‘Liberation’ to Be Celebrated : Ho Chi Minh City Primps; Traces of U.S. Role Fade

Patriotic billboards in the best Marxist-Leninist heroic style dot the city, new coats of ocher paint have been laid on buildings lining the main thoroughfares and the price of a pedicab ride has tripled.

The Communist government and the common folk of Vietnam are getting ready to celebrate next week’s 10th anniversary of the takeover of Saigon--what the government in Hanoi calls the “liberation” of southern Vietnam.

Rehearsals have begun along the mall between the old Presidential Palace and the cathedral. On Thursday night, several thousand young people were in the area, either watching the preparations or taking part in them. At week’s end, it was still unclear what the Tuesday ceremonies would involve, but a military parade and speeches by high officials from Hanoi are expected.

Since renamed for the father of Vietnamese communism, this sprawling home of more than 3 million seems enthusiastic about the event but a little flustered. The arrival of nearly 200 U.S. journalists, the most Americans that the Saigonese have seen since 1975, is a primary concern.

Take, for instance, the U.S. dollars hitting the city. While nothing is more welcome here than greenbacks, the Saigonese are a bit choosy. When a visitor peeled off a sheaf of bills to pay his telex bill the other evening, the operator checked them closely.

“This is not good,” she said, handing back a $1 note.

Why not? She pointed to George Washington’s face, on which someone had penned a mustache, and refused to take it.

Another visitor recalled an earlier trip to Saigon when, he said, it was even tougher to move the much-wanted currency. He said the word had somehow gotten around that no U.S. bill was good unless it bore the signature of W. Michael Blumenthal, President Jimmy Carter’s Treasury Secretary. Hotel clerks, telex operators and waiters carefully checked each note.

It’s hard to tell here what’s authentically American. Coca-Cola sold on the city’s black market was canned in the Netherlands. The Saigonese are even unsure about the Americans themselves.

Mistaken for Russians

Two reporters having lunch in Cholon, the Chinese section of the city, had drawn a small crowd, as Caucasians normally do here. The waiter finally popped the question: “Where are you from?”

“Americans,” one replied.

“Ah, congratulations,” the waiter said. “We thought you were Russians.”

It has been, after all, 10 years since the Americans were here fighting a war along with the U.S.-backed South Vietnamese army. Despite the huge U.S. presence here a decade ago, startlingly few physical traces of that involvement are visible now.

Most are at Tan Son Nhut Airport, a major air base during the war. Still standing along the taxiways are the concrete revetments that provided cover for U.S. and South Vietnamese fighter planes. Nearby sit the burned and rusted hulks of U.S. military helicopters.

Most of the buildings that wartime Americans remember within Saigon are still standing. The mayor’s office, freshly painted and now the home of the People’s Committee of Ho Chi Minh City, dominates Nguyen Hue, “the street of flowers”--though few of the flower kiosks remain.

Some Restaurants Gone

Also gone, a veteran correspondent noted, are the first-rate French restaurants of the downtown area, most of which were run by Corsicans during the war years. But the GivralRestaurant, a haunt of the foreign press and Saigon politicians in those days, is still operating.

So is the Continental Palace Hotel--now reportedly reserved for Communist Party officials or Soviet Bloc visitors--but the “Continental shelf,” a terrace bar favored by American soldiers and reporters, is now closed in. Only the floor tiles remain the same.

Brink’s and the Rex, former U.S. officers’ quarters, are now an apartment block and hotel, respectively. Tu Do, the street of saloons and nightclubs, is now named Dong Khoi (Uprising).

Another trace of the American presence missing, at least for this occasion, are the Amerasian children, offspring of departed GIs. They used to gather around visiting American journalists on a corner of Tu Do Street, seeking some contact with their missing fathers and a chance at emigration. But none have been there in recent days, presumably because of the efforts of the authorities.

Few Traffic Lights

Meanwhile, the heart of Saigon remains busy if visibly fading in spots. Bicycles, motorbikes, pedestrians and a few cars course the streets. There are few traffic lights to impede their progress.

Like most Third World cities, this one is noisy. Traffic doesn’t hum, it putts. A driver’s favorite button is the horn. Streetside salvage shops, hammering out any available piece of scrap, add to the racket.

Perhaps the only quiet time of day is dawn. On the bank of the Saigon River, residents perform the slow-motion exercise of tai chi, while others play in pickup badminton games or simply stroll along the walkways watching the early activity of the freighters moored in the river.

Although Vietnam is heavily militarized, the military is not much in evidence. But when someone gets out of line, such as a group of children crowding foreign visitors, a sharp bark from a cop sends them scurrying. And the military is expected to be here in good numbers to take part in Tuesday’s celebration.

Antiwar Activist

At least two invited American guests were on hand Thursday--antiwar activist David Dellinger and John McAuliff of the U.S-Indochina Reconciliation Project.

Dellinger said it was his first visit to Vietnam since September, 1975, and he was surprised to receive the invitation. “I was going down to Washington to commit CD (civil disobedience)” when the word came, he told reporters here. He said he understood that Dr. Benjamin Spock and Jane Fonda also received invitations, but he did not know if they would be coming. (A spokesman for Fonda in Los Angeles said she would not attend).

The biggest excitement in town was taking place outside the Majestic Hotel, now named the Cuu Long: A black Mercedes, a rarity here, swerved onto the riverfront road, followed by two more black sedans.

What was it?

It was clear a few minutes later, when the same three cars roared around the corner again. It was a second take. A Russian film company was making a movie.