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In the spring of 1938, the sons of Sheboygan, Wisconsin, dreamed far more practical dreams than had their parents. That year’s Sheboygan High School graduates had lived half of their lives in the depths of the Great Depression. Listing their ambitions above their photographs in the school yearbook, the seniors most commonly wrote of employment such as “commercial work,” “librarian,” “clerk in book store.”

Archie C. Kuntze had a bigger dream: “Naval Officer.”  

Twenty-six years later, the boy with soft rounded features, sparkling dark eyes and a big smile was Captain Archie Kuntze, U.S. Navy, one of the most powerful men in South Vietnam, where he was known as “The American Mayor of Saigon” and in line for promotion to admiral.

After high school graduation, Kuntze won an appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy. His class of 1942 was fast-tracked after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, and the 546 graduates were commissioned in December 1941. Kuntze landed on a destroyer-minesweeper in the South Pacific, participating in the campaign to take back the Solomon Islands from the Japanese and then seeing combat at Guadalcanal, the first and third battles of Savo Island, New Georgia and Bougainville. On April 16, 1945, his ship, destroyer Harding, was hit by kamikazes. Fourteen crewmen were killed, eight reported missing and nine wounded, including Kuntze. After recovering in Hawaii, Kuntze returned to Harding as second in command.

After Japan surrendered, Kuntze stayed in the Navy, and when the Korean conflict began in June 1950 he was given command of an attack transport ship, USS Begor. Under Kuntze, Begor landed South Korean and American guerrillas and demolition teams behind enemy lines. And when the Chinese attacked American forces in late 1950, Begor transported explosives to the North Korean port of Hungnam.

With the end of hostilities in Korea in the summer of 1953, Kuntze became an executive officer at the Naval Academy and then served as a planning officer in the Amphibious Training Command for the Pacific Fleet. In October 1957, he was given command of the destroyer Laws, and nine months later assumed command of the Destroyer Escort Division 12. In 1959 he became a placement officer with the Bureau of Naval Personnel until his return to sea as the commander of Mine Squadron 7 in November 1962. By that time he had received 22 military decorations.

In 1963, Kuntze enrolled at Harvard and completed a course of study in advanced management in the spring of 1964. A few weeks later, he was given command of the U.S. Navy Headquarters Support Activity Saigon to supervise the U.S. buildup for the rapidly growing conflict in Vietnam.

The assignment would be the high point of his career—and end as the low point in his life.

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Without realizing it, in Saigon in 1964 Kuntze stepped onto the stage and into the lead role in a real-life updated version of Madame Butterfly. But it was Puccini’s opera in reverse, with the tragic broken figure being not the Asian beauty, but rather the American Naval officer.

No, the unfortunate romantic vulnerability he was to reveal in Saigon: He was, after all, happily married at the time. His reputation was sparkling.

Kuntze’s task was to transform a small port into a major military base for more than half a million U.S. troops. The 43-year-old threw himself into the work: overseeing the construction and supply of PXs and commissaries, constructing new off-loading facilities, operating and supplying bachelor officers’ and enlisted men’s quarters, disbursing paychecks, managing and supplying a field hospital and a dental clinic, and feeding and entertaining American military personnel. He initially administered funds in excess of $100 million annually, and his chain of command was independent of General William Westmoreland’s Military Assistance Command, Vietnam.

His nearly absolute authority over the importation and distribution of supplies made Kuntze “the man to see” for anyone who wanted anything. He made himself highly visible and actively courted reporters. Whenever a Viet Cong bomb blew near an American installation, he never failed to show up on the scene in his Navy whites and armed with a snub-nosed .38 special. “He wasn’t there to help,” one critic complained. “He came to have his picture taken.” Locals and American reporters quickly dubbed Kuntze “the American Mayor of Saigon”and“the most influential American in the South Vietnamese capital.” He could fulfill—or deny—any request for goods and favors, be it food, beer, cars, whiskey or women. His power made him resented and admired.

Kuntze had a reputation as an efficient and “get-things-done type of guy” who cut through bureaucratic red tape. Fellow officers said he did the work of two—and did it faster and better. He kept the PXs and the enlisted men and officers’ quarters well stocked, and the flow of supplies was steady and dependable. After demonstrating his capabilities for just a few months, Kuntze was in line for promotion to flag rank—to rear admiral.

As he worked double shifts, however, Kuntze’s personal life was undergoing a transformation.

He seldom spoke about his marriage. Indeed, few around him were aware that he was married. But nearly everyone in Saigon, it seemed, knew that Kuntze had fallen in love—madly, crazily in love. He soon filed for divorce from his wife in California.

From the moment Kuntze met Jannie Suen, he went head-over-heels for the 5-foot-3-inch 26-year-old beauty. Suen, who worked in the embassy of the Republic of China (Taiwan), wore colorful silk dresses slit up the side to mid-thigh and carried a parasol to protect her from the bright sun. A Time magazine correspondent called her “a sinuous Chinese Miss” and “the Saigon Siren”who was“requisitioned by the Wisconsin Salt.” The San Francisco Chronicle’s Charles Howe described Suen as “a vest-pocket Venus with a craving for gossamer green silk and shiny jewelry.”

Archie Kuntze of Sheboygan could not get enough of Jannie Suen of Taiwan. Two weeks after they met, he moved from his sparse officer’s quarters into an elegant villa at No. 74 Hong Thap Tu Street, soon dubbed “the White House” by the Vietnamese press. Kuntze morphed into a social animal, hosting parties for high-ranking political, military and diplomatic personnel—and Americans holding or seeking lucrative supply and construction contracts.

One of Kuntze’s staffers later said his boss began behaving like a big city mayor, “like Fiorello LaGuardia.” Suen moved into the villa and, according to another officer,“lived openly and flagrantly”with him. If Kuntze was mayor of Saigon, Suen was first lady, relishing her role in the circles of the rich and powerful.

Their lavish parties were “the talk of Saigon,” a reporter wrote, and“everyone who was anyone” sought an invitation. Suen cruised about Saigon in Kuntze’s 1964 white four-door Buick Electra with its conspicuous white sidewalls, a Navy flag on the left front fender and an American flag on the right, driven by a Vietnamese chauffeur who laid on the horn to part the churning sea of pedestrians, cyclos and jeeps. People gaped at Suen in the back seat in her oversized dark glasses and a high-collared Chinese dress. Critics described the car with the mistress as “offensively loud and insistent, as well as shameless.”

When Kuntze learned that MACV commander Westmoreland was unhappy with his brazen behavior as well as his alleged lack of diligence in quickly providing all the supplies requested by MACV Headquarters, Kuntze made sure that the general and his staff were all allotted small Chevrolets—without air conditioning. Kuntze even tabled Mrs. Westmoreland’s request that the PX stock more toiletries for the MACV officers’ wives. He bragged that he wasn’t afraid to say no to anyone.

Unamused, Westmoreland began pressing Defense Secretary Robert McNamara to phase out HSAS and replace it with an Army logistical command. A receptive McNamara drew up plans not only to phase out HSAS but also to phase out Archie Kuntze.

Moreover, Westmoreland was also concerned about “leakage” of American supplies. The black market was booming. Clearly, the U.S. supply train had broken down somewhere and the man responsible was Kuntze. American goods that were intended for U.S. fighting men were selling openly on Saigon’s streets: toiletries, uniforms, liquor, cigarettes, radios, air conditioners, auto parts, medicine and, if you knew the right man, weapons and ammunition.

Reporters began to write about the black market and corruption in supplying and housing American personnel. In 1965, it was estimated that billions in American assistance was missing. And, some of the missing supplies were not going into the black market—they were actually going to the enemy. In the fall of 1965, the 196th Light Infantry Brigade overran a Viet Cong camp outside Saigon and found 1.25 million pounds of rice, 440 gallons of gasoline, 600 gallons of cooking oil, 750 pounds of salt and 88 shovels—all with markings indicating that the material came from American exporters. The enemy was not merely eating American-supplied food, they were even digging their tunnels with American shovels. The tales of corruption and mismanagement were affecting public opinion by 1966, and McNamara needed to fix it—fast.

Kuntze not only stepped on the toes of the MACV commander, his wife and staff, he also stiffed the Vietnam’s biggest crime boss: “Money King” William J. Crum. An American who ruled a huge crime empire in Southeast Asia by the time Kuntze got there, Crum had assembled what reporters called a “consortium of criminals” that stretched from the black market stalls of Saigon to, it was alleged, the offices of MACV.

Some had Kuntze’s relationship with Crum all wrong when they suggested that he had a deal with Crum and was thus led astray. In fact, the opposite was true. Kuntze had crossed Crum, and made himself another powerful enemy. Crum wanted in on the action. He had to win over Kuntze, but Kuntze wouldn’t play. Not a man to give up easily, Crum began working behind the scenes to assist those who wanted to get rid of Kuntze. He befriended civilians in the Army-Air Force Regional Exchange in Saigon—men who were later tapped to oversee the transfer of PX functions from the Navy to the Army. Crum reportedly put these men on retainers and provided a large villa, complete with chef, maid and all the liquor and women they might need, as they waited for their chance.

It came in January 1966. Suen’s father owned a tony tailoring business in Saigon but was finding it difficult to get Thai silk and other textiles necessary to stock his store. But in the first month of 1966, a shipment of several bolts of Thai silk was delivered to Suen. It was promptly seized by Vietnamese customs officials, who demanded proof of payment of customs fees for the silk. Suen had no receipt and was arrested. Kuntze went to the police and customs officials to straighten everything out, but before he could get Suen freed, a special Naval Board of Inquiry arrived in Saigon to investigate the matter and the leakage of U.S. supplies. Kuntze was questioned about his relationship with Suen and his possible complicity in the leakage of supplies. The board went through his bank statements and his Navy files and found statements showing large sums of cash deposited in Kuntze’s accounts—far larger than was merited by his salary. It was all business, Kuntze countered, showing equally large cash outflows. Of deposits that could not be explained away as legal business transactions, Kuntze claimed he had been lucky at the dice tables.

The board was unable to pin any crimes on Kuntze, so it advised that he only be issued an official reprimand. But Kuntze’s detractors wanted him out, and a second board of inquiry was dispatched to Saigon in the spring of 1966, covering much of the same ground as the first. When the board officials went to the Saigon jail to question Suen, she was gone and no one could explain when or why she had been discharged. She wasn’t with Kuntze, her parents or at the Taiwan Embassy. She seemingly had disappeared into thin air.

The inquiry board delved into Kuntze’s business with Suen and the Thai silk matter. It pressed on Kuntze for the names of the establishments where he had been lucky with the dice. Kuntze claimed he couldn’t remember, but did recall selling his golf clubs and some of his clothing and Suen’s jewelry, and depositing the cash in his account. Unconvinced, the inquiry board recommended that he be removed from command and court-martialed.

Kuntze was charged with 12 counts of giving false testimony and making official statements to deceive, and with conduct unbecoming an officer: his relationship with Suen. It was the first time since 1951 that a Navy captain was court-martialed for personal misconduct.

Relieved of command of HSAS and reassigned to the Naval Station on Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay, Kuntze responded that he welcomed the court-martial to set the record straight. Before he flew to San Francisco, he secretly made arrangements for Suen to fly to the United States. He was, Naval investigators later said, clearly “contemplating matrimony.”

On May 15, 1966, HSAS ceased to exist, its operations turned over to the Army.

The court-martial on Treasure Island began in the first week of November 1966. Captain Dan Flynn was an experienced counsel who came out of retirement to represent Kuntze. He was described by a reporter as a man “who conceals a brilliant talent for salvaging ruined careers beneath a ‘down home’ façade.” The press also noted that Kuntze had far more ribbons and decorations than any of the nine officers trying him.

On the first day of the proceedings, Flynn asked for a change of venue to Saigon, where the alleged transgressions occurred and where it would be easier for him to find witnesses. The prosecutor, Captain Joseph Ross, insisted the trial remain in San Francisco, claiming Kuntze stood a better chance of a fair trial there than in Saigon, which was “hot and inundated with reporters.” The motion to move the trial was denied.

Flynn asked that 12 witnesses be transported to San Francisco from Saigon to testify for Kuntze, including Jannie Suen, her parents and her sister who would testify that Suen lived at home with her parents.

The first prosecution witness was Lieutenant Gerald Young, a finance officer who alleged Kuntze kept $23 million in cash in a freezer next to his office. When he asked Kuntze what the money was for, Young testified, Kuntze told him,“for incidentals.” Under cross-examination, Flynn asked Young why he had not reported this earlier or at least expressed concern to anyone else. Young could provide no convincing answer and admitted he was unaware of any fiscal irresponsibility by Kuntze and that he never saw any evidence of government funds gone missing under his watch. The cold cash in the freezer, Flynn said, was collected and dispensed for government business. It might have been unorthodox to keep it in a freezer, but it was certainly not illegal. Even though he kept funds in a freezer in his office, under Kuntze’s command things got done, Flynn declared. Troops were housed and fed, shipments were delivered and the PXs were well stocked.

Yeoman 1st Class James Parks testified that Kuntze sent him to Thailand on a military plane to bring back silk for Suen and her father. Parks also volunteered that he was scandalized by the way Kuntze “lived openly and notoriously” in his official quarters with Suen.

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Defense witnesses attacked Parks’ veracity. Three enlisted men who worked for Kuntze testified that “not for one moment” would they believe Parks. Chief Yeoman James McComb, who served in Kuntze’s staff headquarters, called Parks “a habitual liar.”

Several witnesses detailed Kuntze’s expenditures on Suen—including $4,600 in jewelry and airline tickets. But, reporters wondered, where was the crime? The captain was divorced. The money he spent was his own. Was Kuntze the only man who spent lavishly on a beautiful woman? The stories of Kuntze’s activities seemed aimed more at arousing the puritanical ire of the court than to convict him of any crime. Flynn contended that Kuntze could just never say no to Suen. Now, he could say no to other women, like Mrs. Westmoreland and MACV officers’ wives—but not to Suen. That, Flynn said, was his problem—his personal problem.

Naval intelligence officer Nicholas Sabales revealed what he had discovered about Suen, whose real name was Sun Pei Kiong and who worked in the Taiwan Embassy prior to “residing openly and notoriously in Kuntze’s quarters,”which, he reminded the court, was known as “the White House!” Sabales also testified that Kuntze obtained a “valuable” PX card for Suen.

Both the defense and the prosecution wanted Suen on the stand, but she could not be found. Naval Intelligence had informed Captain Ross that Suen “may have left Vietnam.” Kuntze told no one what he knew: Suen was living in a friend’s plush Nob Hill apartment within sight of Treasure Island. Kuntze later told a reporter that he expected to reunite with Suen, move to Florida and live the rest of his life with her there.

Chief Steward Alberto Rosete, who managed Kuntze’s household in Saigon, testified that Suen took all of her meals at the house, had her laundry done there and stayed overnight with Kuntze “four or five times a week.” Flynn’s cross-examination was simple. “Where’s the crime?” he asked Rosete. “Where is the crime?” Rosete did not reply. Ross objected.

When it became obvious that Suen was not going to appear at the proceedings, the prosecution entered the photograph taken of her for her Post Exchange card into evidence. It was passed around the courtroom and reporters were allowed to examine it. They were all in agreement: Even when she was not smiling, the dewy-eyed and dark-haired Jannie Suen was drop-dead gorgeous. Suen’s photo seemed to arouse envy rather than indignation.

A dozen Navy men testified on behalf of Kuntze, contradicting the prosecution witnesses. The last was Kuntze’s superior officer in Saigon, Rear Admiral Jack Monroe, who called Kuntze “brilliant.” His only real problem, Monroe said, was that he “lacked tact.”

Although Kuntze never testified, he had been deposed prior to the court-martial by investigators and Ross let slip, as evidence for a motive, some of his secret testimony. “I am accepting the accused’s explanation that he did it ‘for Jannie,’ ” Ross told the court. The motive, the prosecution said, was love and love’s first cousin, lust. Ross repeated that Kuntze had “confessed” that he was “contemplating matrimony” with Suen. He added that Kuntze said that until he and Suen were husband and wife, “the pleasure of her company is justified by her role as interpreter and unofficial hostess.” Ross concluded: “What a pity, gentlemen. It is a crying shame that an officer that we had expected so much from could have done this, for a woman.”

Flynn ridiculed the allegations about the relationship with Suen. “Look at this one on Jannie Suen. It says, ‘did wrongfully and dishonorably permit Jannie Suen, an unmarried Chinese female’—Now what in God’s world has ‘Chinese female’ got to do with that offense? If it was an Australian, would that make any difference?…No, but this was put in there as it has an aroma of mystery about it and adds spice to the case and makes it a little worse….And then it says that she is about 26 years old. I wonder if she was 36 if, whoever drew up this epistle, he would have put it in. Well, I thought about it. If she was 46, would they have put it in? Well, I doubt if they would have….It doesn’t make any difference whether she is Chinese, or whether she is 26 years old, but you know how this gives the case a little twist. It is a little meanness that we hadn’t ought to be using in these old Navy courts.”

In closing, Flynn insisted that there was no reliable testimony or evidence to convict Kuntze on any charge. He saw something other than the actual evidence propelling the case. The evidence was the sort of hearsay “you wouldn’t hang a yellow dog on. My request to this court is to let’s pick ourselves up and brush ourselves off and say, ‘This has gone far enough.’ We’ve put on the show; the fun has been had by whoever wanted it. And I will tell you, gentlemen, that there has never been a case like this in the United States Navy and you know it and I know it, and we will never see it again.”

The verdict came on November 14, the ninth day of the court-martial, after the panel deliberated for 11 hours. Kuntze was found not guilty of 10 charges and guilty on two: the relatively minor offenses related to his “conduct unbecoming an officer”—for letting Suen use his government car and living with her out of wedlock. He was also found guilty of abusing his position by importing Thai silk for Suen’s father.

The Court reconvened to hear defense arguments before announcing its sentence. Kuntze wiped away tears as Flynn strode back and forth making his case for mercy. He asked the court not to dismiss Kuntze from the service. If allowed to, he said, his client would petition immediately to be retired from the Navy.

Then, in a booming voice, Flynn reminded the court that Kuntze had been awarded 22 medals for his service, including a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star with Combat “V” and a Legion of Merit with Combat “V.”

“This man earned his retirement at Guadalcanal, at Savo, at New Georgia, at Bougainville, and off Okinawa,” he said pointing to his client. “He made the long trek from Guadalcanal almost to Japan. He earned it along the shores of Korea. He earned it in Vietnam.”

Unchallenged by Ross, the court accepted Flynn’s plea. Kuntze received an official reprimand and the loss of 100 points on the Navy promotion list. He then immediately applied for retirement from the Navy.

After the trial, Kuntze told astonished reporters he’d hoped that Suen’s name would not be dragged into the proceedings. When asked if he planned to return to Suen in Saigon, he said he had no such plans (she was in San Francisco). “But I’d rather go through another bombing in Saigon than go through the ordeal of a court-martial,” he concluded.

Kuntze may have met Suen in San Francisco, as the San Francisco Chronicle reporters thought he might when they staked out the apartment where she was living. But Kuntze and Suen were never seen together again. Some reporters tried to locate Suen, but to no avail. She had again disappeared, apparently for good.

Archie Kuntze went home to Sheboygan. There he met and fell in love with Ann Bauman. The two were married on March 12, 1968. Kuntze worked for a time as a business consultant and then reentered public life in 1970, winning a seat on the city council, where he served eight years as an alderman, for a time as the council president.

In 1973, the man who had been known as the American Mayor of Saigon, failed in his bid to become the mayor of Sheboygan.

On December 14, 1980, Archie Kuntze died of heart failure in his home town.

Larry Engelmann is the author of Tears Before the Rain: An Oral History of the Fall of South Vietnam.

Originally published in the February 2012 issue of Vietnam Magazine.