New Guy

"Magsaysay is my guy!" Filipino voters had shouted during the election campaign. Last week, grinning like a schoolboy and clasping his hands together in the traditional greeting of the prize ring, "the Guy" (as Filipinos have come to call Ramon Magsaysay) stood triumphantly in the broiling sun of Manila's waterfront park waiting to be inaugurated as the third President of the Philippines Republic. A crowd of more than 200,000 greeted him as he drove up with outgoing President Elpidio Quirino in the official black bulletproof Cadillac. The two stepped out and stood in silence as a band played the national anthem. Then, as Quirino stood back, ready to go off to his farm and retirement, the crowd surged forward in a roar of welcome to Magsaysay.

"Nothing Is Impossible." Dressed in his usual informal outfit--a native sport shirt and pants--sweating freely from the sun and a nagging attack of flu, Magsaysay stood cheerfully waving to friends and saluting the colors as a 40-minute long parade of helmeted Korean veterans, smartly stepping bands and lumbering Sherman tanks filed by. When the last vehicle had passed, Magsaysay waved the cops aside and the delirious crowd surged forward to engulf the presidential reviewing stand. The photographers' platform swayed like a ship at sea and two cameramen fell off, a microphone stand was trampled into a pretzel. With his people breathing almost down his neck, the new President took his oath of office. From a U.S. warship in the harbor and a battery of Philippines artillery on the hill, two 21-gun salutes burst forth simultaneously. Then Magsaysay launched into his inaugural address.

The speech stressed the need for honesty, hard work and clean government, for more regard for the people, and for land reform. From many politicians the Filipinos had heard the words used as cores for resounding platitudes; from Magsaysay they came with earnestness and conviction. Cheer after cheer interrupted the speech. "I have been warned," said the new President, "that too much is expected of this administration, that our people expect the impossible. For this young and vigorous nation of ours nothing is impossible." The crowd went wild with enthusiasm, then, as if to prove his point, the new President blandly ignored the police who were busily clearing a path to his car, and stepped out into the heart of the crowd.

For long moments after that, Ramon Magsaysay all but disappeared from sight. Occasionally his head would bob up like a swimmer's over the surging sea of humanity while official loudspeakers blared: "Please, please, we don't want to mangle the new President." At last Magsaysay was lifted to the shoulders of some of his constituents while others tried to reach up and wipe the sweat from his streaming brow. When he reached his car, one sleeve of his sport shirt had been torn off. His pants were saved only by the safety pins with which he had foresightedly fastened them to his undershirt.

Come One, Come All. At Malacanan Palace, the presidential residence, Magsaysay ordered the gates thrown open to all comers. Invitations for an official lunch had been issued to 50; the palace staff had prudently prepared for 200 guests; 5,000 showed up. In an atmosphere reminiscent of Andrew Jackson's inaugural at Washington in 1829, unbidden guests pressed ten deep around Magsaysay's table, watched every mouthful as it disappeared into the presidential mouth. A half dozen strangers sat down at the First Lady's table. Still others surged around a heaped buffet which in five minutes stood bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard.

By next morning, word had flashed through Manila that Magsaysay was keeping open house. People flocked to the palace. Whole families picnicked on the flower beds; kids shied pop bottle caps at shimmering chandeliers inside the palace; mothers nursed their babies on satin-covered furniture in the drawing rooms. Still racked with fever, the President stood by shaking hand after hand until aides whisked him off to the presidential yacht in Manila Harbor for a breath of air. Police estimated that 50,000 people had come to Malacanan Palace during the two days. Said one newsman: "The Communist leader Taruc used to brag that if the people would follow him, he would bring them to Malacanan. It looks as though Magsaysay has done it first."

No Time for Commas. Meanwhile, the new President had begun to perform the chores of his new office with characteristic whirlwind energy--swearing in new Cabinet ministers (mostly old pols), mobilizing advisers both American and Filipino (a much higher grade of men) and firing orders like a drill sergeant.

Magsaysay got to work by 5 a.m., and told his Cabinet he expected them to work 20 hours a day when necessary. He announced that Malacanan would henceforth be known as the "official residence," not the palace; he would be called Mister, not Excellency; and he and all top officials would immediately publish a full statement of their assets. (His own: $13,179.) He set up a "Complaints and Action Commission." He dictated an executive order that complaint telegrams may be sent for 10 centavos, or free should that be too much for a poor man to pay. He wanted to sign it right away, and when told a draft would have to be drawn up, exploded: "Dammit, the people's problems won't wait for commas!"

"Get the Carpenters." He still flaunted his U.S. connections, and brushed aside all talk of a cut in U.S. aid with the sim ple protest, "But we've got to fix up the Philippines. After that," he added,"we can invite people over here from Indonesia and places like that and say, 'See what our American friends have helped us to do.' Then we can show them that we're not just an American puppet."

On the presidential yacht two days after the inauguration, he wiped out the Philippines Marine Corps with one casual remark to Corps Commander Commodore Jose Francisco. "Commodore," he said, "I'm going to convert your marines into an engineer battalion. I want them to learn how to install irrigation pumps and pipes and go out and help people in the barrios. Let's start with San Luis, that's Taruc's home town. Let's go in there and make that a real model village."

A moment later, President Magsaysay discussed a reform he had already accomplished. "You know," he said, "Quirino had his bed stuck up on a special dais. Oh boy, the first night I slept in it, I got up to go to the washroom and almost fell off. Next morning I said, 'Get the carpenters,' and they took away the dais. What a thing--having your bed on a dais."

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