Saigon Revisited : The Media Return--’Everything. . .Gonzo’

ABC correspondent Steve Bell was on the roof of the Doc Lap Hotel--once known as the Caravelle in the days when journalists sipped cocktails and watched a war explode beneath them--telling viewers back home that he was making the first live television broadcast from Vietnam.

What Bell did not realize as he continued his “stand-up” was that his audience was not exclusively American--or human. A big, bold, black rat had inched its way to his feet and was perched on its haunches, seeming to stare quizzically at this odd form of behavior.

“It probably wanted his autograph,” fellow TV reporter Richard Threlkeld smirkingly remarked.

Ten years after they left a crumbling South Vietnam, the Americans are back. This time, however, instead of M-16s, they come armed with shotgun mikes. Instead of tanks and bombs, they carry minicams and satellite dishes.

As Communist Vietnam celebrates the 10th anniversary of “liberation” of the once pro-American south, the country is mugging for the cameras of a Western media blitz. Nearly 200 reporters, photographers and technicians from several countries are here covering festivities commemorating the fall of what used to be called Saigon.

The charge is being led by two American TV networks--NBC and ABC--which are spending hundreds of thouands of dollars each in hot competition to outrazzle-dazzle each other for ratings with sophisticated technology. CBS, in hot water with the Hanoi government for past run-ins with reporting crews, was granted only five visas and plans no live coverage of events.

Almost everywhere one goes in this former South Vietnamese capital, there are TV crews taping stories, photographers snapping pictures and reporters scribbling notes, all closely followed by official guides.

Pedicab drivers seem to have split into two camps, one sporting baseball caps with NBC logos on them and the others with blue ABC hats. At the government-run Cuu Long hotel, NBC’s headquarters for the duration, waiters in the restaurant now wear tie tacks emblazoned with the network’s peacock symbol.

Diplomats in Hanoi estimate that the network and other correspondents may spend as much as $5 million for transportation, hotel rooms, telex and telephone charges, and satellite rentals. That may not be much by Western standards, but it represents nearly a third of financially strapped Vietnam’s foreign exchange reserves.

The flood of free-spending journalists has triggered a dramatic rise in the price of imported black-market beer and soft drinks and a sharp drop in illegal dollar trading.

“Everything’s totally gonzo” (bizarre and extravagant), complained Tim Page, a veteran British war photographer.

For many of the visitors, it is as much a nostalgia trip as an assignment, a chance to visit old haunts and swap stories and memories with pals who are a bit paunchier, balder and possibly more sober than in the old days. Four of the most frequently spoken words heard here lately seem to be “Remember the time when. . . .”

Not all the newcomers, however, are Vietnam-era fanatics.

At breakfast in the Rex Hotel, a 24-year-old American newspaper correspondent was told that David Dellinger was sitting a couple of tables down. “Who’s that?” she asked. “He’s one of the Chicago Seven,” her dining companion replied. “What’s that?” she said.

NBC correspondent George Lewis, who covered Vietnam in the 1970s, had sent a memo to his bosses urging in-depth reporting of the 10th anniversary. “There’s a lot of unfinished business, a lot of open wounds we ought to explore,” said Lewis, a correspondent here during the fighting. “It was something that was eating at my craw.”

Eventually, in bureaucratic stages, he succeeded. And Hanoi’s officials have come to realize that they have a hot property on their hands. As businessmen, the Communist Vietnamese sometimes seem like hard-nosed capitalists. Terms are strictly cash--U.S. dollars only, please--and journalists walk around with huge amounts of greenbacks on them.

The five-man contingent from CBS was charged $4,000 to fly on a regular Air Vietnam flight from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City. This paid for the crew and its 1.5 tons of equipment, plus tickets for four Vietnamese guides and technicians and the sister of one of the guides.

After his crew filmed Vietnamese MIG jets and army tanks in maneuvers a few weeks ago, ABC correspondent Jim Laurie was told he would be charged for the 5,000 liters of gasoline the vehicles used. He refused to pay.

Gary Burns, an Australian cameraman who has worked in a number of Third World countries, said he and other reporters were housed two to a room in an old bordello during a visit to the Central Highlands city of Pleiku. “It was the worst place I’ve stayed in my life,” he said.

Several television people said they have received hints--sometimes flat requests--from Vietnamese press officials that they “donate” videotapes, cassettes or other equipment.

Some low-level officials have even suggested to NBC that it leave behind its ground station, a notion laughed off.

If foreign journalists are sometimes befuddled by Vietnam’s way of handling things, the Vietnamese are mystified by the activities of the foreigners. NBC technicians said one of their guides recently overheard two young boys puzzling over the glistening white ground station and its huge white satellite dish.

“What is that?” One of the boys asked the other. “It’s a lotus flower on wheels,” the companion said.

Gen. William C. Westmoreland relects on TV and Vietnam in Calendar.