104

These two bishop’s chairs come down from the collection of a very discerning and judicious collector who began in the 1970s. The backs have crests of conch shells topped by unfurling acanthus leaves terminating in “catmon” flowers (the larger terminals in the center are C–scrolls suggesting p o m e g r a n a t e s ) underscored by ovals flanked by descending leaves and flowers. The large undulating arms terminating in C–scrolls are bordered by gadroons and supported by truncated balusters. The seats have aprons of stylized “catmon” flowers and the stylized urn feet are interpreted as turned balusters. Originally, they were upholstered in red velvet and passementerie, as seen in surviving examples at the San Agustin church museum in Intramuros. These bishop’s chairs are emblematic of the taste of the highly–esteemed antique dealer Antonio Martino, known simply as “Tony,” who in the 1970s was one of the influential “Four Winds” of the bustling Ermita antique trade along with Romeo Bauzon, Willy Versoza and Jean–Louis Levy, and Terry Baylosis. The dashing Tony was a respected connoisseur and authority on antique furniture and wooden and ivory santos. He was the “Kilabot ng mga Peke” (“Terror of the Fakes”) as his eagle eyes could easily spot the restorations, the best fakes and reproductions, be they furniture or santos. Overly restored and inferior antiques could never pass muster with him. By the 1980s, Tony Martino had built up a serious collection of antique furniture and santos remarkable for their original condition, patina, and sterling provenance --- rivaled only by those of equally serious and passionate collectors Romeo Bauzon, Paulino Que, Antonio Gutierrez, and Romeo Jorge. In his younger years, Tony looked like the handsome Hollywood actor Omar Sharif (“Dr Zhivago”); he continued to look good even as a senior. He dressed well, clothes hung well on his lean frame; perhaps because of his Italian ancestry, he had “sprezzatura” or stylish nonchalance in dressing. He also had sardonic Italian wit, something he shared with his scintillating aunts, the sisters Marie–Theresa Gallardo Lammoglia–Virata (“Bebe”) and Ana Maria Gallardo Lammoglia–Harper (“Bambi”). Tony could be very naughty: one of his most memorable anecdotes was a visit as a young antique dealer in the early 1970s to the legendary collector Felipe Kleimpell Hidalgo at the latter’s more–than–maximalist residence on R Hidalgo street in Quiapo district, very near the San Sebastian church. When shown Felipe’s master bedroom with its great canopied matrimonial bed entirely of kamagong wood, Tony was fixated for a while, mouth agape. Felipe presumed that his visitor was impressed by the great bed, as with everyone else, but the ribald Tony was really thinking: “How many couples could be having fun on that bed at the same time???” Two people closest to Tony Martino shared their fond memories of the man: Jose Martino (“Seppo”), Tony’s son: 1.“The first time Papa and I got into a conversation in front of the beloved “Nuestra Senora del Rosario de Hogar,” he told me that he had not acquired it in its entirety like that, he had to augment it with bits and pieces from here and there. I was surprised to find out that it was he himself who chose the different pieces that made the whole that it is today. This was at the height of our participation in the annual IGMP Intramuros Grand Marian Procession, I believe it was 2007–2008. That specific time in my life, before 2010, was when Papa and I would mostly play chess, scrabble, or paint random stuff together. It was the first time he had shared his passion for antiques, and the first time I ever heard him talk about his collection so enthusiastically. I remember complaining that we had been in the prayer room for an hour or so, and if I could excuse myself to play outside the house. Now I can only look back, and wish that I had stayed to listen to his stories just a little longer.” 2. “In high school, Papa and I found ourselves in a bit of a situation. The household previously occupied by three, had withered down to two, due to unfortunate circumstances. Many of you may be familiar with the story, as it was a very dark blotch on our family history. This was the time he had nothing to rely on except his collection, which he had amassed over the years. This collection became our only hope for survival – and it has not disappointed. Even Papa himself was surprised by how much his collection protected us by keeping hunger at bay, and a roof over our heads. It was during my junior year of high school when he sat me down and explained some numbers to me, that I was made aware of just how much our foundations depended solely on his collection. A week before I was sat down, he had found and given me an old brass pocket watch, that Papa himself claimed did not work, the watch face frozen. As if moved by fate (but assuming it was by my tinkering, although it was timely in its own way), the watch started moving. Consider it deus ex machina, but that period held meaning in my life. I told Papa about it and he agreed that perhaps it was a significant sign that we just had to keep moving and we would get through the situation eventually.” 3. “Perhaps the fondest memory of I have of Papa, was on a very bland afternoon merely a couple of years ago. I was still working the graveyard shift and I had bought a gunpla kit (a toy model that you meticulously assemble through hundreds of small parts to build a robotic figurine) and showed it to him. He was amazed as I had spent roughly nine hours working on that kit, a few of those hours in front of him while he was reading the newspaper in the afternoon. The first thing he asked was: “Where do you get the patience for that? You’re usually incredibly impatient.” As we were complete opposites in most things, I told him that this might be to me what antiques were to him. We then placed a wager that if I could continue building these small figurines, without losing my patience or getting bored, he would give me any of the older pocket watches that he had at the time.” “We were very very different, Tito Toto. He was a father, to an unexpected son. But we did have peculiar similarities. We were collectors alike; him in fine arts and antiquity, myself in modern collectibles and technology. We were impatient in things that were uninteresting, both with very short tempers. We also operated on our own time – which caused a lot of arguments because we were essentially similar, but with different outlooks altogether. It’s the constant arguing and disagreements that make us miss him more. Even through all those, I still knew I could count on him, and that he was my father.” Ana Maria Gallardo Lammoglia–Harper (“Bambi”), Tony’s aunt: “Tony was the son of my first cousin Nicola Lammoglia Martino. In all the years I knew him we never argued or quarreled. He was always ready to help and extremely supportive.” “Bleeding heart type which a lot of people took advantage. He was also very devoted to Our Lady.” “He paid his partner’s debts even when he didn’t need to. Miss him lots.”