By Víctor Manuel Ramos
Sentinel Staff Writer
Orlando Sentinel (c) April 30, 2005
Relentless gunfire blasted parts of Saigon when Tinh Xuan Nguyen finally decided to flee with his wife and 10 children on April 29, 1975.
Nguyen had agonized for days over leaving behind his elderly grandfather, who was too frail to make an escape. But now he had to choose. Nguyen decided to leave him in his home, hoping he would survive.
There was no time for long goodbyes.
With only one motorcycle, Nguyen’s family members rode one by one to the Saigon River. A barge taking people to an American ship was pulling away.
They ran as fast as they could. Seven managed to leap aboard as the barge undocked. The eldest son, Son Xuan, dived into the water and swam to it. But Nguyen, his wife and two of their daughters couldn’t make the jump. The boat had moved too far away.
Nguyen’s daughter, Kim Long Tran, then 19, was onboard. She watched with despair as her parents, her sisters and Saigon shrank in the distance.
The family was torn apart.
Tens of thousands of people with similar stories made the journey to the United States after U.S. troops withdrew from the Vietnam War.
Like hundreds of others, Tran’s family eventually settled in Central Florida. They were sponsored by residents, institutions and corporations that provided temporary housing, money and help finding jobs.
The exodus from Saigon, now known as Ho Chi Minh City, gave birth to a community of Vietnamese refugees that thrives today in Central Florida.
For survivors like Tran, this weekend’s 30th anniversary of the fall of Saigon resurrects the pain of their uprooting but also a sense of accomplishment at their success in rebuilding their lives in a foreign land.
Tran’s family fared better than some who lost their family members forever. Although Tran’s relatives thought they would never see one another again, a second barge picked up the rest of her family members who were left on the dock, and they were reunited at sea.
Family members settled in Florida, California, Colorado and Alabama. Tran, her mother, two brothers and two sisters still live in Orlando. Her father, Nguyen, an accountant in Vietnam, died in Orlando in 2001 after writing a 43-page memoir about his family history and the escape from Vietnam. The grandfather survived the Communist onslaught and lived about five more years until his death in Vietnam.
“We were lucky, but with us that day is a sad day,” said Tran, 49, who owns a beauty salon in the business district along Colonial Drive that has become Orlando’s Little Saigon.
Florida was one of four states where the government set up camps to serve the 133,000 Vietnamese refugees who fled to the United States.
It was a tense time in the country. The war had cost more than 58,000 American lives and divided the nation. But refugees were largely welcomed in Florida.
The camp at Eglin Air Force Base, about 50 miles east of Pensacola, processed more than 10,000 refugees, though not all stayed in Florida. The Catholic Immigration and Refugee Services office of Catholic Charities, which helped resettle the bulk of the 1975 arrivals here, estimates that 1,100 Vietnamese found homes in Central Florida.
More than 9,000 people of Vietnamese ancestry live in Brevard, Lake, Orange, Osceola, Polk, Seminole and Volusia, according to the 2000 U.S. census. There are more than 33,000 statewide.
This weekend, many refugees will reflect on the anniversary of the fall of Saigon at Buddhist temples, Christian churches, a candlelight vigil and an Orlando City Hall rally.
“The feeling is very mixed for us,” said Thomas Tien Nguyen, a Realtor who is chief executive officer of Saigon Radio, 1440 AM, which plans special programming today.
“Thirty years already passed, and a lot of people are still living in the subconscious and traumatic experiences of that time,” he said, “but the community has sort of lived day by day to survive with those feelings and open the way for the younger generations.”
The Vietnamese business community has a strong presence downtown in the area of Colonial Drive and Mills Avenue, and it is still growing. Several new shops and another large restaurant have opened, joining a core of Asian food markets and other businesses.
Even with a majority of Buddhists, the Catholic Diocese of Central Florida has established the St. Philip Phan Van Minh parish with about 1,800 Vietnamese members.
The Rev. Chau Nguyen, 44, broke from his Vietnamese language sermon at a recent Mass to speak in English to a group of preteens receiving First Communion. “You are being elected to join a larger community,” he told them. “In a special way, you come to be united with us in sharing one bread and drinking from the same cup.”
The church is where the new generation and the original refugees converge.
For the younger generation, Vietnam is part of their history. For others, it remains a part of life. Memories haunt Winter Haven resident Nuoc Dan, the church’s 59-year-old deacon. Dan, a high-school teacher in 1975, ran for his life and climbed onto a helicopter from a seven-story building as the North Vietnamese took over.
In his dreams, Dan is still running but the helicopter never comes.
The Nguyen family remembers their terrifying moments, but their story in Florida is one of success. They were sponsored by the Sentinel-Star, now the Orlando Sentinel, where the eldest son and father initially got jobs as clerks. The other children eventually pursued professional careers or opened businesses such as hair salons and tailor shops.
The youngest child, Vinh Xuan Nguyen, now 37, works as a financial adviser in Orlando. In one of the Sentinel’s photographs after his arrival, he is watching his first television show in English — featuring The Three Stooges.
“I always think about my parents taking a huge risk and coming here so we could have this life,” Vihn Xuan Nguyen says.
Tinh Xuan Nguyen left his scrapbook and memoir to ensure his children would always remember their history.
“We have to remind you that since three generations, your grandparents, your parents, and all of you, we were all victims swept by the whirlwind of war,” he wrote.
Kim Long Tran has tried to read her father’s words every April 30. But the tears always stop her from finishing. She still has not summoned the strength to make it to the last lines.
“We have to pray . . . for our people to live peacefully,” Nguyen wrote. “On anniversaries . . . we must memorize our ancestors, who have planted trees bearing sweet fruits, so that we could enjoy eating them. We have to conserve the family activities, and never forget VIETNAM and the origin of our NGUYEN XUAN family.”
