Vietnamese Los Angeles

Ask Hung Le what's in a name, and the 27-year-old Reseda man will rattle off a listof stunning replies: For the sake of his name, Le escaped alone from his native Vietnam as a child, was shuffled between foster families in the United States, refused to be adopted, got himself classified as an "incorrigible delinquent," graduated from Pepperdine University at the top of his class and married his college sweetheart.

Each Saturday, she changed the tires on wheelchairs, rotated their brakes, even scrubbed their seats and shined their handles. But Giselle Nguyen, 17, wanted to deliver the wheelchairs to people in Vietnam whose legs had been rendered useless by war, polio, childhood disease or simply from lack of medical attention. Volunteering each week at Wheels for Humanity's warehouse wasn't enough.

The father of a gang member-turned-state's-evidence was gunned down over the weekend in what investigators say was revenge or intimidation, but the son, Truong Dinh, testified in Van Nuys as scheduled Monday against the notorious Asian Boyz street gang. Dong Dinh, 64, answered the door at his north San Jose home Friday night and was shot to death execution-style by an unknown assailant. Police said there were no witnesses.

The father of a gang member-turned-state's-evidence was gunned down over the weekend in what investigators say was revenge or intimidation, but the son, Truong Dinh, testified in Van Nuys as scheduled Monday against the notorious Asian Boyz street gang. Dong Dinh, 64, answered the door at his north San Jose home Friday night and was shot to death execution-style by an unknown assailant. Police said there were no witnesses.

More than 300 Vietnamese-Americans quietly demonstrated Sunday in front of the British Consulate in Los Angeles, protesting last week's forced repatriation of Vietnamese refugees from the British colony of Hong Kong. Demonstrators received no response from inside the closed consulate offices on Wilshire Boulevard. They held signs, flags from the Republic of Vietnam, which fell to Vietnamese Communists in 1975, and a six-foot version of the Statue of Liberty.

It was a day of reunions at Los Angeles International Airport for a 21-year-old man who had not seen his mother since he was 14 years old; for a teen-age boy who had never met his little sister; for a college student who last saw his father in 1975 when he was taken away to be "re-educated" in a Southeast Asian prison camp.

They come by boat, past the Statue of Liberty, these huddled masses, through New York Harbor to Ellis Island, the country's most famous port of entry. This is how the tourists visit the Ellis Island Immigration Museum, one of New York's most popular attractions. Today's immigrants arrive in America on airplanes, and dozens of airports throughout the country are the new Ellis Islands.

Ask Hung Le what's in a name, and the 27-year-old Reseda man can offer a stunning reply. For the sake of his name, Le escaped alone from his native Vietnam as a child, was shuffled between foster families in the United States (refusing to be adopted), got himself classified as an "incorrigible delinquent," graduated from Pepperdine University at the top of his class and married his college sweetheart.

A recent rash of gang robberies of homes in Central Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley prompted Los Angeles police Tuesday to warn residents of the Vietnamese community not to open their doors to strangers--no matter what they are told. Detectives said there has been a sharp increase in the number of knock-and-rob attacks within the last couple of months.

Danh Pham is a tiny man with the slightly sour look of a hard-working businessman who doesn't have time for nosy strangers. Arms crossed, he listens as Tony Lam, restaurateur and man-about-town in Orange County's Little Saigon, asks him to enlighten a reporter about his small video rental business. After much talk in Vietnamese, Pham remains noncommittal, even suspicious, behind the counter of Danh's Video, his shop in a mini-mall off Garden Grove's Bolsa Avenue.

The San Fernando Valley's Korean and Vietnamese communities will hold festivals this weekend to celebrate two cultural holidays. The Valley Korean-American Assn. will host a "Chu-seog" festival Saturday at Mason Park in Chatsworth to celebrate the Korean Thanksgiving, one of the great national holidays in Korea. The noon event will feature a Korean barbecue lunch, traditional folk dancing and a Korean martial arts demonstration.

Taped to the wall of Ho Hoang's Chinatown apartment is a handwritten Vietnamese proverb that in English means: "On the outside, things look pretty. But on the inside, there's misery." But as Hoang and his 12-year-old twin daughters, Tam and Thien, gather on the floor of their virtually barren apartment, their eyes can't disguise the sadness that comes from years of poverty, misfortune and family separations.

For many Californians, the riots were more than a momentary blip on the screen--they were a flash point for lasting and fundamental changes in their lives. The devastation left a legacy of broken dreams for many, awakened a sense of social justice in some, unleashed anger and hatred in others, and rekindled a spirit of hope among others.

Thanh Lam lived through war, survived a perilous sea journey to freedom and endured a year's stay in a Malaysian refugee camp before coming to America. And then, 3 1/2 months ago, the 25-year-old man was shot dead, sitting in his pickup truck waiting for a traffic light to change at a corner in Compton. Lam, born in Vietnam of Chinese parents, loved automobiles and basketball. He wore T-shirts, jeans and caps touting such favorite teams as the Georgetown Hoyas and the Lakers.

They come by boat, past the Statue of Liberty, these huddled masses, through New York Harbor to Ellis Island, the country's most famous port of entry. This is how the tourists visit the Ellis Island Immigration Museum, one of New York's most popular attractions. Today's immigrants arrive in America on airplanes, and dozens of airports throughout the country are the new Ellis Islands.

Mai Elliott left Vietnam in 1968, fleeing the southerly creep of communist troops through her homeland and the violence that followed them. The horror of war lingers in dreams, of course. But she also sees the war's aftermath in the confused, anxious faces of Vietnamese refugees in the San Fernando Valley.

Mai Elliott left Vietnam in 1968, fleeing the southerly creep of communist troops through her homeland and the violence that followed them. The horror of war lingers in dreams, of course. But she also sees the war's aftermath in the confused, anxious faces of Vietnamese refugees in the San Fernando Valley.

Each Saturday, she changed the tires on wheelchairs, rotated their brakes, even scrubbed their seats and shined their handles. But Giselle Nguyen, 17, wanted to deliver the wheelchairs to people in Vietnam whose legs had been rendered useless by war, polio, childhood disease or simply from lack of medical attention. Volunteering each week at Wheels for Humanity's warehouse wasn't enough.

Ask Hung Le what's in a name, and the 27-year-old Reseda man can offer a stunning reply. For the sake of his name, Le escaped alone from his native Vietnam as a child, was shuffled between foster families in the United States (refusing to be adopted), got himself classified as an "incorrigible delinquent," graduated from Pepperdine University at the top of his class and married his college sweetheart.

Ask Hung Le what's in a name, and the 27-year-old Reseda man will rattle off a listof stunning replies: For the sake of his name, Le escaped alone from his native Vietnam as a child, was shuffled between foster families in the United States, refused to be adopted, got himself classified as an "incorrigible delinquent," graduated from Pepperdine University at the top of his class and married his college sweetheart.