When Joseph “Erap” Estrada was running for President in 1998, we gathered one evening of April 1998 at the residence of the late Danding Cojuangco in Balete Drive, New Manila, Quezon City. We were waiting for Erap to arrive. Around the round table were Danding Cojuangco, Ronnie Zamora, the late Carmelo “Melo” Santiago of Melo’s Steakhouse, Atty Manny Zamora-brother of Ronnie, the late Manny Portes and a few others. We spent the time discussing the political climate in Quezon Province while awaiting the presidential candidate.
Soon enough, Erap arrived with Guia Gomez. He sat beside me on my left at the round table. By then, he had already been briefed that the Quezon delegation—Governor Eduardo Rodriguez (who was running for Congress representing the First District of Quezon, Willie Enverga (the official candidate for Governor of Partido ng Masang Pilipino in Quezon Province, and myself (who was the running mate of Enverga as his Vice Governor)—had come to see him. He was in high spirits. The surveys consistently showed him comfortably ahead of Joe de Venecia, and he was very much in his element.
Knowing we were all from Quezon Province, Erap suddenly shared an anecdote that, according to him, he had heard from his father, Emilio Ejercito.
The story went back to the Commonwealth years when Manuel L. Quezon was President and was residing in Malacañang Palace.
According to Erap, one early morning at about five o’clock, President Quezon, still wearing his pajamas, hurriedly instructed his chauffeur to bring the presidential limousine to the palace entrance.
The chauffeur, already accustomed to these unexpected dawn trips, immediately complied.
As soon as Quezon settled into the back seat, the driver respectfully asked, “Saan po tayo, Sr. Presidente?”
“Broadway,” Quezon replied without hesitation.
Broadway Avenue, in what is now a sprawling residential area in New Manila, was, according to the story, where Quezon allegedly maintained her inamorata . Erap added that Doña Aurora Quezon was supposedly away on an official engagement in the provinces, representing the President.
Quezon was visibly impatient.
“Bilisan mo. Lalambutan ako,” he supposedly urged the driver, describing Quezon’s agitation in typical Erap fashion.
The limousine sped out of Malacañang through what is now J.P. Laurel Avenue toward what was then called Bagumbayan Boulevard (today Aurora Boulevard). As they approached the Altura (Sta. Mesa) crossing, however, the chauffeur suddenly stopped.
An irritated Quezon demanded, “Bakit tayo huminto? Wala namang trapiko!”
The chauffeur calmly replied, “Señor Presidente, may ferrocarril po.”
A train was crossing the tracks.
Annoyed by the delay, Quezon reportedly exclaimed, “Tomorrow, remind me to call the Director of Public Works. I will order him to construct an overpass here so motor vehicles will no longer be delayed.”
At that point Erap paused, smiled mischievously, and delivered the punchline.
“You know,” he said, “the President was already in his late fifties. By the time the train had passed and he finally reached Broadway, the urgency that had sent him rushing there at five in the morning had already disappeared. Eh ang haba ng tren nung araw at puro bagon. That was the story of the first Skyway courtesy of Quezon. Akalain mo nagka-overpass dahil sa l*b*g ng Señor Presidente!”
The entire table erupted in laughter. It was classic Erap—telling a story with impeccable timing, mixing history, folklore, and his trademark earthy humor. Whether the tale was literally true hardly mattered. It perfectly captured the kind of anecdote that made him such an engaging storyteller.