What is a dive bar? If you ask a Santa Cruzan to define the term, they won’t answer about dive bars in general—they will start talking about their personal dive bar. Therein lies the definition. All the bar owners, all the bar staff, all the bar regulars, they all talk about it being their family, their community and their dive bar.
For this story, I checked out six classic dive bars in Santa Cruz, restrooms included, and drank a beer in each of them. See what I do for you? As for the objectivity of my reporting, alcohol can make me hallucinate, so read at your own peril.
Six Deep Santa Cruz Dives
“It’s one of the cooler things we have. We still have dive bars.” —Brad Kava, Good Times
In other towns, dive bars may be dismissed as gritty watering holes, relics of a bygone era, even somehow unsafe. In Santa Cruz, they are the quiet heartbeats of local communities that preserve something authentic and rare. (Our neighbor to the south, Carmel, is scheduled to lose both of its only dive bars.) As Santa Cruz rattles through explosive high-rise change, dive bars become defiant testaments to the unique flavor of our neighborhoods: well-lubricated gatherings for social interaction, exchange of ideas, and for the exchange of fluids, mostly bottled but sometimes personal.
There are signs in Santa Cruz that say, “Nuclear-free zone”; others say, “Hate-free zone.” I think the dozens of dive bars in Santa Cruz County should have signs that say, “Pretense-free zone.” In the breakneck gentrification of Santa Cruz that rushes toward curated experience, Santa Cruz dive bars are places where people of all classes and backgrounds can gather without making any claim at all. A dive bar is where you are welcome, where you don’t need a reservation, where you can wear what you want, where bartenders pride themselves on remembering what you drink. They are radically accessible, often cash-only, neon-lit adult spaces that value conversation and connection over glittery consumerism.
Good Times writer and Blue Lagoon bartender Mat Weir says a dive bar is your home away from home. “It’s where everybody knows your name and you’re always glad you came.” There are dozens of cool dive bars in Santa Cruz County, from Joe’s Bar in Boulder Creek to the Wooden Nickel in Watsonville, but space for this story limits my review to six. I invite you to join me for a drink and a restroom stop at six of these stubborn Santa Cruz sanctuaries of local soul, and of course, we’ll start at Brady’s.
Overheard at Brady’s Yacht Club
I stand behind a man who looks houseless, and by his weathered skin, I suspect his stack of quarters and crumpled one-dollar bills on the bar are from a morning panhandling session. He carries a sign that says, “Will Stop Singing for Money.”
Down the bar stands a stunning woman, next to an equally handsome green-eyed man. They have yet to lubricate, and dialogue is sparse.
He holds up two fingers, “Two Budweisers.”
She holds up two fingers, “I’ll have two Budweisers too.”
He bursts out laughing.
She pulls her platinum blond hair back and says, “I’m afraid people will think I’m loud and brassy.”
He says, “You are loud and brassy.”
She yells, “Fuck you!”
They drink the four cans and start sharing life stories over shots. Love blooms at Brady’s.
Brady’s Yacht Club (established 1933)
413 Seabright Ave.
No one who owns a yacht goes to Brady’s Yacht Club.
Brady’s is the most revered and reviled dive bar in Santa Cruz, depending on where in someone’s drinking arc you question them. Brady’s once had a menu favorite called Ass Juice, which came with a warning not to drink it. It is famous for low prices and heavy pours. From the opening bell at 10am until closing at 2am, you will find a community of Seabright neighbors intent upon getting their brain cells down to a number they can manage.
Brady’s began as a speakeasy in the 1920s, serving drinks when Prohibition made alcohol illegal. It officially obtained a liquor license in 1933 and was a gathering place for the fishing fleet and contractors, a “man’s man” bar. It added bikers and beach goers in the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s and today, college students and locals make it a chill place.
Karen Madura is the triple crown owner/operator of Brady’s Yacht Club, The Jury Room and The Rush Inn. Madura moved to Santa Cruz to go to UCSC, got her bachelor’s degree in cultural anthropology, and her obsession with social connections goes deep.
“We’re people,” she says. “What makes the world go around is how we treat each other.” She tells me that over the last 20 years she has seen marriages, divorces, deaths, hook-ups, flings, new friendships, breakups and births: “The full gamut of the human condition. It’s beautiful.”
When she adds that the birth was not actually in her bar, I’m reminded of my uncle Joe, who had a dive bar in Arvin, California, the town Bakersfield makes fun of. He told me that a woman gave birth on his bar’s pool table. I only wish I could have been there to put a quarter in the jukebox to play “Mama Tried.”
Madura says, “It’s really important to be able to go and sit down next to your neighbor and have face-to-face conversations in an adult space, where people get to go and be humans next to each other.” On a mission of community, Brady’s hosts events like the Aug. 10 Swampfest; they had six bands from noon until late, water balloon tosses, Swampball, and a raffle benefiting the Walnut Avenue Women & Family Center. They will partner with the Jury Room for their next charity target, the Santa Cruz Animal Shelter.
RESTROOM:
The Brady’s men’s restroom is sparkling clean. I shit you not. The sink, urinal and commode are absolutely spotless. I get a slight whiff of Clorox so I suspect it has just been cleaned. Nevertheless, it is cleaner than my bathroom at home.
Beer One for me at Brady’s is a white, and there’s nothing better than the first swallow. Each subsequent swallow may be chasing the feeling of the first one, but it is a worthy pursuit. No matter how my day had been going, it just got better.
Blue Lagoon (established 1986)
923 Pacific Ave.
The Blue Lagoon is open from 4pm until 1:30am with a Happy Hour from 4 to 9. It originally gained fame as the region’s primary gay nightspot. Clientele has diversified but it maintains a celebrating gay presence.
The Blue has a well-worn, funky ambiance and, depending on the night, a selection of music that spans genres from hip-hop and goth/industrial to spun beats. It includes two dance floors, a free pool table and a fish tank. There is even an open mic/showcase comedy night on Tuesdays. Whether you’re there for the potent drinks, the often-excellent quality of music, or to meet or make friends, the place does tend to stick in your memory.
Keeping afloat in the Lagoon
Mat Weir jokes that the Blue Lagoon is a leaky pirate ship that the bar staff must constantly work on to keep afloat. “Equipment, the floors, whatever is broken we have to do it ourselves, tasks that are often out of our wheelhouse or above our pay grade. I just redid the speed walls in front of the serving stations where we keep like the well house liquor. We’re always fixing the PA system because of the volume of the music.”
For both Mat and Karen, serving their local communities comes first. One project she’s involved with are the coasters that can indicate if a drink has been spiked with a drug. “You put a drop of your drink on the coaster and it’s pretty accurate about detecting a drug.” Mat tells me there is a new California law where bars must provide some sort of cover for the drinks, and he tells his clients, “Never let your drink out of your sight. If you think someone may have tampered with your drink, tell the bartender and ask if you could please have another.”
These neighborhood bars are so popular, I was surprised when Mat said that with the uncertainty of the economy, with the tariffs, and with the bullshit going on with the government, people either aren’t spending as much, or if they are, they’re not tipping. He says a lot of Gen Z is sober.
“Which makes it tough for us. A lot of people are vaping or on edibles and they’re not drinking. With the decriminalization of mushrooms, a lot of people are microdosing who might come in but not drink. You might have a big room full of people with six people at the bar drinking.” Weir also sees change in clientele happening as a lot of people just can’t afford to live in Santa Cruz anymore. “It’s important that we all gather together to keep our community going,” he says.
Bella Bedford is a manager at Motiv (not a dive bar) and she tells me that people under 30 want a more active scene, they want to dance. “Dancing is kind of the main appeal, because honestly, I don’t know what else it would be, because drinks are cheaper at dive bars.”
I saw a lot of older folks in all six bars, and I think maybe younger people just want their own damn space. How much time does a Gen Z really want to spend giving a Boomer that long, intentional stare?
RESTROOM:
As for the Blue’s men’s restroom, I’ve seen a dirtier floor in the main room of a Starbucks. True, if you drop a French fry on the floor, nobody but a starving person would opt for the five-second rule. That said, the Blue Lagoon men’s restroom floor looks and smells OK, and the commode worked fine. I did a squat and sniffed. See what I do for you?
Beer Two elevates me to endless possibilities. If I had money, I could get a tattoo over these stitches. If I had a wheelchair with a motor, I could ride to LA and surprise my second ex-wife.
Jury Room (established circa 1968)
712 Ocean St.
Open from 6am to 2am, The Jury Room has a free pool table and a storied history. It used to be a cop bar. Legendary owner and bartender Marv Easterby owned and operated The Jury Room for 23 years, and he continued tending after Karen Madura purchased it. Easterby said, “If I had 40 customers at once, I bet you 25 of them would’ve been off-duty law enforcement.”
The Jury Room logo is a skull pierced by two gavels, and there are strings of purple and green lights above the bar. A man wears a T-shirt that has a Santa Cruz Metro quote on it: “Some bars are labeled dives, the Jury Room is an expedition to the ocean floor.” I order a Blue Moon, which they don’t have, but I’m served a white beer that is even better. I’m beginning to love this place.
In addition to the loyal regulars, the bedrock of any dive bar, Madura offers unique hours; they open at 6am for the all-night shift getting off work. Mark, the bartender, tells me that they almost continuously put on charity fundraisers. For the next one they are going to partner with Brady’s, party like crazy people, sell merchandise, do raffles, put on shows from rock to burlesque, and from the money stuck to the ceiling to the tips on the bar, it will all go to the Santa Cruz Animal Shelter. All of it.
RESTROOM:
Yeah. The Jury Room men’s room isn’t the cleanest in town, but it works. If you are so anal-retentive that you don’t enjoy your trip to the relief station, the whole dive bar experience may not be for you anyway.
Beer Three appears to cure neurodegenerative disease. Put another way, it gives me a strong spine. I stare back at cops. The notion that I may be bulletproof starts to take hold.
1007 Club (established 1989)
1007 Soquel Ave.
I had intended to walk to all six bars but I’m three beers in and I am concerned that I’ll be arrested for drunk walking (WUI). I can hear Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” from the parking lot. A sign at the door says “shirt and shoes are required.” No pants?
The 1007 Club was the last bar in Santa Cruz to allow smoking but now doesn’t. New ownership has cut the haze to stay in line with city restrictions; no more smoking indoors, and that has freshened the vibe and drawn in a wider mix of people. It opens at the crack of noon and keeps pouring until 2 the next morning.
They have every kind of great drinking game: pinball machines, three pool tables, three real dartboards, three soft dartboards, a Monday night open dart tournament, five TV screens behind the bar with sports television, video games at the bar, foosball, scratchers, a snack machine, and a really long, free shuffleboard. There is a stage for live performances, anda dance room where the DJs spin beats. The drinks are strong, bouncers cool, and ’80s Night is Thursday, ’90s Night is Friday and Goth Night is every Sunday.
“Come here often enough and everyone will know your name, which may not be a good thing,” says a woman named Margie. One table of 20-somethings is drinking Red Bull and doing shots of whiskey.A couple verbally spars at the bar.
“You should leave your liver to science.”
“You should leave your brain to science-fiction.”
RESTROOM:
The men’s restroom is just fine. By this point I am so grateful it is there, I really cannot report anything objectionable. Of the six bars I’m reviewing, the 1007 Club men’s room might be in the middle.
Beer Four makes me fall in love with everyone and everything. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it to the next bar but have alcohol-fueled faith that it will all work out.
Rush Inn (established 1963, to be destroyed 2025)
113 Knight St.
The Rush Inn is within a stoned throw of the Clocktower at the top of Pacific Avenue, open from 10am to 2am. Since 1963, faithful clientele have treated it like extended family; bartender camaraderie is legend, the pinball wizards and video golfers all seem to know one another’s names. To make the family aspect of this 62-year-old neighborhood bar even more poignant, it’s going away.
The Santa Cruz Planning Commission has approved an eight-story housing project for the Workbench developing group of 178 new residential units that will demolish the current building and turn The Rush Inn into a memory. Owner Karen Madura said, “This will shutter out the small business that’s there, and it will put people out of work.” Workbench even gets to cut down the two giant redwoods when they take down the Rush. Humorist Sven Davis says: “Notice to squirrels: Rush Out.”
But it ain’t down yet. Formerly Bei’s Bar, the Rush has been a bedrock dive bar serving generation after generation. The Rush Inn is known for its queer-friendly Saturday afternoon space and locals are loyal to it from their hearts. A Will Ferrell movie is playing with the sound off and Bonnie Raitt sings “Slow Ride.” A party of four at the right end of the bar is playing a risqué multiple-choice quiz game on the TV.
The question: If you meet someone in bar, you should make love for the first time only after you’ve both shared:
A. what you expect from an intimate relationship
B. your blood-test results
C. five tequila slammers
The players laugh and beer comes out of their noses.
RESTROOM:
The men’s restroom is functional. I could rate it middle of the pack, but again, how high of a rating am I looking for at the point? I try to do my part by not missing the urinal.
Beer Five makes me plan journeys to faraway lands with destinations I don’t remember. My speech devolves into grunting and Nine Inch Nails fills my head.
The Asti (established 1937)
715 Pacific Ave.
Like Brady’s, The Asti started in the 1920s as a speakeasy. It got its liquor license after Prohibition in 1937. The Asti was born out of the Depression; it had sawdust floors, pinball machines, and was a two-fisted drinking, boilermaker scene. As lower Pacific turns into a canyon of shiny, ugly high rises, the Asti is a respite from them. May it live on and on. It has three pool tables, a juke box and weekend drink specials. It’s been voted best dive bar in Santa Cruz many times. Most drinks are $5. There is no velvet rope.
Everyone at the Asti is older. By a lot. It’s late in the afternoon and there are 30 people at the bar, and the laughs keep rolling. They commit to joy in their camaraderie. They’re fragile, dancing sailors on a sinking ship.
Elaine, at the end of the bar, tells me that women in particular love dives for a chance to stop being good girls and have fun. “They know they’re safe because even the funkiest dive in Santa Cruz is not going to tolerate men hassling women. Women can flirt a little, shoot pool, drink a little more than usual, and go home after seeing how those of us from across the tracks live.”
RESTROOM:
For the record, there is absolutely nothing nasty about the Asti. Check out the spotless sink, urinal and toilet in the men’s room. The Asti men’s room rivals, maybe surpasses, Brady’s in cleanliness. My bathroom at home has not been this clean since it was built.
Beer Six. It is probably good that I’m not on West Cliff for I have developed the ability to fly. Someone calls me a cab, and now I must deal with the conundrum of being able to go anywhere on earth. I groove to a symphony of white noise. I love every one of you.
In other towns, dive bars may be dismissed as gritty watering holes, relics of a bygone era. In Santa Cruz, they are the quiet heartbeats of local communities.
