It was a quiet morning last year when a thought stirred in the mind of Rozzano “Nino” Locsin, one of the seven children of Vicente Teves Locsin Jr.—known to many, simply as Tico. It had been over two decades since Tico passed in June 2000 at the age of 78. Time, ever-moving and selective in its memory, had begun to dim the name of a man who once walked the streets of Dumaguete with quiet dignity, and a deeply-rooted sense of purpose.
Tico Locsin was born on March 17, 1922 in Dumaguete City. He came from a family of influence and public service. His father, Dr. Vicente Armada Locsín, was both a respected physician, and a politician who once represented Negros Oriental in the First Philippine Assembly. His mother, Trinidad Teves de Locsin, came from a lineage equally steeped in civic and social responsibility.
While his family name opened doors, Tico lived a life defined less by grandstanding, and more by grace and principle.
His marriage in 1946 to Maria Luisa “Inday” de Castro—herself a community pillar, and later a published memoirist—sealed a partnership not just in family life but in civic engagement.
The Locsins would go on to raise seven children, and share decades of deep community involvement, particularly during the 1960s and 70s when they were active members of the Junior Chamber International.
Their first home stood where Plaza Maria Luisa Suites Inn now rises—a quiet transformation that reflects Dumaguete’s evolution, just as the memory of Tico has transformed from physical presence to enduring influence.
Inside that home was a wall lined with vinyl records: 33 1/3 long play records and 45s that spoke volumes of his abiding love for music. Czardas and Rondo Alla Turca were special favorites. His fondness for them was so enduring that he would offer 50 centavos to his sister Gracia, just to listen to her play them on the piano.
In those tender gestures, Tico’s spirit shone—a man whose love of music mirrored a love for life’s subtleties.
This same love was evident once again during a recent musical tribute held in his memory at the Luce Auditorium. Organized by the Locsin family, the tribute featured emotionally-stirring performances of Requiem selections by Verdi, Fauré, and Mozart by the Campus Choristers, the Silliman Band, and the pseudo orchestra. The choir was conducted by Dr. Elizabeth Susan Vista-Suarez, a long-time family friend whose connection with the Locsins stretched back to her youth, through Nino’s sister, Christy Bollos. Vista-Suarez’s masterful direction of the choir brought to life the emotional landscape of Tico’s legacy—his quiet strength, his cultural refinement, and his enduring place in the community.
These tributes are not staged annually; they emerge only when the heart calls for remembrance. This year, as Nino Locsin marks his 71st birthday, he finds himself drawn more and more to his father’s memory. “He passed away at 78,” Nino reflects. “I’m not far from that myself.”
There’s clarity in this season of life—a recognition of what truly matters, of legacies not measured in monuments, but in moments.
Tico Locsin’s name still echoes in Dumaguete, not least because of Dr. V. Locsin Street, which honors his father. Yet, even beyond street signs and ceremonies, Tico’s story survives in the music he loved, the stories shared by those who knew him, and the quiet inspiration he left behind for the next generation.
“He was a good man,” Nino says simply of his father. “My star.”
In remembering Tico Locsin, Dumaguete remembers more than a name—it remembers a soul who lived in harmony with his values, whose life was a melody played softly but surely, always in tune with the City he loved. (Alex Pal)
