Glenn N. Chinn, a soft-spoken, low-key nonprofit leader in the Chinatown International District in the 1970s and 80s, passed away at his Seward Park home on January 17 at the age of 80.
Chinn, born in Salt Lake City on January 23, 1944, grew up in El Cerrito, CA. He attended college in Claremont, CA, then moved to Seattle to attend graduate school at the University of Washington, focusing on modern Chinese history.
He became active with the Wing Luke Museum in the mid ‘70s, when the newborn institution was called the Wing Luke Memorial Museum, operating on a shoestring in a tiny storefront on 8th Avenue South. After joining the board, Chinn served as the Museum’s volunteer director. Others active with the Museum at the time included Faith Enyeart, who went on to become a judge, and Ben Woo, a local architect.
During the 1980s, Chinn worked as director the Merchants Parking Association, a non-profit organization created in wake of concerns that a private parking titan like Diamond Parking Services might swope into the neighborhood and take control of a scarce community resource. Between Inter-Im, which managed the large parking lot under the I-5 freeway overpass, and Merchants Parking Association, which policed smaller lots, the CID was able to keep parking fees in check for decades.
Chinn was an enthusiastic participant in the International Economic Association (IDEA), the forerunner to the Chinatown-International District Business Improvement Area. IDEA was formed in 1973 by a small group of progressive business owners who started the annual summer festival and an iconic year-end holiday party. “I enjoyed working with Glenn,” Tomio Moriguchi said. “He was very even-keeled, not really a party-going type like some of the rest of us.”
Since 2011, Chinn had managed Studio 1Thousand, the business of his son, Kenzan Tsutakawa-Chinn, an LED lighting sculpture artist. Chinn, formerly married to Mayumi Tsutakawa, also has a daughter, Yayoi Tsutakawa-Chinn, a financial advisor who lives in Honolulu.
Kenzan recalled, “Growing up in the ID — as it was called back then during the 80’s — had all the trappings of an extended, multi-ethnic family. The neighborhood had coalesced and galvanized itself through an unsuccessful anti-Kingdome effort.
“I came into this community, first as a small child, running between the tables at banquets at Four Seas, staring at the high ceilings at House of Hong, or wandering upstairs at the old Uwajimaya. Many people knew my parents, and because of that, I think there were a lot more eyes watching me roam these streets than I knew. Even now, going into some of the old school restaurants, the owners say they haven’t seen me since I was ‘this tall’ — making a gesture for a small kid.
“I think my dad really found his Asian community finally. I think he struggled to find a peer group growing up. First in high school, then down at Claremont Men’s College, he was often isolated as one of the few, or even the only Chinese person there. In working with the community in the ID, he met so many people who shared his progressive, racial political views. He met people who shared ideas over bowls of noodles, and banquets, mixing food, community and politics into a potent and intoxicating work environment.”
Yayoi added, “Our father created community in a quiet unassuming way, wherever he went. His love of the outdoors, inquisitive nature and zest for adventure led him to lead an extraordinary life. He will be missed sorely by us and so many that enjoyed his company.”
