Missing the Filipino ‘komiks’

IF most young Filipinos today do not miss the Tagalog illustrated comic magazines we knew as komiks, it’s probably because they have not seen one.

But how could we senior citizens not miss them when they used to be the stuff that filled our leisure time?

A typical komiks in bygone times contained short stories, serialized novels, entertainment columns and comedy strips that showcased the collaborative talents of writers and illustrators. Each frame had a caption, illustration and words or thoughts of characters.

I used to earn part of my income from writing entertainment columns for several comic magazines in Manila in the 1970s.

Komiks’ loss of readership — no thanks to the accessibility of audiovisual entertainment on TV and the internet — has caused the demise of the komiks industry.

But since hope springs eternal, I hope the industry could make a comeback, as in Japan, where each complete illustrated story called “manga” sells like hotcakes.

Do you know that it was our national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal, who authored an illustrated Filipino fable in 1885? It was “The Monkey and the Turtle,” where the weak and slow turtle outwits the stronger monkey over “sharing” a banana tree.

The greedy monkey takes the top part with leaves, while the turtle takes the bottom part with roots. The monkey’s leafy top dies, but the turtle’s rooted bottom grows sweet bananas.

As a money-making industry, mainstream komiks kicked off in the 1920s when Liwayway magazine began publishing the satirical comic strips of the late Tony Velasquez, “Mga Kabalbalan ni Kenkoy.”

Kenkoy was still a very popular komiks character during my childhood and adolescent years.

The 1960s saw the emergence of other prolific comic novelists like Nestor Redondo and Francisco V. Coching. While Redondo and Coching both wrote and illustrated their masterpieces, Mars Ravelo had to assign the illustrations to Redondo or someone else.

But Ravelo’s handicap was a blessing in disguise that gave him time to serialize novels, giving birth to fictitious characters like Darna, Dyesebel, Bondying, Captain Barbell and Lastikman.

Ravelo got rich by selling his novels to movie companies, through which the aforementioned heroes saw action.

There were also Filipino illustrators who broke into the American comics industry in the 1970s. I can still recall some of them: Tony DeZuniga, Alfredo Alcala, Mar Amongo, Ernie Chan, Alex Niño, Nestor Redondo, Gerry Talaoc and my late friend Art Geroche of Pavia, Iloilo.

I had the good fortune of winning the friendship of the late Rico Bello Omagap, a komiks editor and novelist who, like Ravelo, also sold novels to movie companies. He assigned me to write sequence treatments for his movie scripts.

Knowing that I was an entertainment reporter and ghostwriter for a gossip columnist, Omagap also assigned me a weekly entertainment column for two komiks of El Dorado Publications.

The 1970s also saw the phenomenal rise of novelist-illustrator Jim Fernandez, creator of the comic and movie character Zuma. He mixed business with pleasure by drawing komiks frames between pin throws in a bowling alley.

Filipino newspapers and magazines in English rode the bandwagon, with at least a page of cartoon strips per issue. The late illustrator Larry Alcala excelled in that medium.

By the turn of the century, unfortunately, circulation of komiks magazines had diminished. One by one, they gave up.

Today, komiks magazines no longer show up on newsstands. What has become of the komiks-dependent writers and illustrators?

Before he died in 2025 at age 78, I had the opportunity to ask Ilonggo novelist-illustrator Art Geroche that question.

He answered, “I still earn a living by painting people, places and events on canvas and on murals.”

A few of Art’s oil paintings are on display at the Iloilo City Hall.