Little Saigon is San Francisco's newest ethnic neighborhood, joining Japantown, Chinatown and Italian-flavored North Beach

Little Saigon district thrives in San Francisco
By Ken McLaughlin
Staff writer
Posted: 01/25/2009 09:44:07 PM PST


Marble sculptures of mythical lions adorn the tops of two 8-foot
granite pylons, a stone's throw from dozens of diners eating gourmet-
quality Vietnamese food, slurping pho and chatting in the songlike
language of their ancestors. Colorful banners hang from lampposts.
"Welcome," they say, "to Little Saigon."

Little Saigon, San Francisco.

It's true. In a city that has a Vietnamese population an eighth the
size of San Jose's, Little Saigon is San Francisco's newest ethnic
neighborhood, joining Japantown, Chinatown and Italian-flavored North
Beach.

Tucked away in the gritty Tenderloin, Little Saigon was quietly
created in 2003 by a unanimous vote of the board of supervisors. This
past summer, Mayor Gavin Newsom helped christen the gateway — whose
lions represent peace, happiness and safety — at Larkin and Eddy
streets. About 20,000 people from throughout the Bay Area recently
headed to Little Saigon to celebrate Tet, the Vietnamese lunar new
year, which begins today.

Whereas the term Little Saigon to many San Jose residents conjures up
an image of a bizarre public fight among Vietnamese emigres over what
to call a suburban shopping district, San Francisco over the past
several years has actively built the neighborhood's identity, pumping
nearly $100,000 in city dollars into beautification and construction
of the gateway.

"San Francisco is a liberal city that really listens to people and
likes to give them what they want," said To Le Hang, a member of San
Francisco's Little Saigon Committee. "The city is always doing a lot
to promote diverse cultures and tourism."

Some Vietnamese who last year led the charge for Little Saigon in San
Jose say they are jealous — and insulted.

"It's a much smaller Vietnamese community than here, but the Little
Saigon designation just sailed right through," said San Jose lawyer
Minh Steven Dovan. "We, on the other hand, had to fight tooth and
nail, and all we got was permission to put up some banners that we had
to pay for ourselves."

San Francisco's Little Saigon is officially only two city blocks —
Larkin between Eddy and O'Farrell — but the neighborhood extends far
beyond that, with more than 250 Vietnamese-owned businesses and a host
of nonprofit groups that cater to Vietnamese and other Southeast
Asians.

"We just want to come here and feel like it's home," said longtime San
Francisco resident Mai Dinh, 54, who fled Saigon days before the 1975
communist takeover. "You left your heart in San Francisco. Well, we
left our homeland in Saigon. No matter how American you become, you
can't help but feel that."

Dinh was having lunch a few days ago at the Bodega Bistro — Cuisine
Indochine with her 34-year-old daughter, Liz Cong, who was just a baby
when the family escaped Vietnam. Now a nursing manager at California
Pacific Medical Center, she loves coming to Little Saigon "because it
reminds me of her," said Cong, nodding her head toward Mom.

For years, 48-year-old Jimmy Huynh and his wife, Diep, have been
saving money for their dream — opening a pho restaurant. They think
they've found the perfect place for their Vietnamese hot soup
emporium, a few doors down from the bistro in a spot where a Mexican
restaurant went out of business.

"We're scared about the economy and crazy right now getting the place
ready, but the neighbors are all very nice and we're going to work
very hard," said Diep Huynh, 45, who will be the main cook at Pho
2000.

Like the Huynhs, about half of San Francisco's 13,000 Vietnamese are
ethnically Chinese, compared with about 20 percent in San Jose. In
addition, Little Saigon by the Bay tends to be less politically
charged than San Jose's 100,000-strong émigré community.

"We deliberately brought the Vietnamese community into the mainstream
rather than appeal to them with anti-communist rhetoric, as the
leaders did in San Jose," said Vu-Duc Vuong, who once ran San
Francisco's Southeast Asian Community Center.

Most Sino-Vietnamese immigrated to Vietnam from Canton (now called
Guangzhou) and generally viewed themselves as foreigners. They made up
much of the merchant class but were not encouraged to get involved in
Vietnamese politics; many saw politics as dirty.

Quoc Long Jewelry is one of scores of Little Saigon businesses owned
by ethnic Chinese. Its signs are in English, Vietnamese, Cambodian and
Chinese. That's because its Chinese-Vietnamese owner, Khong Tu, was
born and raised in Cambodia. In 1979, his family fled the Khmer Rouge.

When two Sino-Vietnamese women, Queena Liang and Elizabeth Ly, came
into Tu's shop, they spoke in Chinese. Asked if they shopped at Quoc
Long because of the owner's common heritage, Ly replied with a laugh:
"No. It's because I like their jewelry."

About 80 percent of the stores in the heart of Little Saigon are
Vietnamese. However, there's also room for New York Pizza.

Pizza maker Fahd Al-Karshi, an immigrant from Yemen, said that nearly
everyone in Little Saigon thinks the neighborhood is cleaner and safer
than in years past.

"In the early '80s, it was wild and crazy," said handyman Fredrick
McCallister, 44, who has lived most of his life in the Tenderloin.
"You had prostitutes walking up and down the street all the time. Then
you mixed that with all the alcohol — and whoa!"

The neighborhood still has its wild side, said McAllister, who lives
across the street from the New Century Theater, whose marquee
advertises "75 naughty hotties."

But after the Vietnamese came in great numbers more than two decades
ago, he said, "you started seeing more kids around, which made our
neighborhood a lot nicer."

He also feels comforted by the two lions on the pylons at Larkin and
Eddy.

"They're guarding this place," McCallister said. "I really believe
that."

Reach Ken McLaughlin at 408-920-5552 or kmclaughlin@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
.

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