Astor Park Is Gone, But Not The Memories

THEY PAVED ASTOR PARK, but whether they'll put in a parking lot is as yet unknown.

Astor Park, closed since 1987 but still the city's last remaining relic from the glory daze of the early '80s, came down last weekend. At its peak it was the hub of downtown's new music scene.

It opened in 1967 as The Trojan Horse, a posh supper club. BB King and Ray Charles often played there. But the room was just as likely to feature Tom Jones clones like Tony Visco. There was a mysterious arson fire in 1975. The club eventually reopened and became Astor Park. It became home base for local power pop, new wave acts like the the Heats, the Allies and the Cowboys. But other bands passed through on their way to stardom.

Scott Vanderpool, the midnight man at KXRX, remembers the night in 1981 he not only saw U2 play, but joined in for a song.

"Me and my best buddy from high school Ron, who's now the guitarist with Love Battery, were sitting right up in front of the stage," Vanderpool recalls, "when Bono got dragged out into the crowd. As he was getting pulled out he just dumped the mike right in my hand. The vocal line was just this chanting kind of thing, so we finished it out while he got passed around the crowd."

Vanderpool remembers some of the club's best shows being done by the Cramps and Echo and the Bunnymen. The Times' Pat MacDonald recalls Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers playing the Astor as a lark after doing a Coliseum concert. "They blew the walls out right up to closing time," MacDonald says. "You couldn't get in, it was packed. And you could see what a great time Petty and the band were having."

The Romantics were the last name act I saw at Astor Park. They came on really late - truly pushing the deadline for the review - and the toilets didn't work. Again.

"I had a grudge against Astor Park in those days," says the forthright Vanderpool. "They always had their own little clique of bands. While the rest of us were stuck doing the The Rainbow and Ditto's, they were raking it in.

"And then there were those soppy bathrooms, broken toilets and the watered-down, overpriced drinks," he adds. "But I also remember a great number of my friends who were not quite 21 getting to sit outside and watch the bands through the window."

After an endless series of hassles of almost every sort, the club closed forever. Still, for all its faults, it has to be remembered as being at the center of a time when Seattle rock was - if not coming of age - at least enjoying puberty.

"WELCOME TO THE TOWNSHIP!" That's how trumpeter Hugh Masekela greeted a very appreciative opening night crowd at Jazz Alley last Tuesday. Masekela, self-exiled from his native South Africa for over 30 years, explained that his 9-piece band was the realization of a longtime dream. It's the first time he's take a band consisting exclusively of his countrymen on the road.

"Don't let the media fool you," he said. "It wasn't the kindness of the (South African) administration that made this possible, but the pressure brought upon the government by the support groups from all over the world. Don't forget that."

Masekela dedicated the week's shows to those supporters. He was in fine form from the start. He still has the horn, the rap and the good moves. His melodic mix of African rhythms, jazz and pop worked fine. Despite the problems that still face his homeland, the music was vibrant, earthy, and life-affirming.

"You must put on your dancing feet," Masekela instructed the audience Tuesday, even though the Alley lacks a dance floor. It was all right. Everyone sat and danced from the waist up. Masekela and his band perform through Sunday.