Latest news with #LarryGordon
Yahoo
01-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Abilene's Vietnam veteran recalls Operation Babylift and Fall of Saigon
ABILENE, Texas () – A retired Vietnam veteran shares stories and tragedies from the final days of the Vietnam War, including his account of the Fall of Saigon. April 30, 1975, marks the day Saigon fell to North Vietnamese troops, signaling the official end of the Vietnam War. Now, 50 years later, the stories shared by those who served often reflect a mixture of duty, heroism, and loss. It is crucial to understand what these brave men and women faced during the pivotal final moments of the Vietnam conflict. One of those heroes is retired U.S. Army First Sergeant Larry Gordon, who served as a radio operator during multiple tours in the Vietnam War and was present during the Fall of Saigon. Gordon now lives in Abilene, but in the 1960s, he was stationed in Hawaii with his wife and two children. Gordon was attached to many significant missions during his deployment, but recalls one particular mission, Operation Babylift. The goal of this mission was to transport over 3,000 Vietnamese children, who had been orphaned due to the conflict, to secure locations outside of Vietnam to later be adopted. This mission began tragically when the first flight out of the country on an Army C-5A carrier plane, carrying over 300 babies, small children, and American crew members, crashed due to mechanical issues. This accident resulted in about 150 fatalities, an event that Gordon recalls. 'The same plane that we got off of was the same plane they had loaded the orphans on. I remember when I was in the DAO compound, which is sometimes called Pentagon Far East, I happened to be there when the pilots and crew came in from the crash. And I'll never forget the look on their faces… the horror of what they went through… trying their best to land that plane safely with all those precious lives… I still have that etched in my memory,' Gordon said. When the evacuation order for troops in Saigon finally arrived, Gordon recalls his actions on the final day and the challenges they faced in leaving the country. 'I was probably the last person manning the satellite system when other people were evacuating. I was there to make sure, until the very last minute, because there was so much communication being, even there at the last minute when it was over. So, on the way out, they tried to bring us down with everything they had: small arms fire. You could hear the pinging on the body of the helicopter as the rounds hit,' Gordon said. Gordon's journey back to American soil and his family was a long one. After leaving Vietnam, he was transported to a secure location in the Philippines, where he spent a brief and confusing time waiting to return to Hawaii. During his time in the Philippines, Gordon's wife was not updated on his status and was told that he was missing in action. Finally, Gordon returned to the United States and recalls his reception and the struggles that came after. 'When I arrived back in Hawaii, there was no fanfare. There was nobody to meet me except for my wife. That's all I needed. It took me days to realize that I was back home, you know—a loving wife and two loving kids. We tried our best to do everything that would get my mind off of that,' Gordon said. Because of the recent loss of his wife, Gordon joined a grief counseling group with his local church. After some time of sharing his grief, Gordon feels that he now has clarity on why his life was spared during the Vietnam War, and says that with that clarity comes a new purpose. 'I just lost my wife not too long ago, and that's where I got involved. Now I'm involved in helping other people, and I'm sitting there telling myself, 'God, this is where you wanted me. You saved me for this,' said Gordon.' Gordon explained that he doesn't believe his story is any more special than any of the others who've served, but he feels it is important to share these experiences not only for personal health but also so that others may better understand our past. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Guardian
03-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Gangs charged us $200 a night to shoot on their turf': Walter Hill on making cult film The Warriors
I thought Sol Yurik's 1965 novel, The Warriors, would work well as a film but I told Larry Gordon [the producer]: 'Nobody will ever let us make it. We'd have to shoot at night in New York, and it doesn't lend itself to star casting.' I turned it down and went to do a western but the finance fell apart. Larry came back and asked if I was still interested. I didn't get along with the people who ran Paramount and we got off to a poor start. They saw it as some kind of sequel to Saturday Night Fever. It's pretty hard to imagine more disparate storylines. The Warriors operates in a dystopian, slightly futuristic, fantasy dream world. The studio never understood that but audiences got it instantly. I wanted Orson Welles to narrate an introduction. His speech was going to last 30 seconds and set up what we were about to see. He agreed to do it – he was broke. However, the studio didn't want him. They felt an artistic frame would hurt the film's commercial potential. I thought the audience wouldn't get the movie without some explanation, but I was completely wrong. Originally, I proposed casting only racial minorities, like in the book, but the studio didn't think that was a commercial idea. And, now, I think the fact that all of the gangs are interracial makes the movie more universal – it did well all over the world, much to everybody's surprise. We shot at night in New York areas where gangs ran things. They'd say: 'You're on our turf and your trucks are fucking up our streets – so pay us.' They were always bribeable. It was $200 a night. The Baseball Furies were inspired by the Furies in Greek mythology. Bobbie [Mannix, costume designer] did some drawings and they were wearing the New York Yankees uniform. I thought it wasn't quite enough. Somebody said, 'Why don't we paint their faces?' and I thought, 'Now that'll make it really different.' We had a scene where a car was looking for the Warriors who were hiding under a boardwalk. Luther [David Patrick Kelly, playing a rival gang leader] knows this, but there wasn't anything in the script for him to say. I said: 'This is too dull. Do something!' He ran under the boardwalk and got some beer bottles. When we were ready to shoot, he clinked the bottles and said: 'Warriors … come out to play.' I said: 'Don't change anything!' That and 'You dig it?' are probably the two lines everybody remembers. The film was attractive to gangs. They'd show up at the cinema, see a rival gang they had age-old animosity with and violence would ensue. There were several deaths and that's always tragic, but it's hard to blame the movie. We got a lot of criticism from political and religious leaders – almost none of them had seen it. I'm proud of the movie. I read the script and the story jumped off the page, like an action-packed matinee movie that takes you on a rollercoaster ride from bright daylight into a neon cityscape at midnight. Mercy resonated with me and I wanted to play her with all my heart. For my first audition, I remember wearing a pair of black, raw silk trousers and a pumpkin-coloured knit top that my Italian friend Pamela gave me. I thought wearing her garment would lend me some spice but I don't think it particularly impressed Walter. Something I was doing did attract his attention though – he described me as the 'unobvious choice'. As a kid, my brother had taught me to cluck like a chicken so when I saw Mercy's first line was a cluck, it felt like destiny. I liked her sense of independence and adventure with an undercurrent of discontent. Her world was seemingly limited and she was perhaps at a crossroads when the Warriors arrived in front of her stoop. She taunted and challenged the Orphans and the Warriors gangs. Her vibe got under my skin. My connection to all the guys was pretty instantaneous and my fondness for everyone immediate. Michael [Beck, played Swan] and I already had a trusting connection before our characters hooked up and Walter assured us we had on-screen chemistry. I fractured my wrist during the shoot on the subway platform. It was harrowing, and the schedule got turned upside down. The scene where I'm suddenly wearing a blue jacket was just to conceal my broken wrist. It gave me more moxie to get the job done, come hell or high water. But it was a tough shoot and physically there were challenges all along the way. We embraced our collective 'warrior' in that regard. When it opened, I recall being with Marcelino [Sánchez, who played Rembrandt] at someone's apartment and hearing about queues wrapping around city blocks. It was so exciting. I took my friends to see it in Times Square and clucked for the theatre employees. Audiences would clack bottles together in time to Luther's ominous call to 'come out and play'. Sadly, violence cut our momentum short. It was on its way to becoming a smash hit when gangs in various parts of the country clashed outside theatres and cinemas began pulling the film. We found ourselves defending it in interviews: these altercations weren't perpetrated by the film but by the energy collecting outside in long lines – the film attracted volatile people. But thinking about the graphic violence in films today, The Warriors is a cinematic dance in comparison, epic and romantic. Whenever I see The Warriors, it's like watching a home movie. There are throngs of people who watch it routinely like The Wizard of Oz. I'm profoundly grateful.
