There was a time when the Manokan owners had make-shift stalls lining both sides of \"Kilid State,\" a side street beside State Theater (Kilid means beside, thus the name). Enveloped by smoke from a hundred barbecue stands, there was a sense that entering \"Kilid State\" (Smith Street) from the plaza side was entering a no-man's land. Beer flowed freely till the wee hours of morning. People got drunk and became rowdy. In the hazy glow of so many incandescent lamps and smokey embers, who knew how many stabbings took place? And of course there was the big question of sanitation, there being no running water for washing dishes and utensils street-side. Before we knew how tourists love these rugged, al fresco, feel-like-a-native eating places, that is what most of the uninitated thought about our original Manokan Country.