Training Tomorrow’s Hispanic Latinamerican Leaders Today "Empowering Hispanics, Latinamericans & Others since 1991"    "Empowering Hispanics & Others Through Housing"

Victor Pinzon's Background

The following is an attempt to provide an open book like history to my past, to help explain the reasons that moved me to establish and dedicate myself fully, since 1991, to the mission and goals of The Americas Foundation; and to describe briefly some of the experiences, scars, and happenings that give me the motivation, certain insight and basis to contribute to implement some of the most ambitious and unique projects of the Foundation for the benefit of Hispanics Americans, the people of the United States, the people of our Hemisphere and indeed of the globe.

I was born in Bogota, Colombia, at Calle 64 # 30-40, on February 5, 1940.
My parents, Abdon Pinzon (deceased) and Cristina Gonzalez. A hard working, humble family, had a wholesale and retail business dealing with handicraft and art crafts products made in central Colombia.
I had eleven brothers and sisters, two died at early ages, and a third died about 10 years ago.
I started working at age five with my father, accompanying him on his business travels to suppliers, clients and helping with the retailing outlets, starting at 5:00 AM many days. This became a great experience, though I may not have had a full child’s type experience.
One such episode, at age 8, my father asked me, due to an emergency, that I take the weekly payment to one of his most important suppliers of ceramics in Girardot. He took me to the train station in Facatativa, this Tuesday afternoon, with a thick roll of big pesos bills -which I secured with pins- in my little shirt. The train was, as usual on Tuesdays’ market days in Facatativa, immensely full with passengers, bags, costales, chickens, children, etc. heading down from the Bogota plains to Girardot. Among a lot of apprehension and with a clear understanding of the seriousness of the responsibility my father had place upon me, I was focused and vigilant, until I personally delivered the money to my father business supplier at their house in Girardot.

I started my school studies at age nine, not eight as most children did at that time, because my parents wanted to protect their little boy, oldest son, from being hurt by bigger boys, they said.

My first school was at the Christian Brothers school located in Calle 68, Carrera 30 in Bogota. I believed I went two years there: 1948 and 1949.
Then, I transferred to Colegio Jose Joaquin Caicedo, owned and run by the “cura” of El Siete de Agosto Catholic Church, located at Calle 64 and Carrera 23, until he inaugurated his brand new school building at Calle 63 and Carrera 23. I remember and thank two professors that helped my development: Cuellar and Ordonez.

I moved on for High School, bachillerato, to Colegio Camilo Torres, a government school, located at carrera 7 and calle 33 in Bogota. There were various professors there I remember the most, very strict and tough, which helped me understand and build discipline, character and respect. I thank them.

From my early school days I made myself a promise to study and do the work necessary to be the best student in each of my classes. And, with a lot of sacrifice and hard work, some sleepless nights, I received the highest grades, awards or recognition in each of the classes and schools that I attended. And, while I went to school, and studied, I continued helping my father and mother in their wholesale and retail businesses.
I also attended Centro Colombo Americano of the US Embassy, in Bogota in 1956 and 57 to improve my English, even though there were English classes at my colegios. However, my pronunciation was then, and to some extent even today, particularly some sounds that continue to be highly challenging for me.

Other early episodes
The day April 9, 1948 “El Bogotazo” is still a vivid memory of a society in total chaos and violence. Most of Bogota was burned or destroyed by the emotions and uncivil behavior of masses of people trying to avenge the assassination of their “caudillo” Jorge Eliecer Gaitan. My family collected ourselves for about three days and nights in one of our relatives home in Bogota, away from our own home in Siete de Agosto and store in Chapinero, in temporary excile, anxiously waiting for the end one way or other, for the hostilities to end and order restored.

My father died of cancer August 4, 1953, at age 43. I, as the oldest boy, was supposed to assume the responsibility and to somehow fill the great void his death meant to my mother, brothers and sisters.

Civil society early experience
While at Colegio Camilo Torres, I participated in the students’ street demonstration against the military presidency of General Gustavo Pinilla. University and high school students initiated a strong demonstration effort and were finally successful with the support of labor unions, workers, and middle class to force the resignation and travel out of the country of General Pinilla. On one of these episodes, a young soldier, tired and probably not fully aware of the situation, threw his rifle at my face, almost breaking my jaw. A scary confrontation but the effort and price to pay highly necessary in the pursuit of freedom, and most importantly the active demand for good, honest government administrators.

Big Decision
In 1957 I went to see a movie that changed my life. That movie was “Rebel without Cause” with James Dean. The movie made me come to a sudden decision: to travel to the United States, because my future in Colombia did not look bright nor challenging; I was not a member of those Colombian families of wealth and privilege.
My goal to go to the United States was to work and study to become either a US Air Force pilot or an engineer. I made up my mind that if I was allowed to enter the US, I would do any and all work, within the law, necessary to accomplish my goal regardless of the hardships, sacrifice, shortcomings required or demanded.
I remember going to the US Embassy in Bogota, a few days after seeing said movie, to find out what did I need to enter the US. I did this without talking to my mother, brothers and sisters. The Embassy official told me to go, get and bring my Colombian passport. I got it and along with my school grade reports, the embassy official gave me a permanent resident visa. Colombians did not travel out of their country in 1957, except the very wealthy and some top government officials.

Immediately, upon getting the visa, I started a small business to raise the money to pay for the airline ticket from Bogota to Miami, the closest city to Bogota in the US, and thus the cheapest airfare. I also told my my family for the first time. They were sad but supportive. I would be the first member of the family venturing out of Bogota to strange new lands.
The business I started was manufacturing mattresses. The materials I used: “tamo”, fique, cabuya, big needles, tiza, sewing machine, colorful special cotton fabric for the mattress’ cover. The production staff were my brothers, sisters and myself. I engaged them to work with some minimum compensation. They were, for the most part, eager to help their “big” brother. I thank them because without their help, the productivity and sales would have been seriously hampered. Additionally to the manufacturing, I did the promotion, marketing, sales, invoicing and delivery of the finished product to numerous stores in and out of Bogota, along with the doing the collection and maintaining the accounts receivables in order.
My uncle, Teodolindo Gonzalez, the only brother of my mother, helped me with some dollars towards my trip to the United States. One day early February, 1958 from the Techo airport in Bogota, I traveled via Avianca to the United States, on a journey of no return for me, at least only and only until I had accomplished my dream: become a US Air Force pilot or an engineer.

On my way to the United States
In the plane to Miami, I met a Colombian family, who understanding my situation, kindly offered me their house in Miami and to help me finish High School in Miami. I thank them and told them that my destination was the United States, and to me like most Colombians then, the United States was New York City. I stayed at their house a few days, enough to convince myself that Miami in February, 1958 was very inhospitable, with serious racial discrimination and a very poor infrastructure. Thus, I decided to continue on to the United States or New York City. I bought a Greyhound bus ticket and after a delightful sightseeing bus ride through beautiful winter scenes of the Eastern US, I arrived in New York City one day early February, 1958 at about 3:30 AM. It was very cold with heavy snow on the streets and sidewalks.

Leaving the bus station at about 4:30 AM, I ventured for the first time on the city subway system to the Colombian consulate in NYC to find out the time the office opened; to try to get information and perhaps leads to find families or situations for solving my housing needs.

Police encounter
As I got out of the subway station to walk towards the Colombian consulate building, a jewelry store window had been broken and valuables stolen. I was walking, the only person at that early hour on the street, unaware when some police officers stop me. They asked me questions that I did not quite understood. However, after about fifteen minutes of attempting to communicate with them, they allowed me to continue on my way. It was a trying, tense but enlightening experience.
After finding out the hour the Consulate would open, I took the subway to Forests Hill to the house of Jorge Leiva, a Colombian ex-Minister living in exile. I had a message and a business card from the father, Jorge Mora Londono, of my best Colombian friend, Jorge Mora. Jorge Leiva, whom I did not know, was the only person in the whole United States I had a reason to meet. The main purpose to meet him was to try to get his help in getting a job, any job in New York City.
However, Mr. Leiva, was surprised of this little guy arriving in New York City, in the middle of winter, with no money -pardon me with a grand total of $20 in my pockets-, speaking unintelligible English, without having finished high school, little or no job experience, with no family, no relatives, no friends in New York or in the United States.
Mr. Leiva’s evaluation of the situation and his immediate recommendation to me was that I should not spend a single cent, and that on that same afternoon he would help me to New York’s airport to get in a plane back to Bogota. He sincerely felt that I was out of my mind, that my situation was desperate and had only one solution, his solution -go back home! After, accompanying him to some of his business rounds in Wall Street on that day, hoping unsuccessfully that he would help me get a job with his friends, as a messenger boy,  janitor or anything else, I told him thanks, but no thanks. I will make it on my own!

Getting a job in New York City. Walking the length of Broadway in Manhattan.
Cleaning sidewalks of snow for pay.
Automatics restaurant experience and support from a medical doctor.
Job in a Flushing factory; 1 hour and 45 minutes one way commuting. Wages $1 an hour and $32.18 per week take home pay. Saved $12 per week.
Living in the Bronx, Pelham Bay Avenue subway station area. Rented a bed in the house of a Colombian family.
Studying evenings after work at Washington High School in downtown Manhattan.

Job Selling Magazine Subscriptions
In May, 1958 I got a job selling magazine subscriptions, door to door. I could no make sales in Manhattan, and was ready to be fired for lack of production. Discrimination, rough time. Because of my poor English, and my Puerto Rican or Korean physical looks, I was heavily discriminated in the fortified NYC apartment door buildings and elsewhere.
Gladly I left New York City traveling to and through the New England States and later Pennsylvania selling magazine subscriptions door to door. I promised myself to become the best salesman in the group against the great odds I was facing: terrible English pronunciation and my skin color discrimination.
I became the number one salesman producer in the group.

In September, 1958, we were selling magazines in Pennsylvania, in a small beautiful town -reminded me of the one in “Rebel without Cause” movie- called Emporium. I walked to the High School, a brand new good-looking building, and asked to meet with the school Principal. I asked him whether I could attend his school and finish High School there. The Principal was bewildered at first but helped me to stay. The school year had already started.

A few weeks later, a class mate, Dennis Miglicio, invited me to stay at his parents’ house, whom decided to be my school sponsors thus, avoiding my paying tuition to the school. I thank Tony Miglicio, his wife, and rest of his family for having allowed me to be part of their family; and for the wonderful food in their great Italian restaurant -the best in that Pennsylvania region.

I finished High School at Emporium High on May 1959, after a very busy year of numerous classes to make up and finish in one year. Additionally, I worked at the Miglicio’s restaurant on several chores and ended the school year with the highest grades of my graduation class. I applied to and was accepted by various universities, and at the last minute decided to go to the University of California at Berkeley to study nuclear engineering and be part of the only university in the world with nine Nobel prize winners at the time.

University of California, Berkeley
I arrived in Berkeley, California late June, 1959 to prepare for starting classes in September. In the meantime, I got several jobs: teaching the children of an editor of the San Francisco Chronicle to play tennis, maintaining the garden in exchange for a room in his beautiful house on Claremont Avenue, Oakland; and busboy at the UC Berkeley’s exclusive Faculty Club.

While I attended classes at Berkeley with a very busy and demanding engineering curriculum, and to pay expenses I worked at various jobs, sometimes at four different places the same week. During my second year, I changed my major to Mechanical Engineering. During my last two years of undergraduate work, 1963 and 64, I played varsity soccer with a great group of classmates from different countries. Additionally, I entered in the university’s Work-Study engineering program, that involved working alternatively six months and going to school six months. In that program, I had great work experiences with California Packing Corporation, Pelton Water Wheel Co., and Kaiser Engineers in the San Francisco Bay area as a junior design engineer.

During my life at UC Berkeley, the war in Vietnam escalated to its terrible and wasteful consequences. I readily studied, researched and became aware and supportive of the efforts of Mario Savio and others for students’ rights and representation in university administration matters related to students. Additionally, I became active in voicing my opposition to the war in Vietnam. At the time, in 1964, I married Ann, a nurse. We had a child, Julie. I earned and received my Bachelors Degree from UC Berkeley in Mechanical Engineering in 1964.

After graduation, I worked at Kaiser Engineers as a design engineer at Kaiser Industries’ world headquarters in Oakland, California. But, rapidly became convince that I needed to get back to get a Master in Business Administration. Against, the will of my wife, Ann, I went back to Berkeley for an MBA; that was a major reason for our divorce.

I earned and received my MBA degree from Berkeley in 1966. After having being invited to Washington, DC by the Inter American Development Bank, visited with them, interviewed, and promised a job by the Bank; the IDB about three months later, at the last minute hired the son of a Colombian government official for the position I had been approved.

I will continue my story as time allows me.

[The Americas Foundation is now Americas Global Foundation]