Few places illustrate Manila’s urbanization as clearly as Taft Ave. For more than a century, the avenue has grown alongside the capital, transforming from Calle Rizal into a corridor of universities, hospitals, commercial hubs, government institutions, and even mass transportation. With each addition and extension, Taft became a backbone of not just Metro Manila’s transport system, but of the everyday lives of people who inevitably pass through it. Yet amid this dense urban landscape, historical markers preserve fragments of what came before. Taft Avenue, in this sense, is not simply a product of urbanization—it is a record of it.
From avenue to urban artery
DLSU Department of History Lecturer Jeremy Clemente shares that Taft’s name can be traced back to 1915, after finding it on an archival map. “It’s not the Taft Avenue that we know because it’s still small,” he explains, pertaining to the original segment that ran from Padre Burgos St. to Calle Herran, now known as Pedro Gil. What began as a residential area, even playing a vital part in World War II, gradually became a busy thoroughfare stretching beyond Manila toward neighboring cities.
Yet it expanded over more than just distance. Over the years, the landscape surrounding the avenue changed, as institutions and establishments began to cluster along its path. Taft’s significance lies not only in the places it connects, but in the different lives that converge along it. A student headed to class may share the same stretch of road with someone going to work, seeking medical care, attending church, or simply making their way to another destination. The purpose may differ, but Taft remains the common ground beneath them.
Dr. Jose Victor Torres, another DLSU history professor, reiterates the role Taft cemented in Manila’s history, from remaining establishments like the LRT-1’s original Baclaran station to ones that are long-gone, such as the old Ateneo de Manila University campus, now occupied by Robinsons Place Manila.
That history is reflected in the markers found along the avenue. Of the five categories recognized by the National Historical Commission of the Philippines (NHCP)—personages, institutions, sites, structures, and events—Miguel Antonio Jimenez, a history researcher from the NHCP, notes that institutions make up the majority of those in the area. Particularly, educational institutions from the American colonial period are prominent, such as the University of the Philippines Manila, the Philippine Normal University, and, of course, De La Salle University.
Hidden in plain sight
Mounted on walls or tucked behind entrances, standing along the familiar paths are these traces of the Taft Ave. that came before. These include the recognition of Philippine General Hospital for its vital role in public health, the Scottish Rite Temple that marks both the heritage of Scottish Rite Freemasonry in the country and its role as a refuge site during the Battle of Manila, and one honoring Dr. Olivia Salamanca, a pioneering female physician, among many others. Each of these markers bear details of our heritage, meant to keep the past within reach as the wheels of time continue to turn. Yet their permanence is a double-edged sword; what is always there can become the easiest to overlook.
When asked about this phenomenon, Clemente shares that there is a lack of nostalgia for the avenue since it is and has always been a “functional, usable, living thoroughfare.” As Torres puts it, “for us, a street is just a street.” Much of Taft’s history stands along streets passed by thousands each day, fading into a landscape rendered ordinary by routine.
But as the city changes, not everything survives with it. Buildings are altered or demolished, people pass on, and physical traces fade altogether. As the past is “long gone,” history can only remain “in the memory of the people [which we pass] through generations,” Jimenez asserts. This act of memorialization is the heart of the NHCP’s historical markers—they serve as a means of carrying these memories forward, even when the spaces where they once unfolded continue to change.
Past the bricks and mortar
Amid the constant clank and clamor of urban Taft, listening for echoes of its history can prove to be difficult. But commemorating the past does not always mean suspending a building in time; Clemente points to adaptive reuse as a practical compromise.
To illustrate this, Clemente highlights an abandoned castle in Europe transformed into a modern retail store. There, developers installed protective barriers and informational displays around significant portions of the original structure to keep them safe and contextualized for visitors. He also points to a subway station in Rome built directly around an active Roman excavation site. “You mold the modernization effort around the historical site,” he explains, allowing historic spaces to take on new lives as functional establishments.
Yet, physical structures remain just one avenue for commemoration. “Via rule of what is history, of course, even if the landscape of things changes, people [will] always have a memory of that place,” Jimenez muses in Filipino.
Thus, ordinary citizens must be involved as true “custodians” of a location’s history. “I think it is very, very important to inculcate a sense of ownership and sense of participation,” Clemente underscores. He points to Intramuros, where locals are trained as official tour guides, showing how community involvement can turn personal investment into heritage protection.
Walking down Taft Ave. today is more than a routine commute through heavy traffic. It is an invitation to look beyond its physical surface, engage deeply with the historical layers beneath the pavement, and accept a shared responsibility to keep its stories alive. “Places like this in our history are not only places in which we have to recognize,” Torres reminds us, “but these are [also] places that we have to learn from.”