By GRACIANO H. ARINDAY JR.

“Every man’s memory is his private literature.”
~ ALDOUS HUXLEY

The publication of the golden anniversary of the Sands & Coral brings us nostalgia and inevitably takes us back into our very own period or ambience.

Since the literary folio’s birth in 1948, we have witnessed the growth and development of literary gems by the Silliman writers. The graceful use of the English language in both poetry and prose has never been surpassed, let alone the magnificence, competence, and eruditeness in the crafting of various styles. On a broader scale, we have enjoyed the titillating and eloquent coda of criticisms of various literary genre which somehow prodded some of them to venture into the sensitive and visionary experiments of writing in search of a distinctive Silliman school of thought.

The S&C logo—the figure of a naked ungendered individual rising to the surface of the water with both hands dripping with the grains of sand while the live corals wave nearby symbolizes such noble efforts of the Silliman tale-spinners not to pay hostage to dormant literary standards. It also reflects the visions of the men and women behind the creation of the Sands & Coral who were moved by identical reasons, though diverse in some minor matters, but absolutely absent of material motives.

This memoir is also a tribute to them.

A journey back into the mid-fifties evokes fond memories of the bumper of literary pieces crafted mostly by the mavericks, whose only instruction was their urge to write, which was the only soul of their pens. This may sound strange or even preposterous but this was the reality of our time. Along this line, it is inevitable not to mention the Sillimanian, the Philippines’ oldest campus or student publication. Its pages friendly towards the campus pen pushers have provided the seeds into the mind of its adviser, Rodrigo T.  Feria, the necessity of putting up a truly literary magazine. He saw the profundity of the minds among the contributors to the weekly student tabloid, whose only literary effusions even merited the attention of some editors of the national publications. Among them was the poem of the unforgettable Reuben R. Canoy, whose “Birth: The Hypothesis” elicited praises from critics, both local and national.

Indeed, walking back into the meadows of memory, now grown with some reeds of forgetfulness, brings nostalgia and some memorable events in the campus. For instance, when this author took the helm of the weekly student newspaper, there were two most popular columns, namely: “The Point of View” by Alphonse and Gaston, and “My Diary” by James M. Matheson, the editor of the 1954 Sands & Coral.

“Alphonse and Gaston” was actually Jose V. Montebon Jr., a law student then, and Kenneth R. Woods, who took up chemistry. The latter was the literary editor of the Sillimanian and then co-editor of the 1953 edition of Sands & Coral. More often than not, the duo would taunt the English majors to produce literary pieces worthy of the attention of the editors of national magazines. The friendly squabble as to who can write better drew the attention of the literary gurus in the campus and no less than Ed Tiempo, already then a leading light in the literary world intervened and chided the irresponsible critics and the literary monstrosities created by some of the campus mavericks. Ed’s persuasive advice did not deter the rebellious writers from pursuing their goals in providing their worth. The efforts had its dividend when Alphonse, a.k.a. Jose V. Montebon Jr., romped away with the second prize of the annual Philippines Free Press short story contest with his piece “Bottle Full of Smoke.” Kenneth R. Woods, on the other hand, co-authored several short stories with campus writers, which saw print in various national magazines; among them was “The Monkey Feast” co-written by this author. Woods wrote “Wanderjarh” in the 1953 Sands & Coral, which he planned to extend as a novel, to be co-authored by Reuben R. Canoy.

Lest we forget, perhaps the most popular writer in campus at that time was James M. Matheson, editor of the 1954 Sands & Coral. His column “My Diary” in the Sillimanian exhibited some mania for commenting on the mores and conduct of Silliman students and faculty members. He was also prone to commenting on the contemporary literary scene during his solitary moments. One Friday afternoon, when the weekly student newspaper hit the streets, the campus exploded with the unmitigated anger of the internationally-famous Filipino biologist in whose honor the biggest rodent caught in the northern Zamboanga peninsula during a field trip was named after. Without malice in fact or in law (as lawyers would put it), James M. Matheson wrote in his column to the effect that “it was not surprising at all that some professors are named after rats.” The famous natural scientist, who considered his profession “like religion,” upon reading the column went on a warpath and like a bounty hunter went looking for poor Jimmy all over the campus to “break his bones.” The threat could have been done had it not been for proverbial cooler heads. Truly, the muscular biologist could have crumpled Jimmy boy like a piece of paper, taking into account his size. Jimmy was considered as the shortest and smallest American mestizo who ever walked on this planet. The incident did not ruin his sense of humor. His story, “Sands on the Seashore,” in the 1954 edition of Sands & Coral, exemplifies his scathing commentaries on the social mores of our people: his stories often garbed in humor though.

There was some kind of a controversy relative to the numbering of the volume of Sands & Coral. It is imperative that this little puzzle must be resolved with finality.

When this author took the editorship of the Sillimanian in 1952-1953, we made an independent stand that all student-budgeted publications, including the Sands & Coral, must be the sole responsibility of the student editors. To make the story short, a compromise was reached with the university administration that a Supervisory Board of Student Publications must be created, composed of two faculty and five student leaders. In effect, the editorial and business responsibilities were devolved to the student staffers with minimal interference from the faculty supervisor. Under such arrangements, literature and politics became harmonious partners when the student government channeled some of their funds in order to have two issues of the Sands & Coral during the 1954-1955 school year. Some kind of diplomacy was infused. Thus, in October 1954, the magazine under the editorship of James M. Matheson came out as Volume 8, Number 1. I am too proud to say that I was then the chair of the Supervisory Board of Student Publications. With sufficient funds, another issue by March 1955 came out under my editorship. In the same year, another edition was issued under Maria Luisa E. Centena as editor.

The relationship between the student editors and the university authorities at that time, though marked by some differences of opinion as to the contents of the magazine, was excellent. The policy adopted during our time antedated by several decades the controversial Journalism Act of 1991. It is but fitting that I must pay tribute to the two genial, amiable and fatherly members of the board, namely Dean Pedro E.Y. Rio of the College of Education and Dr. Rodrigo Tugade, whose humor equaled if not surpassed that of Jimmy Matheson. There never was any controversy during the existence of the student board as all were unanimous that Silliman students were responsible enough to protect the prestige of the university.

The Silliman writers, in more ways than one, looked beyond the distant shores to look for models of their work. We did not confine ourselves to the writings of Faulkner, Hemingway or Steinbeck but also to Camus, Moravia, Svevo, Sartre, and other European masters. The Latin American writers with their so-called magical realism like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Octavio Paz, Pablo Neruda were still distant stellars.

The success of Sands & Coral is no longer an issue. The literary grace is well-received by critics, here and abroad. All of these could not have been achieved had it not been for the heroic efforts of the English Department, more specifically the monumental contributions of the famous writing couple Ed and Edith Tiempo, followed by their beauteous daughter Rowena, who is presently with the Iowa International Writers Workshop as one of the top honchos. The literary achievements and honors garnered can never be dissociated from the accomplishment of the university as one of the best learning and writing centers in Asia today. For instance, the Silliman Writers Workshop, reputed to be the oldest in Southeast Asia, has been replicated in many areas of the country, whose founding members were mostly once under the tutelage of the Tiempos.

In the field of poetry, the famous Ilonggo poet, Ricaredo Demetillo of the “Barter of Panay” fame, and many others have enriched the local poets in how to universalize the local mood and culture.

R. T. Feria, the long-reigning adviser of the student newspaper may be considered the father of Sands & Coral, who with his idea borne over cups of coffee is responsible for making this magazine exist today. His wife, Dolores Stephens Feria, or Dee, enlivened the pages with her brief reviews and criticisms with some philosophical touches.

Except for Edith L. Tiempo, who is a consultant of the CAP, all of those I have mentioned have returned to our Father’s House, probably still musing.

If there is any reward in an endeavor like creative writing, it is the consolation of reading your name years after you have gone out of the scene.

In an article, “Center of Creative Writing,” by T. A. Rodriguez, published in the August 22, 1964 issue of the Chronicle Magazine, she wrote:

Now in its sixteenth year, the magazine has introduced to national literary circles such writers as Graciano Arinday Jr., Alexis Baban, Leticia Dizon, James Matheson, Jose Montebon Jr., David Quemada and Carmina A. Yaptenco.

Except probably for David Quemada, who is still abroad engrossed in the teaching of literature, none of these above-mentioned names are still in the so-called “literary circle.”

One writer who can be considered as part of the literary group of Silliman is Rinaldo G. Remitio, who won a literary contest in the mid-1950s with his poem “Walking on the Tight Rope.” He was then taking up Pre-Law in Silliman University. He has written a book of short stories entitled Scents of Sampaguita, and his story in Free Press entitled “The Raft” won critical acclaim.

One incident which I can never forget relative to creative writing was when I received a pay check for my poem “Apocalyptic Morning” from the Saturday Evening News Magazine, then edited by an ardent Silliman admirer Antonio S. Gabila. Such an incident is still heavily etched in my mind because on the very day I received my fee I did not have a cent to my name. It made me think that writers do not necessarily go hungry.

Every man has his own las vegas de la memoria, just as John Steinbeck has his own Las Pasturas del Cielo.

This memoir is history, subjective though. It is also a statement of concern and, as someone said, it is a relevant sentiment.

Today, I still do write but no longer in the world of fiction. The demand of my writing is limited by the parameters of the virtues of justice. In a sense, it is still literature. Judicial interpretation rather than imagination takes the form to weed out the truth so that justice shall prevail. I do hope that in the near future I may be able to give finishing touches to a novel which I have promised the late Ed Tiempo, whose friendship and advice left some unforgettable instructions in my mind about writing and criticism.

[Reprinted from Sands & Coral Centennial Issue, 2001]     

Graciano H. Arinday Jr. was editor of Sands & Coral in 1955. He retired as Regional Trial Court Judge of Branch 69 in Silay City, Negros Occidental in 1999. He died in 2012.