"For him there was no such thing as easy money."
“From the very start, at the age of 10,” the late Henry Sy Sr. recounted in the book written by his daughter, Betty Sy, “I Dream: Henry Sy,” “I knew I had the drive and determination to make something of myself.” Henry recalled his journey to Manila in 1936..
“Usually, when you come from China,” he recalled, “You come with cousins, friends, together, a group. I came alone, by myself.”
In grade school, Henry was at the top of his class and was a natural leader.
At the beginning of the Second World War, many residents of Manila fled the city. The Sys, however, had nowhere to go. “There was nowhere for people like us to go back to but China,” recalled Henry. So they remained in Echague and continued running their stores as best as they could. Those were tense days. “We did not know how the Japanese would treat us,” recalled Henry.
At 17, Henry acquired a karitela and hired someone to operate it, giving him additional income with which to buy a brand-new bike from a Japanese.
With his bicycle, Henry began what became a lifelong friendship with a 16-year-old girl from Quiapo—Felicidad Tan, the future Mrs. Henry Sy.
Born Tan Siong Ha in Manila on May 18, 1928, Felicidad is the eldest child of Tan Chi Kieng and Yu Beng Jit, Chinese immigrants who came to the Philippines to improve their fortune.
Felicidad was a dutiful achi, or eldest sister, who helped support her family during the Japanese occupation by working as a sidewalk vendor. While selling lace and embroidery outside Quiapo Church, she noticed Henry hanging out with Lao Kang. “Parati silang nagbibisikleta sa harapan namin,” she recalled. “Diyan lang sila, daldalan, kwentuhan, si Lao Kang at saka si Mr. Sy, every Friday.” [They were always cycling in front of us. There they were, Lao Kang and Mr. Sy, chatting away every friday.] Despite his attempts to get her attention, Felicidad refused to speak to Henry. “I didn’t want to make friends. I’m stubborn that way,” she explains with some humor.
On Feb. 3, 1945, US forces attacked Manila, which became a war zone for a month. The Sys fled to Novaliches, staying there over a week before returning to Manila.
Felicidad and her family remained in the city. She saw their home destroyed during the Battle of Manila. They fled to Quiapo Church and stayed there for three days before transferring to a cousin’s house on Barbosa (now A. Bautista Street).
One day, as Felicidad stood at the doorway of her cousin’s house, she saw a familiar figure limping down the street. It was Henry. He had been wounded by a shrapnel in the bombing of Ayala Bridge.
The Battle of Manila reduced the city to rubble. At least 50,000 Filipinos died.
The Sys returned from Novaliches to find that one of their stores was razed, and the other one looted. Their spirit broken, Henry’s father and brother left the Philippines and returned to China despite the economic uncertainties there. Henry stayed.
“I held on to my convictions,” he explained his ability to succeed in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. “By nature, I am curious and adventurous. I like the excitement of change and new and better ideas.”
“While I am not big with words,” he said, “I am big and bold with my dreams and vision.”
Post-War Manila saw Henry buying cigarettes by the carton from American GIs and selling them by the pack. Felicidad recalled Henry’s earliest business venture. “Diyan siya sa kanto ng Plaza Miranda, sa bangketa. Ang benta pa-piso-piso. One pack is piso pero may kita na siya. Malaki na ang piso noon.” (There he was on the corner of Plaza Miranda, on the sidewalk. He made money a peso at a time. He sold one pack for one peso, but that was enough to make a profit. A peso was worth something back then.)
Henry approached Don Vicente Lim Rufino who owned a number of properties at Plaza Miranda.
Felicidad describes that meeting:
“His shoes had holes. His clothes were old. Don Rufino did not look down on him. He gave Henry a chance.” He agreed to lease to Henry a property on Calle Carriedo. There, Henry built a stall that served as his store by day and his home by night. Henry continued to buy and sell whatever came his way and managed to stay afloat. Before long, he was approached by American shoe importers who offered to sell him shoes by the job lot. Accepting their offer, he entered into the shoe business. He and Lao Kang became business partners, pooling their savings to buy a karitela for transporting the shoes they bought and sold.
The new business performed exceptionally well. Henry began to earn enough to buy his first car, a second-hand Chrysler, for P1,000. He later traded it for a brand new model.
At 23, Henry decided to go to college. In 1952, he enrolled at Far Eastern University and took up commerce.
Meanwhile, he made enough money to lease more properties from Don Rufino. He teamed up with Lao Kang and the latter’s brothers to open Plaza Shoe Store.
“I thought that if I sold a pair of shoes to every Filipino,” said Henry, “I would be a successful man.”
Henry and Lao Kang opened their own shoe store, Paris Shoe Store, which was followed by a second and bigger store, Park Avenue Store.
Henry and Lao Kang worked with energy and enthusiasm running their Paris and Park Avenue stores.
On March 30, 1950, Henry married Felicidad. Their ninong was his venerable landlord, Don Rufino. They wed at the San Miguel Church and held the reception at Manila Hotel.
With two stores, Henry was forced to give up schooling. He explained: “I did not finish a four-year course in college, only the two-year Associate in Commercial Science… I had to stop schooling because the shoe-selling business took all of my time.”
“[At China Bank], my credit line was approved by Mr. Yap Tian Siang at their old head office on Juan Luna Street corner Dasmariñas Street.” At the time, who would have believed that Henry would one day be a major stockholder of the bank that gave him his first loan?
For Henry, “there is no such thing as overnight success or easy money.”
