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By Rome Jorge, Lifestyle Editor
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Photo by
Sarah Encabo |
It is the last thing that Mayor Alfredo Siojo
Lim of Manila says during an interview that is most telling. Before
a reporter leaves, he gives his business card—a paper shard as red
as a fire truck in Binondo or a revolutionary flag of the Katipunan,
bold and alarming—and explains, “Para pag may sisita sa inyong
pulis, ipakita ninyo ‘yan. Maraming loko-lokong pulis. [So that
when a policeman flags you down, show them this. There are many
crooked cops out there.]”
The statement, said partly in jest, is more than
an admission of the negative perception that law enforcers have
warranted with decades of corruption—a reputation that he labored
so long and hard to cleanse with his own sweat and blood. It is also
a frank recognition of his own esteem. The man continues to inspire
both fear and respect among all, be they scalawags or saints,
detractors or believers. For a man who has dogmatically toiled to
forge a city ruled by laws and not by personality and patronage
politics, he knows his name alone gets things done.
The man also hands out several of his
biographies: A book authored by no less than National Artist for
Literature Nick Joaquin entitled “May Langit Din Ang Mahirap: The
Life Story of Alfredo Siojo Lim” and the comic book Ang Kasaysayan
ni Alfredo S. Lim [The History of Alfredo S. Lim] as well as several
news magazines with him as cover story. This is a man totally
comfortable with his own mythical stature. After all, his life story
has already been immortalized in no less than two films already:
Alfredo Lim: Batas Ng Maynila in 1994 starring Eddie Garcia and
Target... Police General: Major General Alfredo Lim Story in 1990
starring Ramon Revilla.
His monikers throughout the decades are also
telling. Aside from being called “Edo” and “Fred,” he has
earned the labels “Robinhood of Tondo,” “Dirty Harry of
Manila,” and Hizzoner (colloquial for “His Honor”) from those
under his watch and in his line of fire.
When he speaks, he talks tough with slogans and
one-liners. When Manuel Lim, his 44-year-old son, was arrested
recently for alleged drug pushing by agents of the Philippine Drug
Enforcement Agency, Lim declared, “Whatever trouble he has got
himself into, he must bear it by himself,” and reiterated his
mantra: “The law must apply to all, or none at all.” Instead of
tarnishing the family name, Lim and his stalwarts have highlighted
the case to attest to his uncompromising stand against crime.
Lim is undeniably a legend in his own time in a
city entwined in lore.
From blood compacts between conquistadors and
rajahs to marauding Chinese pirates, from Filipino revolutionaries
to barbaric Japanese Imperial forces, from valiant anti-dictatorship
street protests of the First Quarter Storm to today’s common folk
heroes, one must add the tale of Mayor Lim.
He is revered for his tough, uncompromising and
brutal war against the city’s criminal underworld and his pivotal
refusal to disperse the crowds during People Power revolt that
overthrew the Marcos dictatorship. Presidents have come and gone and
still the man remains. Under his watch, drug pushers were found
hanging from bridges and their houses stigmatized by painted
warnings. All the classic elements of a folkloric character are
here: the rise from poverty, the sacrifice of his own family and the
brutal fight against entrenched evil. From the threads of this
man’s life, writers and film directors have woven his legend. And
as colorful as it already is, it is one that needs no embellishment.
To know his mythology is to know Manila through
the prism of this one man.
Walking the beat
The man who would one day be immortalized in
film and comic books was inspired to be a lawman by the heroes and
legends of his own time: “When I was in high school, there were
magazines from the States—True Police Stories, True Detective
Stories and other crime stories. I was fascinated with how crimes
were being solved and how criminals were being apprehended. I
thought, ‘This is a good job.’ You catch the criminals and
defend the victims,” he reveals.
But his Spartan values were first hammered and
honed by a practical childhood. “I came from a poor background and
that’s why I had to work—to survive,” he attests. “My father
Alfredo Lim Sr. died when I was still in my mother’s womb. My
mother, Rosario Siojo, married again and so I was left to my
grandparents,” he explains.
“At the age of 12, I had to earn a living. I
sold kakanin [rice cakes], shined shoes, became a bus conductor on
the Divisoria-Quiapo and Blumentritt-Santa Cruz routes. From first
year high school I was a working student. I would work during the
daytime and study at night,” he says proudly.
“He worked as sales clerk and dispatcher for
the Tabora Weaving Supply and watchman for the Enriquez Security
Agency owned by aunt.
At the University of the East, he earned his
Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration in 1950 and Bachelor
of Laws in 1963. He finished his Master’s Degree in National
Security Administration at the National Defense College of the
Philippines, in 1981.
It was in 1950 at the age of 20,while graduating
and studying for his civil service exam, that Lim also made time for
love. That year he also married Amalia Santos, a fellow student at
UE who was taking up commerce and who also shared his work ethic as
a sales clerk in a flower shop. “Those are the things I had to go
through just to find my place under the sun,” he says.
They would have eight children: Rogelio, Alfredo
Jr., Cynthia, Nestor, Cristy, Manuel and twins Maria Victoria and
Maria Violeta. But even as he grew his family, he dedicated his life
to the law. But unlike many of today’s policemen, he painstakingly
rose from the ranks. He explains: “So when I finished college, I
the civil service exam. I passed it. That started my career in the
police service in 1951 and I stayed in the police force for 38
years, starting as a beat patrolman and rising to Chief of Police of
Manila with the rang of Major General.”
As a cop, Lim would often garner headlines with
every sensational case he solved. His rise in rank, however, had its
ups and downs. Promoted by then Manila Mayor Antonio Villegas 1967,
he was then blackballed by the succeeding mayor, Ramon Bagatsing,
for being too close to his political adversary. As a lieutenant
colonel, Lim had to suffer the indignity of directing traffic and
attending to the police station parking lot. It was only Lim’s
humility that allowed him to endure. In 1985, then Police
Constabulary General Fidel Ramos not only cleared his name, he also
promoted Lim to Police Brigadier General. Lim would years later
return the favor, in the process changing Philippine history.
Fighting crime, however, took its toll on his
family: “Way back in 1980, I began sending my family to the
States. My wife and my children would receive phone calls and death
threats telling them, ‘Tomorrow, contact the funerary homes,
because we are going to kill your father.’ There were many threats
and it was bothering my family. That’s why, one by one, I sent
them to the States.”
“It’s because we caught a lot of
people—drug pushers, muggers and gangsters—in my 30 years in the
police force. We imprisoned a lot of people. We killed a lot of
people. Of course there are many angry families out there. I thought
that they should rage against me and not take it out on my family
instead,” he says.
Historical role
“My most difficult [experience as a policeman]
was Edsa I [in 1986]. I was the commander of the Northern Police
District and I was given specific orders by President Marcos to
disperse the crowd at Edsa on Sunday. But I didn’t disperse the
crowd. Others have said that had I dispersed the crowd, President
Cory wouldn’t have become president and President Ramos wouldn’t
have become President. We could have easily dispersed them. There
were few people on Sunday morning. My people at Sikatuna Village
were 800 officers.”
“At 10:30 in the evening of Saturday, cardinal
Sin went on the air. He said on the radio to help the soldiers. The
next morning his Eminence’s appeal was repeated hour after hour by
June Keithley. So by 12 o’ clock, after people had already eaten,
the began to congregate in droves.”
“It was a hard decision to make. Cardinal Sin
said help the soldiers. On the other hand, President Marcos told me
to disperse the crowds at all cost. Crame was to be barraged with
cannon fire.”
“I was able to talk to General Ramos because
he called me. He asked me what my orders were. I told him that there
will be a dispersal, they would be cannoned and that they would all
be wiped out. He told me that all they had were M16s and M14s that
were ineffective against mortars, artillery and tanks. At the end of
it all, he told me, ‘bahala ka na. [It’s up to you, His will be
done.]’ My head swelled. It was all up to me.”
“Later on, when I retired in 1989, I was
appointed by President Aquino as director of the NBI [National
Bureau of Investigation]. I stayed there for three years. We solved
a lot of cases there.” Then he entered politics.
“I ran as alcalde [mayor] in 1992 and won. I
stayed here until 1998. I ran for senator in 2004 and won. I ran for
mayor last year and I won again and that’s why I’m here,” he
says tersely. “There are more changes to come,” he promises.
Everyday Lim
Lim, a widower since his wife died a few years
ago in the US, attests to living a Spartan existence: “All day
I’m here [at the office]. At around 6:30 p.m. I go straight home,
watch TV and read newspapers. My relaxation is going to shopping
malls.”
His favorite spots in his beloved hometown
include restaurants in Chinatown such as The President (currently
under renovation) Ongpin Street and Panciteria Lido along Teodoro
Alonso Street. The man likes having his breakfast at Manila Diamond
Hotel or at Manila Hotel, both along Roxas Boulevard. As mayor he is
also very proud of the city’s attractions such as the spruced up
Luneta and the new Manila Ocean Park.
Native son in a changing town
He has many fond memories of Manila. He was born
in Tondo on December 21, 1929 to parents who hailed from Bulacan,
the heart of Tagalog culture, when the Manila a genteel Tagalog
capital of the Post-Spanish Era.
Since then, Lim has witnessed the city
transform: to a town abandoned by its gentry, despoiled by the
rapacious Japanese and obliterated indiscriminately by the Americans
during the Second World War; to a squatter-infested honky tonk
populated by dislocated and rootless people; to a battleground
between the Marcos dictatorship and student activists; to his
current efforts at civic renewal and dutiful citizenry.
He recalls: “Way back then, people native to
Manila were kindhearted. But after Liberation, people came from all
over—Visayas, Mindanao and Northern Luzon—and that’s why the
population grew. When you have too many people who didn’t really
grow up here, the tendency is for people to clash.”
“We have to clean up the city of obstructions
such as vendors and squatters. We must pay attention to these.”
However, Lim in contrast to other government
officials who have taken an uncompromising stand against illegal
tenants and street vendors, “You just can’t evict squatters.
There must a relocation site. Vendors will cry that is the only
livelihood they know, especially in these hard times. We have to
temper it with humanitarian considerations.”
Lim’s city
Lim is one of the few local government officials
who has rune with clearly outlined platforms of governance—as can
read in his website, www.fredlim.com. Rarer still, he is one of the
few government officials to carry out his promises.
Immediately upon assuming his first term as
mayor of Manila in 1992, he closed down brothels and strip joints
that had besmirched Ermita with a seedy reputation. Despite being
highly lucrative for both its mostly expatriate proprietors and city
officials for bringing busloads of depraved tourists from across the
globe, Lim immediately boarded them up.
Upon his return to the post last year after a
stint in the Senate (where he was slated to serve until June 30,
2010, where it not for his duties as mayor of Manila), he cleared
and decommercialized of Bay Walk along Roxas Boulevard. In the
previous administration, the strip has become clogged with numerous
beer joints and several stages where scantily clad women sung for
deafening rock bands. Besides obstructing the majestic sunset view
of Manila Bay and ruining the placid calm of the night for many
residents, the strip also attracted prostitutes and ruffians.
Lim also successfully solicited donations for a
new fleet of patrol cars with which the police force can better keep
the city safe. The mayor is ever the lawman at heart.
But the mayor is proudest of his accomplishments
in education: “We have all out support for education. We have 32
public high schools and 71 public elementary schools. I also put up
a free college—the City College of Manila [today known as
Universidad de Manila or UDM]—in 1995 along with the Pamantasan ng
Lungsod ng Maynila [PLM]. It’s only in Manila where you have two
colleges that do not ask for tuition.” The egalitarian UDM
complements the elite PLM, first opened in 1967, which caters to
valedictorians, salutatorians and honor students who pass its high
academic standards. For its part, the City College delivers
practical education to average student.
For 437th Araw ng Maynila this June 24, the
mayor asks of its citizens, “Unite. Help one another, help your
neighbors and help the government to ensure peace and calm in
Manila. Respect the law. Get involved in the maintenance of peace
and order. To call on us or write to us—even anonymously—and
report who is causing disturbances, who is drug-pushing and who is
violating the law, so that we can take immediate action.”
We know all this. But we listen up. Because its
Mayor Alfredo Lim whose talking, a legend in his own time.
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