harassed him in public, even when he was frequently called names. Speaks volumes about him and the Filipino people.

The good thing about working with someone like Ronnie Nathanielsz was that it was never boring. He had been around so long that he could make observations about how things didn’t change, similar to the literary devices Jose Rizal used in his novels. Ronnie was also a firm believer in the power of history and all its lessons, and often managed to make you at least consider an opposing view. Of course, our most difficult challenge was waiting for him to shut up at times, but that was because his mind never stopped, and it fueled his mouth, and his pen, even when he picked his way around Filipino sentences. He simply had too much momentum to be stymied by those trifles.

The constant in Ronnie’s mind was always the question of what you stood for. He fought tooth and nail for his broadcast opportunities, and was not beyond using his connections to get one up on someone else. He was that competitive. A few of those who were inadvertently swept aside resented it silently, instead of taking him to task for it. But if you looked at the big picture, it was more of an indictment of the system in Philippine broadcasting, not the people using it. He knew that being connected gave him the edge, and he used it. If it weren’t allowed, then it wouldn’t have worked. Perhaps the system needs to be changed to one where merit, not a lower talent fee or being an anointed one is the key to more exposure.

To be fair, Ronnie also gave credit where credit is due. He remembered who did what, and when. He would compete with you for a job if he wanted to, but he also told you when he was impressed. He also tells other people, so you know he means it. At one of our more recent Christmas parties, he mentioned the accomplishments of our late colleague Butch Maniego, whose death nobody had brought up. Ronnie was transparent. You just knew. Whether you liked it or not was up to you. He never forced himself on anyone.

You’ve probably noticed that most tributes to Ronnie start with “we had our differences, but...” or something in a similar vein. Think about this: how many of those people said Ronnie was right, or was later proven to be? He admitted to friends when he was wrong, or when he backed a losing horse, be it in politics or sports, and he laughed about it. 

His personal agendas were often small. He wanted to be on television more, so he fought for it. He wanted to cover more sports even outside his home network, so he did.  But when the choice came between imperiling his broadcasting work and speaking his mind, he always, always chose the latter. How many of us would have the guts to do that? For the most part, we are wont to choose comfort over principle, pleasing bosses instead of our own truth. How often do we fight for more, be it more pay or better benefits, or benefits in the first place?

Ronnie Nathanielsz made us all uncomfortable, that is undeniable. But did he make us uncomfortable with him, or with ourselves?