Going back to his beginnings has a humbling effect on an already humble man. Minh Ly points to the tiny stone enclosure which at one time housed his entire family and doubled as his pottery. Ly speaks in hushed tones as he walks through the small debris-strewn abode, surrounded by his grown children – all of whom have followed their father into the family business. Ly recounts how the shelter was destroyed during the Tet Offensive, how he and other area potters would await word through a pipeline as to which kiln was firing that day so they could scramble to get work done, and how he persevered to channel a simmering passion into a thriving enterprise.

Ly’s four children are visibly moved as their father walks through the razed rubble that gave rise to his dreams. The always animated Ly fights back his own tears. For what he has built – built for himself, built for his children, built for their children – is nothing short of miraculous. Soldiering on in the midst of war and poverty was grueling, but the hardships, Ly allows, have made the journey that much sweeter. “I remember everything,“ he says through his eldest son Sang Ly, who serves as translator. “I look back quite happy with my achievements, but I could never have dreamed anything this big.”

How big? In an impoverished country Ly has built a $20 million operation with 1,500 employees, and by 2010 an exhaustive and extensive renovation will yield a state-of-the art 1.3 million-square-foot factory. Three years ago, the finishing touches were put on a multimillion-dollar marble-encased 125,000-square-foot pleasure palace showroom and restaurant a few minutes from the factory, and 45 minutes north of Ho Chi Minh City (the former Saigon). Over the past 37 years, Ly has incessantly labored – with few breaks or distractions – to give his dreams life. Don’t expect Ly to bask in the glow of achievement; it’s not his way nor is it the way of the Vietnamese people. So opting to export to the U.S. – a country whose people revel in and shout about their accomplishments – has been a well-considered and well-deliberated decision.

Minh Ly agreed to take on the largest consumer market in the world only because an ideal opportunity was presented. Ly’s son-in-law, Ba Pho, is a principal in Envision Asia, along with his brother Tung and longtime family friend Brian Kenny. Envision Asia – which also includes Kenny’s son Brendan – was tapped last year to distribute Minh Long stateside. Kenny started the Connecticut-based Envision Asia to capitalize on emerging trade opportunities in Vietnam, a country with which he has a longtime association. (In 1980, Kenny and his wife Pat helped bring several in-need children – including the Pho brothers – to the U.S.) When the opportunity arose to import Minh Long, Kenny leaped. “There are many opportunities today in Vietnam,” Kenny notes, “but there aren’t many natural fits. This is the right product, the right market, the right relationship, and the right fit.”

Ly concurs. Relationships are critical and partnering with Envision Asia allows business to stay among family and friends. “Minh is excited to have his work in the U.S.,” the genial Kenny begins. “He has researched this market, has been here to iron things out, and is looking forward to seeing his designs on American shelves.”

Kenny, a former environmental engineer, admits he’s been overly analytical construing the trickiness and tumultuous temperament of the American market, but he aims to protect Minh Long’s interests. That means making sure all components – from marketing to warehousing, pricing, products, and customer service – are tailored to the U.S. “Minh is extremely attentive to quality and moving at the right pace,” Kenny says. “We knew that was the first place for us to start as well.”

And a great place for us to start, too. Understanding where Minh Ly comes from is critical to comprehending why the American market is perfect for his unique creativity. Ly is a third generation potter; his grandfather emigrated from China in search of a better life in Vietnam where he struggled as a potter of low-grade merchandise, not far from the area where his grandson found enormous success. “This need to make porcelain is in our DNA,” Ly offers. “It has always been in our family.”

In 1966 when Ly was 16 his father died and the teen was forced to leave school and run the small pottery. He toiled ceaselessly to earn a wage for his dependent family. “The past is an unfortunate thing,” he quietly intones, his remembrances bringing tears to his children. “It was a harsh environment, but it gave me strength to have a different kind of lifestyle.” In fact, the barely literate Ly was so self-motivated, he set out on his own vision quest, educating himself in areas he was weak until those deficiencies were turned into assets.

Within a few years, Ly realized the right equipment could generate added volume. In 1970, with a monetary investment from his mother, Ly and a schoolmate named Long opened Minh Long Porcelain. From the get-go, Ly poured his artistry and pursuit of perfection into the business. He started by producing his own color pigments, developing new glazes, and innovating manufacturing techniques. Ly’s functional art – vases and bowls – slowly but steadily carved a niche. Every single dong (Vietnam’s currency) earned was channelled back into the business.
The enterprising Ly would watch other potters to figure out what worked and what didn’t. By the end of the first year in operation, Minh Long employed 20 and word-of-mouth was spreading about this new porcelain works with Western-styled assortments. Within two years, Minh Long was exporting – to Hong Kong, France, Germany, and India. (Today, Minh Long exports 70% of its production to all corners of the globe – Russia, Japan, and the Mideast are fertile markets – and that figure is expected to increase greatly as the U.S. is tapped.)


continued . . . .