TITO Sotto is fretting about his reputation. Since he was elected Senate President, he wants to play the role of a principled, morally pure Big League statesman. One can imagine him pacing the shiny floors of his palatial home and muttering to himself: “Something has got to be done.” He can live with the accusations of plagiarism, the criticisms leveled against him for his virulent opposition to birth control and for his crass chauvinism, but he will not stand to be reminded of the past, especially that sordid matter concerning the gang rape and later, death of a teen porn starlet named Pepsi Paloma.

Recently, Sotto decided to write to the Philippine Daily Inquirer, demanding that news articles alleging his involvement be removed from the web. The articles were written by a Filipino-American, California-based lawyer named Rodel Rodis. “I believe there was malicious imputation of a crime against me,” Sotto whined. “These kinds of unverified articles have been negatively affecting my reputation for the longest time,” he moaned. Sotto wants the past forgotten.





So, let’s refresh our collective memory.

According to his résumé posted on the Senate website, Sotto went to the Colegio de San Juan Letran in Manila where he obtained his only academic qualification, an “AB English” on an unspecified date, although it must have been in the mid-1960s since he’s a 1948 baby. His rise to power, fame, and riches is impressive given that his formal education was so slight. He claims he went to Harvard but he only attended a short course titled “Executive Program for Leaders in Development” in 2000, which does not make him a “Harvard man.”

Our man Tito is far too loose, and cool, and fun, and showbiz to ever be a nerd. He was the guy in the mid-1970s that every girl wanted to date. He was square-jawed and snake-hipped and slick. His flares nicely hugged his ass and he sang love songs and dance songs like the Bee Gees. With his brother and friends, he started a band called VST and Co. and got people dancing to the local version of disco known as the “Manila Sound.” Tito was the band’s singer and songwriter who scored hits such as “Tayo Magsayawan” and “Awitin Mo at Isasayaw Ko.” For a few glorious years, discomania gripped the country. With other bands like The Boyfriends and Hagibis, VST and Co. supplied an unlikely sound track to Martial Law, authoritarian rule and its terrors.

Manila Sound was easy listening. It was upbeat, melodious, catchy and banal. Though emulating American disco, it possessed none of the latter’s raw sexiness, sadness and poetry. Think of Odyssey’s soulful 1977 hit “Native New Yorker,” which talks of love as “just a passing word/It’s the thought you had in a taxi cab that got left on the curb/When he dropped you off at East 83rd.” These are lyrics that speak of tough, vulnerable city women looking to escape the madness and badness of life. Compare this with the 1979 hit “I-Swing Mo Ako,” written by VST and Co. for Sharon Cuneta, who was then just 13 years old. The song made Cuneta a star. Reflecting her age, Cuneta’s voice on the track was soft and tremulous, her appeal couched in innocence. The lyrics, a bland mix of Tagalog and English, are faintly erotic: “At sa tugtuging ito/nais ko’ y i-deep mo ako/So swing, i-swing mo ako.”

Sweet, doe-eyed, fresh-faced, young girls were fodder for disco-kings like Tito Sotto and his showbiz gang. These girls were pimped, often by their own mothers, to a big bucks pornographic film industry that coincided with disco. “Bomba” films were distinguished by gratuitous nudity and simulated sexual intercourse. Released two years before the US porn film “Deep Throat,” the Tagalog film “Uhaw” (1970), starring Merle Fernandez, gave rise to the soft-porn actress of mainstream cinema. These actresses were called “bold” because their on-screen appearances were notable for bare breasts, buttocks and sex scenes.

Pepsi Paloma’s real name was Delia Duenas Smith. Her mother was Filipino; her father, who abandoned his young family, was an American. Pepsi was 14 years old in 1982 when she starred in “Brown Emmanuelle,” her first bomba film, in which she appeared, scandalously, fully nude. She was one of the so-called “soft drink beauties” managed by the archetypal sleazy talent manager Rey de la Cruz. Her other underage stable mates included Coca Nicolas, Sarsi Emmanuel, and the not-yet-renamed Myra Manibog. They would go on to star in a host of soft porn films, including the smuttily titled “Snake Sisters” (1984), “Bomba Queen” (1985) and “Room 69” (1985).

By 1982, Tito Sotto and his barkada — his brother Vic, their friends Joey de Leon and Richie d’Horsie — had moved on from disco and were hosts of a new hit noontime TV show “Eat, Bulaga!” The stars of popular TV sit-coms and comedy films, they were swaggering celebrities in their 30s and used to getting what they wanted.

In July 1982, Pepsi met Vic Sotto, Joey de Leon and Richie d’Horsie in Quezon City’s notorious Sulô Hotel, a place where under-the-table deals are struck. She, along with another bold starlet named Guada Guarin, went for a snack with the three men. Pepsi later recounted what transpired in a letter she sent to the then Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile.

According to Pepsi’s testimony, Joey first molested her and Guarin, after which Pepsi was gang-raped by Vic, Joey and Richie. Guarin stated she witnessed the rape. Pepsi survived the ordeal and tried to take the men to court. Enrile referred the case to his senior law partner, Rene Cayetano. This is where Tito Sotto is said to enter the story. He allegedly compelled her to drop the charges by intimidating her. Pepsi claimed that during his meeting with her, he produced a gun and placed it on the table. Sotto had drawn up an “Affidavit of Desistance” and obtained her signature, although some newspaper reports stated that it was Pepsi’s mother who signed the document on her behalf.

Until the affidavit was signed, Vic, Joey and Richie gave interviews strenuously denying the rape. They claimed it was a “gimmick” concocted by Pepsi’s manager, Rey de la Cruz. They filed libel charges against Rey, Pepsi and Guarin. After Tito Sotto’s intervention, however, Vic, Joey and Richie were let off the hook. Three months after the event, in an apparent change of heart, the trio went on to admit that they did something wrong. They issued a public apology. Their statement was broadcast on live TV and was published in The People’s Journal on October 13, 1982. They admitted to an “error,” and said they wanted to move on. “We therefore ask you to find it in your heart to pardon us for the wrong which we have done against you.”

Pepsi did not pursue her complaint and the case did not go to court.

The case, replete with salacious details, sparked a media furor, which Rey de la Cruz was accused of exploiting. He, like many other talent managers of the time, was known for “gimmicks,” orchestrating events that were designed to attract media attention and gain free publicity for the girls they represented. The press was cynical towards Rey. He reportedly telephoned film producers asking when they would cast Pepsi. Indeed, a film, supposedly based on the events was quickly released that same year. The film was titled “The Victim” and Pepsi played herself. It was shown in the Manila International Film Festival in 1983 and made her a star. But media attention and gossip from film critics served to cast her testimony as a true-life rape victim into doubt. Rey vehemently insisted that Pepsi had been telling the truth. Decades later, Rey was murdered by unknown killers.

Pepsi died in 1985 at the age of 17. She was found hanged in the bedroom of her home. The cop trampled all over the scene, found her personal diary that lay conveniently near her, and promptly shut the case without further investigation. Suicide, he declared, and moved on.

Pepsi had starred in nine movies, simulated an untold number of f**king scenes, and perhaps had evolved a tough outer shell. Babette Corcuerra, Pepsi’s new manager, disputed the suicide verdict. Pepsi was enjoying professional success, making good money and looking forward to her 18th birthday, Corcuerra stated in press interviews. Maybe, too, Pepsi wanted to press for justice and was no longer content to remain silent.

Senate President Tito Sotto continues to call Pepsi’s rape into question. He continues to call it a publicity gimmick. He even calls it “the original fake news,” and wants the story to disappear.

We know that Pepsi wrote a letter to Enrile. We know that Rene Cayetano was named her legal counsel. We know that Tito Sotto issued her an affidavit of desistance. We know that the Philippine press relentlessly covered the Pepsi case for months from August 1982. We know that all the key people involved—Tito, Vic, Joey de Leon, Richie d’Horsie, Rey de la Cruz, Guada Guarin, and Pepsi herself, gave many interviews.

In writing this column, I consulted newspaper and magazine sources (The Philippine Daily Express, August 1982 and June-July 1985; The Times Journal, June 1985; Parade Magazine, August 1982; Philippine Daily Inquirer, November 2012, March 2014, October 2017; Esquire Philippines, May 2018); and blogs and internet news sites: https://stuartsantiago.com/senator-sotto-pepsi-paloma/; https://stuartsantiago.com/enrile-sotto-pepsi-rh-2/; https://news.abs-cbn.com/halalan2016/entertainment/03/03/16/tito-sotto-pepsi-paloma-scandal-was-a-gimmick

The paper records are on file in libraries and archives all over the world and can never be expunged. Tito Sotto thought he had fixed the problem, but he’s up against history.

rachelagreyes@gmail.com