Reflecting on Viet-Wah’s Impact in Seattle’s Little Saigon
After 40+ years of serving the Little Saigon community, Viet-Wah’s Jackson St. location is closing down.
Just a week before Viet-Wah’s Seattle location closes, we sat down with Đức Trần and Leeching Tran and discussed what it means to have been such a foundational and iconic pillar in the neighborhood. Đức Trần opened Viet-Wah in the 80s, and continues to run and manage the market with his daughter Leeching, who is also a Friends of Little Sài Gòn board member.
Đức Trần (DT): I was a refugee. I came here in 1976. At one point, I worked at the airport, in what they called “Airport Reception,” receiving refugees. In 1978–79, at the period they called “Boat People,” a lot of newcomers would come. My job was to meet them at the airport and help them transit to other parts of the country. Everyday we had refugees that would stay overnight, they’d sleep at the airport. It was a lot of people, minimum 20 to 80 or 90 people everyday, so the problem was food!
NorthWest Airlines provided a coupon you could take and go to any restaurant around the airport, and they’d charge the airline. It was a lot of money, at that time, $7 per coupon.
Leeching Tran (LT): A lot back then!
DT: It was a lot… But anyway, we’d run into the problem that most restaurants didn’t want to take refugees. They’d “scare their other customers.”
So we had a problem. We have coupons, but they don’t want to take us.
So I came up with the idea to help out: I’d have food delivered to their room. I started the first home restaurant, right now it’s called Pacific Cafe on 5th Avenue. Me and a couple of my friends worked together to provide food.
NorthWest Airlines said “You want money, you need to give us an invoice.”
At that time there were no computers!
They said, “We need a business license.” We didn’t have that!
We just grabbed that space on 5th Avenue purposely to have a business license so we could continue providing food.
Business was so good, we couldn’t handle it.
The people would come over here because it was hard to find their food. The only thing we had during that time was Chinese food. There were only two grocery stores out here. So the idea popped up of, “Hey, how about if we opened up a market? It’d be good business.” And that’s what we did.
The only thing we had during that time was Chinese food. There were only two grocery stores out here. So the idea popped up of, “Hey, how about if we opened up a market? It’d be good business.” And that’s what we did.
Our first store was at 668 S Jackson, only 700 square feet. The business–we just couldn’t believe it–was so good. I knew most of the people there because I’m the one they saw at the airport. Then in ’88, we opened…
LT: Where we are currently.
DT: During that time it was the biggest Vietnamese grocery store in town.
After we opened there, then all the other Vietnamese businesses opened nearby.
LT: That’s how Little Saigon happened!
After we opened, then all the other Vietnamese businesses opened nearby. That’s how Little Saigon happened!
DT: We were the pioneers of the whole area.
LT: Us and Phở Bắc. The two first Vietnamese-owned businesses in the area.
DT: I’m very proud. Viet-Wah was very successful in the 80s. Businesses in that neighborhood always said “Hey, when you open a second one, we’ll follow you!”
LT: My earliest memories are of climbing up the stacks of rice bags, playing with the video games in the store, bagging groceries, and counting the tills at the end of the day. I say Viet-Wah’s like another sibling in our family. We grew up with the business and it was expected that we would just help out.
My earliest memories are of climbing up the stacks of rice bags, playing with the video games in the store, bagging groceries, and counting the tills at the end of the day. I say Viet-Wah’s like another sibling in our family. We grew up with the business.
And then as I got older and then started doing more work and got more involved in the business it just kind of evolved. Like, “Okay, my dad’s gonna retire eventually, who’s he gonna pass it on to?”
DT: Yup, she’ll be taking over.
LT: Eventually. My dad’s never gonna retire.
DT: I’m a creative. I like creating and testing everything, including food. I combine this food with this food and create something. Food business is my interest.
Quite often I went overseas and went to the manufacturer, I saw them create from the very beginning. When Vietnam was not open, all the Vietnamese food was from Thailand. Mostly, from Thailand and China. I’m one of the very few people that went to the Thailand manufacturer, worked with them, and told them what the Vietnamese were looking for.
Like phở: Thailand has had noodles for hundreds of years, but they didn’t know the taste of phở. The texture that’s different about phở, and things like that. I worked with the manufacturer to create something, package it, and ship it over here.
DT: I’ve been involved in the community for a long time. Very active in the Chinese community and Vietnamese community.
I was involved in the community, and then the community came and supported us.
LT: I think that’s such a core part of Viet-Wah’s identity. It was born from community need, and we just continue to serve in any way we can–whether that’s through feeding people, whether that’s through donations to community groups… Giving back however we can is really important to us.
Seeing the way the neighborhood has changed over the last decade, the last couple of years especially, has been really troubling. So speaking up where we can and using our resources where we can has been really important. Because we want to keep this neighborhood alive.
Seeing the way the neighborhood has changed over the last decade, the last couple of years especially, has been really troubling. So speaking up where we can and using our resources where we can has been really important. Because we want to keep this neighborhood alive.
DT: The environment has changed. The people have changed.
This community, Little Saigon, used to serve the first and second groups of Vietnamese and Southeast Asians who came here. It’s different now. Now the newcomers… some of them are very rich, you know. In our time, from the late 70s to the 80s, it was mostly the poor and refugees. We came here, and we were pioneers. We didn’t know a lot of things. The community had to bond together to survive.
In our time, from the late 70s to the 80s, it was mostly the poor and refugees. We came here, and we were pioneers. We didn’t know a lot of things. The community had to bond together to survive.
That is why I’m the founding member of a couple organizations, like the Indochina Chinese Refugee Association. We used to provide ESL classes, we opened up a Chinese school in Beacon Hill… At the time, it was 300–400 students. And then we had job training when the electronic industry started to boom. We had classes training people how to work solder circuit boards. So we did a lot of things.
And now, those needs–gone. Right now, ICCA, we don’t know what to do. We could close down, but there’s been history. So we don’t want to close down, we don’t know what to do. Because there’s no need there. The community doesn’t need us now.
Same thing with the business.
Like we used to carry organic, traditional, family cooking, the mam…
LT: Yeah, like families change too. You don’t have as many multigenerational families. You’re not having someone who cooks for 10 people anymore. So our shoppers have changed the way that they buy too.
Families change too. You don’t have as many multigenerational families. You’re not having someone who cooks for 10 people anymore. So our shoppers have changed the way that they buy too.
DT: People change. The older people pass away, the newcomers have different interests than us, and there’s no need in the community like there used to be, so you lose customers.
I have very little hope in this community, because property is so expensive. Without the Chin family, Dennis Chin, and them giving us so good of a deal, I don’t think the supermarket could afford to be here. Investors invest where the money is. They want to make money. Those things make it difficult to maintain in Little Saigon.
There’s an example in Los Angeles, and in Houston it’s the same thing, where Chinatown or Vietnamese-towns disappear. They become just a couple gift stores, and restaurants. It’s already happening. We’ll close down, and there’s no more Viet-Wah… and slowly, everybody’s closing down. And with all the new developments, the rent is expensive.
LT: I think the neighborhood can evolve. I don’t think it’s as dire as maybe my dad made it sound. I think there’s still a little bit of hope.
But it is challenging to see the neighborhood change in this way, and to see the businesses that have been here for so long to not have any sort of succession plan–Is the next generation gonna take it over? Are they gonna stay? Can they afford to stay? And do people even still come here for these needs?
When you think of Little Saigon now, you come here for food, right, to go to the restaurants, and that’s basically it.
So how does the neighborhood–if we wanna keep it around–how does it need to change to still maintain its identity, but still serve the community in a way that makes sense from a business perspective. Because they need to make money and stay alive.
Like, this year for Mid-Autumn festival, we barely sold any mooncakes because Costco sells them now for like $20 a box! It’s cool to see Asian foods in the mainstream, but at the same time, they’ve stolen it from us.
So that’s been interesting to see: this change of the neighborhood. And it’s hard to say what it’s gonna look like 10 years from now, when the next generation begins to take over.
You see that start to pop up a little bit, like I know with Phở Bắc, the kids have taken over and they’re modernizing the restaurant, and just across the street from us, Phin is a really modern take on a coffee shop and something new that no one’s tried before. So that’s pretty cool to see, the innovation that’s happening, and I hope it works, but it’s hard to say for now.
I think people still have this sort of nostalgia around Little Saigon, and especially businesses like ours. You know, when you mention Viet-Wah, people our age are like, “Oh yeah, that’s the OG Viet-Wah, it’s been around forever!” But you can’t really bank on that nostalgia forever to keep the business running.
We want to keep our identity, and not change too much of how we’ve been running business so people still recognize us as the business that we always were, but how do you evolve and keep up with the times? That’s been our challenge.
Friends of Little Sài Gòn would like to express our deep appreciation to Đức Trần and Leeching Tran for sharing their reflections and thoughts with us at the close of this influential and historic Little Saigon staple.
You can still shop Viet-Wah at their Renton location: 2825 Sunset Blvd NE, Renton, WA.
Friends of Little Sài Gòn is a 501(c)(3) based in Seattle, WA, with a mission to enhance and preserve Little Saigon cultural, economic, and historic vitality. Learn more at www.flsseattle.org.
