Danny Vibas: Decent to the last

Danny Vibas: Decent to the last | Daily Tribune

Our paths crossed when I was invited to write a column — mostly reviews on film and television — for a newspaper that was then at its peak, but is now only a molecule away from death. That time, I was still in the process of collecting a degree — just so I could announce to the world: Hey, I’m “educated.”

From school, I would go straight to the newspaper office and type my column that came out three times a week. That publication had brilliant editors, but had some really inept news reporters in its stable.

After I had submitted my piece, some of the editors often asked me to write captions for Page 1 photos. The way I wrote wasn’t spectacular, but my style was journalistic. At least, I knew how to lay down facts.

From writing captions, I was handed news reports to edit. The copies of those reporters were so bad, there came a time I got caught in a crossroad. It was a choice between shooting myself in the head or pointing the gun straight to their groins.

What annoyed me was that they behaved like the cocky machos of the John Wayne era. They didn’t walk to the newsroom. They swaggered their way in, confidently carrying with them their new reports that were so badly written, I was this close to telling them to consider another career option outside — and away from journalism.

Their tenses were in such state of disagreement that no court of law could help settle. Maybe not even the Supreme Court.

Mercifully, they eventually left print journalism. One went on to become a news anchor, but all he did was read before the camera what was handed to him. He was lucky to have been surrounded by the best news writers on TV.

Another one of them completed his law studies, passed the bar after several tries, and became Solicitor General! In this country, anything is possible in government service.

But one of them still causes massive destruction as a lawmaker. That should no longer come as a surprise. After all, Robin Padilla made it to the Senate — even garnering the largest number of votes.

Maybe to repay me for all the free services I rendered (but I did learn a lot) during those times when the desk needed help, I was made entertainment editor of the paper — even if I did not apply for the position. I was practically fresh off school and was still weighing my options.

I already knew Boy Abunda then. We met when I was 17 and was doing practicum work. He introduced me to his partner, Bong Quintana, who was a flight steward that time for Philippine Airlines.

I told Bong then that I also wanted to be a flight attendant so I could see the world and eat all the Belgian chocolates in Brussels. But Bong told me that it was a requirement to fly domestic first. Before feasting on Belgian chocolates, I had to make do initially with “danggit,” the Cebuano dried fish that had always been a breakfast favorite.

With the salary that the paper was dangling before me, I could buy all the “danggit” in the Carcar market, which is also famous in Cebu for its “chicharon.” And so, I chose to become editor. I had one problem though: Danny.

‘I am better than you’

Danny was the assistant entertainment editor. But when the entertainment editor migrated to the United States, I was brought in without the publisher even bothering to ask me if I was interested in the job. In the order of things, Danny was rightfully the successor.

But perhaps, out of gratitude for all my help in cleaning up the messy news reports of their staff members, the owner of the newspaper made me entertainment editor. And it didn’t stop there. After a month, I was also made to handle the lifestyle page.

Danny and I shouldn’t have had a problem. Looking back, I was the problem. I was a control freak — still is and forever will be. To begin with, Danny was a good worker — very responsible. He had minimal grammatical lapses and that made it easier for me to put my pages to bed.

His basic assignment was to go out and interview celebrities. He liked putting in even the minutest details in his articles, which I appreciated because that added color to his stories. But we were a newspaper and he turned in novelettes. So, I had to trim his pieces, which he resented. In time, he became defiant. He got very annoyed because I’d call him up at the office even during my day off to check on our pages. I was THAT controlling.

At the office pantry one evening, I sat down with him to address our issues. He held no punches and told me that I could never earn his respect for three reasons. First of all, he was far more senior. Also, he graduated cum laude and I didn’t. Finally, and these were his exact words: “I am better than you.”

As for reason No. 1, even if I had my birth certificate with me that time, I’d lose that round. Prior to becoming a journalist, Danny was in public relations (or was it advertising?). I couldn’t defend myself either in Round 2. I didn’t graduate with honors. I limped my way through grade school — all the way to college. I was never academically bright. When I was in Grade 3, my father was so jubilant that he bought me a new wristwatch only because I jumped in the class standing from No. 49 to No. 23.

Round 3 was difficult to tackle. “I am better than you.” I didn’t even get offended when he said that. In my head, maybe he was. It was an issue that was difficult to settle. Not then. Not even now.

And so, I played the boss card. Without sounding arrogant and to end the discussion once and for all, I calmly said: Say all you want — that you are better and all that. But don’t forget, I am still your superior.

A good person

He quit the following day. But the diligent person that he was, Danny immediately found another job in a rival newspaper — as entertainment editor. I was happy for him — sincerely happy — because he was a good person. I respected him even more when his new boss, who was my friend, called me up to ask why Danny resigned.

Instead of answering the question, I asked his current employer: “What did he tell you?” All Danny said was that “we saw things differently.” No, he didn’t rip my reputation to pieces — even if I deserved it. In fact, he never said anything nasty against me even after we went separate ways.

Since I don’t attend media conferences, it took several months before we saw each other again. And when we did, there was no bitterness.

He could have gloated at that point because — sigh — karma is real. I got fired shortly after Danny’s resignation! The paper was sold to another owner and the new publisher wanted his own people and I was among the casualties.

In the years that followed, Danny and I would casually bump into each other at events. We’d exchange brief hellos. When I joined DAILY TRIBUNE, it was a reunion for us.

And then, I heard about his passing. He was 71. As it turned out, he got hospitalized a few months ago due to pancreatic problems. He got better, but got sick again and never recovered. My only regret is that we never had the chance to become close friends.

All that I knew of him was that he later taught at the Far Eastern University. And that he joined the group of George Sison, who taught his followers how to navigate this world serenely. Danny took those teachings to heart. Unlike most other showbiz reporters who fought with celebrities to create controversies, Danny was professional. I don’t remember him writing anything bad about anybody.

The entertainment industry had always been a word of turmoil and chaos. Nastiness abounds in this profession. It’s saddening, therefore, that showbiz is now one decent person less with Danny’s passing.

Aguda’s absentee genie