The Real Wheels of Fortune

The 25th anniversary of the Vietnam war’s last day was observed on April 30--a day to honor those who died without neglecting those who survived.

David Richard was in Vietnam for neither of these occasions-- the one a quarter-century ago, when Saigon fell, nor the one a week ago, when there were celebrations in Ho Chi Minh City’s streets.

But he did go there in late March and early April of this year, to visit a hospital in Hanoi that was once bombed by U.S. troops.

It was his fifth visit to Vietnam in four years.

Richard once made a living selling golf course equipment. Not golf equipment--golf course equipment.

“Oh, you know,” he says. “Sand-trap rakes to course superintendents, that sort of thing.”

Now he sells nothing.

He brings things with him to Vietnam--and to Nicaragua, Bosnia, Mongolia, other far corners of the globe--to give, not to sell. He brings things wherever there is need, and the pity is, there is too much need for the things he brings.

He brings wheelchairs.

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David Richard, 44, is the founder and executive director of Wheels for Humanity, a nonprofit organization that is headquartered in a 10,000- square-foot warehouse in North Hollywood.

Wheels has one mission and one only--to restore or repair a used wheelchair, then make sure it gets to someone who is in urgent need of one.

The demand exceeds the supply.

“Not a day goes by in this office without someone contacting us in dire need of a wheelchair,” says Richard, sitting by four file cabinets with five drawers apiece, all filled with heart-rending pleas. “The plain truth of the matter is that we have more request forms than we do chairs.”

Nevertheless, more than 4,100 chairs have already been donated by Wheels for Humanity to disabled individuals in 26 different countries--countries where a wheelchair is not always a common sight, but is sometimes a rare and even luxurious privilege.

A misconception too many applicants have is that any old kind of wheelchair will do nicely. A woman in Costa Rica keeps appealing on behalf of a child with cerebral palsy, but provides no specific information.

“A lot of people seem to feel one size fits all,” Richard says. “It would be like me giving you my shoes to wear, like giving you my grandma’s dentures to chew your food.”

There is a specific protocol his organization must follow. Medical histories are needed. Photographs. Measurements.

Inasmuch as many of the requested wheelchairs are for children, it must be taken into account that the user is not only smaller in size, but will likely outgrow the chair in just a few years.

Still, you do what you can.

A few full-time staffers and a variety of volunteers--often from schools, church groups and Scout troops--assist Richard in traveling to pick up any used wheelchair donated by a hospital, nursing home, medical supply company or private party. Richard now draws a salary to make ends meet for the 60-odd hours a week he devotes to this, after years of doing it for free.

Each chair must be collected from a donor, stripped, cleaned, have its bearings replaced and belts adjusted, then boxed and shipped. This takes time, effort and a modicum of funding, which is why an auction of donated gifts and a reception featuring comedian Tim Conway will be held May 19 at the Skirball Cultural Center, with tickets at $125 per person. And personal contributions are always welcome at Wheels of Humanity’s office, (818) 766- 8000.

The results can be like this:

Richard and a team of 12 trained medical volunteers--all paying their own way--just spent two weeks in Hanoi at the Bac Mai Hospital, a structure damaged in a 1972 bombing raid during the Vietnam conflict.

There they personally distributed 183 free wheelchairs to disabled Vietnamese citizens and instructed them in their use.

“To the best of my knowledge,” Richard says, “there is not a single firm of any real size in all of Vietnam that manufactures wheelchairs.”

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It was the fifth such trip to that part of the world for Richard, who has also overseen distributions to people in Central America and Mexico, with upcoming trips planned for as far away as Tibet.

Inspired by his brother Mark, who once personally drove 20 wheelchairs to Guatemala after witnessing a particularly desperate need, Richard ultimately was challenged by another brother, Dennis, to give more of himself than “a little money once in a while,” just before Dennis’ death in 1994.

That is how Wheels for Humanity came to be created in 1995 by David, who began devoting himself full-time.

“We’re often in here refurbishing 200 chairs at a time,” he says, “and there still are never enough to go around.”

Yet these are 200 more wheelchairs that will find their way to somebody, somewhere, near or far.

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Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to him at Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053. E-mail: mike.downey@latimes.com