The Incredible Life of Tot Harriman, Part One
This is the first in a two part series. Click here for part two.
A quiet drive down the coast…
Tot Harriman had always lived by the water. From the lush banks of the Saigon River, to the rocky beaches of Maine’s Casco Bay, to the warm shallows of the Gulf of Mexico, she never strayed far from the shore. At the age of 57, Tot was searching for a new beachside home. The perfect spot would have a view of the gulf, and would be a short driving distance from her children and grandchildren.
Travelling down a two-lane country road, Tot searched the horizon for a peak of the ocean that would soon appear in her window. The drive from Houston to Corpus Christi would take nearly four hours, and she’d chosen the scenic route. Whispers of light were already emerging in the morning sky and dancing across the car’s white leather seats. It was the peak of summer; the days were long and the temperatures were high. But it was comfortable inside the car. A gentle current of AC brushed against Tot’s face and fluttered through her short black hair, which was beginning to show streaks of silver. Though she’d dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt, she had still worn some trademark jewelry. Seven gold bracelets jingled on her wrist as her hands rocked steadily on the wheel.
As her maroon sedan cruised down quiet country roads, Tot’s mind drifted to her family. Her 35-year-old son had been half asleep when she’d kissed him goodbye earlier that morning. Once she moved to Texas, she’d be seeing much more of him. She had an appointment with a realtor scheduled the next day, and if all went well, she’d soon own a home in Corpus Christi, and would be making the drive back and forth to Houston regularly. She looked forward to spending more time with her family, as well as making new connections. Perhaps she would teach her grandchildren to fish on one of the coast’s balmy bays. Or maybe she’d contribute to the Vietnamese community in her new city.
But Tot would never get the chance to live out these plans. Somewhere along Route 35, her story would be cut short, or rather, it would dissolve into a grim mystery with no clear ending.
Tot’s early Life In Vietnam
Tot was born in Vietnam in February 1944 and given the name Tran Thi Tot (Tran is her family name and Thi is her middle name). She grew up in the southern part of the country, in a city outside of Saigon called Tay Ninh. It was twenty years before the United States would enter the conflict with North Vietnam’s communist forces.
At the time of Tot’s birth, Vietnam was under French control, but during World War 2 Nazi Germany had taken over France, weakening its power across the globe. Taking advantage of this vulnerability, Japan challenged French rule of Vietnam with little resistance. In March of 1945, when Tot was just a baby, Japanese troops carried out a coup against French authorities and took control of Vietnam.
But the independence was short-lived. Just months later, Japan was defeated by the Allies in World War 2. Following this loss, France began reasserting her power over Vietnam, though this time, it was met with resistance from communist forces strengthening in the North.
As power-hungry leaders struggled for control of Vietnam, Vietnamese families struggled to survive. Without stable leadership, systems of education, medical care, and food supply were upended. Caught in the turmoil, Tot only received a basic education before leaving school in second grade to help support her family. Her father died while she was a child, and Tot entered into an arranged marriage with a Vietnamese military officer at the young age of 14. The union was likely to help alleviate the financial burden on her mother.
When Tot was 20, the Vietnam War between the US-backed south and the communist-led north officially began, and two years later, at the age of 22, Tot gave birth to her first son, Minh. That same year, her husband was killed in the Vietnam War, presumably by north communist forces. Tot moved with her infant son from their country village to the city of Tay Ninh, where she began working as a housekeeper for the rich. In the spacious kitchens of wealthier women, Tot developed a passion for cooking. She took pleasure in the small joys: the aroma of broth wafting from pots, the satisfying crunch of green onions splitting against a blade. Gifted with wisdom beyond her years, Tot knew that to endure life’s hardships, she must also savor its blessings.
Meeting an American sailor
It was 1968, two years after the birth of Tot’s son, and the number of American troops in Vietnam had risen exponentially. Over half a million were fighting alongside South Vietnamese soldiers to defeat North Vietnam’s communist regime. It was during this time that Tot bumped into an American soldier while biking through Tay Ninh. Clinton Harriman, known as “Clint” to his friends, was a U.S. Merchant Marine Officer who’d been described by one newspaper as a “boisterous, bullmoose of a man with salt-and-pepper hair.”
He’d recently arrived in Vietnam, where he worked in logistics, transporting ammunition from the United States.
Clint was in his late forties when he met twenty-four-year-old Tot. Despite Tot’s broken bike, the collision was a happy accident. The couple fell in love at first sight. The next day, Clint returned to the place they’d met. He'd hoped to impress her with the gift of a new bike. It was a kind gesture, but Tot remained skeptical of the man, who was two decades older than her, and who towered above her 4’11’’ frame. Clint persisted, courting her for a year. When at last she determined that he was more than, as she would later phrase it, “just another American fooling around,” she finally accepted his proposal. They married in a traditional Vietnamese ceremony, officiated by a village chief, and built a house in Tay Ninh’s countryside. It was a special place for them, as Clint would later say, quote, “a really divine home”.
Outside of Tot and Clint’s love story, the bloody Vietnam War raged on. For six years the couple lived apart, seeing each other only when Clint’s work brought him back. They had an apartment in Saigon that he could easily get to when he was in town. Otherwise, Tot stayed in the house they’d built in the country. She was, as Clint described her, “a country girl.”
Although their separation was less than ideal, Tot remained optimistic that “there was something better around the corner.”
A daughter arrives
On December 10th, 1970, Tot gave birth to her and Clint’s first child, a daughter named Thu Hong, which translates to “Autumn Rose.” Clint was rarely in South Vietnam to see her, but he brought back new American clothes for his growing daughter whenever he could.
By the spring of 1975, U.S. troops had almost fully withdrawn from Vietnam, and Saigon, their final stronghold, was going to topple. Clint said—referring to the native supporters of South Vietnam like Tot—“It was the end of life as they knew it over there.” Tot’s first marriage to a South Vietnamese military officer, as well as her current marriage to Clint, an American soldier defending the South, would make her a target once the North took over. He believed that she might be killed, or at the least, separated from her children.
Tot faced a difficult situation. Her daughter with Clint, who would look only half-Vietnamese, would be a target and unsafe in Vietnam, but Tot couldn’t bear to leave her family and take her oldest son away from his home. She made a heart-wrenching decision to entrust her daughter with Clint, who would take her to American, while she stayed in Vietnam with her son and her family, no matter the consequences.
Getting Thu Hong to safety
Clint was in New York at this pivotal moment in history. “I got ahold of the port captain and practically begged him to get me out there” Clint said of his difficult journey back to Vietnam. After some negotiations, he was approved to travel from New York to Saigon on the USNS Greenville Victory. He later said “it was the only ship that I could have gotten on.” He called Tot and made plans to meet her at their apartment in Saigon to take his daughter to her new home.
Just before Clint left, he slipped on a piece of ice and broke his leg. When the swelling became unmanageable, he went to a Navy doctor, where he was told in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t fit for duty. “Bullshit,” Clint responded to the doctor, “I have to make this trip.” By explaining that his wife and children were in danger, he was able to convince the disapproving doctor to let him go.
His leg wrapped in a cast, and in extreme pain, Clint was carried up the gangway on the back of another officer.
Tot’s journey to Saigon
Back in Tay Ninh, Tot boarded a bus to Saigon with her daughter, who was now four.
As they headed south down the highway, Tot gazed into the blur of passing trees, and wondered what the next few days would hold. Vietnam had been in various states of conflict her entire life, but had never gotten to a point where she’d needed to evacuate. She thought of Clint’s voice on the phone, how urgent he’d sounded about getting them out. The plan was for Clint and Thu to travel to America on the Greenville Victory. And while the thought of being separated from Thu was heart-wrenching, Tot trusted her husband’s intuition.
It had been quite some time since they’d last seen him, and Thu had grown significantly. Tot ran a hand over her daughter’s hair, which had a strawberry blonde hue she’d inherited from Clint. The girl’s expression was peaceful as she looked out at the passing cars. All she knew was that she’d soon be reunited with her father.
The bus slowed to a halt. A roadblock had cut off their usual route to Saigon, so Tot and Thu headed to the river instead. Before long, they were squeezed tightly against eight additional passengers in a tiny two-person boat. As they traveled downstream towards Saigon, rockets began plummeting from the sky, piercing the surface of the river, and capsizing neighboring boats. Tot held her daughter close; she could feel the glares of communist soldiers peering through the trees. Thu’s hair was a tell-tale sign of an American father, the sight of which would make her a target. Tot shielded the four-year-old’s face with a wide straw hat.
Their boat was stopped several times. Armed soldiers prodded Tot with questions; they were skeptical of how the concealed child could possibly be asleep amidst the chaos. Tot held her face steady and asserted that her daughter was extremely sick. Thanks to her cunning, the soldiers permitted them to proceed.
Tot and Clint reunite in Saigon
Clint continued to work while on the ship, causing his broken leg to swell further and his cast to fall apart. While anchored in Thailand, he received word that evacuation had begun in Vietnam. With the excuse of replacing his worn-out cast, Clint was permitted to deboard the ship in Saigon. There, he made his way to the apartment, where he was greeted by his wife and daughter.
Despite what she’d gone through on the river, Tot remained surprisingly optimistic. “My wife was sort of lah-de-dah,” he later said of her nonchalant attitude. She maintained that things would soon go back to normal, as they always had.
Presumably, the location of their apartment fell under some sort of threat, as they stayed the night at the Hotel Majestic, one of the city’s most luxurious accommodations. But even the building’s sprawling marble floors and ornate chandeliers couldn’t protect them. Just past midnight, the family woke with a start to the boom of artillery shells striking the hotel. They gathered their belongings and made arrangements to leave as soon as possible.
The drive to Vung Tau
The ship Clint had travelled from America on, The Greenville Victory, was no longer in Saigon—it had moved 50 miles southeast to the port city of Vung Tau, and they had to make a harrowing trip from Saigon to Vung Tau by land. Clint arranged for a car to take them in the early hours of the morning.
As the car weaved through highway traffic, Tot squeezed her daughter’s hand. She felt confident that they’d be reunited, but wasn’t sure how long it would take. Once Thu and Clint were safely aboard, she’d head back home to be with Minh.
Approaching the harbor’s entrance, Clint and Tot noticed abandoned motor scooters and debris scattered across the road. It was a dead end. The ship was visible in the distance, but the path was blocked by a young communist soldier.
“When we got to this barricade,” Clint remembered, “(this soldier) stuck his rifle in the driver’s window. My wife, and child, and myself are sitting in the back. (The soldier) said, ‘Get out and walk.’” By that point, Clint’s leg had swollen to twice its original size. He wouldn’t be able to walk the distance to the ship.
The road was falling into pandemonium, and they instructed the driver to turn back. They’d try to catch another boat in Saigon then transfer onto the Greenville Victory elsewhere. According to Clint, the driver “wheeled (the) car around and just missed a truck by an extra coat of paint.” Around every turn, communist soldiers were landing helicopters, brandishing weapons, and creating barricades.
Clint held a grenade in his hand, silently planning to use it should they come under attack. "We could all get it right here on this road any minute," Clint told Tot. She smiled back and said, "Well, darling, at least we'll all die together." Clint wasn’t certain she even knew what she was saying, but the sentiment emboldened him. “She had goddamn courage. And that gave me great courage.”
Clint and Thu head down river
Clint abandoned the idea that they would be able to make it to Vung Tau by land so they returned to Saigon to find a way to get there by boat.
After weaving between the road and the jungle for about miles, they returned to Saigon’s Newport Harbor. Clint quickly kissed her goodbye. There was no time to linger. Clint later said, “I went down the longest goddamn gangway in the world with this frigging leg which is now the size of a sewer pipe.”
When he and Thu made it to the ship, they were denied entry by the captain and forced to return to the harbor’s office. Clint found the officer in charge and told him what happened. "This frigging guy doesn't want to take me down the river," he said. The officer escorted Clint and Thu back down the gangway, and they were finally permitted to board.
Tot stood on the pier, holding her face in an assured smile as Clint waved from the deck. It was his signal that he and Thu were settled, and that Tot could head home. But her body was frozen. As the ship’s silhouette vanished in the distance, she realized Clint had been right; the conflict was far more dire than she’d assumed. It was possible that she’d said goodbye to her husband and daughter for the last time. Her limbs went numb with the fear, and she collapsed. “I couldn't take it anymore,” she’d later recall. “My heart was broken.”
Boarding the Pioneer Contender
The Pioneer Contender approached Vung Tau and the ship’s captain refused to dock the ship—he was in a hurry and had no time to stop. They would have to make a transfer while the ship was under way, and the transfer would not be easy, especially with Clint’s broken leg.
Coordinated by radio, a tiny lifeboat paced the large ship while a narrow gangway was lowered over the lifeboat. Sharp pulses of pain shot through Clint's leg with every step as he descended the steep plankway that was being rocked by the chop of the bay. Noticing his struggle, an American soldier called from below, offering to catch Thu so Clint could more easily make it the rest of the way down. Clint later said, “I took that little four-year-old girl and threw her down there like a bag of grain, a good long drop too, like fifteen feet. And he caught her just like a basketball.”
The lifeboat brought them back to the harbor they’d been forced to abandon earlier that morning, and at last, they boarded the Greenville Victory, securing their safe passage out of Vietnam.
Tot decides to leave Vietnam
Tot had a change of heart. The separation of her and her daughter proved too much to bear, so she decided to leave Vietnam to join Clint in America with her son—and Clint had anticipated the possibility. He had given her some papers that were signed by a high-ranking official that would give her the best possible chance of escape. But he wouldn’t be there to help her.
Meanwhile, Tot made her way back to the Tay Ninh, where she found her son and gathered a few belongings. Leaving once more for Saigon, Tot found that this time, the road had been entirely cut off. If they were going to reach the evacuation ships, they’d have to travel by foot.
Twigs snapping beneath her shoes, Tot charged through the jungle, a suitcase in one hand, her son’s sweaty palm in the other. They would hike 23 miles before reaching the city. Sweat and humidity clung to their clothes, weighing down their steps. Mosquitos buzzed in tormenting clusters around their heads. The terrain was challenging for even the most experienced soldiers to navigate, but somehow, Tot and Minh found a way.
Tot and Minh arrive in Saigon
Outside of the jungle canopy, the air was lighter, and for a moment, they could exhale. But as they approached the city, a buzz louder than the mosquitos roared in the streets. Saigon was swarming with people in a scene Tot described as “bees sucking on honey.” Communist takeover was imminent, and everyone wanted to escape before it was too late. Crowds pressed up against the gates of the U.S. Embassy.
Tot decided to take a different approach. She spent the last of her money on a cab to Saigon’s Newport Harbor, the same place Clint and Thu had previously departed from. Upon arrival, Tot and Minh were granted access a warehouse serving as a makeshift waiting room. Heat rose from hundreds of anxious bodies and radiated from the metal ceiling… but at least there was stillness.
Clint had been able to make arrangements with the base commander, Colonel Vong, for Tot and Minh’s safe passage. Clint later said,
“She was the [the only Vietnamese woman, besides the ones who worked there] that had a pass to get into that base. But she had this personal document about the size of the Declaration of Independence with Colonel Vong's signature on it. She could get in anywhere with that pass, because he was the big law there.”
Thanks to the pass, they’d been granted passage on the Boo Heung Commander, the last ship out of Saigon.
Saigon evacuation
On the morning of April 29th, 1975, a stern voice bellowed from military radios, “The temperature in Saigon is 105 degrees and rising,” followed by music: Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas.” Bing Crosby’s crooning would normally evoke memories of snow-lined streets and glowing Christmas trees, but that spring morning, the song took on new meaning. It signaled that the final phase of Saigon’s evacuation had begun.
Military helicopters descended from the sky, gathering evacuees from all over the city. At Newport Harbor, Tot and Minh boarded the Boo Heung Pioneer alongside thousands of other refugees. Every crevice of the overcrowded ship was occupied, but there were still more clamoring to get on. Tot watched as they desperately climbed ladders and hung from cargo nets. “It was heartbreaking,” she would later say. She remembered men pulling themselves onto the ship, only to jump back off when they discovered their wives hadn’t made it. The memory haunted her for decades.
Eventually, the loaded ship made it out of the harbor and into the open sea. They’d escaped just in time; back in Vietnam, army tanks cruised through the streets, bursting through palace gates to assert communist rule. The beautiful home Tot and Clint had built in Tay Ninh would soon be overtaken. As Clint had predicted, nothing would ever be the same.
In just a matter of days, Minh’s life had been forever transformed. He’d been uprooted from his friends, his school, and his family, with little understanding of why they had to leave it all behind. He begged Tot to take him back to his grandmother, to their home in the country. It was all he had ever known. Weary with fatigue, Tot looked into her son’s frightened eyes and reminded him of their goal: “we have to find your sister.”
Thanks to Clint’s military connections, Tot and Minh were permitted to rest in the owner’s cabin. It had been several days since the family separated, and things were finally going to plan. Tot and Minh were aboard a ship heading to the Philippines, while Thu and Clint were on another ship headed to the US. Clint still had work to do with the Merchant Marines, so he arranged for Thu to stay with an American family once she arrived. He would spend the summer on a mission in Cambodia rescuing the SS Mayaguez, an American merchant ship that had been captured by communist forces.
On the Boo Heung pioneer, Tot and Minh received an update that Thu and Clint were safe. At last, they could exhale. It would be a long summer, but an end was in sight. The walls of their quarters hushed the deck’s pandemonium, and eventually, ocean waves lulled them into a long-awaited sleep.
Arrival in America
After docking in the Philippines, Tot and Minh traveled via airplane to the US. They touched down in Lebanon County, Pennsylvania in late May of 1975, and were greeted with fanfare. Hundreds of Americans were waiting for them at the airport, waving flags and holding homemade signs. After words of welcome from local officials and a performance by the high school marching band, they were brought to a refugee camp in nearby Indiantown Gap.
Over the course of a few months, the camp’s population swelled to over 20,000 refugees. Everyone was provided with fresh linens, new toothbrushes, and plenty of food—comforts that many had gone without for months. Tot and Minh were housed in military barracks alongside other families from Vietnam and Cambodia.
Summer days stretched on as refugees waited for sponsorship approval. Everyone did what they could to enjoy their time in limbo. Children played outside freely, finally safe from threats of combat. On the Fourth of July, many took part in a celebratory parade, waving flags and singing along to “God Bless America.” That evening, people pulled out instruments they’d carried from home and brought overseas, and groups gathered in dancing to traditional Vietnamese music. Alongside the uncertainty they’d harbored for months, something else was stirring in the air: a sense of excitement for what was to come in a new country.
Vacation in Tahoe
By the end of that summer, Tot and Minh were cleared to leave the camp. They traveled cross-country to Lake Tahoe, Nevada, where they reunited with Clint and Thu and for the first time ever, they were all safe and together as a family. Clint told them stories of his adventures rescuing the SS Mayaguez. And because of his valor, he was honored by President Gerald Ford with the Merchant Marine Distinguished Service Medal, and was named Merchant Marine Mariner of the Year in 1975.
At last, the family could unwind together on their first real vacation. The peaceful lake seemed worlds away from Saigon’s tumultuous harbors. Pine-scented air filled their lungs, sunlight seeped into their skin, and cool mountain breezes danced in their hair. Clint and Tot smiled as they watched the children splash in the shallows. Their treacherous journey was over at last.
Join us next week for Part 2 of the Tot Harriman story.
If you have any information about the disappearance of Tot Harriman, please contact the League City PD at 281-332-2566.
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Clint Harriman in Maine, farming (~1963)
Clint Harriman in Maine (~1963)
Thu Hong and Tot Harriman, portrait in Vietnam (~1972)
Clint and Tot Harriman’s “country house” being built in Tay Ninh
The Hotel Majestic in Saigon (modern Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam)
The Pioneer Contender, the ship that Clint and Thu Hong left on (empty)
The Pioneer Contender, the ship that Clint and Thu Hong left on (with refugees)
Evacuation of Saigon, historical images
A book that contains an in-depth interview with Clint Harriman
Evacuation of Saigon, historical images
Evacuation of Saigon, historical images
Tot and Minh Harriman aboard the Boo Heung Pioneer
Sources For This Episode
Newspaper articles
Various articles from Bangor Daily News, Corpus Christi Caller-Times, Houston Chronicle, McDowell News, News Chronicle, Portland Press Herald, Victoria Advocate, here.
Written by various authors including Allan Turner, Ann Rundle, Cindy Woodward, David Connerty-Marin, James Sullivan, Pat Hathcock, Ruth Rendon, and Sara Lee Fernandez.
Online written sources
'Can you help solve these cases?' (CBS News), 10/22/2011
'Texas Killing Fields' (Wikipedia), 8/8/2013
'Tot Tran Harriman' (Charley Project), 1/8/2018, by Meaghan Good
'The story of Tot Harriman' (Find Tot), http://findtot.org (via wayback machine), 12/4/2001, by Chien Si Harriman
Other archived pages from findtot.org (now defunct) were utilized as well-
Interviews
Chien Si Harriman
Photos
Photos courtesy of the Harriman family.
Credits
Vocal performance, audio editing, and research by Kristen Seavey
Writing support, research support, and photo editing by Byron Willis
Research by Samantha Coltart
Writing by Zoe Aarts
Murder, She Told is created by Kristen Seavey