Exclusive clubs are usually reserved for the elite. Places like the country club, polo club or university club, where the white-gloved servers address you formally and discussion ranges from portfolios to ports of entry. Let me then introduce you to my club – the world’s first exclusive dive bar – in an industrial area on the Grand Prairie/Arlington, Texas border.
So exclusive is the place that they can’t seem to agree on the name. The matchbook says Little Indians Athletic Club and the sign outside says Little Indian Athletic Club. Either way, the only workouts going on in this AC are 12-ounce curls.
From the outside, the Little Indian(s) looks as scary as a bar in Twin Peaks. No way one would ever find it, had one not stumbled upon a shortcut through industrial Grand Prairie on the way to the Ballpark in Arlington, home of the Texas Rangers.
After driving by the place dozens of times, the Texas heat and the hour to kill before game time gave me the courage to venture in. I doubled the number of cars in the parking lot this noon.
Upon entering, I saw an air conditioning guy on break drinking a cup of coffee at the bar. 120 degrees and the air conditioning guy is drinking coffee? The woman behind the bar, also drinking coffee, barks “Are you a member?” I immediately responded “No, but I would like to be” not knowing why I said that except that I felt I was in the middle of a David Lynch movie and I didn’t want it to end.
Upon filling out an index card and paying my $10 lifetime membership, Marilyn began to warm up to me. Maybe it was the coffee or the weather outside.
This is her place, started in 1962 after her husband left her. She owns the place lock, stock and barrel which gives her the right to decide whom she wants to let in. Never a drinker, Marilyn serves cold beer and shots of whisky at low prices. And she offers opinions whether you like them or not.
When she was getting a license for a bar, the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Council called to tell her the name she had picked for her bar was taken and that she would have to immediately come up with one. Someone had brought her an Indian statue that was on the back bar and she simply said “Little Indian.” It may not be politically correct, but very little about this place is.
No food is served though the members will gather for potluck on weekends or special events. The jukebox is cheap and serviceable and there will occasionally be a Karaoke singer at night. The back yard is spacious and though underdeveloped, it looks like it would be a great place to have a raucous party.
But in keeping with its surreal atmosphere, the Super Bowl could be on and the one TV behind the bar will be tuned to Xena: Warrior Princess. The place is frequented by the horsy set. Not the equestrian types at other exclusive clubs, but track workers and horseplayers from the nearby Lone Star Park.
There is something very strangely appealing to this place. Maybe it is Marilyn. Maybe it is the odd set of characters. Maybe it is the location. After all, membership has its privileges. – D.M.