Bill L. Chin, the last surviving Chinese American World War II veteran in Seattle and a lifelong member of the Cathay Post #186 of the American Legion, passed away on the morning of March 13, 2025, three months shy of his 100th birthday. 

“I feel very sad,” Haydon Mar, former commander of the Cathay Post, said. “As I’ve grown older, I have come to really appreciate the World War II veterans and the sacrifices they’ve made for our country and our freedoms. Like other minority vets, they had to come home after the War and face discrimination.” 

Chin, a Seattle native who grew up in Chinatown’s Milwaukee Hotel, had suffered a stroke two-and-a-half years ago and had been living in an adult family home in the Renton Highlands when he passed away. 

Last year, the Cathay Post organized a party for Chin for his 99th birthday and had been looking forward to celebrating his 100th birthday on June 28. 

Haydon Mar’s father, James Mar, was a founding member of the Post. James Mar was the first Chinese American drafted from Seattle in 1941. The Post was established in 1945 by David “Gobby” Woo, an aerial gunner pilot. Woo was shot down during a bombing mission and survived 27 months in German prison camps, including Stalag 17, the Austrian camp immortalized in a classic film starring actor William Holden. 

When I interviewed Bill Chin in 1991, he said he faced discrimination when he and his wife Laura tried to settle in South Beacon Hill. “They knew that some Asians were moving in, we’re building a new home, we found some resistance,” he said. “At one time, Beacon Hill, if you’re Black, you couldn’t get up there.” 

Chin—known for years as the “John Hancock insurance man” in the Chinese community—enjoyed regaling younger Chinese Americans with nostalgic stories about pre-World War II Chinatown.  

“Our dad’s work ethic and dedication to his clients meant never hesitating to make a house call or answering questions over the phone, no matter what time of day the phone rang,” his daughter Andrea Chin recalled. “Whenever our family went to Chinatown for dinner, it was at least 15 minutes before my dad could sit down at our table because it was inevitable that the owner of the restaurant and at least half of the customers eating there would stop him to say hello and chat.” 

During my 1991 interview with Chin, he described growing up in a safe community where everyone knew one another.  From around the corner of his Chinatown apartment, he climbed up the fire escape with friends to eat lunch. He played football in the streets. He watched cowboy movies at the Atlas Theatre on Maynard Avenue.  

“There was a lot of things to do,” he said. “There were empty lots where we could go around and pick apples and pears. In fact, where the Four Seas Restaurant is now, that used to be an empty lot, and we used to go there and build a bonfire. And we used to roast potatoes. And we used to tell ghost stores.” 

During high school, he and his friends worked as waiters and busboys in restaurants like Twin Dragons, Chinese Garden and Kiang Nam. They earned two dollars for a full 10-hour evening shift.  

“In fact, there used to be a restaurant called Club Maynard, and there used to be a stripper there,” Chin said. “That was a wild place, too. Club Maynard is now the Bush Garden.” 

The Four Seas Restaurant closed in 2017 and is now the site of Uncle Bob’s Place, a mixed-used apartment and commercial building. The Bush Garden closed in 2020 during the height of the pandemic but is scheduled to reopen in Uncle Bob’s Place later this year. 

Chin was profiled in the book, “Reflections of Seattle’s Chinese Americans: The First 100 Years,” published by the Wing Luke Asian Museum in 1994 and 2003. James Mar and David Woo were also interviewed and featured.  

Woo said he had formed the Cathay Post after the War to help returning vets petition for wives to come to the U.S. from China.  The Chinese Exclusion Act, which made it virtually impossible for Chinese women to come to this country since its enactment in 1882, was finally repealed in 1943. 

Chin recounted his service in the 13th Armored Division, taking prisoners into custody in Germany. After his discharge, he used the GI Bill to support his education at Linfield College in Oregon and Seattle University. He earned a degree in finance and worked as an accountant at Boeing for eight years before joining John Hancock as an insurance agent in 1959. He stayed with the firm until he retired. 

He was a reliable presence at the annual Memorial Day commemoration in Hing Hay Park, which honors the 10 Chinese Americans in Seattle who sacrificed their lives during World War II. A red upright granite slab etched with their names sits at the edge of the Park. Each year, fewer and fewer of Chin’s aging peers came to the event, eventually leaving Chin as the sole participant. 

In addition to his active participation in the Cathay Post—supporting fundraising for the Kin On Nursing Home and youth scholarships—Chin also served as English secretary for the Gee How Oak Tin Family Association for decades. He briefly served as English secretary for the Bing Kung Association and was an officer of the Chinatown Chamber of Commerce. 

In 1970, with the support of the King County Medical Society, Chin helped establish the Oriental Restaurant Association to provide a health care plan for Chinese cooks and waiters. The Hong Kong Restaurant in Chinatown and the Flower Drum Restaurant on Highway 99 were among the first participants. 

Chin’s son Corey said his father faithfully adhered to weekly Sunday family gatherings centered on eating, even after he moved to the adult family home. “When I would visit him, he would always ask if I had eaten,” Corey said. 

Corey shared a favorite memory: 

“Dad liked to take family vacations via the family car. I remember one year in July we planned a trip to Disneyland. We had an old Valiant that had the gear shift that consisted of push buttons on the dashboard for drive, reverse etc. Dad put in a bench in the back seat area, transforming the family car into a pseudo-station wagon. However, we didn’t have the most important necessity—air conditioning. Dad came up with the idea of hanging wet towels over the open back windows to give us some relief. I remember as we approached Redding, nobody was talking or moving. We were just sweating statues. But we made it to Disneyland and had a great time!” 

Chin’s son Tyler recalled that his father was an avid golfer, always striving to improve his game. “He would practice putting in the hallway and chipping in the backyard,” Tyler said. “As a kid when I would watch golf on television with him. During the commercial breaks he’d often grab a club and take a few practice swings in the living room. On multiple occasions I can remember him scraping the ceiling on his backswing or follow through, leaving a mark from his black Ping driver. After each time he marred the ceiling, with a wry grin on his face, he’d turn to me and whisper, ‘Okay, now don’t tell your mother.’” 

Chin is preceded in death by his wife Laura, and survived by three children: Corey, Andrea, and Tyler (spouse Maiko Winkler-Chin); and three grandchildren: Lauren Chin, Abby Chin-Martin and Lily Chin-Martin. 

The family is planning a celebration of life this summer to coincide with his 100th birthday.