Notes on the “Cry” of August 1896

Jim Richardson
March 2019

Introduction

The start of the revolution against Spain has been officially commemorated in recent
years as “The Cry of Pugad Lawin.”  The supposed site of “Pugad Lawin” is situated in
Brgy. Bahay Toro, Quezon City, and is memorialized with a tableau of life-sized, oddly
rigid Katipuneros tearing their cedulas.

The inscription on the marker at the site says that “In

the vicinity of this place, Andres Bonifacio and about
one thousand Katipuneros met on the morning of
August 23, 1896 and decided to launch the revolution
against the Spanish government in the Philippines.
They affirmed their decision by tearing their cedulas,
symbols of the enslavement of the Filipinos. This was
the first cry of the oppressed people against the
Spanish nation, and was given force by means of
arms.”  In 1896, according to the National Historical
Commission (NHCP), the house and yard of Juan
Ramos had stood on this site.

Historians agree the precise date and location are not vitally important. They concur, a
few mavericks excepted, that the “Cry” took place between August 23 and 26, 1896 in
what was then the municipality of Caloocan.  The doubt about the exact site could be put
aside, as Ambeth Ocampo has suggested, simply by calling the occasion the “Cry of
Caloocan”.  But this fudge would not end the controversy.  Official history demands
precise dates to commemorate and exact places to mark, and historians feel uneasy that
decades of debate have not produced any clear answers. Pinpointing the “Cry” is a
challenge they have failed to meet. Nicolas Zafra voiced such a view back in 1960.  The
detail of the “Cry” might seem insignificant in relation to the broader sweep of events, he
acknowledged, and indeed it might seem “pointless and unprofitable” to pursue the
matter, but the historical profession had a duty to ensure the facts of public history were
as accurate as humanly possible.  Settling the problem, he said, would redound to the
“credit, honor and glory of historical scholarship in our country.”  

These notes aim firstly to clarify the issues of geography and terminology that have
complicated the “Cry” debate over the years; secondly to summarize the current state of
knowledge about the “Cry”; and thirdly, at some length, to discuss the long evolution and
the credibility of the official version of events, namely (i) that the “Cry” took place on
August 23, 1896; (ii) at a site known as Pugad Lawin, situated in what today is Bahay
Toro, Quezon City; (iii) which in 1896 had been the house and yard of Juan Ramos.  

Geography 

The barrios, hamlets and farmsteads where the revolution began were all within the
municipality of Caloocan in the province of Manila.  The municipality was large, but
sparsely inhabited. Its total population in 1896 was tallied at just 7,829. Of this number,
2,694 lived in the town (población), 977 lived in the largest barrio, Balintawak, and the
remaining 4,158 were scattered in ten other barrios – Baesa, Bagobantay, Bahay Toro,
Banlat, Culiat, Kangkong, Loma, Marulas, Talipapa, and Tangke. 

No detailed maps of the municipality are known to have survived from the Spanish era,
and perhaps none ever existed.  The barrio boundaries of the time are said to have been
sketchy, and are now forgotten. The terrain, moreover, was unremarkable, a mix of
farmland and rough grassland, talahib and cogon, with few natural landmarks.  Many of
the sources on the “Cry” are consequently vague and inconsistent in how they identify
and locate the settlements, roads and other features of the area.  

Most confusingly of all, the name “Pugad Lawin” came to be used in the twentieth
century to refer not just to one of the contending “Cry” sites, but to two.  First one site,
and then another. Today, the Pugad Lawin marker is in Bahay Toro, where Juan Ramos
had supposedly lived. But in previous decades, as will be discussed later, Pugad Lawin
was said to have been three kilometers or so to the northeast, where Ramos’s mother
Melchora Aquino (“Tandang Sora”) had lived near Pasong Tamo in barrio Banlat.  
Pasya, Pagpupunit and Unang Labanan

The debate has long been clouded by a lack of consensus on exactly what is meant by the
“Cry”. The term has been applied to three related but distinct events – 

 the “pasya”  – the decision to revolt; 

 the “pagpupunit” – the tearing of cedulas; and
 the “unang labanan” – the first encounter with Spanish forces.  

These three events, to state the obvious, did not all happen at the same time and place. 
When and where the “Cry” should be commemorated thus depends on how it is defined.

Many of the older sources on the “Cry” do not say precisely which event they mean, and
often we can only guess.  This problem is so embedded in the literature that it is
impossible to eradicate totally, but wherever practicable these notes will avoid the fluid,
contested “Cry” word, and will seek instead to specify which distinct event is being
discussed – the pasya, the pagpupunit or the unang labanan.

Among the historians who have studied the “Cry” in greatest detail, there is a sharp
divergence of opinion as to how the term should be defined.  
  Teodoro A. Agoncillo equates the term with the pagpupunit, which he says
happened immediately after the pasya. 

 Isagani R. Medina also takes the “Cry” to mean the pagpupunit, but says it
happened before the decision to revolt had been taken.  

 Soledad Borromeo-Buehler takes the view – the traditional view that KKK
veterans took, she says - that the “Cry” should mean the unang labanan.  

It was the unang labanan, as Borromeo-Buehler

points out, that was commemorated by the first
monument to the events of August 1896. The main
inscription on the plinth read “Homenaje del
Pueblo Filipino a los Heroes de ’96 / Ala-ala ng
Bayang Pilipino sa mga Bayani ng ‘96”, and a
smaller plaque bore the date “26 Agosto 1896” . 

Unveiled before a huge cheering crowd in

September 1911, the statue was erected in
Balintawak, the largest and best-known barrio in the
general area where the Katipuneros had
congregated in August 1896. The name Balintawak
was often used as shorthand to denote that general
area, and the “Cry” had become popularly known as
the “Cry of Balintawak” even before the monument
was erected. 

Nobody professed in 1911, though, that the statue

marked the “exact spot” where the first battle had
been fought.  It was simply in Balintawak, on a plot
donated by a local landowner, Tomas Arguelles.

The documentary evidence on the unang labanan is reasonably clear.  The first battle, an
encounter with a detachment of the Guardia Civil, was fought on the date inscribed on the
Balintawak monument - August 26 – at a place about five kilometers north-east of
Balintawak, between the settlements of Banlat and Pasong Tamo.  A few sources give the
date as August 25 but, as both Borromeo-Buehler and Encarnacion have shown, the most
solid, contemporary sources confirm August 26 to be correct.  

The Balintawak monument continued to be the focus of the yearly “Cry” celebrations,
held on August 26, for decades.  In the 1960s, however, the official definition of the
“Cry” changed.  Officially, the “Cry” ceased to mean the unang labanan and was defined
instead as “that part of the Revolution when the Katipunan decided to launch a revolution
against Spain.  This event culminated with the tearing of the cedula”.  This definition,
which is more or less in line with Agoncillo’s, thus embraces both the pasya and
pagpupunit, but excludes the unang labanan.   

At first sight, the official definition looks clear and straightforward.  A number of
sources, however, indicate that cedulas were torn on more than one occasion, in different
places, presumably because Katipuneros were arriving to join their embryonic army over
the course of a number of days, and many wanted to proclaim their rebellion, their
commitment to fight Spanish rule, in the same way.  It is even possible (as Medina
believes) that the main pagpupunit preceded the pasya. But then it would have been
premature, because the revolt might have been deferred.  It seems more likely, as the
official definition of the “Cry” assumes, that the largest, best remembered act of defiant
cedula-tearing happened soon after the pasya had been taken, and in the same vicinity.  

When and where, then, should the “Cry,” as defined as the pasya and pagpupunit, be
marked and commemorated?  Was there really a “Sigaw ng Pugad Lawin” on August 23,
1896, or not?    

The decision to revolt: when was it taken?

It is almost certain that the decision to revolt was taken on Monday, August 24, 1896,
after a lengthy meeting (or series of meetings) that had begun on Sunday, August 23. 
Many veterans later recalled August 23 as the historic day (see the Appendix to these
notes), but others specifically remembered the decision had not been taken until the early
hours of August 24, and this latter date is given by at least four important sources,
namely:  

 The Biak-na-Bato constitution of November 1897, which mentions “the

current war, initiated on August 24, 1896.” The constitution’s signatories
included at least one participant in the “Cry” (Cipriano Pacheco) and several
others who would have read circulars and messages from the revolutionists
in Caloocan in August 1896. 

 Carlos Ronquillo, in the first chronicle of the revolt against Spain by a

Filipino, written in 1898. His work begins with the words “Sa isang arao ng
pagpupulong sa Balintawak (24 Agosto 1896) kaarawan nang pasimulan
ang Revolucion….” 

 The Liga Filipina memorial erected in Tondo in 1903 by the Samahan ng

May pag-asa, a patriotic society named in Bonifacio’s honor whose members
included several KKK veterans. The inscription on the memorial lists many
of those who attended the famous meeting addressed by Rizal on July 3,
 1892, and alongside Bonifacio’s name it records that he was “Supremo  del
‘Katipunan’ que dió el 1er grito de Guerra contra la tiranía el 24 de Agosto
de 1896.” 

 Santiago Alvarez, in his memoirs Ang Katipunan at Paghihimagsik, written

in 1927 but based, he said, on records entrusted to him by the Katipunan’s
first leaders and fighters.  Internal evidence suggests that Alvarez’s account
of the meeting on August 24 is based on information he obtained from
Ramon Bernardo, a Katipunan leader from Pandacan who was a participant
in the “Cry.” 

August 24 has now been confirmed as the date of the formal decision by the discovery of
a contemporary document - a page from what Medina calls the “borador ng pulong ng
Kataastaasang Sangunian,” or rough copy book of the Katipunan Supreme Council. 
Since a proper borador was not to hand in Caloocan at this tumultuous moment, the
Supreme Council’s communications were drafted in some kind of farm ledger, used
under normal circumstances to record crop yields or sales.  The text is therefore written
across printed columns that are headed “Maiz,” “Mani,” “Camote” and so on.  

The document is dated “Kalookan, Maynila ika 26 ng Agosto ng taong 1896,” and it
begins as follows:-
 
           “Ayon sa pinagkaisahan sa ginanap […?] pulong ng Kataastaasang Kapisanan […?]
ikadalawang puo’t apat nitong umiiral na buan tungkol sa paghihimagsik (revolucion) at
sa pagkakailangang […?] maghalal ng magsisipamahala ng bayan at mag aakay ng
Hukbo…….” [In accordance with the decision taken by the meeting of the Supreme
Assembly held on the twenty-fourth of the present month regarding the revolution, and
given the necessity to elect leaders of the people and directors of the Army…..”]
The decision to revolt (ii) who took it?

The decision to revolt, says the “borador” document, was taken by the KKK’s
Supreme Assembly.  First constituted in December 1895, the Assembly was
described by Emilio Jacinto as the primary and paramount body within the
Katipunan (“ang una at lubos na kapangyarihang ay hahawakan ng Kataastaasang
Kapisanan”).  Anyone who failed to follow its decisions, he said, would be
committing treason against the whole organization.  The Assembly comprised the
members of the Supreme Council, the presidents of the Sangunian Bayan (popular
councils) and the presidents of Balangay (branches) not affiliated to popular
councils, but in practice the presidents were often accompanied by one or two other
leading activists from their sections. 

Milagros Guerrero has suggested that the Supreme Assembly’s decision needed to be
confirmed or ratified by the KKK Supreme Council.  Such a “two-stage pasya,” however,
is not corroborated by the “borador” document, which indicates the Supreme Assembly’s
decision was final.  Even had it wished to do so (which it did not), the Supreme Council
did not have the authority to rescind the decision.  In any case, it would have been
impractical to call upon the Supreme Assembly to reconvene and reconsider. As soon as
the decision had been taken, some of the Assembly members had hurried back to their
branches in Manila and other provinces to tell their brethren what had happened, and to
ready for the fight.

The decision to revolt: (iii) where was it taken?

Now that we know the decision to revolt was taken on August 24, after deliberations that
had begun the previous day, we might hope to be clearer about where it was taken.  We
no longer need to worry, in this immediate context, where Bonifacio and the members of
the Katipunan Supreme Assembly were on August 25 or 26. We only need to establish
where the Assembly met on August 23 and 24.  Unfortunately, this is not a great help.
The sources are still conflicting. They broadly agree that the leading revolutionists went
first to Caloocan (población) after leaving Manila, and then headed eastwards via
Kangkong towards Pasong Tamo and eventually Balara. The sources still offer no accord,
however, as to the whereabouts of the leading revolutionists on the critical dates of
August 23 and 24.  Some sources say they left Kangkong as early as August 23, whereas
others say they were still in Kangkong as late as August 26.

The task of determining the exact place at which the decision to revolt was taken,
therefore, remains difficult and convoluted. The sources offer three specific possibilities:-

Apolonio Samson’s place in bo. Kangkong, Caloocan

Melchora Aquino’s place near Pasong Tamo in bo. Banlat, Caloocan 
Juan Ramos’s place in bo. Bahay Toro, Caloocan

Kangkong 

In 1917 a Katipunan veterans’ association, the Labi ng Katipunan, erected a memorial on

the site where they remembered the decision to revolt had been taken, at Apolonio
Samson’s house on the Kaingin Road in barrio Kangkong.  “Sa pook na ito,” the
inscription stated, plainly and simply, “...ipinasya ng KKKNMANB ang paghihimagsik
noong ika-23 ng Agosto 1896”.  
 Ceremony at the Kangkong marker. The Labi ng Katipunan was headed by the veterans Pio H. Santos (who had
participated in the “Cry”) and Claudio P. Carreon.  

The writer Nick Joaquin described the spot in the early 1960s, a time when it was still:

        “lonely, obscure, isolated, and very hard to find.  It’s in an ‘interior’ reached by no street;
you have to use a footpath.  And the place itself is pure provincial countryside: giant
thick-boughed mango and tamarind and santol trees keep guard over the marker, which is
always in shadow, and one guesses that this was deep woods in those days.” 

Today, of course, the “provincial countryside” has been obliterated by Metro Manila’s
relentless sprawl, not just in Kangkong but in every other locality mentioned in these
notes.
What did individual Katipunan veterans recall about the pasya?  Some did not specify
any of the three possible sites.  They referred in vaguer terms to “Caloocan,” meaning
“somewhere in the municipality of Caloocan,” or to “Balintawak,” meaning “some
distance to the east of Caloocan población, in the general area where Balintawak is the
best-known place.” For the present purpose, these vaguer sources must be put to one side
in favor of those that are more specific. 

Appendix 1 to these notes tabulates the testimony of veterans who referred specifically to
one or more of the three possible sites – Kangkong, Pasong Tamo (in bo. Banlat), and
Bahay Toro. This tabulation shows that a very clear majority – 8 out of the 10 individuals
who mentioned either Kangkong, Pasong Tamo, or Bahay Toro - recalled the decisive
meeting and/or the “grito” as having taken place in Kangkong.  This was the location
specified by Tomas Remigio, Julio Nakpil, Sinforoso San Pedro, Guillermo Masangkay,
Cipriano Pacheco, Briccio Pantas, Francisco Carreon and Vicente Samson.   
Only one veteran – Pio Valenzuela – ever maintained that the decisive meeting took place
at Melchora Aquino’s place near Pasong Tamo.  But his memory was erratic. He also
once recalled (in 1911) that the pasya had been taken in Kangkong. If his testimony on
that occasion is counted, the tally for Kangkong would be 9 out of 10.

One other veteran – probably Ramon Bernardo – remembered the decision as having
been taken in Bahay Toro, but he did not say “Juan Ramos’s place in Bahay Toro.”  He
said it had been taken at Melchora Aquino’s place, “sa pook ng Sampalukan, Bahay
Toro.” It therefore seems his recollection was simply mistaken, because Melchora
Aquino’s place was near Pasong Tamo, in bo. Banlat.  

Unless and until any solid evidence is found to the contrary, therefore, the only possible
conclusion to be drawn from the veterans’ testimony is that “pasya” was taken by the
Supreme Assembly at the house of Apolonio Samson in Kangkong.  

It seems likely that the main pagpupunit also took place in Kangkong, as the veteran
Cipriano Pacheco later recalled.  Whilst the Supreme Assembly was meeting at Samson’s
house, he relates, a crowd about 2,000 strong had congregated outside, eager and
impatient to hear the news.  As soon as the Assembly had voted by a big majority to
launch the revolution, Bonifacio wanted to announce the momentous decision somewhere
everyone could gather around and hear him.  He led the crowd from Samson’s house to a
place nearby (“malapit pa doon”) where there was an open field (“malaking
kaparangan”).   

He told them the momentous news: “Brothers,” he shouted, “The decision is to go ahead
with the revolution.” (“Mga kapatid, ang pinagkaisahan ay ipagpatuloy ang
paghihimagsik.”)  

It was the decision the crowd wanted, and they cheered. “Do you swear,” Bonifacio
asked them, “to reject the government that oppresses us?”  “Yes!” the crowd roared. “In
that case,” Bonifacio urged them, “bring out your cedulas and rip them up, as a symbol of
defiance!” (“Kung gayon, ilabas ninyo ang inyong mga sedula personal at punitin, tanda
ng pagtalikod sa kapangyarihan!”)

The Katipuneros fervently heeded his call, weeping with emotion as they ripped their
cedulas to shreds.  Bonifacio raised the cry “Mabuhay ang Katagalugan!, and the crowd
responded as one, “Mabuhay!”

The saga of Pugad Lawin   

Two decades after the revolution, the celebration of the “Cry” was not a contentious
issue.  Ceremonies were held both in Kangkong, where KKK veterans agreed the pasya
had been taken, and in Balintawak, where the famous statue of a bolo-waving, flag-
holding Katipunero stood to commemorate the unang labanan, fought a few kilometers
to the north-east.

How then, has it come to pass that the “Cry” is commemorated today as the “Sigaw ng
Pugad Lawin” at a site in Bahay Toro where not a single KKK veteran ever located either
the pasya or the unang labanan?  

The saga of Pugad Lawin, regrettably, is long, tangled and hard to unravel.  It is also a
case study in the hazards of oral history. Memories fade. Veterans disagree.  Their
stories change from one telling to the next. And then reporters and historians
misrepresent what they said.  

“Pugad Lawin near Pasong Tamo”   

The story begins in the late 1920s, when a small group of senior Katipunan veterans
began to press the case that the term “Cry of Balintawak” was a misnomer, and should be
discarded.  Balintawak, they insisted, in the strict, narrow sense – a particular barrio to
the east of Caloocan, with delineated boundaries – was not where the “Cry” had occurred.
The “Cry” had occurred, they said, at a place known as Pugad Lawin.  

The foremost proponent of this argument was Dr Pio Valenzuela, who had been the Vice-
President of the Katipunan at the outbreak of the revolution and who had latterly, in the
early 1920s, been the provincial governor of Bulacan.  He was a prestigious figure, but
not a good witness to history. He changed his story, more than once. In 1911, as we
noted, he had said the decision to revolt had been taken at Apolonio Samson’s house in
Kangkong. In 1917, he had testified in court that it had been taken at Melchora Aquino’s
house on the road known as Daan Malalim, in Pasong Tamo, “also known as Pacpac-
lawin.”  But in his “Memoirs,” which Agoncillo says date from the early 1920s, he said it
had been taken at the place of Melchora Aquino’s son, Juan Ramos, in “Pugad Lawin”.  

In contemporary records, alas, and on contemporary maps, the name Pugad Lawin cannot
be found anywhere. “Isa[ng] ... pagkakamali... ang sabihing mayroong Pugad Lawin sa
Kalookan,” the scholar Sofronio G. Calderon decided after a fruitless search way back in
the 1920s.
Valenzuela recalled that Pugad Lawin was in Pasong Tamo – “sa loob ng nayong Pasong
Tamo”.  In 1928, Valenzuela went to Pasong Tamo to commemorate the “Cry” together
with four other well-known KKK veterans – Gregoria de Jesus (Bonifacio’s widow),
Briccio Pantas and the brothers Alfonso and Cipriano Pacheco.  The newspaper La
Opinion carried this photograph of the group, who according to the caption were standing
around the exact spot (marked with an “X”) where 1,000 bolos had been stored just
before they were used in “el famoso grito”. On this occasion, it therefore seems, “the
Cry” was taken to mean the unang labanan, which had indeed taken place near Pasong
Tamo.   Even though Pio Valenzuela said the pasya as well as the unang labanan should
be commemorated at or near this site in Pasong Tamo, in other words, there is no
evidence that the other veterans in the photograph took the same view. 

At around the same time as this commemoration, in either 1928 or 1929, Pio Valenzuela,
Briccio Pantas and Cipriano Pacheco issued a joint statement to the effect that the “Cry”
had taken place not in Balintawak, where the monument had been erected, but in “the
place known by the name of Pugad Lawin”.  This is the statement, as published in the
Philippines Free Press in November 1930:-  

ISANG PAGUNITA

Upang Matuwid ang Paniwala sa Unang Sigaw sa 

Panhihimasik Kaming Naguing Kasanguni ng
Pangulo ng 
Kataas taasan, Kagalanggalang Katipunan ng mga 
Anak ng Bayan na si Andres Bonifacio.
Kaming nalalabi pang Kasama sa unang labanan iyon.
Alang-Alang sa Ikapapanuto ng mga Mananalaysay at
ng hinaharap 
                           ay Nagpapahayag :-

NA HINDI SA BALINTAWAK NGYARI ANG

UNANG 
 SIGAW NG PANHIHIMAGSIK SA
KINALALAGUIAN 
NGAYON NG BANTAYOG, KUNG DI SA POOK
NA 
KILALA SA TAWAG NA PUGAD-LAWIN.

Briccio Pantas               C. Pacheco Pio

Valenzuela.

Like the coverage of the 1928 commemoration, this statement refers to the “unang
labanan,” which had indeed been fought near Pasong Tamo. It does not imply that Pantas
and Pacheco agreed with Valenzuela that the pasya should be marked in that same
vicinity. Pacheco, as we noted, located the pasya and pagpupunit in Kangkong, and
Pantas had not been a direct eyewitness, having left Kangkong for Manila before the
pasya was taken. 

As may be seen, the veterans do not explicitly state the place they remembered as Pugad
Lawin was where, or near where, Melchora Aquino had lived in 1896.  

But it was. Any doubt that Pio Valenzuela identified Pugad Lawin with Pasong Tamo,
and specifically with Melchora Aquino’s place, was dispelled in August 1940, when
together with two other Katipunan veterans (Genaro de los Reyes and Sinforoso San
Pedro) he returned there with Eulogio B. Rodriguez and Luis Serrano of the Philippine
Historical Committee (a forerunner of the NHCP) to verify the location. Before posing
for photographs, the party marked the site of Melchora Aquino’s house with a thin
wooden stake on which somebody placed their hat.   
     
 The photograph’s caption is not contemporaneous, because Caloocan did not attain the
status of a city until 1963.  It is possible the description of the site – “Sitio Gulod, Banlat,
Caloocan City” – reflects how the location was known in the 1960s rather than in 1940.
Fortunately, though, Luis Serrano wrote a detailed account of the 1940 expedition which
makes it absolutely clear not only that Valenzuela and his companions believed the “Cry”
took place at or near Melchora Aquino’s place, a spot they remembered as Pugad Lawin,
but also that their geographical point of reference, their starting point for locating the
exact spot, was Pasong Tamo.  

The trip to Pugad Lawin in 1940, Serrano recalls, was organized by Eulogio B.
Rodriguez in his capacity as chairman of the Philippine Historical Committee “for the
purpose of first, verifying the date of the ‘Cry,’ second, ascertaining the truth of a report
that Bonifacio and some members of the Katipunan had buried certain important
documents of the Katipunan there, and third, locating the exact spot where the house of
Tandang Sora stood.”  After picking up the three veterans, Serrano relates, the party
“negotiated the distance by car up to Pasong-tamo and hiked about an hour to Pugad-
lawin.”

        “We found that Pugad-lawin was a knoll of about 30 or 40 feet higher than the
surrounding territory.  As the remaining vegetation indicated, it must have been well
covered with trees during the revolution.  It was a good observation point from a military
point of view because it commanded an excellent view of the whole country to the south
and west, the only directions from where the Spanish forces could be expected to come.
 Some of the big trees which formed landmarks of the place were still recognized by Dr.
Valenzuela.”  

Two local men, Serrano continues, aided the party in digging around an ancient tree
stump in an attempt to find the buried Katipunan records, but their efforts were in vain. 
Otherwise, though, the expedition had been highly successful, because it confirmed:

          “first, the so-called First Cry took place at Pugad-lawin on August 23, and second, it was
from the house of Tandang Sora that Katipunan members sallied forth to challenge the
might of Spain... [Bonifacio and his followers arrived] at the house of Tandang Sora in
Pugad-lawin in the afternoon of August 22.  Tandang Sora’s son, Juan A. Ramos, was a
member of the secret organization; hence it was natural for the Katipuneros to seek
refuge there.” [Note: The dates given here are wrong – as Valenzuela had correctly
remembered in 1911, the Katipuneros arrived at Tandang Sora’s house on August 24, not
August 22.]   

Serrano’s account does not mention Bahay Toro, where the site of Pugad Lawin is now
officially marked.  If Valenzuela had directed the expedition in 1940 to Bahay Toro, they
would not have started their hike at Pasong Tamo. They would have parked somewhere
much closer.  

Pio Valenzuela’s “Memoirs”

Serrano’s account shows that Valenzuela still associated Pugad Lawin with Melchora
Aquino’s house in 1940, as he had in the 1910s and 1920s.  Except, that is, in the words
of his “Memoirs”.    

In his “Memoirs,” as already mentioned, in a single line that has muddied the whole
issue, Valenzuela relates that the decision to revolt was taken at the “house, storehouse
and yard of Juan Ramos, son of Melchora Aquino, in Pugad Lawin”. 

In recent decades, as we shall see shortly, Teodoro Agoncillo and Isagani Medina have
argued that this means the pasya site was not at Melchora Aquino’s place, but at a
completely different location, in Bahay Toro, three kilometers to the south west of
Pasong Tamo.  And yet Luis Serrano, who personally went with Valenzuela to Pasong
Tamo in 1940, and who later translated the veteran’s “Memoirs,” did not draw such an
inference. The crux of the matter, Serrano doubtless believed, was that Valenzuela
specified in his “Memoirs,” as elsewhere, that the pasya site was at Pugad Lawin,
meaning the wooded knoll (a likely place for a hawk’s nest) to which they had hiked
together from Pasong Tamo.  

Valenzuela did not expressly repeat in his “Memoirs” that Pugad Lawin was near Pasong
Tamo, but neither did he specify any other location, so there was no reason for Serrano to
suppose Valenzuela’s mental map of the area had ever changed. Who actually owned the
house and yard near Pasong Tamo where he remembered cedulas being shredded,
Melchora Aquino or her son Juan Ramos, was just an incidental point of detail, not of
basic geography.  

The advocates of the “Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro” position have presented Pio
Valenzuela as their star witness, and his “Memoirs” as their prime document. But he does
not mention Bahay Toro as the pasya site in his “Memoirs,” and there is no evidence he
ever did. Not in any variation of his story. It is ironic, to put it mildly, that Valenzuela is
now presented as the star witness for a version of events –  the official “Pugad Lawin in
Bahay Toro” version - to which he did not himself subscribe.  

Teodoro Agoncillo – initiator of Pugad Lawin’s relocation

Valenzuela’s telling of the “Cry” story, we need to remind ourselves, was just one
version amongst several.  It gained a particular weight for a number of reasons – his
seniority in the Katipunan, his status as a physician, his political career, his prominence at
commemorations of the revolution, his contacts with historians, and so on. Pugad Lawin,
his name for the “Cry” site, acquired even greater currency with the publication in 1956
of Agoncillo’s Revolt of the Masses, which remains to this day the standard work on the
Katipunan.  Agoncillo acknowledged that he had “relied mostly” on Valenzuela’s
testimony when writing about the “Cry.” He justified his decision by saying that
Valenzuela had been an eyewitness to the historic event, that his “Memoirs,” though
written many years afterwards, had been “based on notes scribbled in 1897,” and that
“events, complete with details” were still vivid in Valenzuela’s memory even in his old
age. 

When narrating the story of the “Cry” in Revolt, Agoncillo therefore decided to follow
Valenzuela’s “Memoirs” in saying the pasya was taken at Juan Ramos’s place in Pugad
Lawin. Agoncillo does not, however, adhere fully to Valenzuela’s version of events.  In
the present context, one of his departures is especially pertinent. Valenzuela believed
Ramos and his mother both lived in “Pugad Lawin near Pasong Tamo”. Agoncillo, on the
other hand, says that Ramos lived in “Pugad Lawin” (without specifying where it was)
but that his mother lived in Pasong Tamo, and that the two places were a significant
distance apart.  Immediately after the tearing of cedulas in Ramos’s yard in Pugad Lawin
on August 23, Agoncillo writes in Revolt, the Katipuneros got word the Guardia Civil
were approaching, and so they hastily marched off in the dark to Pasong Tamo, arriving
at Melchora Aquino’s house the next day. Agoncillo repeats this story in an article he
wrote in 1960, saying that from Pugad Lawin the “rebels walked pell-mell through the
night to Pasong Tamo.”

Agoncillo does not explain why his narrative differs from Valenzuela’s recollections. Nor
does he offer any clue in his endnotes. The only sources he cites alongside Valenzuela’s
“Memoirs” at this juncture in Revolt are two other KKK veterans, Guillermo Masangkay
and Francisco Carreon, neither of whom ever acknowledged the existence of a place
called Pugad Lawin at all. 

Agoncillo candidly admits that his reconstruction of events is “speculative.” He does not
indicate in Revolt, or in his 1960 article, exactly where he thought Pugad Lawin was
situated, merely that it was a considerable distance to the west of Pasong Tamo.  But
subsequently, in 1962, he claimed he had identified the exact spot where Juan Ramos’s
house once stood, and he placed a marker there together with members of the UP Student
Council.  When he revisited the locality in the early 1980s, however, he found it had
disappeared.  Nobody now remembers where it was, and nobody knows what
documentary or oral evidence had persuaded Agoncillo he had found the right spot.  

It is unlikely Agoncillo placed his marker in the same place as the present-day “Sigaw ng
Pugad Lawin” marker in Bahay Toro.  The present marker and memorial are about two
kilometers from Balintawak – perhaps half an hour’s walk along a road or track, perhaps
an hour across fields or grassland. Agoncillo, though, says Pugad Lawin was a “big
distance” from Balintawak.  It took the rebels the best part of a day, he indicates, “to
negotiate the distance between the two points.”  

Official recognition of “Pugad Lawin, wherever it was”

Agoncillo was the pre-eminent historian of the day, and the 1896 revolution was among
his special fields.  It was mainly upon his advice, it is commonly said, that the Philippine
government ruled that the term “Cry of Balintawak” should be discarded in favor of “Cry
of Pugad Lawin.”  This change was signaled formally in 1963 by President Macapagal,
whose Proclamation 149 declared that the 67 anniversary of the “Cry of Pugad Lawin”
th

on August 23 would be a special public holiday in Quezon City, “where the event took
place.” 

By “the event” of August 23, Proclamation 149 meant the pasya, not the unang labanan. 
Agoncillo’s definition of the “Cry” had become the official definition.  

For some reason, though, Agoncillo’s initiative in marking the supposed “Cry” site did
not attract much attention.  His marker was not recognized, so far as is known, by the
Philippine Historical Committee, or replaced with an official marker, or even maintained.
Why did the government give its stamp of approval to the “Cry of Pugad Lawin” story,
but not to Agoncillo’s marker?  Perhaps the government realized that the evidence for
marking the site was too thin. Other historians had probably been telling the
government’s historical agency (which in 1963 became the National Heroes
Commission) they thought that Agoncillo had got the location wrong, or that nobody was
really sure.
The “Cry,” therefore, was officially redefined, and the “Cry” site was officially removed
from Balintawak, but it was reassigned to “Pugad Lawin, wherever it was,” not to a
particular designated spot. The problem this presented to the organizers of the annual
“Cry” commemorations was solved by the simple expedient of sticking to what was
familiar. The crowds gathered, rites were observed, and politicos delivered their speeches
at Balintawak, as before, as if nothing had happened. 

“Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro”

What had now become officially known as the “Cry of Pugad Lawin” continued to be
commemorated at Balintawak until the 1980s.  In 1983, however, the mayor of Quezon
City constituted a “Pugad Lawin Historical Committee” to examine whether the “Cry”
site could be definitively identified at last.  Whether this committee included Professor
Agoncillo among its members is not known, but it at least sought his advice, and it started
its investigations from where he had left off in the 1960s.  The Committee, that is to say,
accepted his position that Pugad Lawin was a considerable distance from Pasong Tamo,
and that the yard where cedulas were shredded had belonged to Juan Ramos, not to his
mother, Melchora Aquino.  The search for Pugad Lawin thus boiled down to a search for
where Juan Ramos had lived. 

The Pugad Lawin Historical Committee did not discover any fresh documentary evidence
in its 1983 investigation, but claimed to have identified the former site of Ramos’s place
(then amidst a squatter settlement) on the basis, it seems, of oral testimony from one of
Juan Ramos’s grandsons, Escolastico Ramos.  

The Committee relayed its findings to the government’s historical agency (then called the
National Historical Institute), which despatched someone to visit the site, deliberated on
the matter, and declared the Committee to be right.  On the occasion of the next
commemoration of the “Cry,” on August 23, 1984, the NHI placed its marker at the site
in Seminary Road, Bahay Toro where it has since remained.

Isagani Medina’s case for “Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro”

Some people, needless to say, begged to differ from the NHI.  They found the evidence
submitted by the Quezon City mayor’s Committee to be too tenuous, the case too
dubious.  For a while, though, the debate subsided. It did not resume until the mid-1990s,
before and during the centennial of the revolution, when various forums were organized
at which historians and veterans’ descendants voiced their contending views. After its
long stagnation, the debate at last moved forward.  New documentary evidence was
presented, and the discussion as a whole was more detailed and nuanced than hitherto.
Most importantly, some of the leading protagonists put their arguments in writing, and
their evidence into the public domain.
The foremost proponent of “Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro” in this renewed debate was
Isagani R. Medina.  He presented the case for Bahay Toro more fully, and with more
documentation, than anybody else has before or since, first in a paper he delivered at a
conference in 1993 and then in his annotations to Ronquillo’s memoirs.  He patently
wished to make his case as forceful and persuasive as he could, and it seems unlikely he
omitted any evidence he felt to be significant.  We now need to examine the case he
makes.

Medina found official documents from 1896, the vecindarios or lists of residents for the
municipality of Caloocan, which show that Melchora Aquino and Juan Ramos, mother
and son, were listed under different cabecerías.  This strongly suggests they resided
(officially at least, in terms of registration) in different places.  Melchora Aquino lived
with her youngest daughter, Juana Ramos. Another of her daughters, Estefania Ramos,
was living with her family nearby. Her son Juan Ramos, however, was registered in
another cabecería, of which he was himself the cabeza de barangay, and was living with
his wife, Alejandra Alcantara, and two young children, Filomena and Canuta.   

Medina includes photographs of the relevant pages from the vecindarios in his annotated
edition of Ronquillo’s memoirs. Unfortunately, though, he does not explain how he
jumps from the evidence that Ramos and his mother lived in different places to the
conclusion that Ramos’s cabecería was located in “sitio Pugad Lawin.” On his
photograph of Ramos’s vecindario, Medina (or someone) has written “Pugad Lawin, sitio
of Bahay Toro,” and his caption says likewise.  But elsewhere in his annotations he
frankly acknowledges that such a place cannot be found in nineteenth-century records.  

It is possible Medina identified the location on the basis of what Ramos’s grandson,
Escolastico Ramos, had told the Quezon City mayor’s committee in 1983.  Medina
himself notes, however, that other family members told contrary stories. The weightiest
is the testimony of Ramos’s daughter, Monica Ramos-Figueroa. She had come out to
meet Pio Valenzuela and the others when they visited Pugad Lawin in 1940, back when it
was a “wooded knoll” not far from Pasong Tamo.  She had posed with the rest of the
party for picture-taking around the “exact spot,” marked by a stake with a hat on it, where
her grandmother’s house had once stood. And four decades later, towards the end of her
long life, she told a news reporter the historic “pagpupunit ng sedula” had been where her
grandmother lived. Her father, she told the newsman, had owned a 3.5 hectare plot of
land in the same vicinity. If this was the case, Ramos might well have owned a house and
yard near Pasong Tamo even if he was registered as living somewhere else.

Whatever the case, and whatever the explanation, the fact is that Ramos’s daughter, the
descendant best acquainted with the family’s situation around the turn of the century (she
was born in 1896), believed their home was at “Pugad Lawin near Pasong Tamo.” Her
grandchildren continued to confirm this had been her belief after death. It was only her
son, Escolastico Ramos, so far as is known, who situated Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro,
and his reasons for contradicting his mother’s testimony are not on record. 

The other evidence Medina presents to support his “Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro”
position might be described as equally insubstantial.  But that would be too kind. His
other evidence, to be blunt, borders on the spurious.

Medina claims his position is corroborated by the recollections of five Katipunan

veterans who actually witnessed the “Cry” and one other who was very close to the
events of August 1896.  This is what he writes, very clearly and precisely, about four of
the witnesses: “Ang pagpupunit ng sedula... nga’y nangyari sa may sityo Pugad-lawin,
sa nayon ng Bahay-Toro sa bayan ng Kalookan... noong Agosto 23, 1896.  Ito’y
pinatutunayan ng apat na saksi: Dr Pio Valenzuela, Briccio Brigido Pantas, Cipriano
Pacheco at Domingo Orcullo.” The fifth “saksi sa mga pangyayari sa Pugadlawin,” he
says, was Mariano Alvarez.  

In reality, not a single one of these five men left any written testimony to the effect that
Pugad Lawin was situated in the barrio of Bahay Toro.  Valenzuela, Pantas and Pacheco,
as we saw, commemorated the “Cry” near Pasong Tamo in 1928, and Valenzuela did so
again in 1940. Orcullo, the delegate sent by the Magdalo council in Cavite to the
decisive meeting of the KKK Supreme Assembly, did not leave a memoir himself, and
the little we know about his mission comes from Emilio Aguinaldo’s Mga gunita. 
Aguinaldo says the meeting that Orcullo attended was summoned in “Balintawak,” and
does not refer to either Pugad Lawin or Bahay Toro. Nor does Mariano Alvarez, who
simply mentions a “pulong ng mga pangulo ng Katipunan sa Balintawak sa araw ng
Agosto 24, 1896.”   

Medina also says the “sigaw sa Pugad Lawin” story was endorsed by Gregoria de Jesus. 
He makes this claim on the basis of a single sentence in José P. Santos’s short 1935
biography of Bonifacio: “Ang pagunita nina Dr Pio Valenzuela ay kinakatigan ng Balo
ng Supremo na si Ginang Gregoria de Jesus.” Nobody can be sure what this means, but it
might possibly allude to the occasion in 1928 when she joined Valenzuela, Pantas and
Pacheco in commemorating the “Cry” near Pasong Tamo.  Like her companions on that
occasion, Gregoria de Jesus never placed anything on record about Bahay Toro.  

Medina’s creative handling of the evidence is again manifest in a remark he makes about
the memoir of Francisco Carreon, another KKK veteran.  Medina studied the weather
conditions in Manila in August 1896, and found it had been mostly wet. But the day the
cedulas were shredded, says Medina, it must have been dry, because Carreon’s memoir
relates that ‘namuti ang harapan ng bahay at looban ng mga cedulang punit’
nangangahulugan na tuyo ang lupa sa bakuran ni Juan Ramos.” All that needs to be said
here is that Carreon’s testimony is being misrepresented.  Sun or rain regardless,
Carreon’s memoir does not locate the cedula shredding in the yard of Juan Ramos. 
 Medina, in short, renders every reference to Pugad Lawin as meaning “Pugad Lawin in
Bahay Toro,” and when citing Carreon’s memoir he even transports the pagpupunit to
Bahay Toro from Kangkong.  Medina, we are sadly forced to conclude, persistently
distorts the veterans’ testimony to make it bolster his own version of events.    

“Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro” officially reaffirmed

The publications of Medina and others around the time of the 1996 centennial thus
brought to light some fresh sources on the “Cry,” but did nothing to resolve the debate. 
Five years later, in 2001, the National Historical Institute decided to review the evidence
again. To conduct the review it constituted a special Panel, comprising three historians –
Bernard Karganilla, Doroteo Abaya and Rene Escalante - and (as chair) a retired
Associate Justice of the Supreme Court.  The Panel members read some of the
voluminous literature on the subject, and heard testimony from some of the main
protagonists. After due deliberation, the Panel submitted a 15-page report to the Institute
which concluded as follows:-

          “In its search for the truth, the Panel did not find any document that could challenge the
decision that was rendered by the Philippine Historical Committee in 1963.  Therefore,
the Panel respectfully recommends that the National Historical Institute re-affirm said
position that the ‘First Cry’ took place in Pugadlawin on August 23, 1896.”   

The wording here is slightly inaccurate.  In 1963, as noted, the Philippine Historical
Committee had not in fact identified the supposed site of the “Cry.”  It had agreed only
that the location should be shifted from Balintawak to “Pugad Lawin, wherever it was”.
It is however clear from the body of the 2001 report that the Panel’s recommendation is
really that the NHI should reaffirm the later, 1984, position of “Pugad Lawin in Bahay
Toro.”  This might seem like a petty and pointless quibble. In isolation, it would indeed
not be worth mentioning. Regrettably, though, the slight inaccuracy is emblematic of a
fundamental misrepresentation of the “Cry” debate’s long backstory: in the Panel’s
perfunctory retelling of the saga, Pugad Lawin’s first incarnation as a spot near Pasong
Tamo is never mentioned.  The report cites the testimony of Valenzuela and other
veterans who spoke about Pugad Lawin in the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, but is completely
silent about where they located the site in those decades. 

This omission is startling, not least because the NHI was descended from the Philippine
Historical Committee, and so had presumably inherited its records. Yes, most of the pre-
war records might have been destroyed or lost.  But the photograph of the 1940
expedition to Pugad Lawin survived. Not only did it survive, it was printed in one of the
NHI’s own publications, the bogus Minutes of the Katipunan.  Printed and reprinted,
together with the caption saying unequivocally that it shows Valenzuela and the others
gathered at Pugad Lawin in barrio Banlat, “where once stood the house of Melchora
Aquino.” 

Did the NHI Panel miss out the initial Pasong Tamo chapter of the saga for the sake of
brevity, or had they not researched the subject in sufficient depth?  Either way, the result
is that the Panel skews the evidence, as Medina had done, in favor of the current “Pugad
Lawin in Bahay Toro” official status quo.    

The NHI Panel cites the historian José P. Santos as being a proponent of Pugad Lawin in
1929, for example, without adding the necessary caveat that nobody had situated Pugad
Lawin in Bahay Toro back then.  In later years, the Panel also omits to say, Santos
avoided taking a position for or against any version of the Pugad Lawin story, being
content to present the range of different versions and to leave the question open:
“Samantala’y maghintay tayo ng lalong maliliwanag na ulat at mga patibay ng iba pang
nangakasama sa unang sigaw ng Himagsikan sa Pilipinas.”  On another page, the Panel
says the KKK veterans Alfonso Pacheco, Sinforoso San Pedro, and Genaro de los Reyes
corroborated the Pugad Lawin position because in 1928, together with Gregoria de Jesus
and Monica Ramos (the granddaughter of Melchora Aquino) they “pinpointed to Eulogio
Rodriguez and Luis Serrano of the National Historical Commission the spot in
Pugadlawin where the Katipuneros tore their cedulas.”  Here again there is not a word to
suggest the spot the veterans pinpointed was near Pasong Tamo, not in Bahay Toro.  This
passage, it may be noted, is garbled. Adding to the unfortunate impression the report
gives of institutional amnesia within the NHI, it mistakenly conflates the 1928 and 1940
commemorations at Melchora Aquino’s place into a single event. The Panel also
misconstrues the memoir of the veteran Francisco Carreon as a “corroborative account.”  
In reality, not one of the veterans cited by the Panel ever located the “Cry” site in Bahay
Toro.  By the time the NHI installed the marker at Bahay Toro in 1984, the veterans had
all passed away, and could not demur.  

These mistakes and elisions matter because the 2001 report is in effect the basis of the
official position as it now stands.  As the Panel recommended, the National Historical
Institute reaffirmed its existing position on Pugad Lawin, and there the matter has
officially rested to this day. 

It is worth looking again at the wording of the recommendation: “In its search for the
truth, the Panel has not been able to find any document that could challenge [the validity
the ‘Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro’ location]….”  But surely the same criterion must then
be applied to the existing “Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro” location. The Panel did not find
any document to challenge the existing location, but nor did it find any document to
corroborate the existing location, to validate the Bahay Toro site. 

Today, the “Cry” continues to be officially marked in Bahay Toro almost by default, by
the force of inertia.  “Pugad Lawin in Bahay Toro” retains its official status not because
there is any supporting evidence for that site, but because nobody has pushed the case for
the actual site, the site that Katipunan veterans marked a century ago, the site of Apolonio
Samson’s house in Kangkong.   

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Reymar Tecson Yson, Michael Charleston Chua, and Jonathan
Capulas Balsamo for bringing my attention to important source materials and helping to
clarify obscure points of detail.

APPENDIX

Source  Locations Notes

mentioned

Pio Valenzuela Kangkong  Says the decision to revolt was taken at Kangkong
(1911) on August 23.
Pio Valenzuela, “Ang Sigaw sa Balintawak,” Taliba,
September 11, 1911.  

Pio Valenzuela Pasong Tamo Says the decision to revolt was taken by the
(1917) General Assembly on August 23 at the house of
Melchora Aquino on Daan-malalim, “in Pasong
Tamo, also known as Pacpac-lawin.” 
“Testimony of Dr Pio Valenzuela in the Case of U.S. vs
Vicente Sotto for Libel,” [1917] in Minutes of the
Katipunan, 234.

Labi ng Kangkong  Says the decision was taken at Kangkong on

Katipunan, August 23 - “Sa pook na ito...ipinasya ng
marker (1917) KKKNMANB ang paghihimagsik noong ika-23 ng
Agosto 1896”. 
Medina in Ronquillo, Ilang talata, 208.
Tomas Kangkong  Says the decision was taken at Kangkong
Remigio –“nandito’y amin na ngang pinasiyahang ituloy
(1917) ang revolucion...” 
Tomas Remigio, Untitled memoir [c.1917] in Borromeo-
Buehler, The Cry of Balintawak, 178. 

Pio Valenzuela Pugad Lawin Says the revolutionists met in Kangkong on

(c.1920s) [location not August 22, but the decision was taken on August
specified]  23 at Juan Ramos’s place at Pugad Lawin, and the
  “Cry” followed the decision.
Pio Valenzuela, “Memoirs,” [c.1920s] translated by Luis
Serrano, in Minutes of the Katipunan, 102. 

Julio Nakpil Kangkong Says the “primer grito” was raised at Kangkong
(1925) on August 26.
Julio Nakpil, “Apuntes para la historia de La Revolución
Filipino de Teodoro M. Kalaw,” in Julio Nakpil and the
Philippine Revolution, with the Autobiography of Gregoria
de Jesus (Manila: Heirs of Julio Nakpil, 1964), 43. 

Sinforoso San Kangkong  Says the decision was taken in Kangkong.

Pedro (1925) Quoted in Sofronio G. Calderon, “Mga nangyari sa
kasaysayan ng Pilipinas ayon sa pagsasaliksik ni Sofronio
G. Calderon” (Typescript, 1925), 211-2.

Ramon Bahay Toro Says the decision was taken and affirmed
Bernardo (“pinagkaisahan at pinagtibay”) on August 24 at
[attrib. JR] in Bahay Toro, but says the place belonged to
Alvarez (1927) Melchora Aquino.
Alvarez, The Katipunan and the Revolution, 254.

Guillermo Kangkong  Says in 1929 and 1957 that the decision was taken
Masangkay at Kangkong, giving the date as August 26. 
(1929-57) Agoncillo’s notes of an interview with Masangkay
in 1947, however, say he recalled the date was
August 24.  
1929: Guillermo Masangkay, draft article written in
response to a statement by Pio Valenzuela that had been
published in La Vanguardia, n.d., in Borromeo-Buehler,
The Cry of Balintawak, 102; 112. 
1947: Teodoro A. Agoncillo, “Pakikipanayam sa Kgg.
Guillermo Masangkay, noong ika-11 Oktubre 1947,” in
Borromeo-Buehler, The Cry of Balintawak, 182.
1957: Arturo Ma. Misa, “Living Revolutionary Recalls
Freedom ‘Cry’,” The Saturday Weekend Mirror, August 24,
 1957, cited in Borromeo-Buehler, The Cry of Balintawak,
36-7. 

Cipriano Kangkong and Says the decision was taken at Kangkong, (“nang
Pacheco (1933) Pugad Lawin ipahayag na ang pinagkasunduan...”) but that the
(location not revolutionists then went to a place “nearby”
specified) known as Pugad Lawin (location not specified),
where Bonifacio announced the decision and
cedulas were torn.
José P. Santos, “Ang kasaysayan sa paghihimagsik ni
Heneral Cipriano Pacheco,” Lingguhan ng Mabuhay,
Disyembre 3, 1933, cited by Medina in Ronquillo, Ilang
talata,  675-6. 

Briccio Pantas Kangkong  Says he witnessed the debate in Kangkong on

(c.1935) whether the revolution should be launched, but left
before the decision was made. 
Briccio Pantas, Undated declaration [c.1935] given to José
P. Santos and included in his unpublished manuscript, “Si
Andres Bonifacio at ang Katipunan,” 1948, in Borromeo-
Buehler, The Cry of Balintawak, 144.  

Francisco Kangkong  Says the decision was taken at Kangkong – “kaya

Carreon (1936) lumabas ang Supremo at inihayag ang
pinagkaisahan sa mga kapatid na nag-aantay ng
pasya.”
Francisco Carreon, Untitled memoir, in José P. Santos, Ang
tatlong napabantog na tulisan sa Pilipinas (Tarlac, 1936),
in Borromeo-Buehler, The Cry of Balintawak, 158. 

Vicente Kangkong  Says the decision was taken at Kangkong on

Samson (1961) August 26.
Ernesto A. Flores, “He was There: Man recalls first Cry,”
The Evening News, August 26, 1961, in Gregorio F. Zaide,
Documentary Sources of Philippine History, vol.8 (Manila:
National Bookstore, 1990), 310-3.