Sean Do survived the “Killing Fields” of Cambodia. In the late 1970s it was the epitome of human degradation. In a country of 8 million, 1.3 million people were murdered and perhaps another 1 million starved to death or disappeared. The Khmer Rouge instituted their own version of an agrarian-based Marxist economy, and culture, which they adapted from the North Vietnamese interpretation of the original.
Everything was turned upside down. The ignorant became celebrated; the educated were denigrated, and then forced out of their homes, sent to work in the countryside, in the rice fields, and sooner or later shot.
But now, more than 30 years after Pol Pot was forced out by the Vietnamese, the jungle vines of more recent horror have covered up the spot. There is nothing to compare it to now save, perhaps, North Korea — the forced labor camps, with endless starvation, hangings, and shootings, and the entire culture of corruption, humiliation, and betrayal that would be the pride of any psychopath.
But Sean Do survived, despite being tortured, despite endless uncertainty and loss. He survived, barely, tenuously, sometimes, it seemed, not at all. And yet if you don’t know his background you would never guess his suffering. He is ever jovial and genuine. And above all, kind. But if you do know something of his background and you are curious, and you draw him back to that time, you realize that your question is a form of punishment because the images are still so vivid, the guilt at having survived still so fresh, the thought of what might have been so painful.
In a thumbnail history, his family was forced out of their house, on a moment’s notice, suddenly out in the street in Pnom Penh marching with a pillow-full of belongings, in a river of people flowing out of the city, heading who knows where. Although many in his extended family were killed, including a cousin he was very close to, miraculously his mother and father, along with Sean, escaped to Vietnam.
They would stay there for seven years, and then in 1982 Sean literally walked back through Cambodia and reached Thailand where he worked as a physician’s assistant. Later he would find his way to Denmark, and in 1989 he immigrated to San Francisco where he got a job at San Francisco General Hospital and then taught languages at City College.
From there he found his way to the San Francisco District Attorney’s office, where, in 1998 he became an elder abuse program manger and then, more recently, a victim witness investigator.
“My job,” he tells me, fully aware of the irony, “is to educate the community on how to prevent crime.”
A Gift to Give to the Children
Whenever I talk to Sean he tells me about his children, and about their interest in music. Indeed, his son, William, a pianist, had a sterling career as a young musician and was even invited to attend Julliard but turned it down to go to Brown University. Initially, he wanted to do a double major, in economics and music, but eventually he gave up music, although in college he would from time to time go to one of the practice rooms in the music department and play.
“It makes him happy,” Sean tells me. “It helps him not to feel alone.” And he adds, “He is a two-brained person, but you know being a musician is not a money maker and he loves to play with money; he loves the possibilities of investment.”
“I was always thinking I wanted music in my children’s lives and so when William was very young I suggested he play the piano. He said, ‘Daddy, I don’t know.’ I said, ‘I don’t care if you like it; I won’t force you to stay with it but I want you to try it.’ He thought I was joking but I wasn’t and I bought a $250 piano. In the beginning he complained, but gradually I could see he enjoyed it and he went with the flow. Sometimes you have to do that, you have to put it in front of them; otherwise, they go with their mood.”
Sean’s other child, Samantha, is a true musician.
“She started on the piano at 5 and played for seven years. It was like torture getting her to practice. I had to keep reminding her, but I could see the piano was not for her, she just wouldn’t take it seriously. At one point, she said she wanted to sing and so we tried that. But that didn’t work either. And then a few years later, in an afterschool program when she was 12, she took up the cello.
“You know, I was concerned in the beginning that she was jumping all around with these things. But she was so sincere with the cello. You know, with children, when they find something that they really want it happens right away …”
Coming of Age
Now Samantha is 17 and coming into her senior year at the Ruth Asawa San Francisco School of the Arts. Although the family lives in Daly City, she was accepted as “special talent.”
“That cello has become like her partner, her best friend,” Sean tells me. “She holds it like a piece of precious jewelry. You can’t believe how careful she is about handling that thing. She even talks to it. It’s like this is the only person who understands her. She practices four hours a day. You realize, with the cello you have to have so much patience. On the piano, you have keys but with the cello you have to search for the tone. You are like a blind person, touching until it sounds right.”
“One day,” Sean continues, “she recorded her music for seven hours. I was sitting there thinking this is so scary. It’s like a drug, do you know what I mean? But a very healthy drug.”
Samantha has begun to study with Peter Wyrick, associate principal cellist with the San Francisco Symphony. He has also served as principal cellist of the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra and associate principal cellist of the New York City Opera Orchestra.
“One day she was introduced to him and he said, ‘I just want to see you play.’ So she played and that night she couldn't sleep the whole night. ‘Daddy, what if I’m not accepted? This is my last chance in my life to do this.’ I said, ‘no, this is not your last chance.’ ‘But you don’t understand, I want this teacher so much.’ And you look into their eyes and you see how much they want this and it’s at once beautiful and very painful.”
With Peter Wyrick, the world opened up. “He is like an angel,” Sean tells me. “And he treats Samantha like his own daughter.”
It was through Peter Wyrick that Samantha found the cello of her dreams, a German cello intended for another musician that suddenly became available through a small shop in Seattle, Rafael Carrabba Violins. The price for such a cello runs between $25,000 and $35,000.
“The price of the instrument,” says Sean shaking his head, “It’s the price of a car, and then the insurance, I couldn’t imagine how we could do it.”
But then things happened, call it divine intervention; call it compensation for time in the killing fields. And now it looks as if Sean once more has found a way.
This summer Samantha has been accepted into the San Francisco Symphony summer music program. She was also accepted at a program at the New England Conservatory of Music but she’s decided to stay close to home, near her family and her teacher.
Healing Legacy
I asked Sean once how he himself had gotten interested in music. He explained that he always loved singing and playing guitar, and had once dreamed of going to study music and the Arts. Even in wartime, he survived on music and enjoyed listening to it on whatever radio he could find.
“When I would walk through the jungle, or when I came back from working the paddies, or the guards made us clean up or cook for them, I would sing to myself. It was the only way to make the day go easily. It’s a healing process and so I would sing pop songs I remembered when I was younger.”
He adds, “I still sing to myself when I’m depressed.”
And so the legacy of the ‘killing fields’ is partly Sean’s gift to his children.
“I just want them to have one thing that can carry them on, that they can enjoy for the rest of their lives. But of course often people don’t understand. When my daughter wanted to go to SOTA, everyone was telling me, ‘I don’t understand why you send your daughter to music school. What good is that? What can she do with that? Unless she’s very famous, she’s going to be poor.’ But I know people who have followed more conventional careers and still they find they’re unhappy and the money means nothing.
“I don’t want that for my daughter. She’s determined to be a musician and I support that. I fully support that. It is her gift and it makes her happy. Why wouldn’t I want that for her? I believe music can overcome anything.”
By way of postscript, in recent weeks, the Cambodian government has been trying to pass a law to punish anyone who denies there were atrocities during the time of Pol Pot.