A Fight for Honor
A decade ago, Chris Nguyen had reached the pinnacle of his life. Profiled in Newsweek and Fortune for his success selling frozen egg rolls, he was the most prominent Vietnamese American businessman in the country.
Then, all at once, Nguyen lost his wife, his job and his home. He blamed Wisconsin-based cheese maker Sargento Foods Inc., which bought his company, for his misfortunes.
Nguyen, a boyish 50, spins a tale of love, betrayal and lost honor. He claims he left his job and family after Sargento executives ignored the fact that his boss started an affair with his wife.
This could have been an anonymous case of a disgruntled ex-employee fighting bosses in court. Instead, Nguyen chose to wage a highly publicized hunger strike against Sargento.
For 15 days this month, Nguyen would go to a small, rented office in Little Saigon to carry on his protest, a hunger strike against the people he says destroyed his life.
He vowed to keep going until Sargento agreed to an apology, an unspecified amount of money for himself and $500,000 for Vietnamese charities. Last week, the strike ended when Sargento and Nguyen reached a settlement.
Neither side would disclose the terms, but they confirmed Nguyen would receive money. As part of the deal, the two sides agreed that neither was at fault.
Nguyen claims that the depths of his shame--losing his wife so publicly--didn’t allow him any other method of protest.
“I use my life as my last weapon,” he said. “They destroyed my life. They have to pay for it.”
In 1990s America, where battles are usually fought in court, Nguyen’s gesture was sweepingly melodramatic--some say crazy. Yet Nguyen’s claims--legitimate or not--captured the sympathies of many in the Vietnamese American community, where he emerged as something of a national cause celebre.
His story was all over Vietnamese-language radio and newspapers, and he enlisted the support of half a dozen Vietnamese American organizations throughout the country. Even those who disagreed with his tactics say there is something to be said for his determination in fighting a solitary battle against an American company.
Ha Nguyen, executive director of the Vietnamese Assn. of Illinois, says that even though he tried to persuade Nguyen to change his mind about the hunger strike, his choice of protest was not unusual.
“In Vietnam, if we feel that we are to be destroyed and have no means, we can protest by hunger strike,” he said.
End of a Success Story
Chris Nguyen and his wife, Loan-Anh Pham, were the quintessential immigrant success story.
In 1980, the newlyweds started a company in Tampa, Fla., selling frozen egg rolls. Nguyen named it Lo/An Foods after his wife and baby daughter.
Within a few years, he and Loan had taken 20% of the frozen egg roll market. He won the 1988 Merrill Lynch and Ernst & Young Award for Entrepreneur of the Year.
Nguyen built a company that made $10 million in sales by 1990. That was when he sold it to Sargento for $5 million. As part of the deal, he and his wife were supposed to stay with the company for five years to head the new division.
Trouble began a year later, Nguyen says, when Sargento hired an executive to oversee the couple.
Gossip that the new boss was having an affair with his wife troubled Nguyen so much that he complained to CEO Louis Gentine and demanded the man be transferred. Gentine told Nguyen that it was a “personal matter” between husband and wife and that he was “not a marriage counselor,” according to depositions taken during the Nguyens’ divorce proceedings.
Depressed and undergoing counseling, Nguyen left the company in 1992. He admits he “went crazy for a few years,” leaving behind his wife and two children in Tampa for his parents’ home in La Mirada.
Gentine maintained that the company was not responsible for Nguyen’s marital breakup.
In reply to written questions from The Times, he wrote: “It is regrettable that Nguyen’s marriage broke up; however, that is a personal matter between him and his former wife, and does not involve Sargento as their former employer. . . . Sargento did nothing to initiate, encourage or promote a relationship between his former wife and another former employee.”
In fact, when Nguyen first complained, the company asked Loan about her husband’s suspicions, and she denied them. Consequently, Sargento dropped the matter.
Loan Nguyen did not return phone messages.
Three years after he left the company, Nguyen returned to demand an apology, compensation for himself and $5 million for Vietnamese charities.
In May 1996, Sargento agreed to apologize in writing and offered $500,000 for Vietnamese charities and $800,000 for Nguyen.
Nguyen refused the deal because it allowed Sargento to cut off payments if he did anything harmful to the company or its employees.
Later that year, Sargento closed Lo/An Foods’ Tampa plant, laying off hundreds of employees, most of them Vietnamese American, saying the operation was unprofitable.
Nguyen would have sued, but the company kept insisting it wanted to resolve the situation, he said. By delaying, he lost the chance to file suit because of the statute of limitations.
So Nguyen embarked on a hunger strike Dec. 2, choosing to hold it in Little Saigon where he felt he could get the support of the largest Vietnamese American community in the country.
Nguyen was not shy in presenting his story to the media and public.
His professional-looking cassettes of songs he wrote listed Sargento’s toll-free number and asked people to call “if you care.” He printed T-shirts that said: “Because corporate America needs to be reminded that human lives are far more important than bottom lines.” And he set up a Web site (www.adairytale.com) two months ago that meticulously details his story.
His cause became so publicized that representatives of several local Vietnamese organizations were worried enough to ask him to stop the hunger strike because they feared for his health.
A New Start
A week after the strike ended, Nguyen sounded upbeat and positive in a telephone interview.
“I feel like I can start my life again,” he said. “Hopefully, I can still contribute to society. I want to help the community and help Vietnamese youth.”
Nguyen said he plans to spend some of the money to set up a scholarship fund for Vietnamese American youngsters. “Some of them don’t have enough guidance. I can tell them about my experiences, and I hope I can be a role model,” he said.
His voice is strong, a contrast from two weeks ago, when he was sprawled on a small mattress in the back of his office, looking weak and pale.
The room was plastered with blown-up letters and newspaper articles documenting his fight. One wall was reserved for photographs of visitors who trickled in to offer their sympathies and then signed his petition against Sargento. By the end of his vigil, he’d gathered several thousand signatures.
Nguyen said he’d decided to undertake the hunger strike against the advice of friends and family because he was driven by overwhelming shame.
“In Asian culture, when a wife betrays her husband, the shame is on my side. I was devastated,” he said. The fact that his wife had an affair with a white man--bringing up reminders of colonial times-- made it worse, he said.
“This is for my personal principles, my family’s honor and the betterment of the Vietnamese community,” he said.
The small office where he spent two weeks is now dark, the banners proclaiming Sargento’s oppression have been taken down, and Nguyen is a satisfied man.
“I think it was worth whatever pain and suffering I went though,” he said. “It was worth the fight.”
