Angelicum School's Lizares Mansion is 'mine'

I considered the Lizares Mansion, now part of the Angelicum School, as my own. I was enamored with the mansion. It was the house I would like to look at but I was afraid to live in.

My romance with the Lizares Mansion started when I was about six years old. At that time, I was already a voracious reader. But I didn’t like to read children’s books. I read mature stuff, such as the Philippines Free Press, a politically hard-hitting national magazine. I liked its articles on politicians it called Tongressmen (Congressmen) and Senatongs (Senators) in reference to the politicians’ penchant for grease money. But the section I loved most was the True Horror Stories because I found them exciting. One of the stories I read in this section was about the Lizares Mansion and its owner.

My kids, nieces, and a nephew in front of 'my' Lizares mansion in Tabuc Suba, Jaro. The mansion is now part of the Angelicum School of Iloilo (ASIL).

According to the story, the owner of the mansion, who was long dead, appeared at night at a specific period. And it was an unusual apparition. Parts of the owner’s body would fall from the ceiling. They wiggled on the floor and would later form the complete person of the owner. He would then stand up - a tall, handsome, yet old mestizo. He walked to where his cane was located and proceeded to the landing of the winding staircase. Under the staircase there appeared a fire. He then walked around the fire as if looking for something. Then, he and the fire disappeared in thin air. And everything went back to normal as if nothing had happened. The owner might have kept something important under the stairs.

I loved the story. I considered it my 'own' because the setting was in Iloilo. I was born in Iloilo and, at that time, I had never gone outside of Iloilo. It was the first time I had read the word 'Iloilo' in a national magazine. So I felt proud. At that time, to me the Lizares mansion was Iloilo.

It was understandable then if I craved to actually see the Lizares mansion. The opportunity came when my grandmother planned to go to Leganes to see a faith healer. I heard that the road to Leganes passed in front of the mansion so I begged my grandmother to take me with her.

The PUJ to Leganes was sardine-packed. But I craned my neck and looked for whatever opening in between torsos, heads, and baggage of the passengers. Then there it was, my mansion – grand, white, opulent, and unreachable – a stark contrast to the rice paddies that surrounded it. The fast PUJ gave me a flitting image of what the word 'baronial' really meant.

My fascination with my mansion didn't wane as a grew up. I learned that it was built by the Lizares-Gamboa family when the sugar industry was booming. When the sugar barons of Iloilo transferred their residences near their vast estates in Negros, the mansion was mostly left to the caretakers. From then on, it served different purposes - as torture chamber by the Japanese, a haunted and feared sentinel of phantoms and ghosts, and a sleazy vice den of the gamblers. It was later acquired by the Dominican Fathers which used it as a seminary and later as rectory of the Angelicum School of Iloilo (ASIL).

The first time I went near the mansion, almost touching it, was when I was already a professional, when I had my vacation from abroad. My nieces were studying at the Angelicum School and I went there to pick them up after their classes. I went early to the school to quench my desire to see upclose my mansion. After parking my owner-type jeep, I crossed the lawn and went near the outside of the main living area. It was expansive. The sheer curtains revealed that the living area was converted into some sort of a chapel. I peeked for the ceiling. I couldn’t see it. There could be an electric fan inside. The curtains were moving. So, I thought that the story could be true. No one could stay long in this area, so the new owners used it as a prayer room.

I walked towards the tubular wing housing the winding staircase. Its glass walls were covered with lace curtains. But I could see the outline of the stairs. It could be the grandest staircase in the Philippines. I looked at the area below the stairs. The curtains were heavy but I could pinpoint the area where the owner could have walked around the fire. The curtains were again moving. I could sense that there were eyes behind the curtains looking at me. I imagined the tall, handsome, and old mestizo standing underneath the stairs and looking at me. I felt cold air enveloping me as my hairs stood at attention. I hurriedly walked back to where the yayas waited for their wards. Now I felt safe.

The only time a Lizares scion crossed my path was when I was in 4th year high school. I was one of the three delegates of our school to the Children’s Museum and Library Inc. convention held at the Teachers’ Camp in Baguio City. Actually, we were delegates of Panay Island as we were the only delegates from Panay. There were hundreds of delegates from Luzon. Only a few were from outside Luzon, so I gravitated towards the Ilonggo speaking delegates from Negros.

One day a friend from Negros asked me to accompany him to retrieve some stuff he had forgotten. Then we went out of Teachers’ Camp. He explained to me that he was living outside the camp as they had a house just across the street. As we neared their house, I saw the sign atop the gate: Lizares Residence. Then I remembered that my friend’s surname was Lizares and that the Lizareses of Iloilo, just like the other rich hacienderos of Iloilo, settled in Negros to be near their vast landholdings.

When we entered the house, I was dumb-struck. It was awesome. It was the first time I saw such a grand house. I thought I was outside the Philippines.

‘Pre, just wait for me here.’ He pointed at the velvet-covered sofa. ‘If you like to eat, the ref is there. Feel at home. The caretaker is outside.’ He turned his back to go up to the bedroom. The stairs were made of hardwood. There were many antique bulos (wooden carvings of rice gods, like in left photo). The lamps were exquisite. The carpets looked too expensive for my cheap borrowed shoes. In my plebeian surroundings, floors were made of bamboo slats. This one was tiled. My jaw was about to drop.

‘Pre, where are your folks?’ I asked as I sunk into the soft sofa. I gazed at the stone walls which led to the hardwood ceiling. ‘Pang-Baguio gid’, I thought.

‘Pre, my folks are in Bacolod. But they are coming. Hope you will meet them.’ He disappeared from view.

Then, the site of the ceiling flooded me with childhood scenes – legs, torsos, arms, and heads falling from the ceiling; they wiggled on the floor in front of me, and then they formed into the persons of his folks, and they would say Hi to me. This was a Lizares residence, right? Would it be different from my Lizares mansion? The opulent surrounding suddenly turned musty and creeping, as if Dracula lived here. The curtains made the room gloomy and dim. I thought I heard a door creaking and distant chains scraping the floors. All the bulols seemed to stare at me, their eyes glinting. The cold Baguio air filled the house and my hairs stood on end.

‘Pre, wait! I’ll go with you!’, I shouted as I ran towards where he disappeared. The door to his room was slightly ajar. I saw him skimming at convention papers atop his bed. I carefully approached him. My hairs were still standing. I was trying to dismiss the thought that he was a ghost, possibly a bulol in human clothes. Then he turned his head towards me and gave a fearful cry. I startled him. He thought I was a ghost.

Note: This is a repost; originally posted on 12/29/08 3:47AM @