Lakewood Landing

The old times were rough. Things were different. The bar was 7 miles away, uphill both ways, unreachable with Google Maps because that didn't exist yet. People would navigate the drunk-riddled roads with a map like god damn sea pirates. Or, follow unverified directions that were shared through word of mouth and memorized like an ancient fable.

There was no Yelp, so every spontaneous bar visit would be a spin of the roulette wheel. Maybe you’d arrive at a wood-paneled sports bar; or maybe it would be Grease Night at the leather daddy hangout and it would be rude to leave without a dance first—someone insisted. There were 3 beers on tap, at most, two from Milwaukee and one from Saint Louis. IPAs? Didn't exist, get bent.

And the smoke. My god, the smoke. If you brought your pet Pomeranian that thing would be dead and stiff like an old baguette in one hour flat. Regulars with "Live by the bottle, die by the bottle" tattooed on their forearm would suck down heaters like it was a race to the grave.

This is exactly the place that the venerable Lakewood Landing used to be—and still is in many ways, smoke excluded. It was a different beast. Old timers used to call it "The Smoke N Choke" and say stuff like, "I BECAME a cigarette after 5 minutes of being in here," or "There are shirts I've thrown away after a night at the Landing."

But things have changed since the smoking ban went into effect in January of 2003. In a 2018 'D Magazine' article, owner Bill Rossell states that business went up a whopping 23% after the ban. He also built an outdoor patio and put more focus on the food—regulars rave about the burgers and late-night corn dogs.

The self-proclaimed "upscale dive" still looks like something out of an old 1970s Playboy magazine, and that's part of the charm. In the dimly lit recesses of this watering hole, it's easy to sink into a booth or well-worn barstool and lose your grip on the time. The sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and snappy banter still swirls through the air. And Lakewood Landing keeps on keeping on.

The smoke may be gone, but some things stay the same.