EPILOGUE II: A Historical Perspective on Naval Recruitment~What Became of the Maritime Filipino?

Picture this. Leon Zapanta, the first documented Filipino sailor to join the U.S. Navy, had already served 13 years when he reenlisted for another three. His 16 years of service included three during the Civil War. In 1860, he declared his intention to become an American citizen.

Whether Zapanta ever became an American citizen remains unknown. His story embodies a central contradiction of the maritime Filipino: he could serve the United States honorably, yet his own claim to belong remained unresolved. Other Filipino sailors who followed likely faced the same legal obstacle. Despite their service, men of Asian origin remained generally ineligible for naturalization under the laws of the time.

After leaving the ship, sailors had to earn a living, establish homes, and raise families. They built lives beyond the uniform, but acceptance was not automatic. Citizenship was one hurdle; marriage could be another.

In California, a 1933 amendment to the marriage law prohibited marriage between white people and those classified as belonging to the “Malay race,” a category applied to Filipinos. In Perez v. Sharp (1948), the California Supreme Court struck down the state’s ban. In Loving v. Virginia (1967), the U.S. Supreme Court invalidated such bans nationwide.

Old salts also passed down accounts of the difficulties Filipino sailors encountered when seeking to marry and establish families. Their recollections remind us that racial restrictions reached into private life.

That same year, Ensign Manuel Lopez, a Filipino American and U.S. Naval Academy graduate, encountered resistance when he sought a marriage license in Maryland to marry his white fiancée, Sally Smayling. On leave from sea duty in Vietnam, Lopez was initially refused a license. His father, Cornelio Lopez, a Washington lawyer, contacted a colleague; after representations to Maryland officials, a judge ordered the license issued. A Filipino American could graduate from the Naval Academy, earn a commission, and serve overseas, yet still face racial barriers when trying to build a family at home.

Later generations had new opportunities. The GI Bill of 1944 introduced educational and home-loan benefits for eligible veterans; the Vietnam Era GI Bill, beginning in 1966, offered another route to college or vocational training. Some Filipino sailors earned degrees through these benefits and later returned to the Navy as commissioned officers through direct procurement.

Others earned degrees while still on active duty, using Navy tuition assistance that could cover a substantial portion of tuition. I was among them. My education helped open the way to a professional career in the Navy Medical Service Corps as an Industrial Hygiene Officer.

Service could also help a family build a future. Eligible veterans could use VA-backed home loans; those with qualifying service-connected conditions could receive VA benefits, while eligible retirees and family members could qualify for TRICARE. California’s CalVet College Fee Waiver Program helped eligible veterans’ children attend public colleges and universities. Many Filipino Navy families used it to help their children pursue higher education. Eligibility varied, but benefits could extend to spouses and the next generation.

Some Filipinos who came through civilian immigration envied the sailors’ opportunities: steady employment, education, homeownership, and benefits for their families. Military service brought obligations and restrictions, but it could also offer security and advancement civilian immigrants had to find on their own.

For decades, Filipino stewards joked that their rating, TN, meant “Table Navigator.” The humor turned a restricted assignment into a small act of dignity. Yet it raised a serious question: what might a sailor become if the institution looked beyond his assigned duties and recognized his ability?

From TN to admiral, the distance was not measured by talent alone. It also depended on whether the doors of opportunity opened.

Rear Admiral Eleanor “Connie” Mariano, M.D., captures that journey. The daughter of a Navy steward, she became the first Filipino American to attain flag rank and the first woman in the military appointed White House physician. Her father, a steward-branch Master Chief Petty Officer, had risen to the Navy’s highest enlisted paygrade. At her 2000 promotion ceremony, he placed the admiral’s shoulder boards on her uniform. His hands trembled.

The father who had served admirals was now placing those symbols of rank on his daughter, who had become one. From the shipboard galley to the White House, the journey crossed generations—from a restricted assignment to the highest levels of naval leadership and public service.

Some Filipino sailors made the ultimate sacrifice. Their service deserves due recognition. For those who qualify, burial in a VA national cemetery offers a lasting tribute to their service. The honor extends to eligible spouses, allowing husbands and wives to rest together—a final recognition of a life of duty, sacrifice and the love they shared.

As Filipino American History Month draws to a close, these essays have sought to recover an overlooked chapter of our shared history. The Filipino sailor was more than a name on a muster roll or a steward in a galley. He was a worker, husband, father, veteran, and pioneer whose service helped open doors for those who followed.

I hope these essays have deepened understanding of the Filipino American experience and honored sailors whose contributions helped change a nation. Their stories deserve remembrance not only during Filipino American History Month, but throughout the year.