Walt Crowley, historian, part of city history, dies at 60

A voice, pen and institutional memory of the city has gone silent. Walt Crowley, chronicler of Seattle's people, places and things, died Friday night after a stroke. He was 60.

In four decades spanning student revolution and the information revolution, Mr. Crowley went from campus radical to the city's most prominent citizen historian, co-founding and running HistoryLink.org, an online encyclopedia of Washington state history.

"It's only Walt and his efforts that have constantly forced us to pause and think about what we've been and where we're going," said Hubert Locke, professor and dean emeritus of the Evans School of Public Affairs at the University of Washington. "We really wouldn't have had HistoryLink as a public gift, a public good, apart from Walt's effort."

More than passive observer, Mr. Crowley drew from the past to serve as oracle for the future. As he wrote in a 2000 Seattle Times editorial: "Our faith in reason and progress -- our belief that tomorrow is not merely yesterday dressed up in modern costume -- demands that we recognize the full humanity, good and bad, of those who came before us and that we tread carefully in blazing the trails leading to the future our own children will inherit."

Mr. Crowley, in his trademark bow tie, served as a conscience of the city -- as city planner, local television commentator, speechwriter to a former governor. In his final, and possibly most lasting role, he served as public historian through the Web site and in a dozen books he and his wife collaborated on, including the histories of the Rainier Club, the Blue Moon Tavern and Seattle University.

"He really, truly loved Seattle, and he dedicated the latter part of his life to trying to capture it for everybody," said his wife, Marie McCaffrey.

Mr. Crowley reminded the city that many debacles of the present were echoes of the past. When Seattle wrestled with the future of the Alaskan Way Viaduct this year, he penned an editorial about how the community 75 years ago had the same debate about building a freeway through Woodland Park. When the city was wracked by riots during the World Trade Organization conference in 1999, Crowley wrote about 1969 University District riots.

"... Our city retains a capacity for urban violence," he wrote in a Seattle Times editorial. "It is like a recessive gene that, while usually hidden and often forgotten, can flare up at any time."

Born in a Detroit suburb, Mr. Crowley moved to Washington, D.C., and Connecticut before his father got a job as a Boeing engineer and settled in Seattle in 1961. A member of the first graduating class at Nathan Hale High School in 1965, he worked as an illustrator at Boeing before enrolling at the University of Washington. There, he became active in the anti-war and civil-rights movements.

Mr. Crowley dropped out of college in 1967 to join the staff of the Helix, an underground paper. In 1970, he helped mediate talks between city officials and street people after riots rocked the University District.

"I remember him very well because he had a Lenin hat with a big red star on it" when they first met, said Wes Uhlman, Seattle mayor at the time. "I realized he was a very smart guy, so I hired him."

Mr. Crowley ended up working in several city positions, including deputy director of the Office of Policy and Planning. In 1979, he made an unsuccessful run for a City Council seat. He eventually served on the first board of the ill-fated monorail project.

In the late 1980s, he spent seven years as the liberal voice opposite conservative John Carlson in biweekly "point-counterpoint" debates on KIRO-TV. Carlson later called Mr. Crowley "the institutional memory of Seattle."

While he was an old lefty, Mr. Crowley had a profound respect for the establishment when it got things done, his wife said. Friends ran the gamut from left to right, mayors to the down-and-out.

In 1997, he co-founded the nonprofit HistoryLink, a compilation of historical essays that became a go-to resource for students, journalists and the public. The site now receives 4 million hits a month.

Mr. Crowley was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx two years ago, and his voice box was removed this February. Not one to suffer in silence, he blogged about his illness and threw a party hours before the February surgery, dubbed "Famous Last (Natural) Words." They were for his wife: "I love you, Marie."

On Wednesday, he underwent surgery again. He suffered a massive stroke a day later.

Last week, Mr. Crowley remained characteristically witty about his illness. "Mel Brooks has already optioned the musical of all my operations; it will be called 'Old Frankenstein,' " he wrote in an e-mail. He is survived by his wife, his mother, Violet Kilvinger, and father, Walter Crowley. Memorial services are being planned, and donations can be made to History Ink/HistoryLink, 1425 4th Ave., Suite 710, Seattle, WA 98101.

Sharon Pian Chan: 206-464-2958 or schan@seattletimes.com