Welcome to the Attic, a Madison Park institution since 1953 (‘52, 51…?)

It's  first life began as a bowling alley and shooting gallery back in 1904 when Madison Park was a vacation getaway for the bluebloods of First Hill and Capitol Hill. (Seattle’s first professional baseball team’s original home was the Park itself). What happen in the next 30 years to the Attic’s site is uncertain but in 1937 It became a “ … restaurant with a license to hold a beer parlor on premise…”.  That evolved into a tavern license sometime between World War II and the Korean War. It was a narrow, small tavern with a bar, a few dark booths and a pool table in back. It had an attic - hence the name -  which had a far-reaching but undeserved name for painted ladies plying their trade upstairs. But it did suffer a moderate fire in 1954. The property was shared with a barber shop, convenient for fathers to drop off their sons for a cut whilst they imbibed a cold one. Perhaps that is why hair was so short during the 50s and much of the 60s.

In 1967 the original Attic and our 10 minute haircut barbershop was torn down (and gone), replaced by the present building you are standing or sitting in today (please leave if you are doing neither) for the princely sum of $8,000. After that, the longhaired hippie era began, then disco dos, then the 80s mullet hairstyle. By 1992 the Washington State Liquor Control Board (long name for three people) finally relented and allowed us - three tries later - to have front patio seating, making us the first tavern to have this privilege & eliminating an old prohibition. Then we expanded the kitchen in 1993 by removing the water heater to the back and downsizing the cooler. We added a back deck in 1995 but in 1996 the City said we could not use it. Something about a permit.

So...

Since the people that work here make or break this business, let me introduce some of them, though most not by name. She commutes from Bremerton, hails from New Jersey; is Irish though her name is Praetorious. Mother to many, tyrant to a few, been a loyal worker for nine years. Manages the joint without causing too many gray hairs to her surrogate father, the owner. Answers all his calls with “What’s wrong now?” Ex-Husky jock from east of the mountains. Sports administration grad with real job at U-Dub. Should be future AD.

Loquacious closing bartender who likes all sports, including the Rat City Roller girls.  Traveling true Seattle native who is in the process of both graduating from U-Dub and realizing the school breaks to go Jamaica and other exotic locales are ending soon. Well, he still has Madison Park in the summer on Thursday nights. Chalkboard artist of the Attic. Hardworking college student. We all have dreams of being a doctor (she does not). Cornish dance graduate seriously aspiring to dance on Broadway. Can’t be that hard; it is just up the street. But seriously, folks. A San Antonio cook; plays in a blues-rock neo-Led Zeppelin band; cares not for being politically correct “blame the _______ he says’. He is the _______.

Another gentleman cook who works long shifts at night, and thus is never seen by the owner. But things get done. One cook closes every shift. Mr. Dependable as long as shift starts after 2pm. Hasn’t seen a dawn in years. Soon to be wed. Former kitchen manager of Pioneer Square restaurants. Worked regardless of earthquakes, surly sports fans or large rats. A kitchen manager that still rides a $20,000 Harley after having a heart attack. Still likes working here. But dreams of Sturgis. Oklahoman cook who covers for everyone, writes and photographs professionally, lives in Madison Park. One college grad, works two jobs, travels and may go long on law. Sheesh! He has to stay single.

Four previous employees now own pubs themselves—St. Andrews, Mick Kelly’s and Finn McCool’s. They are part of a group of eight employees that met their wives here. All have kids.

I got lucky too, meeting Venessa here. We have two sons and one daughter.

- Mark Long, Proprietor