Sixpack Sez

Feb. 16, 2007 | Want a comfy bar? Just dive right in

A COUPLE of months ago, I made a passing reference to the Mermaid Inn in Chestnut Hill in which I referred to the spot as a "beloved dive." I thought I was being complimentary until a few weeks later when I bumped into the woman who runs the place, and she wasn't smiling.

"I have a nice place," said Joanne Mekis. "I don't think it was complimentary at all!"

This is not a correction, though I certainly didn't mean to offend. Instead, let's call it a critical inquiry.

The question: What is a dive bar?

You've got Noah Webster, who defines it as "a shabby and disreputable establishment."

There's Wikipedia, which refers to a "dated or rundown appearance and atmosphere."

And Word-Detective.Com says the name goes back to the 19th century, when many disreputable joints were located below street level. An adventurous evening out literally meant "diving into a subterranean world of bad booze and even worse company."

OK, it's sounding pretty negative.

But when you talk to beer drinkers, you find they have a warm feeling for a favorite dive. Several online search sites, for example, run "best dive bar" polls, and readers describe them in the kind of glowing terms that a tavern owner usually clips out and pastes onto the wall.

At AOL, the Locust Bar (235 S. 10th St., Washington Square West) is described in a list of best dive bars as "great," "nice" and "a cool place to chill."

At Citysearch, Bob and Barbara's Lounge (1509 South St., Center City) was ranked No. 2 in a recent dive-bar poll. One patron called it a "jewel of a bar." When I asked a bartender if he minded the place being called a "dive," he replied, "Man, we're just a good [effing] bar."

To me, a dive is a place where the drinks are cheap, the atmosphere is dark and comfortable, and there are absolutely no pretensions of trendiness.

It doesn't serve umbrella drinks. In fact, the only mixers are Coke, 7-Up, tonic and maybe orange juice before noon.

And, yeah, it's almost certainly open in the morning.

There are no candles in the bathroom, no wi-fi and no cover charge. The TV is tuned to the lottery at 7, and the jukebox has Frank, Bruce and the Stones - but only pre-"Some Girls."

The clientele may not be racially diverse, but the age range will have 20-somethings mixing with old-timers.

A friendly bartender is optional, but if you're a reg'lar, he or she will know your drink.

The walls probably don't have any celebrity photos, but there are snapshots of friends getting drunk. Also, there is always something completely inexplicable hanging behind the bar and no one - not even the bartender - knows why it's there.

Dive distinctions

There are different kinds of dives.

Some are dangerous. My old pal Jay remembers that every time he went to his favorite dive, the old Tumble Inn at 62nd and Elmwood in Southwest Philly, "It felt like a fight might break out at any time."

Others are ironic.

I always thought Dirty Frank's at 13th and Pine, probably the city's most famous dive, looked that way just to attract art-school students with cash.

And then there's The Dive (847 E. Passyunk Ave., Bella Vista). It's a dive only if your definition includes a place whose most prominent feature is the 42-inch flat-screen behind the bar. It is dark and comfortable, and the menu features such gourmet delights as Beefaroni ($2) and Stouffer's Macaroni & Cheese ($4).

The beer list is just plain excellent, with Yuengling, Sly Fox, Yards, Victory and Troegs on tap and - in a nod to those on a budget - Schlitz in $1.50 cans.

"No Caipirinhas!" the owner, Jonn Klein, boasted.

I asked him to define a dive bar.

"I was a bartender all over the city for 11 years, and I worked for Stephen Starr," Klein said, referring to the super-trendy restaurateur behind the Continentals, Buddakan and Alma de Cuba, among others. "I'd say a dive is the opposite of a Stephen Starr kind of place...

"I don't think 'dive' has a negative connotation at all," Klein continued. "I'm sure that some people think of it as having a dirtier or seedier side. But I always thought it implied a no-frills environment that was neighborhood-oriented. A place where you could just sit and talk and relax... ."

That's my description of a damn good bar.

I ran it by Mekis at the Mermaid. She didn't buy it. But she conceded, "I guess a dive is in the eye of the beholder."