No Glitz, But Grunge At City's China Club -- New York Club Of The Same Name Sues, Claiming Trademark Violation And Damage To Its Image

At the sleek and urbane China Club in New York, beautiful people arrive in limousines, sip light beer and pulsate to the latest dance tunes.

At China Club on Crown Hill, acts like Dread Zeppellin, Sweaty Nipples and Assorted Meat Flavors dominate the bill. Lunch specials begin at $3.99. And Cindy Crawford is not likely to make an appearance in the establishment that prides itself on "cheap, stiff drinks."

The two clubs couldn't be more different, except that they share the same name - and now, perhaps, a day in court.

Owners of New York's China Club say the Seattle club is illegally using its federally registered trademark, making money from its good reputation, and potentially damaging its image beyond repair. Last month, they sued the club in federal court for trademark infringement.

"This is a nightclub of very high notoriety," says Louis Biancone, an attorney representing the 11-year-old Manhattan dance palace. "It is often frequented by rock stars, sport celebrities and movie personalities. The reputation is not only nationwide, it's international."

New York regulars have danced with Bruce Willis, catwalked with Naomi Campbell and bulled around with Michael Jordan. They have listened to Elton John and Eric Clapton jam and watched Brooke Shields and Madonna strike poses.

Outside the supermodel hangout on Manhattan's Upper West Side, lines of patrons wait anxiously to catch the head doorman's eye, especially on Mondays, the primo night.

Seattle's China Club, on Northwest 85th Street just off 15th Avenue Northwest, swells with grunge-based, head-banging music, and killer Chinese food. Once called New World, the club switched hands and names last fall.

Daniel Fried, owner of the New York club, says he has spent thousands of dollars establishing his nightclub's name and building its reputation. He was furious when he read a publicity release for the Seattle concert hall, prompting two warnings that he said were ignored.

"This is a valuable property right," Biancone says. "It's a right my client has to protect . . . If they run the club in a poor manner, people would think the China Club in Seattle is the same in New York."

China Club in New York has operated other dance halls in other cities under licensing agreements, Fried says, and has successfully sued other establishments that have tried to use the name.

Supporters of Seattle's China Club say the New Yorkers have it all wrong.

"We're not the next beautiful destination," says Perry Feigenbaum, a booking agent for the Crown Hill hall. "We're the antithesis of clubs like that. People come here for the acts and to eat good crab Canton."

The club's name was selected innocently, he says. Its investors are from Hong Kong, and the club's restaurant serves Chinese food. And in one of its past lives, it was called the China Chef. "The name is synonymous with what we do," Feigenbaum says.

Outfitted with a giant $10,000 neon dragon that glitters every night, the Seattle club is situated next to a supermarket, a dentist's office, and a discount department store.

Its slogan is pure tongue in cheek, suggesting, "The China Club is the one place in the world to unlock the mysteries of both the Orient and Ballard in just one night."

Daytime regulars include senior citizens and truck drivers who like the lunch specials. At night, anything goes, depending on the music, says Feigenbaum, weaving his way into the concert hall, where the lighting barely registers.

The club is just beginning to make a name for itself, booking live acts that draw music fans away from downtown halls. Groups range from national touring pop groups, to hip-hop and buzz bands - those popular enough to draw a crowd but too new to break the theater circuit.

Patrons can also play pool or sample the chicken curry and egg rolls in the restaurant.

"We're as different as night and day," Feigenbaum says. "New York has created a mystique for itself. They do it on hype. In Seattle you got to earn it."

But that's not the issue for the New Yorkers. "You just can't open a place with somebody else's name," booms Fried in a telephone interview. "It's as if another soda called itself Coca-Cola. What do you think Coca-Cola is going to do?"