ITS HEYDAY WAS during the early part of the last century. The avenue was basically a magnet to everyone, from all walks of life. Upscale shops. Fashionable stores. Chic restaurants. And first class movie houses: Avenue Theater, Ever Theater, Galaxy Theater, Ideal Theater, Scala Theater, State Theater. Most of these movie houses (referred to as “standalone theatres”) were built during the 1930s and were designed by prominent architects who were, in the latter part of the century, declared as national artists. One basically found it hard to ignore these theatres after visiting the shops and restaurants. After the last world war, Manila strove hard to reconstruct its structures. Those in the avenue was able to restore themselves, back to their pre-war glory; they thus kept their supremacy over anyone else, save those located in Escolta Street, the favourite place of Manila’s rich and famous. By the time the decades of 1960 and 1970 had set in, challenges were being hurled against the avenue’s dominance. The challengers were led by Makati’s Ayala Avenue and Cubao’s Araneta Center. In the 1980s, the avenue—famously known as “Avenida” (its official name is “Rizal Avenue”, taken from the national hero Jose Rizal)---began to descend: it had started its trek on the dark road to perdition. The construction of an elevated railroad---locally known as Light Rail Transit (or “LRT”)---served as the signal of Avenida’s demise.
Thus, nowadays, what can one find in Avenida? Most of these theatres have now been demolished, if not turned into ghost-haunted structures. Some buildings are already more than half-century old: by today’s standards, they’re supposed to be condemned for demolition. The shops that line Avenida sell cheap merchandise: some were smuggled into the country (like re-conditioned TVs from Korea, unknown Chinese branded DVD players, sleek-looking, but definitely of inferior quality, stereo CD players, radios, etc.); others are pirated CDs and DVDs (both pornographic and non-pornographic); some are second-hand clothes, bags, household items, etc., that came from China and US (locally termed as “ukay-ukay”). Magazine stands occupy some areas of the sidewalk. Side-by-side with these stands are also some vendors, seated behind a small glass-box perched atop a rectangular wooden box: seen inside the glass-box are various cell phone units (some already outdated, some are new), still cameras, watches, etc. Buying any of these items comes with a caveat: be sure the vendor won’t be able to track you down, lest you’ll find yourself becoming an accessory to robberies or muggings: what you’ve bought were proceeds of those crimes (“You’re being charged of having violated the ‘anti-fencing’ law”). Convenience stores vie for customers vis-a-vis cheap eateries. Late vintage fastfood restaurants can be found on some corners. A handful of small-time department stores vie for attention too: these stores sell new, but unbranded, shoes, bags, apparels, etc., made from cheap materials that, after a month or so, will be worn out from normal use. Also, several banks get into the picture: they cater to the owners of the shops that still generate a killing in the area. Not to forget, too, are the pawnshops: they’ve shrewdly added the “tele-money” service that easily gets hordes of customers...
[Note: Read the complete story in the book "You Filibini?" Stories and Other Writings by Amador F. Brioso, Jr., published May 2010]
