It was a balmy Indian-summer evening but only a few diner-outers and street-corner loiterers could be seen last night in Chinatown. Things were strangely still and quiet.

Even the mahjong-playing Chinese oldsters were absent from their familiar haunts - the sparsely furnished backrooms of Asia import-firm offices and other darkened store fronts near Canton Alley.

The word was out . . .

CHARLIE LOUIE WAS DEAD.

At 82 years of age, Charles Louie had joined his celestial ancestors.

Gregarious, story-telling old Charlie Louie, the friend of politicians and police brass, attorneys and business leaders, wise men and fools - Charlie Louie knew them all. Like the late Goon Dip and other venerable patriarchs, Charlie Louie was virtually a legend in Chinatown, a truly colorful and engaging personality - a real character, one of the last of a fast-disappearing breed.

FOR SEVERAL DECADES, especially during the "Roaring 20's" and Prohibition era, Charlie Louie was a power in Chinatown, revered and respected by those who knew him. Tales of his gifts and other largesse at Christmastime - the uncounted turkeys and bottles of bonded 100-proof cheer - still are told and retold by old police reporters and harness bulls who worked out of old Police Headquarters and walked the Chinatown beat.

(To set the record straight, however, Charlie always insisted he merely was serving as " middle man," that most of the turkeys and spirits actually were the Christmas remembrances of other Chinese merchants and businessmen - which undoubtedly was true).

Like few men, Charlie Louie had a reputation for honesty. His word was better than most men's bond. Consequently, he was the man to see, "contact man" (for lack of a better word) in Chinatown, trusted by Chinese and Caucasian alike.

Old country Chinese, often confused and in need of help, especially with government red tape or the intricacies of law and city ordinance, usually took their problems to Charlie, confident that he either knew the answers or, more importantly, knew the right people.

And Charlie did know the right people. His friends were legion - business tycoons and socialites (many of whom he had known since they were collegians and out for a "night on the town" during Prohibition), lawyers like the late George Vanderveer, Johnny Garvin and John J. Sullivan, or Will G. Beardslee and Sam Bassett - everybody from George O'Malley to Henry Broderick.

Most of Seattle's better known musicians played at one time or another in one of Charlie's various nightspots - Bob Harvey, Wyatt Howard, Jackie Souders, Bill Smith and Chet Ramage to name just a few.

Old Charlie was a dedicated horse player and as we say, he knew everybody - even Bob Hope and Nelson Rockefeller.

"That's right," Charlie's No. 2 son, George, who operates George Louie's Restaurant at 1471 NW 85th St., recalled recently while we were watching a Jim Owens' postmortem, or Monday evening retelecast of the previous Saturday's Washington football game.

While Coach Owens manfully was attempting to explain the poor showing of Washington's team, George Louie was saying:

"Nelson Rockefeller and a party of six friends dropped into one of Dad's restaurants, the well-remembered Chinese Gardens at 516 Seventh Av. S. Everybody waited for Mr. Rockefeller to order. Finally, he looked up from the menu and said, 'I'll have bacon and eggs.' The rest of 'em nodded agreement - probably the only time in history a Cantonese restaurant served SEVEN orders of bacon and eggs."

Like many of his countrymen, Old Charlie loved to gamble. He would bet on anything. Old cronies recall that if Charlie stood up at a baseball game and looked around until he spotted an acquaintance in a distant seat, then held four fingers aloft, it usually meant he had just offered and covered a bet.

But not for $4 - $400.

And, in retirement, he seldom missed a horse race, usually going south for the winter, just to play the California tracks.

Art Louie, the well-known Chinatown restaurateur (and Charlie's No. 3 son), once told us about listening to the first Dempsey-Tunney fight on the living room radio.

"Dad was crazy about boxing," Art recalled, "but seemed more interested than usual in this fight. Mama, the practical one in the family, finally asked him why and he admitted having a small bet on the outcome. When Tunney won, Dad let out a whoop - $3,000 worth"

"HOW COULD YOU BET $3,000," Mama asked, adding, "We've only got $1,000 in the bank?"

"Easy," Dad explained, "I got three to one odds!"

Still, Charlie was able to put five sons through high school and college, including Harvard University for those who wanted to become professional men.

Today, Old Charlie's eldest son, Dr. Stanley Louie, is a pediatrician in San Francisco, and the youngest son, Dr. Kenneth Louie, is a Seattle dentist.

It wasn't always easy, however. Charlie, born in Portland, Ore., came to Seattle in 1904. His first job was working for a Chinese laundry. Later, he was barboy at the old Lincoln Hotel and worked his way up to head bartender. Long before the hotel was destroyed in a spectacular fire, however, Louie left to open Seattle's first uptown Chinese restaurant, the Tien Heung (Heavenly flavor), an upstairs establishment in Third Avenue, between Pike and Union Streets.

Louie later operated other Chinese restaurants, also an import-export firm at 679 King St., during the First World War. In 1923, he built the city's first Chinese opera house (now the site of Gim Ling Restaurant) and imported live talent from San Francisco and the Orient. He brought many famous Chinese actors, including Mei Lam Fong, China's foremost female impersonator, to Seattle.

Being a patron of the arts proved unprofitable, however, and Louie began booking prize fights (Eli Caston, Wildcat Carter, etc.) into his opera house. Later, in 1929, Louie converted the old opera house into the Chinese Gardens which, for many years, was one of the city's most popular night spots.

Charlie Suffered a mild heart attack in 1934, retired from the business and turned the Chinese Gardens over to his son, George. Semi-retired, Charlie devoted most of his time to sports, including attendance at all Garfield High School basketball games when Art or the other boys were playing for Garfield, or watching his sons and grandchildren play for the University of Washington.

He died at 8:30 o'clock Sunday evening after a brief illness. Funeral services will be held at 3 o'clock Thursday in the Butterworth Mortuary, followed by cremation.

Surviving, besides the four living sons, are his wife, Lilly, at the family home, 3105 E. Jefferson St., and eight grandchildren.