MANILA, Philippines—It seemed so unlike past meetings of the stockholders of the country’s biggest power distributor.

Even the smallest owners of Manila Electric Co. (Meralco), who had not attended such meetings before, came. Members of the police SWAT team, with their guns and their bomb-sniffing dogs, were also around.

And inside the cavernous Meralco Theater itself, where Tuesday’s annual shareholders gathering was being held, people couldn’t seem to get their cell phones to work, causing whispers to float around that signals were perhaps being jammed.

Through it all, one thing was evident: The Lopezes, a family that belongs to the Philippines’ old rich and controls Meralco, showed theirs is a family that sticks together.

In the jampacked (read: standing room only) theater, members of the family made their presence felt in support of Meralco chair and chief executive Manuel “Manolo” Lopez.

The meeting also proved to be one for the books—in terms of length, excitement and the colorful personalities from all corners of the business, government and consumer sectors that graced the much anticipated event.

Garcia and allies

Winston Garcia, president and general manager of the Government Service Insurance System (GSIS) and the Lopezes’ nemesis-of-the-moment, was less than quiet at the meeting, chiding Meralco employees for their lack of manners and disregard of decorum—after he was booed and jeered by an audience that, it turned out, was not all Meralco employees.

Though not in his home turf, Garcia had his share of allies in the audience, led by GSIS legal counsel Estrella Elamparo, who did not miss a beat seconding his remarks about the employees’ lack of manners.

Several others were one with Garcia in his fight to dislodge the Lopezes from control of Meralco, resulting in a heated exchange among a few shareholders.

Gina steps forward

Seemingly unable to hold back her emotions, Gina, daughter of the late patriarch Eugenio Lopez Jr., stepped up to one of the microphones to defend the family name.

Addressing the crowd of more than 1,000 people—and directing her remarks straight at Garcia—she said that comments besmirching the Lopez name were offensive and had no basis.

“The statements about the Lopezes resorting to ‘dirty tricks’ have offended me and other members of the family. We’ve always lived with the principles of integrity and courage,” Gina said.

She also said the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) order preventing the recognition, counting and tabulation of votes by Manolo and five other Meralco stockholders and proxies under their names was totally unfair.

“The situation that the SEC is opting for is like not giving a voice to half of the people here. It’s not an election at all. Where’s the democracy in that?” Gina said.

“What the SEC wants goes against the principles of fair play and integrity,” she added.

Rival groups

The Lopez-GSIS tussle reverberated outside the theater among a jumbled mass of small shareholders, who in the past had had no interest in attending the annual meeting.

While heated words were unleashed inside the air-conditioned theater, groups that were against the Lopez bloc, or against Garcia, or against both competed for motorists’ attention.

When the meeting opened on schedule at 9 a.m., the lobby was still packed with stockholders trying to gain entrance and beat the 9:30 a.m. cut-off time for admission.

At 10 minutes past the deadline, small shareholders—like senior citizen Maria Mago and her husband—stood disappointed in the middle of the marble floor, still unable to get in.

“We would have arrived just a little after 9 a.m. if not for the heavy traffic,” Mago said. “They should have anticipated how many were coming.”

But members of the Meralco staff said that the rule had to be followed: Latecomers cannot get in.

One vote per share

Still, Mago said it was a new experience for her and her husband despite their having attended all annual meetings since they became shareholders in 1995.

She said she had disposed of her own shares—which she had bought with her savings—and what was left were her husband’s 211 shares.

“My husband bought his shares through salary deduction when he was still working as a telex operator with Marubeni Corp.’s local subsidiary,” Mago said.

With one vote per share, the Magos’ 211 shares would amount to 0.00000023 percent of the 968 million shares represented Tuesday.

In contrast, Garcia said he represented 232 million shares, or 24 percent of Tuesday’s total.

But Mago felt as involved as any other major shareholder in the battle for the company’s control.

Easing the hunger

Asked whether she agreed with the GSIS’ aim of changing Meralco’s management team, Mago said: “I don’t want the GSIS to manage Meralco, I want the same management but they should listen to the people’s views, especially about the high power rates.”

At least, the Magos and the others who arrived late were not allowed to go hungry. Around 11 a.m., she and her husband were each seen toting a plastic bag full of McDonalds products.

Those with a meal stub were able to claim a meal consisting of a piece of chicken, a cheeseburger, a taro pie and a can of soda.

Another stockholder, who identified herself only as Mely, said it was her first time to attend the annual meeting since she bought shares in the mid-1990s.

“I came here because of the controversies,” said Mely, a retired public school teacher. “I think I will attend the meeting every year from now on.”

She said she bought her “more than 1,000” shares as a GSIS member, but she believed Garcia should take his issues to court.

“The Securities and Exchange Commission (from which Garcia obtained an order to stop the proceedings) is not the proper forum,” Mely said.

Also deployed in the complex were members of a SWAT team armed with “baby Armalites” and sidearms. They had not been in previous annual meetings.

On Tuesday, they even had K-9 dogs.

Early birds

Employees of Meralco, its subsidiaries and affiliates, and other firms in the Lopez group completely filled up the theater in Pasig City as early as 7:30 a.m.

The meeting was not to start for another two hours but already it was “standing room only” as pro-Lopez “common stockholders” and “guests” sat or stood in the aisles.

Outside, on both sides of the main lobby, more employees broke out into long applause when Manolo Lopez walked in. The same employees booed Garcia when he arrived minutes later.

“Lopez pa rin! (Still for Lopez)” they chanted as Garcia walked in.

Inside, the Lopezes seemed to be showing their corporate rivals no quarter: There were times when no one in the theater could get their mobile phones to work. No text messages could be sent out or received, and no calls could be made.

No signals

Reporters who covered the stockholders meetings of other Lopez firms in the same venue only last week noted that the absence of mobile phone signals was a new development.

Even Meralco employees who regularly used the venue were surprised by the phenomenon, prompting some to whisper that the signals were being “jammed” on purpose, perhaps—so it was claimed—to prevent coordination among various GSIS representatives who were expected to be seated near the venue’s four public microphones.

Militant groups that trooped to the theater also wanted to be heard. They said consumers should have a voice in running power utilities.

“The high cost of power must be addressed decisively by the government not only because it is a bane to production but is also a heavy burden on the poor,” said Partido ng Manggawa chair Renato Magtubo.

Members of the Freedom from Debt Coalition referred to the fight between the Lopez and Garcia groups as a battle of giants.

“When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers, as the saying goes,” said FDC media officer Bobby Diciembre.

“In this power play of two elite groups vying for control of the power sector, through the strategic control of Meralco, it is the consumer who suffers as manifested in the form of high electricity rates.” With a report from Jerome Aning