Yah, we're open, why would you think otherwise? Yah, I guess it kinda looks like an abandoned building, maybe we should do some remodeling HAHAHAHAHAHA YAH RIGHT! |
Dorothy's is located at 1819 S. Laramie St. and is probably the southernmost bar in the city of Peoria. The only challenger to that claim might be Cheers and Beers on SW Adams. The tavern is jammed into a run-down strip of buildings in the southern corner of the neighborhood which probably has a name that has long been forgotten save by the elder residents of the area. If you drive past the tavern heading south, Laramie St. dead ends into Trewyn Park and on a winter's day with no leaves on the trees you can see I-474. If you didn't grow up in this area or aren't a weirdo like me who drives around the usually ignored neighborhoods of Peoria, you would probably never know about this place. You can thank me for telling you about it by sending me cash, thanks.
I've only been to Dorothy's twice and have literally had two bottles of Bud Light ($2) during my trips there. I'm going to say that the Dew Drop Inn is Peoria's number one dive bar for several reasons. The criteria for great dive bars is as follows.
Location - must be a bad one
Oddities - weird shit laying around that you don't usually see in a bar
Patrons - neighborhood lifers and usually several bitter old men in the middle of the day
Employees - gruff and workmanlike or friendly and talkative, dive bars can go either way on this one
Cleanliness - there is no such thing
We've already covered the location and while it may not be the worst neighborhood in Peoria it certainly ranks pretty high. When you first walk into Dorothy's, you will be confronted by a
According to manta.com, Dorothy's has an estimated annual income of $75,000 and has approximately two employees. Those two employees would be Dorothy and a man I'm assuming is her husband, a gruff looking guy who appears to be in his 60's and probably has more fingers than teeth. Dorothy herself is friendly looking grandma type with her gray hair fashioned in an equally grandma-like perm. She can't be more than five feet tall and looks like she's dealt with a lot of bullshit in her life which isn't surprising considering her occupation.
The decor of the bar is pretty spartan, with most of the nick-nacks having to do with either booze or Nascar. On my last trip there, the old man was watching Sprint Cup practice (that's right practice) despite the fact that it was in March and there were plenty of important college basketball games on. If there isn't any Nascar event being televised, you're likely to find either Dr. Phil or Walker Texas Ranger on the tube. I doubt if either Dorothy or her husband work during the later hours on the weekends but I could be wrong. I'd really like to see what the crowd is like on a Friday or Saturday night but that will just have to wait for now.
If you've never been to Dorothy's you really must check it out. If the neighborhood gives you the willies, just stop in during the week for a nice afternoon beer, you won't be disappointed. The Dew Drop Inn is carrying on the tradition of classic South Peoria dive bars and in my opinion is the diviest of them all.
Cheers to Dorothy's for keeping the Peoria dive bar tradition alive and well!
Goddamn, that sounds like a great place! We have to meet there the next time I'm home! Try and take some inside shots next time you're there. Nice post and review!
ReplyDeleteOne more criteria for a good dive bar: wooden nickels. I love it when a bar has wooden nickels. The concept seems to be sorta dying out, but good dive bars still usually have them.
ReplyDeletePS Chief, do you ever check your peoriabarreview gmail account?
Just checked it now..check your inbox
ReplyDeleteThe beauty of the Peoria Bar review is that, in a confetti-cheap beer carbonated culture infused with the likes of Cams and Crusens carelessly catering to the pathetic-parvenu of late-20 somethings each vying for and seeking significance with every swig of their coronas or Michelob Ultra lite in their own materialistically-marooned fleeting narrative happy hour called life, this lil’ cyber bulletin of beauty dares to bungee-jump into the free-fall gonzo journalistic abyss of the past, chronicling an era when bars were smoke fraught taverns incubating the soused schadenfreude of a working class fraternization ; salvation saloons offering spiritual solace with each sudys draught if Blatz or Falstaff or (dare I say it) PBR (sic). There’s a sort of integrity in reading about Dorthy’s dew drop Inn and then making the ten minute dip into the south side and realizing that, come twin decades of lapsed time, bars this like may be no more. I remember the excitement I felt reading about THE DOME TAP and Tina’s Coach STOP and then realizing that they were neighborhood taps and that I was indeed the tapping neighbor. Cheers to the PBR!!!
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