The Labor Press Corps was a unique fraternity of reporters. We were assigned to competing newspapers, but on the labor beat, competition often took a back seat to camaraderie. We gave our best to our work, but through our daily encounters, shared assignments, long conversations, and countless adventures, we also developed friendships that have lasted a lifetime.
Whenever we look back on those years, certain memories immediately come to mind: Basia, Baguio, plenty of drinks, endless laughter—and, above all, good times together.
Our days on the labor beat were certainly not all work.
We spent countless hours covering labor unions and federations, workers’ strikes, collective bargaining agreements, labor-initiated Welga ng Bayan, and policies and pronouncements from the Department of Labor and Employment. We chased stories, interviewed labor leaders, attended press briefings, and hurried back to our respective newsrooms to meet deadlines.
But our lives as reporters had another side.
There were nights filled with laughter, occasional plays and outings, long conversations, and even longer hours in our favorite watering holes. We enjoyed one another’s company, knowing that these moments of relaxation were necessary respites from the pressures and stresses of daily journalism.
Interestingly, there seemed to be less competition on our beat than one might expect.
We all worked for competing newspapers, yet we rarely tried to outdo one another by getting a story ahead of everybody else. We rarely practiced what we called “naunahan,” a Tagalog word meaning scooping fellow reporters.
We knew the stories we covered mattered to all of us.
We were reporting on the struggles of ordinary workers—their demands for better working conditions, higher wages, and fair treatment. These were stories that deserved to be told, regardless of which newspaper got the story first.
What mattered was that the public knew what was happening on the labor front.
More often than not, we worked almost as a group.
We interviewed prominent labor leaders such as Ka Beltran of the Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU) and Democrito Mendoza of the Trade Union Congress of the Philippines (TUCP). When the leaders themselves were unavailable, we turned to their trusted spokesmen, including KMU’s Rolly Francia and TUCP’s Homer Punzalan.
There were also times when KMU’s Bong Labog or Butch Peña would sit down with us and share their organizations’ views on the issues of the day.
Because of our close relationship with Rolly and Homer, they eventually became part of our “labor beat circle.”
They joined us during drinking sessions, outings, and occasional trips outside Manila. In time, the relationship between sources and reporters became less formal. We had crossed an invisible line.
We had become friends.
Years later, I found myself missing that camaraderie.
One day, I shared an old photograph with our close-knit group, taken at a watering hole in Malate. Along with the photograph, I wrote:
“Ito ang mga larawan na puno ng maliligayang alaala. Oh, how I wish I could bring back the time when we were still young, full of energy and, of course, enjoying our never-ending get-togethers—either at the NPC or sa isang watering hole somewhere in Malate. At payday, wala tayong pera at si Joey ang taga-kolekta. I miss you all.”
That simple message captured what those years meant to us.
We were young and energetic. We were often short of money, but somehow we always found a reason to get together. We shared stories, laughter, frustrations, and the little joys that made the demanding life of a reporter worthwhile.
Joey Salgado, now a spokesman for the Binays, also contributed to our collection of memories.
At one point, he sent a photograph of a small gathering of labor reporters with former Labor Minister Bobbit Sanchez. His caption read:
“At dahil Labor Day today. Nang ako ay labor beat reporter ng Malaya, 1986 or 1987. Kasama si dating Labor Minister Bobbit Sanchez. Si Rashid Saber ng BLE yata yung nasa tabi niya. With Willie Jose, Mina Saha, Sammy Santos, and Rolly Francia. Malakasang inuman. Bigla akong naawa sa mga atay namin.”
The humor in Joey’s caption says a great deal about the spirit of our group.
We worked hard, but we also knew how to enjoy ourselves.
Whenever there was a nationwide holiday, our group would sometimes go out of town.
One of our favorite destinations was Baguio, where we stayed at the Department of Labor and Employment’s house on Cabinet Hill.
Almost everyone in the corps would be there.
It was another opportunity to step away from the daily grind of the newsroom and simply enjoy one another’s company. For a few days, there were no deadlines to chase, no press conferences to attend, and no stories to file.
There was just friendship.
Joey once posted another photograph from one of those trips, with the caption:
“Labor Day memory uli, sa DOLE House sa Cabinet Hill sa Baguio, nuknukan ng moomoooo. In the first photo are beat reporters Glenda Gloria, Willie Jose, Jim Gomez, Elmer Mesina (nakatalikod with guitar), Herbert ng Times, Ellen, Edsan, Lynda J. Duda ko yung nakasuot ng leather shoes sa kanan is Homer. The other photo was taken at PMA, with Desiree Carlos and a few others whose names I can’t recall right now.”
Looking at photographs like these today, it is easy to realize how much time has passed.
The faces may have changed. Careers took different directions. Some of us moved to different cities and countries. Life brought us families, responsibilities, and entirely new chapters.
But the memories remain remarkably vivid.
A photograph can suddenly bring it all back.
Desiree Carlos once summed up those years beautifully:
“Sometimes I miss my reportorial days. Truly grateful for those days—the friends made along the way, the lessons learned, and the wonderful memories. Pinalaki ako ng dyaryo, so to speak. Salamat sa dyaryo. At salamat sa Labor Press Corps, a family during my younger years. I miss Fely Gob, Willie.”
Her words resonate with many of us.
The newspaper was more than a workplace.
For those of us who spent our younger years chasing stories, interviewing people, meeting deadlines, and covering an often turbulent labor front, journalism became a way of life.
And the Labor Press Corps became a family.
We may have worked for competing newspapers, but on the labor beat we learned that journalism did not always have to be about competition. There were stories bigger than the byline, bigger than the scoop, and bigger than the newspaper that eventually printed them.
We were young reporters trying to make sense of the world of labor and of the people who fought for a better life.
Along the way, we found friendship, laughter, adventure, and memories that have remained with us long after the deadlines stopped.
Throughout those years, we also developed close professional relationships with different Labor Secretaries, including Bobbit Sanchez, Frank Drilon, Ruben Torres, and Benny Laguesma.
They were generally accessible to us when we needed the Department of Labor and Employment’s official position on important issues. For reporters covering the labor beat, that accessibility mattered.
We needed answers. We needed clarification. We needed the government’s side of the story.
And often, they were there to provide it.
Those professional relationships became another important part of our years on the beat.
The years have passed.
But whenever an old photograph surfaces, whenever someone remembers Basia or Baguio, or whenever one of us recalls those long evenings in a Malate watering hole, the Labor Press Corps comes alive again.
For a brief moment, we are young once more.
We are sitting together, sharing stories, laughing loudly, worrying about tomorrow’s deadline, and enjoying the company of friends.
The years may have taken us to different places, but they could never erase those memories.
To all my friends and fellow members of the Labor Press Corps, this piece is my small tribute to our collective memories.
To Desiree Carlos, Glenda Gloria, Joey Salgado, Mina Saha, Sammy Santos, Elmer Mesina, Jim Gomez, Lito Zulueta, Patrick Paez, Caloy Hidalgo,Eillen Paat, Linda Jumilla, Ruby Clemmons, Ed Santoalla, Glo Melencio, Ellen Aguilar, Jessica Gross, Rudy Brul, Fely Gob, Dana Batnag, and Herbert of the Manila Times—thank you.
Thank you for the stories, the laughter, the adventures, the friendship, and the memories.
And perhaps, after all these years, those friendships remain one of the greatest stories we carried home from the labor beat.
