While the Church of the Nativity along Katapatan Road is considered a landmark, by no means does it date back to Hispanic times. For despite its arched doorways, stained glass windows, and stone carvings typical of 18th century Manila, the Church was actually constructed in the late 1990s, on the spot where the Valhalla Club used to be until it burned down and its owner, Ericsson Chua, disappeared.

In its heyday, the Valhalla Club was Manila’s premier nightclub, where politicians rubbed elbows with lonely expatriates and the sons of Chinese taipans. There, they would drink, dine, and be merry as they stroked the thighs of the lovely valkyries.

From the outside, the Valhalla Club was nothing special. It was shaped like a huge concrete box, its façade whitewashed with rainbow trimmings. Two guards were stationed under the huge Valhalla Club logo that was fixed in bronze. Right beside them were mirrored doors that reflected the faces of customers in the neon glow of the Valhalla Club sign atop the building. On any given night, the club’s parking lot was full of cars with their license plates covered with newspaper, while uniformed guards and drivers smoked under the huge Balete trees clustered at the lot’s corner.

Once past the mirrored doors, however, the customer would find himself in a different world. The Valhalla Club appeared true to its name. Rows of long wooden tables stretched into the shadows of the immense stone walls. The customer would then be approached by one of the slender, blue-eyed valkyries who, with a whisper of “Welcome, einheri,” would lead him to his table. There, the newly christened warrior could subject himself to the full pleasures of Valhalla, drinking from horns always filled to the brim with mead and eating endless servings of boar dishes prepared in the most delectable ways. Ranging from medallions of boar with foie gras to exotic boar curries, the dishes were served by the valkyries, who also took care to refill each customer’s drinking horn while providing an attentive ear to the lonely einheriar. If a customer wanted to become more intimate with one of the valkyries, special rooms were located at the sides of the hall.

It is said that to be a valkyrie at the Valhalla Club one had to be a virgin. As such, it was rumored that a generous compensation package awaited the valkyries who followed a customer into the special rooms. Despite all this, it should be noted that the Valhalla Club was never raided in its years of operation—something attributed to the effectiveness with which Ericsson Chua, its owner, ran the nightclub.

Right until his disappearance during the burning of the Valhalla Club, Ericsson kept a low profile despite his rumored ties to influential politicians, businessmen, and even members of the diplomatic corps. He was but a shadow in the club, only occasionally seen outside his office.

Ericsson Chua was born in the middle of 1953 to Chinese immigrants. His parents originally came from a small town in the province of Fujian. Because of a land dispute between their families, the young couple decided to elope, somehow finding their way aboard a ship bound for Manila where they arrived in September of 1951. The Chua couple eagerly settled in the sizable Chinese community in Binondo while pondering ways in which they would prosper. After a few unsuccessful business attempts, Ericsson’s father decided to open a panciteria, taking the name of a popular jazz song for the eatery.

In those days, Dizzy Malone’s “Dreaming Valhalla” was a jukebox favorite. In the same manner, the Panciteria Valhalla, which operated inside the house of the Chua couple, became successful, with Manileños quickly falling in love with the eatery’s special mami, miki, and lomi.

The success of the Panciteria Valhalla ensured that by April 15, 1953, the day Ericsson Chua was born, the Chua family was among the Chinese middle class. To celebrate the birth of his son, Ericsson’s father served free bowls of mami to the panciteria’s customers that day.

The actual entry of Ericsson Chua into the world was not exactly memorable. He was born at three in the morning in his parents’ house. The baby was not named immediately. In fact, Ericsson was a name suggested by one of the panciteria’s regular patrons— a history student from UST. The Chuas liked the sound of the name although they were barely able to pronounce it. In this manner, Ericsson Chua only came to exist a week after he was born.

Ericsson’s early childhood was spent among the sights and smells of the panciteria, where he crawled, stood, and finally walked among the servers and customers, sometimes upsetting an order or two. By his fifth birthday, Ericsson’s parents decided to send him to school.

A few blocks from the Panciteria Valhalla was a Chinese school run by the Jesuits, who were chased out of China upon the Communist’s assumption of power. The school was housed in a three-story building with huge wooden doors. There were two areas. Elementary classes were held in the west wing, while high school students crowded the eastern wing. Today part of a warehouse, the school was famous for its emphasis on mathematics and science. Classes were taught mostly in English, with special lessons on Chinese language and composition, as well as basic Filipino.

Ericsson Chua was enrolled from 1959 to 1970. Those who remembered him generally had a picture of a quiet boy who excelled in his studies but was notorious for some reason.

Though he did not graduate valedictorian or salutatorian, Ericsson Chua maintained an average of 93 throughout his elementary years. His discipline record was spotless save for an incident that happened on February 13, 1964.

Ericsson was then in the fifth grade. Not counting his high grades and aversion to competitive sports, he tended to blend into the background. Perhaps it was this anonymity that drew Robertson Co to pick on him.

Records show that Robertson Co was then also enrolled in the fifth grade. Robertson was considered problematic, with barely passing grades and a number of disciplinary cases to his name. On the 13th of February, right after the lunch bell had sounded, Robertson Co approached Ericsson. Robertson started by telling him that he knew that Ericsson’s parents owned Panciteria Valhalla. He then demanded that Ericsson give him a free bowl of miki that afternoon. Ericsson appeared taken aback. However, after a few moments, he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and proceeded down the stairs. This upset Robertson Co, who rushed behind Ericsson and pushed him against the railing. He then tried to strangle Ericsson.

The scene that followed was described by the disciplinary report as “unfortunate and strange,” especially since “Mr. Chua acted in a way not just out of character but also detrimental to the ideals and good name of the school.” Ericsson Chua never did give Robertson Co a chance to strangle him. Turning around quickly, he gouged Roberston’s eyes, then “kicked his genitals, after which he pushed him face first down the stairs.” He then “went up to Mr. Co, who was already starting to bleed, and rammed his head repeatedly against the wall until they were separated by nearby students and teachers.” While Robertson Co was brought to the hospital, Ericsson was brought to the principal’s office. After being orally reprimanded, he was given a two-day suspension. Interestingly enough, Robertson Co did not sustain any injuries. Despite being unconscious and bleeding while being brought to the hospital, he did not even have a bruise upon his admission, which led the doctors to question if a fight had indeed, taken place.

It is uncertain what Ericsson did during his suspension. Though some said he stayed in his room, there were rumors that he was expelled from the Chua household for the duration of the two days. Those who whispered rumors said that Ericsson stayed in the Chinese cemetery during this time, living on grave offerings and stray cats. Whatever the truth may have been, when Ericsson Chua returned from his suspension, those who knew him began to treat him with a detached respect that bordered on fear.

Aside from that incident, nothing of note happened during Ericsson’s elementary years. He graduated with honors on March 29, 1966. In June of that same year, Ericsson Chua entered his school’s eastern wing.

While Ericsson suddenly became taller and his voice changed during this time, he still avoided sports and did well in class. For the first few months of high school, Ericsson was wont to spend his breaks sitting on an otherwise empty bench, aloof to his classmates and teachers as he stared into space.