Remembrances of Streets in Manila

This is a canal in Escolta. Take a look at the reed boat on the left.
Doesnt this remind you of Venice?

Escolta canal now. Just try swimming here. Sayang.

A better picture of Escolta taken on July 4, 1899
Escolta was the place for trading, known as Queen of the Streets

Remembrances and the streets of Manila

By Luis R. Sioson

Editor's Note: Published on page A17 of the August 20, 2006 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer

CERTAIN sections of Ermita, Sta. Cruz, Binondo and Quiapo are fascinating pieces in the city of Manila’s mosaic. But the plazas seem to have shrunk because there are more people and motor vehicles.

The churches, on the other hand, remain durable and visible landmarks, spiritual sanctuaries for hundreds of pedestrians and visitors. People ply various trade on streets and sidewalks among old buildings and structures, testaments to time’s quick passage.

The pace is slower in the Ermita of the Guerreros than in Sta. Cruz and Quiapo across the Pasig River to the north. There is more space in this district that still bears traces of its genteel past. Shady trees line some of its streets and a few old homes still exude the elegance of a bygone era.

On T. M. Kalaw Street, just off noisy (and polluted) Taft Avenue that intersects UN Avenue (formerly Isaac Peral), one can retreat to the quiet of the United Central Methodist Chapel hidden in the shadows of a large mall that replaced the old Harris Memorial Building.

The section, bounded on the south by Padre Faura Street, on the north by T. M. Kalaw (San Luis Street), on the east and west by Taft Avenue and Roxas Boulevard (Dewey Boulevard), respectively, is dominated by American Period buildings housing the Supreme Court, Court of Appeals, University of the Philippines Manila and Philippine General Hospital.

The old Ateneo and its next-door neighbor, Assumption College on Adriatico Street (Dakota Street) and Pedro Gil (Herran), have been replaced by Robinson’s tower and a sprawling mall.

At the corner of Padre Faura and J. Bocobo Street (Nebraska) is a cream-colored residence- turned-restaurant, its charming balcony and stairway remarkably well maintained.

Oldest ‘real’ bookstore

The nearby Marietta Building also on Bocobo, has been re placed by a condominium. Ulog was a popular jazz joint on the same street. F. Sionil Jose’s Solidaridad Bookshop, probably the oldest “real” bookstore in the city, still sells books on P. Faura. Erehwon Bookshop, once the hangout of poets, English majors or anyone looking for hard-to-find books, was once a neighbor.

Za’s Café and Hizon’s Bakeshop at the corner of Arquiza and Bocobo streets still serve their famous ensaimadas, raisin bread and pricey coffee. The café has outlived the other coffee shops in the neighborhood—Taza de Oro, Country Bakeshop, Rolling Pin and United Supermarket’s.

To the west of Padre Faura, corner Roxas Boulevard, one faces the unsettling vista of rundown buildings side by side with a modern glass, steel and concrete structure. On this corner once stood a beautiful mansion owned by a prominent family. It became a bank later.

Ermita Church stands guard over the now quiet tourist belt and a row of naughty bars. The park in front of it is no longer called Plaza Ferguson but Nuestra Señora de Guia.

On UN Avenue is the Philamlife building. Inaugurated in 1961, it has a well-maintained theater that was (and still is) a venue for memorable musical performances and stage plays. The glass-paneled cafeteria, with its adjacent chapel and indoor garden, drew thousands of faithful patrons for lunch and merienda.

Across the avenue is the Manila Pavilion (formerly Manila Hilton and then Holiday Inn). Still eye-catching is the tall white and green Don Alfonso Sycip Building, standing at the corner of UN Avenue and M.H. del Pilar.

Delightful sight

On a quiet narrow street called Alhambra that connects UN Avenue to T.M. Kalaw, is the old Diokno house, a striking two-story white building with a black iron-railed balcony overlooking the street. It is a delightful sight amid towering structures and a tangle of telephone and television cables.

The renovated Bayview Hotel, built in 1935, still stands at the corner of UN Avenue and Roxas Boulevard. Across is the Bel-Air Apartment building, designed and constructed in 1937 by National Artist Pablo Antonio.

Opposite are the former Elks Building and the fabled Army and Navy Club where members of the elite hosted parties or watched plays staged by members of the American community.
Beyond the stretch of graceful apartments and glamorous hotels beckons Manila Bay where people watch magnificent sunsets.

Northward across Jones Bridge, are Plaza Moraga and Plaza Cervantes of Binondo. The conjoined squares that once comprised the city’s throbbing center of commerce now lie desolate in the shadows of aging buildings.

The El Hogar Filipino, almost a century-old, stands forlorn on the seedy southern end of Juan Luna Street (Anloague Street, where Capitan Tiago’s house in Jose Rizal’s “Noli me Tangere,” once stood). Standing beside it are the concrete remains of the old Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank on storied San Gabriel Street.

Farther north, intersecting Juan Luna, is Estraude Street where Rizal’s house was located and where his mother supposedly waited and prayed while he was being escorted to his execution in Bagumbayan (Luneta).

El Hogar, standing by the banks of the Pasig River, still has a number of tenants. Its ground floor gets flooded when the smelly Pasig River—thick and brownish—swells when filled with wild water lilies. The dank odor of old buildings follows you as you gingerly step on improvised wooden planks to avoid the muddy water.

Nearby, the old Insular Life Building facing the Uy Chaco Building (constructed in 1914) in Plaza Cervantes looks dreary and worn, shorn of its emblem of a proud eagle perched on top of its small dome. The top floor used to house radio station dzRH that featured in its programs popular movie stars at the time like Rosa Rosal, Jaime de la Rosa, Pugo, Tugo and other entertainers.

Rizal slept in this hotel

On the same small block stood the First National City Bank of New York and the Bank of the Philippine Islands. Paredes (Rosario) Street still does some business. Plaza San Lorenzo Ruiz (Plaza Calderon de la Barca) in front of Binondo Church teems with pedestrians and motor vehicles. On this square once stood Hotel de Oriente, a “five-star hotel” that Rizal patronized.

Escolta has retained its name but not its unofficial title, “Queen of the Streets.” The Crystal Arcade, Botica Boie, Heacock’s, Alonzo, Estrella del Norte, Dencia’s Pansit Malabon, Max’s Fried Chicken, Henry’s Donuts and other well-known establishments are gone. But Savory Restaurant is still around.

A dying Escolta

Escolta has been dying all these years though some businesses still remain. First-run movie theaters Capitol and Lyric are long gone. Nueva Street, where Andres Bonifacio once worked as a sales agent of Fressell y Cia, now carries the name E.T. Yuchengco.

David Street is now Burke Street while across the City College of Manila (formerly the Philippine National Bank head office) is Calvo Building. Soda Street, the Love Bus terminal before, is unrecognizable.

The Perez-Samanillo Building (now First United) and Regina Building still stand strong, proud sentinels at the entrance to Escolta from Sta. Cruz Church. The Samanillo Building, constructed in 1930, was designed by Andres Luna de San Pedro, son of painter-patriot Juan Luna. (Why is the son's name de San Pedro? Does that mean Juan Luna remarried a lady whose last name is San Pedro? No kids with Paz Pardo de Tavera?)

Neglected and unnoticed by passersby is a historical marker honoring patriot-newspaperman Patricio Mariano on Banquero (Bangkero) Street, beside the Escolta Bridge, on the edge of a garbage-congested canal.

From the bridge to the left on Plaza Sta. Cruz, the historic Carriedo Fountain shoots out sprays of water that sparkle in the sun. The fountain stands between the Sta. Cruz Church and Monte de Piedad, the country’s oldest savings bank where Manuel L. Quezon, Commonwealth President, once worked as a clerk. The short Bustos Street links the plaza to Avenida Rizal.

The strip between the drab dirty-white Capitan Pepe Building and the equally drab dirty-white Priscilla Building on the Avenida Rizal-Recto Avenue intersection, southward to Carriedo Street and Plaza Lacson (Plaza Goiti), was the most popular part of downtown where one could eat, shop and see first-run movies.

The popular cinemas—Ideal, Universal Theater (now Universal Park Mall), Luzon Theaters’ Avenue and State, and Ever—are all gone. Some familiar landmarks like the Arguelles and Guison buildings remain, but the strip has been transformed into a pedestrian promenade with dusty alfresco cafés accented with balding worn-out topiaries.

Locksmiths on Ronquillo Street still practice their trade. Stores painted in loud Mediterranean colors of yellow, blue and red, and a barber shop crowd under the LRT Station on the Carriedo Plaza Lacson junction. This section has, quite accidentally, developed into a kind of open-air concert hall.

The crowds form a half circle to watch and listen to a blind duo of singer and guitarist, static distorting the sound of the music coming from an amplifier powered by a car battery. The blind musicians and their motley audience of commuters have carved out a space under the LRT tracks.

Distracting background

Further distorting the sound of music is a combination of the hard and heavy rhythmic roll of LRT cars, the ear-splitting sounds of videoke machines and the hoarse voices of ambulant peddlers.

On nearby Palanca Street (Echague), Henry Sy’s old Shoemart (some say the first, the original SM) still does brisk business.

Plaza Lacson honors the colorful Manila Mayor Arsenio “Arsenic” Lacson. He stands tall on a pedestal across the old Roman Santos Building topped by a big clock and stone sculptures.

The popular Clover Theatre that brought the public Don Jose Zarah’s Extravaganza and jazz pianist Ping Joaquin, has become the City College of Manila annex.

On the crowded streets leading to Quiapo Church and Plaza Miranda, Sta. Cruz and Quiapo meet, borderless and offering a mix of colors and scents of street food, fruit and flowers. The aromas of fishball, smoked fish, pineapple slices, flowers, burning candles, herbs, roasted castañas and other “chichiria” fill the air.

Platerias, barely visible on congested Carriedo Street, still offer hard-to-find “piezas” (music sheets).

The stretch from Sta. Cruz Church to Quiapo Church is almost impassable, choked by crowds, stalls and merchandise of all kinds. On Plaza Miranda, balloon vendors, fortune tellers and novena sellers vie for the attention of church goers.

Take a trip to nostalgia and enjoy the walk and the remembrance of things past and present. It will be good for your soul and your sole.

(Luis R. Sioson, president of the Torres High School Class 1955 Foundation, has been writing articles about Tondo and other districts of Manila.)

Fort Santiago and San Agustin Church

Undated picture of Fort Santiago. The soldiers appear to be Americans. I can assume because of the presence of the Star of David. You wont see this if it was during the Spanish Occupancy.

This picture was shot in the 40's obviously so there is an army tank. Now, notice the Star of David has disappeared and has been replaced with an escudo.

Still beautiful even in the 20th century. Now focus on the man riding the horse. It depicts a soldier crushing Moorish soldiers. Hmm, like the Crusades? ( more on this in my future posts)

!Que linda!

The Grandeur of San Agustin Church
Miraculously during the war, only this church was spared.
The Philippines was known as the Rome of Asia because we had so much churches in Intramuros.
Here is a partial list of churches in Intramuros:
1. Agustinian -San Agustin
2.Jesuit - San Ignacio
3. Capuchin - Our Lady of Lourdes
4. Recoletos - San Nicolas de Tolentino
5. Dominican - Santo Domingo
6. Franciscan - Nuestra Senora de los Angeles
7. Franciscan - Capilla de Venerable Orden Tercera
Will do more research and gather more pictures.

Manila Then and Now

Escolta 1800's

Escolta in the 60's

Hotel de Orient

The first Hotel in Asia. It is said that Jose Rizal frequented this place. I wonder who owned it? Juan Soler?

Hotel de Orient
The only thing left is the fountain. So sad. What a hideous building it was replaced with.

In my quest to find out more about my roots, I have found several pictures . The pictures of Escolta would show the old location of my DH's Great Grand Father- Juan Soler. He had a store on Escolta - 112 Escolta St. The family sold fabrics and other articles for women and children. Isn't this so like Divisoria where you can find a million and one fabric and other stuff.

I have in my possession a wrapping paper of Juan Soler store that they used to wrap goods. Will post it in my next article.

Enjoy and reminisce.

Los Ultimos de Filipinas

This video is 1 hour long. It depicts the last stand in Baler, Quezon.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6796179348161570013&q=filipinas&hl=en

Time to go Grave Digging

Most observations regarding Filipinas by foreign writers have been complimentary whether in the distant past or present-day accounts. Although her ego doesn’t appear to need any more affirming, in this age when we’re known as the atchays of the world it’s good to read one more paean. Here’s a 19th century compliment by Vicente Barrantes on Las Mujeres del Pais.

Barrantes writes that the Filipino male did not feel complete until he married or had a girlfriend by his side. It was possible he thought that true human liberty consisted of giving oneself to another, in sacrificing his personality on the altar of God or that of a woman. Or perhaps it was that Filipinos lived so close to paradise (once upon a time apparently) that he remembered and understood the sacred parable of Adam and Eve more than other men. (In this Eden, according to him, the Spaniard was the serpent).

Under an all-embracing sun, it was said that the Filipina was water and that the Spaniard was fire with the inevitable conclusion that water kills fire. No woman in the world had better commercial instincts or a more developed organ for acquisitiveness and speculation. Stated simply she was (and remains) an excellent businesswoman. There were of course exceptions but no doubt there were other compensatory factors.

Barrantes wonders whether the blind, absolute, servile submission that the Filipina demonstrated to her lover was born of astuteness or came from indifference or frailty. Was it tacit recognition of her debility, of her lack of arms for battle? The famous "vos, cuidado" as in "whatever you wish," "it is up to you, Sir" "I am clay in your hands" (bahala ka) was her response to the most serious questions in the most transcendental and decisive moments. Was this the synthesis of her character; a matter of diplomacy or abnegation, cajolery or frankness, indifference or self control? (Poor Barrantes; he must have had problems. I’m tempted to comment but I’m afraid I’m going to end up being fed to the sharks by my sisters). According to the poor man only God knew.

He gives the example of a Spaniard who had fallen for a Filipina but wanted to make sure it was the right choice and so had gone back to Europe. Before leaving he wanted to see her one last time. He found her impassive, serene, without a tear in her eyes or a wrinkle in her forehead:

"So you don’t care if I leave," he exclaims, desperately.

"No."

"But…what if I don’t return?"

"You will."

"But…if I don’t?"

"It’s up to you."

He had a year to decide and was in Spain for three or four months in a robotic state, constantly thinking of her despite finding her words cold as marble but remembering "the flash of fire like a volcano in her eyes." He returned in six months having written ahead of time to go ahead with the wedding preparations. She, without any show of emotion, told him:

"I was sure you’d come back."

"But what if I had married someone else in Spain?" he answered furiously.

"It was up to you."

Barrantes knew few marriages happier than between Spaniards and Filipinas even if she did not seem particularly affectionate and even if he had actually met husbands who had died without hearing their incomparably virtuous wives affirm their love even once. Without doubt, according to him, the Spaniard had grown accustomed to the marble-like love of a statue like Pygmalion. If he took her back to Spain she’d swear that Spain was her country that she found it perfect, that the apex of her happiness was spending the summer in Paris and the winter in Madrid and that she did not wish to die in the Philippines. Still, with one pretext or another whether illness or illusory conveniences but which are really nostalgia, she would drag her husband back to the Philippines and this time it was for keeps.

The Spaniard married to a woman from the Philippines was almost certain of being buried in Paco (the cemetery of the Spaniards). Everything conspired to that end from the day of the wedding. The sweetness and passivity of his wife made life here very agreeable accompanied by a languor of the spirit and the flesh.

He classified the Filipina into three types: the India (I take this to mean the native woman) who was the matrix, the mold from which the others - the mestiza and the Creole - were formed. The Filipina Sangley apparently was in a category all by herself. By the 19th century the India had been reduced to the status of a wild flower that developed with extraordinary precocity but withered in an obscure and unknown existence. At the bottom of that obscurity was her abnegation and suffering! (One is tempted to say that not much has changed.)

As soon as she could reason which was usually early the India was accustomed to follow her mother, clinging to her skirt in search of a father who spent his time in the cockpit after which he played panguingui with a friend and spent the afternoon with his rooster between his legs. In the meantime his family would eat a fistful of rice or fast as on Good Friday which was frequent.

When she entered puberty since the India slept on the same mat as the rest of the family, under a common mosquito net, she began to learn many things which were revelations for the western girls of the same age. If fortune gave her good parents who accompanied her to fiestas and parties and did not allow her to wander around alone then she retained some perfume of that natural purity of her soul.

The Boy that met the King of Spain

WE ALL know King Philip II as the king after whom the Philippines was named. He was a staunch and ruthless defender of Catholicism; at the height of the Spanish Inquisition against Protestants and heretics; when a condemned man begged him for mercy, Philip reportedly replied, "If my own son were found guilty like you, I would personally accompany him to be burned at the stake."

He married the Catholic Queen of England, Mary Tudor, and together they made an unsuccessful attempt to convert England back to Catholicism. He did succeed, however, in wiping out all Protestants from Spain.

In 1587, Spain was the world's greatest superpower and King Philip II was the most powerful monarch on Earth. Only dignitaries, ambassadors and court officials had access to him. It was only recently that Jesuit historians uncovered documents showing that a Filipino native actually walked into Philip's court and spoke to him -- in Spanish. It happened on Dec. 15, 1587. That Filipino was Martin Sancho. He was only 10 years old. And he was a Kapampangan.

Most of all, his encounter with the King probably changed the entire history of the Philippines.

At that time, the Philippines was the most distant colony of Spain. If you were a Spaniard and you wanted to go to the Philippines, you had to cross the Atlantic Ocean for seven months, make a stopover in Mexico to recuperate, and then cross another ocean, the Pacific, for another eight months --granted that you didn't die from sickness, pirate attack, hurricanes, hunger and thirst, and mutiny.

In those early years of colonization, only a handful of Spanish soldiers, clergymen and traders opted to settle in the distant colony.

Manila, at that time, was nothing more than a cluster of huts surrounded by jungles and swamps and suspicious islanders. Many of these early settlers, homesick and bored to death, were agitating to return to Spain.

On April 19, 1586, they held a meeting in Manila to debate the merits of maintaining the colony under these harsh conditions. In the end, they agreed to stay but to ask the King for better incentives. Their envoy would be the Spanish priest Alonso Sanchez, but their secret weapon was Martin Sancho, the frail, sickly 10-year-old from Pampanga.

Born in 1576, barely five years after the Spaniards first landed in Manila and Pampanga, Martin Sancho had delighted the missionaries by reciting the entire Catechism in Spanish. He was brought to Manila where he created quite a sensation among the Spaniards. They agreed to ship him all the way to Spain and present him before King Philip II himself, as proof that the natives in the new colony were capable of evangelization and could be worthy, even spectacular, vessels of European erudition.

More significantly, the child prodigy would be presented as the best argument to convince the monarch not to abandon the Philippines.

And so Fr. Alonso Sanchez and his protégé, Martin Sancho, left Manila in May 1586, aboard the ship San Martin. They reached Acapulco in January 1587. After a four-month stopover in Mexico, they sailed across the Atlantic and reached Spain in December 1587.

On December 15, barely a few days after arriving, the priest and the boy were ushered in at the court of King Philip II. Martin Sancho was introduced, and as the King and other dignitaries leaned forward, the 10-year-old Kapampangan with his tiny voice breathlessly recited prayers, articles of faith, Church doctrine and the rest of the Catholic Catechism in impeccable Spanish.

When he was ushered out of the hall amid thunderous applause, Fr. Alonso Sanchez stepped forward to present his case for the Philippines, confident that the King's favorable response had been secured by the boy's performance.

Today, Martin Sancho remains unknown and unrecognized. Were it not for his appearance in the court of Philip II, Spain would probably have left the Philippines in 1587, not 1899, and the whole canvas of Philippine colonial history would have been wiped out completely.

The Jesuits in the Philippines do acknowledge Martin Sancho as the first Filipino to enter the Society of Jesus (not as an ordained priest, though, because natives were not allowed to become priests in those days). After his sensational appearance in the royal court, the boy was no longer returned to his parents in the Philippines, but was raised by Fr. Alonso in Spain. When he was 17, he was taken to Rome to join the Jesuit novitiate.

Afterwards, he returned to Spain and lived in the province of Toledo, finishing college in Murcia. He traveled to Mexico in 1599. By this time, his health had been deteriorating because he had contracted tuberculosis in the poorly heated Jesuit house in Rome.

In 1601, he finally returned to the Philippines with a group of Jesuit missionaries headed by Gregorio Lopez, reuniting with his Kapampangan parents whom he had left when he was only 10. Tragically, he died one month later. He was only 25.

His story remained hidden for centuries until historian Fr. Horacio de la Costa, SJ unearthed it. Dr. Luciano Santiago wrote about it in his book Kapampangan Pioneers in the Philippine Church, published by the Holy Angel University four years ago.

Jose Rizal, Juan Luna, and the Propagandists impressed Madrid with their brilliance and patriotism in the 1800s, but the highest forum they could reach was the Spanish Cortes. Three hundred years before them, a 10-year-old Kapampangan came within spitting distance with the King of Spain himself, and even made the royal jaw drop.

But the amazing Martin Sancho, for all his talent and luck, was a sad, lonely boy who was plucked out of his parents' home and spirited away from his land of birth at the age of 10, and made to live among strangers in a strange, cold country. The fact that he graciously shed off his glory days and shook off his huge heartache, to become the first Filipino Jesuit, is what makes Martin Sancho truly great.

http://www.sunstar.com.ph/static/pam...t.gallery.html

Botica Boie

The Original Soda Fountain
By Bambi Harper
May 21, 2005

AFTER THE WAR when Makati was perhaps only a glimmer of an idea in the mind of Col. Joseph McMicking, there was the Escolta and Avenida Rizal. This was where you went to buy your shoes of "charol" [patent leather] or plain leather and the other items needed for school. There was also the Lyric and Capitol theaters whose architecture at the time was in no way a topic of discussion. Neither was the demolition of pre-war buildings a cause for worry since all of them were still in use.

Going "downtown" as it was then called was a special treat, especially drinking a chocolate ice-cream soda at Botica Boie, possibly the memorable first encounter with a soda fountain of most Filipino children. The pharmacy was actually an institution even then, but few may have known that it had been in existence since 1830.

The business was started by a Spaniard, Dr. Lorenzo Negrao, when the Philippines was allowed to trade with countries other than Spain. It took at least a year for supplies to arrive, so you can imagine what happened if a patient really needed a certain medicine. Herr Heinrich Schmidt took over the enterprise 20 years later together with another German pharmacist, Friedrich Steck, locally known as Don Federico. Friedrich bought out Heinrich seven years later and acquired as another famous landmark, Botica de Sta. Cruz, which was still doing business in Plaza Goiti before the war. Then he bought Botica Sto. Cristo, which was located at 348 Calle Sto. Cristo in Binondo, and Botica de Cebu.

Aware of the potential of the essence of "ilang-ilang" flowers, Friedrich started distilling it for commercial use. His enterprise won the gold medal and highest awards at the expositions of Madrid in 1887 and St. Louis in 1904 under the trade mark of "Pablo Sartorius," his nephew's name. (The patent for "ilang-ilang" now belongs to YSL and it is sourced mainly from India.) It commanded the highest prices in the European market. A total of 2,504 kilos was exported in 1914.

Seeing the success of Steck, others came up with similar products but of inferior quality or produced even artificial oils, causing the market to falter. The market never recovered, especially since the places where "ilang-ilang" grew were converted into housing projects.

When Friedrich decided to return to Germany, he sold Botica Sta. Cruz to another pharmacist named Westhagen, who was married to Isabela Gonzales Tuason. Eventually his nephew, Paul Sartorius, whose main concern was the "ilang-ilang," bought the business and its three branches from his aunt in 1870. They remained in his hands for 10 years before he too returned to Germany.

Earlier in 1864, Reinhold Boie, another German pharmacist (haven't figured out yet why there were so many German pharmacists running around here), was employed by another Escolta pharmacy owner, W. von Borris. After three years Boie was sent to Vigan, the center of the indigo industry, where he opened a pharmacy using his own name due to some requirements of the law. Thus, the name Botica Boie actually started in Vigan in 1867. Somewhere in the National Archives should be the original grant issued to Boie by Spanish Governor-General Gandara to operate the store.

After two years, Borris sold Botica Boie to Paul Sartorious while Reinhold Boie purchased Botica Sto. Cristo. Eight years later, Boie sold it to Adolfo Eidner and returned to Germany.

In the meantime, Pablo Sartorious became ill and asked Boie to come back and run the business.

In 1884, Boie in partnership with Otto Ziegert bought the business from the Sartorius family for P52,000. The name was changed to Boie & Siegert. Botica Boie, which started in Vigan 17 years earlier, was sold to Dr. Alexander Schadenberg who was more interested in studying the minorities in the area than in pharmaceuticals. He did research on the Aetas and his mounted Negrito skeleton was exhibited in the Museum of Amsterdam. He traveled to Mindanao, ascended Mt. Apo, becoming the first European to do so. It was he who discovered the giant flower christened Rafflesia Schadenbergaiana, which attains a diameter of 80 centimeters, an honor he didn't appreciate because of its stench.

When Siegert died while on a trip to Germany, Boie took in Dr. Schadenberg as a partner until 1896 when both of them died, one before the outbreak of the revolution and the other in the midst of it in September. Both were buried in the cemetery of San Pedro Makati.

When World War II broke out, all the Germans running Botica Boie were in trouble. The members of the staff were deported to the United States in 1918 along with other German residents. The business was sold for P1,250,000.

In 1922, Botica Boie bought A. S. Watson & Co., a branch of the Hong-Kong store that apparently had been doing business on Escolta from 1880 to 1912 and had a branch in Cebu. Aside from medicines, surgical and scientific instruments, they now sold flavoring extracts, floor wax, toilet articles etc.

For 86 years Boie used to be located at 81-87 Escolta where the Lyric Theater now stands. In 1916, it moved to 95 Escolta, running back to Calle San Vicente. The two-story building was remodeled and another two stories added in 1920.

In 1925, the San Vicente building was torn down and a five-story concrete building was erected on the site for office, laboratory and other departments.

Some time in the 1960s the venerable Botica Boie, an institution, closed its doors. Nobody seems to have mourned its passing.