Club Trinity
Club Trinity
Owner & Operator Michael Andrews
Business Function Entertainment
Opened est. 1982
Hours of Operation Mon-Fri: 10 pm to 1 am Sat & Sun: 9 pm to 2 am
Cover Charge Monday - Friday: $5 Saturday & Sunday: $10
Location Belltown
Employees Marcus (NPC)

Every city has one nightclub where the "in" people go. Usually it remains the place to be only for only a short time before the ever-fickle crowds move on to yet another establishment. For a number of years, however, Club Trinity in Seattle has avoided this fate. As popular now as when it opened in 1982, the club attracts a wide variety of patrons to its mammoth dance floor and labyrinthine basement concert hall.


The building which houses Club Trinity has an odd reputation among city historians. It is notable as the first four-story warehouse in Seattle, each floor serviced by a special pulley and crane system in the rear of the building. Constructed just after the incorporation of Seattle into Washington, it provided storage for everything from ammunition to wool. Despite its prime downtown location, the brick building went through a string of owners. Some died mysteriously and others would sell without reason, taking far less than the property was worth. Workers in the warehouse reported innumerable unnerving experiences and exterminators never getting rid of all the bats.

In the early 1900s, in the era of prohibition, the building passed into the control of one of Seattle's many criminal families, to whom it provided a safe place to keep illicit merchandise and as a hideout from the police. Some historians believe it eventually came under the control of Blake Johnson, and rumors abound that this is the location of his fabled vault. Nevertheless, during this period police records show that they never raided the building, nor any evidence surfaced to show that anyone connected with the building was ever arrested in connection with the illegal liquor trade.

Following the end of Prohibition the warehouse stood empty for a number of years and city records remain unclear as to just who owned it during this time. At one point, federal agents were planning to seize it for unpaid taxes, but then a Seattle lawyer thought to be unconnected to it paid off the back taxes. This Ballard, Anderson & Baitman partner made substantial profits on the warehouse during World War II, but sold the building to his law firm in 1950. The law firm has leased out the location ever since.

In the early 1960s, as the surrounding area became filled with commercial enterprises, many industries and warehouses left the area. The owners of many of the old buildings transformed them for new uses, such as storefronts, office space and restaurants. When the owners tried to turn this building into a restaurant named Stonewalls, however, things just did not work out. Whether it was the constant presence of rats or the odd folk who showed up just sit there, never taking a bite of food, most people found the place disconcerting to enjoy the fine food.

After several years of declining business, a new businessman leased the space and turned the building into one of the city's first rock 'n' roll clubs. The Atomic Cafe thrived for the next 10 years, bringing to town some of the eras best acts, from the Four Tops to the Doors. It closed its doors in 1973 due to the death of the owner, and Stardust, a dance club took its place.

Stardust must have been blessed because it took off with the rise of disco. For the latter part of the 70s, Seattle's dancers favored this nightclub over all others. Rumors of assaults, disappearances and even murders taking place on its premises did little to diminish its popularity, and only the final, blessed death of disco drove Stardust to its grave.

The building stayed closed for almost a year this time. During that period a new owner took over and renovated the building from top to bottom. Most of the upper floors were taken out, leaving only the wooden rafters and beams on which they once rested. Indeed, the dance floor and the main bar remain the only parts of Stardust still recognizable. The new owner, a mysterious Colombian rumored to have connections to the underworld, had the dank basement dramatically refurbished and expanded, added a stage and maze to this lower level, installed an opulent top-floor club and smashed the giant disco ball. On May 23, 1982, amid controversy over the deaths of several basement construction workers, Michael Andrews opened the doors to Club Trinity.

The new nightclub became an immediate hit. All of Seattle's club goers made the converted warehouse a regular part of their nightly agenda. Few expected this popularity to last for more than a year, but for some reason, it continues to this day. Michael has partially remodeled it twice already, not content to allow anyone to grow tired of it.

Recently, Michael has decided to put the club up for sale. He continues to hold ownership of the club until a new owner signs the papers.



The ancient brick building looms over 2nd Avenue like a brooding titan, projecting an image of solidity and stability which belies the madness within. A sense of Haven's true nature with a look at the hordes of people outside, all struggling and battling to be let in. A red, flashing neon sign reads: Trinity. Two hulking bouncers stand guard at the double doors. Among the people cajoling, threatening and even begging for a chance to get inside are punks, gangstas, Yuppies, bikers, executives, college students and middle-aged music lovers. They mill around the front of the club, stand in lines which usually stretch down the block and tie up traffic all along the road.


A large room that spreads out in all directions. The floor is covered by a thick plush carpet and the walls are covered by a dark purple, silk fabric that moves gently with the flow of the air conditioning. The sounds of the clubs inside can be heard within the room. There is a large oak counter that serves as a coat and hat check with a young woman standing behind the counter. Across the far wall is a large red crushed velvet couch and large plants sit in each corner of the room. Across from the entrance is another set of oak double doors that lead into the Reality next to a set of the stairs that lead down into the Labyrinth. The room is filled with patrons who want to get away from the music and crowds. A security camera behind the counter and several bouncers watch over the room.


The city's more dangerous elements seem always supernaturally attracted to the club's notorious basement. Speed metal, punk, militant rap and other violent bands play this level, attracting a bewildering assortment of fans from the dregs of society. Gang members dressed to the hilt and bedecked in gold stand next to punks in torn shirts and leather pants while watching long-haired metal fans compare tattoos. When they feel they need privacy, they slip off into the darkness of the Labyrinth, a huge maze which runs along the outside of the basement. In its various nooks and crannies dealers hawk their wares, couples embrace in passion and dark figures conspire. A small bar sits to the right of the stage. Below the stage is a mosh pit that has been dug into the ground.

There are four entrances, though only two are available to the general public. The most commonly used entrance feds in from the parking lot. The less commonly used entrance comes from the heavily populated ground floor. There is another bar at the south western end of the Labyrinth with four pool tables. While the lack of exits makes the basement appear to be the worst sort of fire hazard, the fact that it is made of all brick and concrete, as well as the state-of-the-art sprinkler system means that fires could do little physical damage here.

The Dance Floor

Once inside the club, most visitors immediately notice the state-of-the-art sound system and immense amplifiers. The bass amps remain constantly pointed at the floor, and no matter what the DJs play, the floor pulses with the rhythm. Other prominent features include a huge dance floor and a huge rectangular bar featuring a wide variety of brand names.

Three hanging dance floors also provide needed space for the large number of people crowding into the club. Accessible via spiral staircases from the ground floor. The dance floors are the only well-lit areas on the ground floor. Arranged in the blackness surrounding it sits tables, chairs and two bars. Billowing cigarette smoke makes the room seem even darker than it is. Waitresses rely more on memory than sight to find the way from the bars to their customers. The bars have just enough light for the bartenders to see what they are doing, but little more.

On the right side of the club are stairs going up to the balcony level and above. In the far left corner is a stairway going down to the Labyrinth. In the very rear of the club is a storage area with freight doors and a loading dock on the outside. On each side of the storage area are fire exits which are locked from the outside but provide easy access to the parking lot in back of the club.

The Balcony

Accessible via staircases in the right of the club, the balcony lies fifteen feet above the ground floor, but it might as well be a hundred for all the differences between the two levels. The view from this balcony of the dance floors serves as it's main attraction, but those who spend any time up here have found the balcony and the dance floor to be almost a completely different clubs. Since the design of the sound system aims most of the music at the dance floor, the balcony remains relatively quiet and people are able to carry on conversations without having to scream in one another's ears. It runs completely around the walls of the club, and the club's older patrons tend to stay here, leaving the dance floor to the young and energetic.

The club's most sophisticated patrons can be found here as well, sipping wine and mixed drinks from the elaborate balcony bar. The bar has a wider selection, the teak wood tables are more widely spaced and the chairs much more plush than those found below. Ceiling fans keep the smoke filled air circulating, and several well-clad waiters move agilely between the tables, delivering drinks and notes. In a separate part of the balcony, the DJ's work their magic, spinning CDs well above the crowd who so enjoy their talents. The center of the club is opened and one can easily look down into the club below and watch the dancers below. Behind the large bar is a set of stairs that lead up to the third floor, but is unavailable to the public.

Floor Plans



None as of now.
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