Junelow Kurose, 71; Athlete, Veteran, Devoted Grandparent

Junelow ``Junx'' Kurose, a martial arts black-belt, a bonsai gardener, a World War II veteran, devoted father and beloved figure in the city's Japanese-American community, died Tuesday at age 71.

Since then, in the Japanese tradition of okuyami, a steady stream of relatives and friends have filled the Kurose home with sushi, miso, salmon and memories of the ``truly good man who was always for the underdog.''

Mr. Kurose was born in his parents' Central Area home in 1919.

Even as a young boy, Mr. Kurose demonstrated a quiet compassion for those less fortunate, a trait he retained throughout his life.

When he was in grade school at Bailey Gatzert School, he walked home for lunch. For several months, he didn't finish the lunch meat on his plate, turning it into a sandwich to take back to school.

One day, his mother followed her son. She saw him give the sandwich to a boy waiting at the bottom of the hill, who, it turned out, came from a poor family that couldn't afford lunches.

``There's such a basic goodness and rough honesty about him,'' said his daughter Ruthann. ``He had a real deep voice and real rough exterior, but there was no one gentler or kinder.''

Mr. Kurose was 6 feet tall, a big man especially by Japanese standards, Ruthann said. He was an athlete.

At Garfield High, he lettered in baseball and football and was the only non-black member of the ``Black and Tan,'' a football club. As a teen-ager, he swam across Lake Washington. Later in life, he earned a third-degree black belt in martial arts.

In 1942, Mr. Kurose was interned along with hundreds of other Japanese Americans from Seattle in the Minidoka Relocation Center in Idaho.

``He felt it was not a just act,'' his daughter said. ``He felt like it was racially motivated.'' After six months in the camp, Mr. Kurose, who spoke and wrote Japanese, became part of the U.S. Military Intelligence Service.

Mr. Kurose was a devoted family man. He never went to college himself, but he worked in an Alaska cannery to put his sisters through college.

A machinist, he worked the graveyard shift at Boeing, seven days a week, so he could support his wife and six children and get to spend time with them.

``He stayed at Boeing and hung in there because he had six kids and needed to pay the bills,'' his daughter said. ``But he felt there was discrimination. He had electrical skills, but the electrical union didn't accept Japanese Americans at the time and he was never promoted.''

Author Studs Terkel wrote a chapter about Mr. Kurose in his book, ``American Dream.''

After coming home from work on Sundays, Mr. Kurose would eat breakfast and then take the family on an outing to one of the city parks, the waterfront, or Mount Rainier.

In his 50s, when his wife, Aki, returned to school to get her master's degree, Mr. Kurose expanded his fatherly duties. He cooked dinner every night, checked homework, brushed the children's teeth and tucked them in bed before heading to work.

Mr. Kurose also played a big part in the lives of his five grandchildren.

When his daughter-in-law contracted lupus, he took over night feedings for her baby. He became the child's primary caretaker when his son Roland died of cancer a few years later.

He was a regular baby-sitter for other grandchildren, taking them for walks, telling them stories, singing nursery rhymes.

In addition to Aki and Ruthann, both of Seattle, Mr. Kurose is survived by three sons, Hugo T., Seattle; Guy S., Dutch Harbor, Alaska; and Paul M., Berkeley, Calif.; daughter Marie H. Kurose-Woo, Seattle; five grandchildren, Kazuo, Toshio and Maya Kurose; Mika and Mori Rothman; and three sisters, Chiye Kagami and May Joichi, both of Chicago, and Kayko Stephenson, Clayton, Calif.

Services were held Saturday at the Japanese Baptist Church, followed by cremation.

The family suggests remembrances may be sent to the Keiro Nursing Home.