Cruisin' for a Boozin'

View more photos in Lina Lecaro's photo gallery, "L.A.'s Best Dive Bars."

PHOTO BY LINA LECARO

Pogo's

PHOTO BY LINA LECARO

Winchester Room

Location Info

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Pogo's

17314 Saticoy St.
Los Angeles, CA 91325

Category: Bars/Clubs

Region: San Fernando Valley

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More About

• Michael Bowers
• Don Samuels
• Winchester
• Santa Monica
• Arts, Entertainment, and Media

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What constitutes a "dive bar"?

Everyone has an opinion, often strongly held and loudly argued.

But the truth is, no formulas exist for determining a bar's divy-ness. You have to consider factors beyond dodgy neighborhood, intimidating regulars and decaying decor. "Dive" doesn't necessarily mean "dump." A dive bar doesn't have to have cheap drinks, but it usually does. It doesn't have to be old, but it usually is. Hipster patronage doesn't automatically discount a bar's dive status either, especially in L.A., where pooh-poohing upscale, pretentious rooms is hip.

While researching my new book, Los Angeles's Best Dive Bars: Drinking & Diving in the City of Angels, I sauntered into — and stumbled out of — more than 100 of these most intriguing drinking establishments last year. My conclusion: What makes a dive a dive is an alchemic blend of elements that conjure the almost mystical meld of menace and merriment. These bars are a dying breed, but in spite of this (or maybe because of it) the dive cachet is more appealing than ever to many people.

I hereby present 10 such joints from my book. Each meets most of the criteria on my list (stuff like, "Upon arrival, you suddenly want some charcoal and a pad, 'cause it's real sketchy!" and, "The Crack Factor: as seen in ceilings, or the view of big behinds seated atop bar stools, or the lines on powdered noses and aluminum-foil pipes, or the sound heard during a drunken brawl").

Los Angeles's Best Dive Bars will be published in May.

Lost & Found
Drowning away the day, quietly glued to the tube with a handful of the hard stuff ... that's what the cocktail-loving codgers do at this smoky Mar Vista mini-mall spot. However, after 5 p.m. or so, a noisier — if still leisurely — atmosphere takes over. You see, when men of a certain age hang out for hours at a bar, they tend to get quite loquacious, and if you're a young lady (and by young I mean under 50), you will be treated to classic, amplified-for-your-benefit sound bites from the drunken gent set. "I carry a picture of my wife with me when I come to this bar," one graying chap proclaims loudly. "When she starts looking good, I know it's time to go home."

These joke-filled, jolly one-liners are entertaining, yes, but there's a somber side to the lovelorn laughs, as men who spend all day in a bar generally do have problems — or no one — at home. Which is why they keep coming back. Of course, insanely cheap drinks might have something to do with it, too: $3.50 for vodka cranberries, Greyhounds and Manhattans (Absolut in 'em will run ya $4). 11700 National Blvd., Mar Vista. (310) 397-7772.

Pogo's
Pogo's crowd is rough and full of revelry. Hoods (as in Eminem look-alikes in head-shrouding hoodies) almost come to blows over a dart game, only to knuckle-bump minutes later in one corner, while sloshed shrieks of victory from a group of loud and loose Latin ladies in velour tracksuits ring out near the pool table. All the while, cock-rock (think "Cat Scratch Fever") blasts from the juke. The busty barmaid — sporting a spat of tats — does her best to make sure all are satiated with very strong, very cheap drinks (five-smacker range), but it seems she can't ever do it fast enough. The criminal-looking clusters of customers might be more about the nearby tattoo shop than the actual rap-sheet quota of the patrons here, but either way, there's an air of danger and, dare I say it, excitement that seems to energize the room around midnight. As for the look of the place, it's your standard faux wood, red tables and chairs, neon-lit spot (the Tim McGraw light is priceless) with a very My Name Is Earl–ish ambience (i.e., lots of bandannas, trucker caps and cowboy hats). 17314 Saticoy St., Van Nuys. (818) 705-9396.

Where Else Inc
This wood-paneled hut, hot with the Harley riding set, has one pool table, a dartboard, and a juke pumping out Stones, Seger and "Alcoholica" (as the dudes will hoot when "Enter Sandman" comes on). It's nothing to look at, but it feels surprisingly cozy. However, it can get loud, as the crowd is the type that chants along with the music ("Exit light, enter night, take my hand, off to never-never land" ... yeah!). Lazies and crazies too lubed from the cheap liquor to jet out back for a smoke sometimes bust out the Camels and Kools on their stools inside the bar, sans reprimand. The management does draw the line at weed and other mood-enhancers though. These are done strictly — where else? — outside. 8234 Foothill Blvd., La Crescenta. (818) 352-0550.

Gold Diggers
If the 2 Live Crew anthem "Me So Horny" pops into your head at this fetid little freak house, it's not necessarily because you are. In fact, Gold Diggers is more a kinky-dinky bikini bar than a true turn-on or temptation, as the Asian ladies on display are the sort who say "Me love you long time" without much enthusiasm. The featured femmes onstage could not seem less interested in their dancing duties, and surprisingly, the feeling from the regulars appears mutual, as most seem to ignore the stage goings-on, making the experience of drinking here all the more bizarre. Dig the decently priced and indecently poured libations, black paint with gold specks everywhere, beat-up brass bars around the tiny stage, chipped floors, mostly Latino crowd (if you're not Asian or Latin, be prepared for puzzled stares when you walk in) and dance hits sped up so fast on the (broken?) stereo that they're almost unrecognizable. I think I actually prefer Black Eyed Peas' "Where Is the Love" as sung by the Chipmunks. As adult entertainment, the place is lacking, but as curious dive camp, it's pure gold. 5632 Santa Monica Blvd., E. Hlywd. No phone.