I didn’t know a term existed for the quasi-futuristic, kitschy American architecture of the 50s, 60s, and 70s until a few days ago. But as I drove home from my parents’ house (the same house I grew up in) on the less-than-scenic Lake City Way last week, I drove by the in-progress restoration of Ying’s Chinese Foods Drive-In – as I have done multiple times before. I decided I needed to photograph it, and in my googlings I came across the term “Googie Architecture.” Things started to click, and I made plans to take the husband on a Golden Hour Thursday night date to document this both captivating and extremely kitschy building.
Growing up, as my father was working to start his own business, I remember going to Ying’s on special occasions for American Chinese staples like General Tso’s or almond chicken. I was particularly attracted to the fried rice cakes the kitchen staff had colorfully and artificially colored vibrant pinks and greens and yellows. The building has always had a special place in my memory, and yet I didn’t know the history of the plot of land itself.
For non-Seattle natives, let me ground you in a little context. Lake City Way, or the Bothell Highway, is north Seattle’s second major north-south arterial, paved with asphalt in 1926 to keep up with growing residential and trade-driven demand. It may have been shiny at new at one point in time, decades ago, but for as long as I can remember Lake City has had the cache of being rather sleazy, maybe dangerous, and downright ridiculous. I’m sure every city has one: that strip of concrete where you go to buy your used car, automatic weapon, medicinal pot, or lap dance.
As it was one of the first major highways in the city, commerce sprang up quickly – car lots and drive-in restaurants popped up all along the stretch. At 8500 Lake City Way, quite in the heart of things, first came a very controversial spot: The Coon Chicken Inn. If you’re thinking it couldn’t possibly be a racist reference, you’re sadly mistaken. The Coon Chicken Inn was Seattle’s premier racist chicken spot.
As early as 1930 there are city records of protests around the racial defamation of the restaurant’s name and logo. As a result, the owners of the restaurant changed the name and painted over the “mascot.” But it was too late, as the wounds never healed and Seattle marched toward greater relative progressiveness. It shuttered its doors after a decades-long decline in 1957.
To switch gears, I’ve always been fascinated by human diaspora (who’s not?). In grad school, while I was still pursuing an MA in Korea Studies to balance out the boredom of business school, I did quite a bit of research on Korean populations in Central Asia and Sakhalin. The Chinese diaspora in America is similarly compelling. There’s a great documentary that describes the post-WWII wave of Chinese diaspora in terms of Chinese restaurants – essentially, a key way of networking among Chinese immigrants was via these businesses. New immigrants would arrive, and be led by their peers to a town in New Mexico or Iowa, where they would open their own restaurant. Ying’s was one of these, racist “Oriental” font and all.
It also happened to be built in the prime time of Googie architecture. The architect of the building, Roland Terry, had designed Canlis, arguably Seattle’s most famous restaurant (I wasn’t let in once because I wasn’t wearing a sport coat), ten years earlier. Seattle hosted the World’s Fair in 1962, and to go along with the futuristic Space Needle and Seattle Monorail, quasi-futuristic examples of in the Googie style sprang forth in abundance. And thus, Ying’s (nee Club 19) was born.
The building is laid out in a hexagonal plan, with added points on each side for a little extra flavor. In addition to drive up windows, there was also a dining room inside that ran around its circumference with bright tangerine and yellow tables. It’s a midcentury modern orgy of design, color, and dubious practicality that’s an absolute feast for the eyes (I won’t comment on the food). Outside, the building features components of Pacific Northwest’s particular dialect of Googie – employing local cedar woods instead of fiberglass or concrete to form the buildings central structure. The building has certainly seen better days, but as a person with a strong attraction to decay (paging Buzludzha), it’s never been more appealing. 
It sits at the intersection of 85th and Lake City Way, and closed just this past March. Since then, it has been boarded up, but there are rumblings of greater things to come there. At this website, you can look at their plans and watch an amazingly well-produced video about the history of the building. The people in charge, are making their best attempt to do right by the structure’s fascinating history. And despite my not taking part in the 60 taps of local microbrews on tap, I’m happy to know that this unique piece of Seattle’s architectural and cultural heritage is being kept intact.
PIN ME!
2 comments
That building is amazing! The story related to it is really fascinating as well.
Thanks, Jasilyn! I’ve been trying to be a tourist in my hometown this summer between trips, and Ying’s certainly fit the bill 🙂