An Iraq memento from Mike Enriquez

Before the rapid-fire delivery, before the high-pitched-bordering-on-frenetic tone that would come to dominate how news was presented — and long  before the trademark exaggerated “excuse me, po!” following every on-air cough – there was the mellow DJ named Baby Michael.

That was the niche radio persona of Mike Enriquez long before he became master of the media universe.

To those of us in the shrinking demographic of analog natives, that was the Mike Enriquez we knew before we learned of his real name. He was among a cohort of music DJs who, instead of trying to wake us up with excess energy as they tend to do these days, gave us soothing talk in American English in between top-40 songs that you could go out and buy on vinyl, back when this was called LPs and 45s.

It was the kind of voice that could lull you to sleep. But at least one listener was moved to love. That’s how Mike explained, on the show Wagas, how he met his future wife Baby, a listener who reached out to her favorite DJ.

Mike would evolve and eventually switch to fast-paced Tagalog on other stations. He proved as adept in the vernacular as he was in his refined La Salle English, and appealed as much to bakya listeners as to the kolehiyala crowd. That rapport with the public boosted his rise to executive ranks before being recruited to GMA to build its radio network.

Unlikely TV star

When the late 1980s unleashed fresh forces of media competition, audiences migrated to TV in droves. By the 1990s, TV news and public affairs programs were undergoing a transformation. Gone were the days of anchors sitting down and calmly presenting the news in English. News executives sought to quicken the public pulse and reach mass audiences.

Jessica Soho recalls in a tribute in PhilStar Life: “I had a radio show after him on DZBB, and I thought his energy level might just work for TV. So I pitched him as one of our anchors for our election coverage in 1995.”

Already established in a career where he was heard but never seen, and could walk around a mall completely unrecognized, Mike was taken aback.

“Itong mukha na ito, hindi pang TV (this face was not meant for TV),” he would say. “Tanggap ko na ‘yon. Sarili ko ngang nanay hindi makapaniwala nasa TV ako, eh (I accept that. Even my own mother can’t believe I’m on TV).”

But the idea worked, as good a proof as any of a meritocracy on TV news and a new discernment by viewers.

Mike Enriquez became a household name and was the one constant in the coverage of nearly all major news stories for nearly three decades. He anchored GMA’s flagship newscasts for 25 years, as well as maintained multiple roles in radio, including his beloved anchoring duties in the booth. Millions of morning rides were accompanied by his hyper-caffeinated, lighthearted berating of official incompetence.

He also hosted Imbestigador, one of the longest running public affairs shows on TV, where he popularized the much imitated and satirized, “hindi kita tatantanan!” (I won’t let up on you!)

Easily amused, lacking airs, and smiling with a childlike enthusiasm, he sometimes gave the impression he was pinching himself to make sure his unlikely TV stardom wasn’t just a dream.

Humpback whales

On TV he delivered straight news or presented stories with tightly edited scripts. But on radio he was a master of his domain and could choose what to highlight in long, folksy adlibs, sometimes focusing on obscure causes that he cared about, including humpback whales. The artist and whale advocate AG Saño recalls that Mike was one of the biggest supporters of the effort to protect and document migratory humpback whales in the Babuyan Islands.

“Every time we needed supplies, he would interview us live on his show. If we weren’t available he would do a call for donations on his own,” Saño told me in a comment on Instagram. “He did this for us for about two decades. When we held a fund-raiser photo exhibit, he was there to cut the ribbon.”

Covering Iraq

Mike used to say he was most at home inside a radio booth, but he rarely refused assignments or adventure. Twenty years ago, I spent both quality and quantity time with Mike (insiders actually called him “Booma” after a Mars Ravelo character) when we were assigned to travel to Iraq on the eve of the US invasion, the biggest story of that time.

Our team of six, including three cameramen, started our journey in Amman, Jordan because we couldn’t land in Baghdad, and traveled across a vast desert in large sedans loaded with our gear. At the border, we were met by grim Iraqi authorities who were notorious for demanding something in return for allowing media equipment through.

We let Mike’s charm finesse us through that obstacle without sacrificing any part of our budget. I think he used the “struggling third world media” card to distinguish us from the white western crews trying to get in as well.

Mike anchored the news remotely in Baghdad while Jiggy Manicad and I provided color and human interest stories, and occasional scoops on how the Iraqis were preparing for war. What we ended up producing collectively was a portrait of a secular, hospitable society that would be changed forever by the coming war. Even years later when we would talk about our shared experience in Iraq, he still felt bad about what happened to the many ordinary Iraqis we had gotten to know. “Dambuhalang pagkakamali (a gigantic mistake),” he called the US invasion.

During that coverage, Mike did a memorable story about the international media that had converged in Baghdad. I saw and heard then another side of Mike that most were unfamiliar with – the mellow, English-speaking voice and un-jologs De La Salle graduate who could converse comfortably with the celebrity foreign anchors of the time. It was as if Baby Michael had come back to life as an intrepid newsman.

It was another display of a remarkable tool kit that enabled him to adapt to any part of the broadcast industry he found himself in and build one of the longest and most successful careers in mass media. But it was the small gestures that endeared him to his colleagues.

Weeks after we got back from Iraq, he asked me to come to his office. Smiling broadly, he gave me a customized jacket with the words “GMA News Iraq team.” He had one made for each member of our team.

Mike Enriquez died last August 29 at the age  of 71.

— LA, GMA Integrated News