Skip to main content

Dive Bar or Shithole?

I am once again in search of a proper dive bar. This is becoming a lot harder than it should be. One would think that with our economy as crappy as it is, dive bars would be doing great business. If they are, no one knows about it! Which could be the secret to their success.

Allow me to take a minute and give my definition of a dive bar. It's not the same as a shit hole. A dive bar was probably once a nice place. Years and years of drinking has gone on in there. Time has taken it's toll. The regulars are old. The place is dimly lit. The booze is cheap. There should be a long, dark (preferably) oak bar with, if possible, a hand-carved (oak) back bar. The bar stools should be well worn. There should be booths. Leather or Naugahyde. A patterned tin ceiling is a nice touch but not a must. Same with cool floor tiling.

 The bartender should be old and cranky...not necessarily mean but perhaps nursing some lingering ailment...like lumbago. Nothing life threatening! The barkeep should probably be wary of a new customer the first few times they come in. A gruff "Whaddya have?" should be his/her siren song. He/she should have vast knowledge of drinks like Manhattans, Rob Roys, Zombies, Harvey Wallbangers, etc...but be more accustomed to shots & beers and/or plain ol' highballs.

Music...if any...should fit the aging clientele and the former grace of the establishment. Sinatra, Dean Martin, The Ink Spots, Dinah Washington. If nothing that classy, maybe some old school country...Hank Sr., Merle Haggard, JohnnyFuckingCash! Rock & roll music..if any at all, should be of a period no later than, say, The Shirelles. The music should be kept low enough that patrons don't have to shout. Not that they're saying much....aside from discussing the weather or the ball game.

Neon should be lit and buzzing...but kept to a minimum. A Schmidt's beer sign maybe. Perhaps the Prince of Pilsner himself hoisting a glass in your direction. It shouldn't be cute or kitschy. Just more reminders that time has passed by.

There should be plenty of ashtrays. A real dive bar should be a bit smokey. If you don't like that...don't go there. A dive bar should be reminiscent of years gone by...not the latest fad.

A true dive bar should look the same day after day, year after year, drink after drink...shadows of customers drinking to celebrate or to forget or to sometimes try to remember.

A shit hole is completely different. I'm not saying that one is better than the other...just that shit holes are more common.

A shit hole was probably never particularly nice. It's probably always just been a bar. Nothing fancy. Shots and beers. Maybe the odd 7&7, Long Island Iced Tea, or vodka cranberry...but mostly shots & beers.

The decor can be anything from plain to garish. Paneling with Christmas lights (all year) comes to mind. There should be a steady flow of customers. Not necessarily packed in like sardines but busy enough to keep the place in business.

A shit hole is often louder than it needs to be. Often, a jukebox...lately those irritating internet things...playing music that should probably be outlawed. Loud, brash, repetitive noise. Anything to keep `em drinking and under the illusion of having a good time. A shit hole will probably have karaoke at least once a week. Maybe a band on the weekend...playing more loud, brash, repetitive cover songs that the locals have been clamoring for for decades.

A shit hole will have regulars of all ages...but tends to draw in the young, novice drinker. It's the place the novice has heard about...the place will have a legacy attached to it. "Why, that's where so & so met his 4th wife..." or "If ya can't get laid there ya might as well quit trying...".

Each has it's place in our society. I often hang out at shit holes. Most of us do. But...I'm at a point in life where I need the occasional solace of a good dive bar. Maybe something with an Irish name. O'Herlihy's or something like it. A place where a man (or woman) can drink in peace. A place where one can reflect on life over a cold libation. A place where, if only for a few hours, one can disappear in time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Clearing up the Great Gretsch/Rockabilly Sham!

I've had a long-standing friendly argument with a couple of friends about guitars. This has gone on for 20+ years. We're all pickers, and we're all usually lumped under the rockabilly category too. They both love Gretsch guitars. I can take them or leave them. Rockabilly fans have asked me many times why I don't play a Gretsch, which is often associated with rockabilly music.   First, I point out that what I play ain't exactly rockabilly. Sure, there's a definite rockabilly influence...but there's also blues, jazz, surf, garage, punk, country, Tex-Mex, and even some Gypsy & African influences in my music. A Gretsch just ain't gonna cut it. Don't get me wrong, Gretsches have their place and their own, unique sound. But...for a picker who is coming from the afore-mentioned influences, a Gretsch just ain't gonna cut it.   The new Gretsches, mostly reissues, are well-made guitars. MUCH better made than the original ones, which tended to ...

Since they changed YOUR life, how about YOU changing someone else's?

The recent deaths of Lemmy and David Bowie have caused a mighty ripple through humankind. People that I never would've guessed to be "fans" have shown their true colors. An old lady I know, it turns out, is a huge Motorhead fan. Folks I work with, who seem much more at home listening to bland modern country, have vocalized their lifelong love of Bowie's music and movies. These two musicians changed a lot of lives for the better. Both died of cancer. As a two-time cancer survivor, as well as being a musician, their death hit home with me...and hit hard. I was lucky enough, both times, to not only survive but to also have decent health insurance at the time. My out of pocket costs were minimal. Many aren't so lucky. With Obamacare we're all forced to pony up for affordable health insurance...or be fined. For many, it's just not feasible. One of the groups hardest hit by the US health care nightmare is musicians. Professional musicians make their liv...

Colin Hardy: We'll Meet Again

 2026 has been off to a rough start. Not even a month in, and I’ve already lost a few friends. Now, before anyone reaches for the tiny violins and assumes I’m whinging - relax. I’m not. Yes, it always hurts to lose someone, but I’ve learned to use moments like these to lean into the good memories: the reasons we got along in the first place. This morning, I found out my old buddy Colin Hardy passed away over the weekend. Col hailed from Stoke-On-Trent (which I always jokingly called Stoke-On-Rye ). He was a working-class bloke through and through, but we shared a deep love of music — especially the old-school rockin’ variety. We first crossed paths on a music-sharing site and immediately began raiding each other’s collections. This was back in the dial-up days, when downloading a single MP3 could take half an hour if the phone didn’t ring. Eventually, we started emailing instead. Col sent me tracks by the likes of Crazy Cavan, Freddie Fingers Lee, and others. He was always hungry f...