Remembering my editor, Mr. Nestor Mata

When news came out that veteran journalist Nestor Mata died on April 12 this year at the age of 92, I was filled with regret. Over the years, I thought of paying him a visit but never got to do so.

Once, my former officemates at Lifestyle Asia magazine went to his house to see him, and they said he was so happy they came. They added that Mr. Mata was still writing, ever the journalist for whom retirement had no meaning.

And now this year he was gone. Is there a sadder emoticon than the existing sad emoticon on my phone?

Let me make it up to you, Mr. Mata. How about I tell them, our readers who bother reading up to this point, what I know about you? 

Over my almost three decades of writing professionally, I have been privileged to have had very good bosses and mentors. One of them is Mr. Nestor Mata.

But it wasn't love at first copy. It was 1992 and I was a new writer hired by Lifestyle Asia Publishing Co. to handle the articles for the advertising supplements. One of the advertisers was Ohrelle shoe boutique, and our publisher, Exequiel Garcia, asked me one time to do a profile on the owner.

The profile, printed double-spaced on short bond paper, landed on the desk of Mr. Mata, who was the magazine's executive editor. He eyed it on his inbox (a real physical one), grabbed it and growled, "Who is she? Why is she writing?" Then he took the printed stapled sheets — my article — threw them on the floor unread, then left the office in a huff as it was time for him to go home.

I went over to his work area, stooped and picked up my article (and my bruised ego), smoothed the pages, then walked back to my desk across the room.

Mr. Garcia must have talked to Mr. Mata though, because the article eventually saw print on the editorial pages of the magazine's next issue.

Soon, I was doing articles for both the advertising and editorial departments. Mr. Mata would ask Myra, the editorial assistant, to give me assignments. I can't remember now how it happened, but there came a time when I was transferred to the editorial department to work as full-time staffwriter.

That meant working right across Mr. Mata's desk on the second floor. Mondays to Fridays he would show up before 9 a.m., sit on his desk, then trade jokes and banter with Mr. Pocholo Romualdez, editor-in-chief of Taipan magazine, whose desk was just on the other side of a bookcase. He would then go over articles for Lifestyle Asia, discuss assignments with Myra, and pore over layouts done by the art department headed by Mr. Malang Santos, our creative director.

Then he would smoke a tobacco while pounding furiously on his portable writer his column for Manila Standard, and I knew better than to bother him with a question at that time. His column done, he would ask Myra to fax it to Manila Standard.

In between, he would make calls to Myther (organizer of their Thursday Club), Tita Odette Alcantara of Heritage Art Center, or his children Jan or Rene. With Myther and Tita Odette, he would discuss politics, his deep baritone voice breaking out in laughter or song once in a while. Oh yes, Mr. Mata sang well.

One time he assigned me to do a profile on Rita Dy of Singapore Airlines. When I submitted the article with the title "Dressing Up Rita," he went "heeheehee! Dressing Up Rita, like Educating Rita!"

Mr. Mata was the kind of editor who would mercilessly cut out fluff and unnecessary words from what you thought was your well-written piece, so it felt good to see him satisfied with my work once in a while. I would always look at the edits he did on my articles (on printout) using a red pen, and I would nod at how my copy would end up tighter and more concise each time. From him, I learned how to be a better writer.

He lent me books, saying I should study how these great writers wrote. One of those authors was John Updike, a writer I haven't heard of yet at that time, but soon became one I greatly appreciated. From Mr. Mata, I learned that to be a good writer, I needed to read good books.

One day, he handed me a red book. It was one he himself wrote -- "Cory of a Thousand Days", a collection of his political essays about the Cory administration. He wrote on it: "To Karen, With Affection!" and signed it together with the date of July 22, 1993.

 

Thank you, Mr. Nestor Mata, for all that you've taught me about journalism. Rest In Peace

A post shared by Karen Galarpe (@kgalarpe) on

Apr 15, 2018 at 4:19am PDT

A true blue veteran journalist, Mr. Mata started his career in 1949 as a reporter for The Philippines Herald, a good 40 years before I started my own career as a journalist, as a reporter-trainee for BusinessWorld. He covered about seven Presidents during his career.

In fact, he was on assignment covering President Ramon Magsaysay when their plane crashed on March 17, 1957 in Mt. Manungal in Cebu. Mr. Mata was the lone survivor. Out of that experience he wrote the book "One Came Back" which I hope his children will republish one day.

To widen my world, I guess, Mr. Mata would invite me to lunches at Tita Odette Alcantara's house in Blue Ridge, Quezon City, and there I met artists, writers, journalists, and musicians who would join a chess tournament in the garden, or engage in the days' political or artistic discussion, or enjoy the music played. During those times, I met their friends Onib Olmedo, Pandy Aviado, Allan and Ivi Cosio -- artists I just knew before then through their paintings.

Despite his seemingly gruff demeanor, Mr. Mata was a caring person. When I asked one time what one should do if an interviewee starts asking funny questions such as if you had a boyfriend, etcetera, he went ballistic and said don't bother writing the story. And when I found out I was pregnant and told him, he gently said, "I know."

After I left Lifestyle Asia, he would give me some writing assignments care of Myra. But that stopped when I joined another magazine in 2001, Good Housekeeping. From then on, I didn’t get to see him anymore. I knew though that he kept writing for Manila Standard, and later, Malaya.

At the wake last April at St. Peter Chapels on Commonwealth Avenue, his daughter Julia said he kept writing until just before he became ill recently. And he learned to use the computer, and wrote his columns on it in later years.

Former President Fidel V. Ramos suddenly arrived at the wake while I and my former officemate Reggie and her husband Bing were there. “He’s my friend,” FVR said repeatedly.

Indeed, Mr. Mata was a friend to many. On the wall were photos of him with all the Presidents he covered during his career, other politicians, fellow journalists, friends, and people he worked with.

Thank you for all that you’ve taught me, Mr. Mata, and for being a friend to many. You have inspired and mentored many journalists, and I’m proud to be one of them. Say hi to my mom please. And Mr. Malang too. — LA, GMA News