He always loved to write

By D.C. Ranatunga

Meeting a friend after 30 years was indeed a wonderful experience. It happened in Melbourne recently. We were colleagues at Lake House in the 1950s and continued our friendship even after both of us moved out of what was then the larger of the two newspaper companies.

‘Manny’ to his friends and colleagues. E.C.T. Candappa to the readers. ‘Manny’ from his first names Emmanuel Christopher Thomas, was among the top grade of feature writers in our era and his writings in the Sunday Observer were keenly awaited by the readers. He quit and freelanced after Lake House was taken over and was fortunate to continue his journalistic career in Australia. He has retired after 50 years in journalism but is still in the mood to write, though his movements are restricted now. 

Though confined to a wheelchair, he is cheerful and full of spirits. “I am 86 now,” he said as we met. He hasn’t changed much and unlike me, he has a full head of hair – well-groomed but grey (better say ‘white’), of course. He is the same amiable person I first met 50 plus years ago. 

I went to see him with Shyamon Jayasinghe, remembered for his classic performance as ‘pothe guru’ in ‘Maname’, and Manny had so many incidents and happenings in the old days to relate. He migrated in 1987 with his wife, Yvonne and four children but has bravely faced the untimely death of Yvonne and seen to it that the children grew up as useful citizens.

We first enjoyed the lovely Christmas cake we were offered and thereafter it was one story after another. He spoke of his efforts to publish a few books after coming to Australia in addition to his work in the newspapers.

While his daughter Nimmi started collecting the books to show us, he told us how Neville Weeraratne (all three of us – Manny, Neville and I – were on the Sunday Observer features desk in the mid-1960s) who was editing a weekly Catholic newspaper, ‘The Advocate’ in Melbourne arranged for him to get a job as a senior journalist in the paper when he landed under the Employer Nomination Scheme. After the paper folded up Manny had continued as a journalist until the departure of Yvonne when he thought it was time to quit. 

In the memoirs ‘Headlines and Deadlines’ (2009), he says: “With the death of my wife of 29 years at the age of 59, my journalistic career of 50 years also came to an end. I decided at that stage it was time anyway to call a halt, to stop chasing stories and take an extended break for one never really stops once the bug bites you. I am still tempted when I meet an interesting person or a story cries out to be put together to ask myself wistfully: ‘Now where can I send this?’ It is also easy as one slows down to say: ‘Let’s go. It’s too much trouble’.”

He adds that right throughout his journalistic career “the deeper writer in me was finding expression in poems, short stories, plays for stage and radio, in essays, and in one long novel”. He has at least written eight books – both prose and verse.

The long novel

We were intrigued when he started telling us about the novel ‘The Palm of His Hand’ he had written about the assassination of Prime Minister Bandaranaike. He had thought about it about 10 years after he came to Australia. Having worked out the skeleton for the book, he had gone to Sri Lanka with the hope of meeting some of the key characters from whom he could get authentic information. 

“I was very fortunate when Mrs. Bandaranaike agreed to see me. She was willing to talk to me and I got what I wanted,” Manny said. I am not quite sure whether anyone else had got her side of the story or what she had to say about that fateful morning on 26 September 1959.

His meeting with Dr. Anthonis, the surgeon who operated on the Prime Minister after he was shot, was just the opposite. “He wasn’t cooperative at all. Seeing the little recorder I had in my hand he first asked me to switch it off and then started talking to me. He went on and on but didn’t want me to write anything. So the discussion went on for about half an hour. I listened patiently. At the end of it he asked me to turn on the recorder and he virtually repeated what he had told me.” Manny couldn’t believe it. Possibly Dr. Anthonis was impressed by Manny’s patience and genuineness in wanting to write an authentic story.

The book had been published by an Indian publisher in 2003 but for some reason, it has not been widely distributed. He didn’t have spare copies to give us.

Manny was a lucky journalist who went through the whole gamut in a newspaperman’s career. He was a sub-editor, news reporter, parliamentary reporter and Lobby Correspondent (all in Daily News) and feature writer (Sunday Observer). He was ‘a multi-faceted’ features man. He was superb interviewer, a book reviewer and a critic of dramas and films. 

He was quite happy to meet Sinhala drama producers and film directors and to see Sinhala plays and films. I remember accompanying him for breakfast meetings with Professor G.P. Malalasekera at his residence at Longden Place (later named Malalasekera Mawatha) once a week when we serialised his life story as an ambassador. Both of us once visited Sunil Santha at his Dehiyagatha residence when he was down and out and had a most cordial chat. The copy he wrote was extremely interesting.

Covering Parliament

I recalled how Manny and I were both covering parliamentary proceedings – he for the Daily News and myself for the Dinamina. (The Lower House – the House of Representatives – was then at Galle Face. The Upper House – the Senate – was at the present Defence Ministry premises in Fort.) 

The press box adjacent to the opposition benches had room for six to sit at a table and another two or three could sit behind. We had to be ‘properly clad’ in coat and tie. (We used to keep a coat in the locker each reporter was allotted. Just before the parliamentary sittings at two in the afternoon we used to walk in the hot sun after lunch from Lake House, pull out the coat from the locker and wear it for the rest of the afternoon till sometimes late into the night if there were long sittings.

In ‘Headlines and Deadlines’, Manny devotes a few pages for in parliamentary reporting. Referring to his days, he says: “…Dudley Senanayake, the gentle Cambridge-educated son of the country’s first Prime Minister, was heading the UNP Government, facing a phalanx of Marxists of all hues and crisis in the opposition benches. These were by far the more flamboyant characters in the House.

“The elegant Sir Francis Molamure with a very public private life had been succeeded by Sir Albert Peiris as Speaker.

“What a thrill it was to sit in the Press Box and listen at such close quarters to the national heroes and to the orators of the Galle Face Green.”

He sums up his six-year experience covering Parliament: “Highlights during my stint in Parliament include the meteoric rise of S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike, the rise and fall of many governments, dramatic cross-overs, marathon sessions and marathon filibusters, mighty orators interspersed with mightily mundane, humdrum and downright boring sessions. Speaking of which the mind goes to the somnolent atmosphere of the Senate with the soporific droning of the President, and later at Kotte shattered by a bomb attack in which some MPs were wounded.”

After a long chat when we felt it was time for him to relax, we left. He gave a copy of ‘Headlines and Deadlines’ each to both of us which we got him to autograph. 

As I opened the book I found a touching dedication which read: ‘To Yvonne….for walking beside me and holding my hand through 30 of my 50 years in journalism sharing the joys and bearing part of the load when it grew too heavy, making it easier to carry and dispelling the gloom with the sunshine of your smile.’