/ Max /
The Premio Zobel Book
SUNDRY STROKES By Rosalinda L. Orosa
The
Philippine Star 11/29/2006
 Maximo V. Soliven – Max to everyone
– was made of granite and steel. To the public, he appeared
indomitable, invincible, indefatigable and invulnerable, for
which reason his sudden death was terribly unsettling, having
drastically contradicted his seeming durability.
A few
months ago, he was afflicted with double pneumonia; in past
years, he had undergone major surgery more than once. Although
he rallied each time, he drove himself so relentlessly, no one
could keep up with his pace. To begin with, there were his
kilometric columns – solid, substantial columns – evincing a
fantastic grasp of world affairs, past and present, and a
thorough conversance with European, American and Oriental
history. (He once taught history at his alma mater, Ateneo U.)
His readers were politicians, government officials, diplomats,
academicians, students of history and political science,
businessmen, and virtually every literate person. As a
columnist, he wielded such tremendous influence, ranking
government officials and diplomats courted his favour. One of
the first things a newly-arrived diplomat usually did was to
pay Max a courtesy call.
Once, an ambassador got on
the wrong side of Max by asking him at a formal dinner-concert
in a five-star hotel "Who invited you?" The rude, incredibly
undiplomatic question so infuriated Max, he immediately
stomped out in a huff, along with friends who, having found
the query equally offensive, left likewise. (Actually, Max had
been invited by the hotel GM.) After that unfortunate
incident, Max wrote three successive and as usual, kilometric
– columns denouncing the diplomat and his country. To prove
Max’s clout, the diplomat had to leave for another post
shortly thereafter.
Then, there were the countless
speaking engagements. Max having been too generous with his
time to say "No" to whoever was requesting him to address this
or that organization. And Max himself belonged to innumerable
organizations. Ultimately, his constant wearying travels
sapped his flagging energy.
Max’s innate charm
endeared him to the great and near great with whom he rubbed
elbows. To his colleagues, he was warm and effusive. Each time
he saw me, he would compliment me enthusiastically on my
latest column. I saw Max for the last time at the dinner
Anthony Trillo hosted at the Shangri-La; here Max told me:
"Baby, that review of yours was terrific," adding, "Gee whiz!"
(The review was on Albert Tiu’s piano concert). It was Max’s
heart-warming way of signifying interest in what I did, and as
I was leaving, he announced to his table companions, including
Jose "Pepe" Rodriguez, "Baby is my Spanish mentor." Max was
referring to the time he had won the Isabel la Catolica award
in 2000. He had sent me his speech in English, asking me to
translate it into Spanish, which I did only too willingly.
Since then, Max would announce to all and sundry, "Baby is my
Spanish mentor." In gratitude, hectic as his schedule always
was, he graciously attended the ceremonies at which I received
the same award.
The friendship between Max and my
family was such that at a Soroptimist conference in Baguio
where Max was guest speaker, he interrupted his talk by
saying, "I see Helen out there." My sister, Helen O. del
Rosario, was then seated at the farthest end of the room!
The friendship goes back to the time of my oldest
brother, the late banker Sixto Jr. A private joke between them
led to their calling each other "Herr Max" and "Herr Ting".
Max was especially grateful to Sixto for having helped finance
Sunburst and Manila, the magazines Max published
after his detention in Fort Bonifacio where he had shared a
cell with Ninoy. Many of Max’s friends had deserted him during
those bleak days, and Max specially remembered those who
helped him get back on his feet.
What a great pity Max
is no longer with us! Intriguing as well as turbulent times
lie ahead, and Max’s counsel would weigh heavily, one way or
another. In one final instance, he worried about the safety of
the Center that would house the ASEAN delegates, hoping the
roof would not cave in and fall on their heads. As a final
tribute to Max, his warning should be seriously considered.
My profound condolence to Precious, Max’s widow, their
children, Max’s brother Willie and sister Ethel.
Max’s
father, the distinguished Congressman Don Benito Soliven, died
shortly after the Death March, leaving his widow to support
their many children. She did single-handedly, seeing each
through college and a successful career. She was a valiant
woman and Max was of her mold.
Several books
have been published recently, among them 81 Years of the
Premio Zobel which was launched last Nov. 22 at the Ayala
Museum. A legacy of Philippine Literature in Spanish, the book
is by Prof. Lourdes Castrillo Brillantes, the Premio Zobel
Awardee of 1998, and a member of the Academia Filipina de la
Lengua Española. 81 Years of the Premio Zobel is a
publication of Georgina Padilla y Zobel, granddaughter of Don
Enrique Zobel de Ayala, founder of the Premio, with the
support of the Spanish Program for Cultural Cooperation.
Included in the book are brief biographies of the awardees and
excerpts from their winning works.
With 81 years
behind it, the Premio Zobel is the Philippines’ oldest
literary award. Don Enrique established the Premio to preserve
and revivify Spanish in the country, and to promote the best
Filipino writings in Spanish.
Over the last eight
decades, this most prestigious award has been bestowed on
eminent writers and intellectuals: Gomez Windham, the
invincible balagtasan duo Bernabe and Balmori, Leon Ma.
Guerrero, Antonio Abad, Guerrero-Barranco, Zaragoza, Laygo.
Many other ardent Hispanistas and honorable politicians
contributed to its success. The jury would be composed of such
prominent personalities as Claro Mayo Recto, the brothers
Mariano and Jesus Cuenco, the jurist Arsenio Dizon, Jaime de
Veyra, Jorge Bacobo, Rafael Palma and Carlos P. Romulo. The
Premio Zobel in its apogee was a literary and social event
acclaimed by media and attended by the Ilustrados. The
Premio Zobel has come to symbolize the enduring presence of
Spanish heritage in the Philippines.
The Premio Zobel
has endured, thanks to the efforts of Doña Gloria, daughter of
the founder, and her husband Don Ricardo Padilla y
Satrustegui, both active academicos who took charge of the
Premio until their demise. In the last years, Doña Georgina
and Don Alejandro Padilla Zobel de Ayala, granddaughter and
grandson of the founder Don Enrique Zobel de Ayala have
maintained the Premio to this date.
Don Enrique Zobel
de Ayala, descendant of one of the oldest families in the
Philippines, founded the Premio on July 25, 1920. Don Enrique,
patron of the arts, was a founding member of the Academia
Filipina de la Lengua Española, an affiliate of the Real
Academia de la Lengua Española (Royal Academy of Spanish
Letters) in Spain.
Doña Georgina
Padilla y Zobel begs indulgence for the late delivery of many
invitations to the book launch. The launch had been postponed
three times because it would have coincided with three
different and equally important events.
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