Debbie Chinn hardly enjoyed a typical childhood in suburban Long Island in the 1960s and 1970s. Her immigrant parents put her to work at the House of Mah Jong, their popular Chinese restaurant in Syosset, selling cigarettes, greeting customers and later hula dancing in its Polynesian-themed floor show.
But after school and on weekends at Mah Jong, Chinn learned valuable lessons in resilience, business leadership, customer service and entrepreneurship, which she’s used to lead some of the Bay Area’s most venerated arts companies over the past 20 years, including, most recently, TheatreWorks Silicon Valley.
As Chinn wrote in her 2022 memoir, “Dancing in their Light,” her parents’ ability to remake their lives in the United States, a country that didn’t always welcome them, provided a template for surviving change, which Chinn has employed to help arts groups navigate challenges in the 21st century, made worse by the COVID pandemic.
“My parents were small business owners and I’ve always replicated their ethos when I run arts arts organization,” Chinn says. “I grew up learning how to treat a customer, how to be present, how to greet them, how to do all the stuff I do when I’m at my theaters. People want to see the owner when they come in. It makes you feel special when you’re known by name in the restaurant.”
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Chinn’s resume also includes Northern California stints at the Carmel Bach Festival, Opera Parallèle, the American Conservatory Theater, the San Francisco Symphony and California Shakespeare Theater. Even before the pandemic, arts groups here and around the country were dealing with aging audiences, rising costs and changes in the way people consume culture and media. Post-pandemic, some companies have closed, while others are rethinking their artistic purpose.
In the year after Chinn started at TheatreWorks, the company faced a $3 million budget deficit that could have ended its 2023-24 season. Chinn pulled the trigger on a make-or-break fundraising campaign, finding unrealized support among arts lovers who didn’t want to lose a beloved South Bay company honored with a Regional Theatre Tony Award in 2019. The campaign worked better than expected — raising more than $4 million in 16 weeks.
As of June 30, Chinn is leaving TheatreWorks to pursue other projects, including launching an arts consulting film with Jonathan Moscone, who was artistic director at Cal Shakes during her tenure. Chinn also is adapting her memoir into a streaming series that will focus on her parents, Peter and Nellie Chinn, Mah Jong and her Chinese heritage. Her father came to the United States as a teen in 1930 and met her mother while serving in the Marines in China after end of World War II. Here she talks about business lessons she learned at her parents’ restaurant.
Q: I was wondering if your belief in the power of arts goes back to your mother’s experience during Japan’s occupation of China, facing starvation and other atrocities, but they kept up their morale by privately telling stories to one another, reciting poetry, singing.
A: All of mother’s siblings were artistically inclined. They didn’t have much to survive. All they had were what was in their hearts. Art is healing. It takes you into another space, out of misery, of war and fear and into a psychological place that’s safe.
Q: While your parents ran Mah Jong from 1960 to 1983, it attracted politicians, church and union leaders and even the occasional mobster and celebrity, such as Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton on their way to the Hamptons. What was your first job there?
A: I sold cigarettes. I was 3. I was just tall enough where I could see eye to eye over the counter. As I got older, I learned how to talk to customers. I’d come in after school and sit at the bar. Customers would ask, how was your day? I’d ask back, how was your day, what do you do? I learned the art of small talk and listening, essential skills which I have used when developing business and community relationships.
Q: How did your parents become part of the community?
A: My mother and father were steeped in hospitality. They love to feed people. The restaurant was across the street from the hospital, and my family would bring food to everybody. My dad was never bitter about being unwelcome when he first came to America. Every year, the restaurant hosted a Chinese New Chinese celebration, and he invited all our customers to experience Chinese culture.
Q: How do you think your parents were advanced in terms of running a business?
A: I think a deep sense of empathy and compassion drove their business ethics. They remember what it was like to be ostracized and erased. My dad sponsored cooks from China and provided the staff with good salaries so they could send money back home. My father used to literally bring the kitchen staff to the dining room, in their aprons, and he would say, I’d like you to meet the people who made your meal. I’ve always thought about that in terms of performing arts, giving visibility to staff not visible to donors and the audience.
Q: What are other business lessons did you get from your parents?
A: My father was not above taking suggestions from people. He had no ego about it. Eventually the menu changed (after a family vacation to Hawaii), and he introduced a South Seas-themed menu. But the business lesson here is to keep reinventing yourself.
Q: What about the importance of arts companies establishing ties to their communities?
A: When I was at the Carmel Bach Festival, there was “the lettuce curtain,” a real and psychological divide between the wealthy parts of the Monterey Peninsula and towns like Salinas. We worked to bring together people in those communities to engage their thoughts on what they would like to hear from us. This was about shared ownership of the art … and putting aside our ego, thinking that we’re the experts in baroque music. We learned from the community
what they wanted, not what we wanted for them. (With that), the festival began year-round programming and the average age of our audiences went from 78 to 59.
Q: What was key for TheatreWorks’ turnaround?
A: We thought that we were too big to fail, but what we learned is that nobody’s too big to fail. As it turned out, the more honest we were about this, the more people wanted to know, how can I help? The funding came from a range of donors, including actors who don’t live here. When people asked, how we raised the money, I say, the key thing: Don’t keep it a secret. You owe it to your audiences to be honest. But saving TheatreWorks was not only about money; it was about re-engagement – and this is a very key part of my strategy.
Debbie Chinn profile
Residence: Foster City
Job: Arts consultant, producer, author
Education: University of Southern California, B.A., Theatre
Five Things about Debbie Chinn
While performing in the Polynesian floor-show routines at the House of Mah Jong also included a Samoan dance with knives. She also learned how to walk on fire.
Chinn says her “absent-mindedness and clumsiness” led her to major in theater. She grew up playing piano and wanted to major in music but she stumbled playing field hockey her senior year of high school, broke some fingers and couldn’t audition. She had to quickly choose another major.
She is an amateur wine collector, saying, “I think I am at my happiest when I am at a winery, talking to the wine maker, learning about various techniques, and savoring a glass while in the vineyards.”
She has taken up archery to get a break from the frenetic pace of her work life. “Archery requires focus and concentration and provides a sense of calm because it forces me to slow down. This is why I am also smitten with my next hobby: axe-throwing!”
Chinn is a “compulsive list maker,” both on a daily basis but culminating during Thanksgiving when she starts a new journal for the upcoming year in which she jots down everything she wants to do and accomplish, including becoming a published author in 2022.
