Hao Van Vu, who left
Vietnam after the war and built a new life in southern California,
died on Feb. 20 after a lengthy battle with lung cancer. He was 67.
Vu was born in 1950
in Nam Dinh in north Vietnam. After the country split in 1954, the Vu
family moved to Hue and then Saigon, where Hao graduated from law
school. He would go to dances with
his
friends and drink
coffee at cafes frequented
by foreign correspondents. A
few days before Saigon fell to Communist forces, Hao’s family fled
Vietnam on a warship. Their journey over the next few months took
them to the Philippines, Guam, Fort Chaffee, Ark., and eventually
Nauvoo, Ill., where they were sponsored by the local Catholic
convent. While there, the Vu’s befriended one of the only other
Vietnamese families in the vicinity, the Phams of Keokuk, Iowa, where
Hao met his future wife, Kim Tuyen.
Hao followed the Phams when they moved to California. Kim did not
initially like Hao and only agreed to a first date at her mother’s
urging. She wore all black and ordered a shrimp noodle dish, but ate
only the shrimp to prove a point. They married and settled in the
area that would become Little Saigon. One by one, Hao’s parents and
the rest of his six siblings made their way to Orange County, where
they still live today.
Hao worked as a
drafter and engineer for several aerospace companies for 20-some
years, while he and Kim also learned the ropes of small business by
starting the Yogi’s Yogurt and Video Cup (later Star Video)
empires. They eventually found success in real estate, with Kim once
voicing that she hoped Hao would be fired from Boeing so that he
could work full time for her. He tried, but despite showing up in
ripped jeans, taking long midday breaks, and reading novels at work,
he was just too valuable to fire. Kim eventually got her wish when he
quit.
He was a great family man, putting three kids through graduate
school. He called dibs on their diplomas, which he hung proudly in
his home office. He helped care for several nieces and nephews who
fondly remember the summer or year they lived with the Vu Phamily.
Despite this, he relished the reputation he had as the gruff uncle.
He loved it when his sisters warned their kids, “Be good or I’ll
tell on you to Uncle Hao.” When children tried to get their way by
crying, he cheerfully urged them to “cry louder, nobody cares!”
heedless of how many passersby looked on in alarm. One of his
now-grown nieces admitted to using this technique on her own
children.
He constantly sent money back to Vietnam to help disabled veterans
and the Catholic community. Hao and Kim have donated to repair
churches and buy land for a cemetery. They helped build a brand new
church, Nha Tho Xu Yen Khe, for Yen Khe parish in Ninh Binh, Kim’s
home province. The Vietnamese parishioners have been praying for Hao
since the cancer returned, and several churches are planning to
celebrate a mass in his honor.
He loved road trips. Hao and Kim thought nothing of spontaneously
going on a six-hour drive to visit their son Peter in Sacramento.
They once drove into Mexico by accident and then called their
daughter Pauline asking if she could Google whether they’d be
allowed back into the U.S. without their passports (spoiler alert:
they were). They traveled to Europe, Central America, the Caribbean,
China, Mexico, all over the U.S., and made numerous trips to Vietnam.
On one such
visit, Hao ate bun bo Hue
every day the family was in that city. On the day when they
were scheduled to leave Hue
early, Hao and his daughter
Jackie got up at the crack of dawn and took a cyclo to their favorite
restaurant to squeeze in one last bowl.
He loved dancing,
singing karaoke,
and meeting up
with his many friends. He
was an
excellent party host — people
still talk about Hao
and Kim’s 38th
anniversary blowout. One
of his
great joys was reconnecting
with the law school
friends he had known
in Saigon since
people had
scattered
after the war.
Hao is survived and
beloved by his wife and three children; his mother and father-in-law;
two dozen siblings and siblings-in-law; a whole passel of nieces and
nephews; more friends than even he knew he had; and seven dogs and
two cats.
