Rob R.
Yelp
"I'm Loco Joe," the grey-haired sixty-something man with the Burt-Reynolds-style mustache announced when he first walked into the bar. "You're gonna remember me!" He was right- this was more than three months ago, and I still do remember Loco Joe. He was the guy who put Madonna on the juke and hopped atop the bar to his own choreographed dance. It was still early in the afternoon.
"I'm gonna be your DJ!" he announced, returning to the juke. His next selection was"Sex Machine" by James Brown. Up atop the bar again, this time he spun around and clapped his hands as he shouted, "Get on up!" The man clearly had not hit andropause yet.
I've been back to LJ's a few times since but have seen neither hide nor hair of Loco Joe. It's still worth coming here, though, because Bridget has got to be one of the best bartenders in town. Not so much for her pours (I mean, she really has nothing to work with here), but for her conversation and knowledge of Detroit's underbelly. She's one of those hyper-talented people (a former professional Irish step dancer) who it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine might've been a doctor or lawyer but *chose* bartending at a dive instead. I think it's her calling.
Other than that, it's really hit or miss here. LJ's serves the role of a spillover joint for Slows, so the crowds ebb and recede like the tide. On a slow night, there's always the series of Budweiser-sponsored mirrors to study. "Great Kings of Africa"... King Jaja of Obopo, Nefertiti, Shaka Zulu, etc. I forgot what all they're famous for, so I guess I'd better go back.