The Detroit High Life

The Detroit High Life is post has to start at the top.

D’Mongo’s is the best place to drink a High Life in Detroit. Owned by red-hatted Chef Larry and his lovely maitre ’d wife, this place is a complete gem. Open Friday night only, expect to hear a piano set of smooth R&B tracks and an acoustic set of everything under the sun. The piano player pauses between songs, the guitarist does not. Both musicians sound like they’re being piped in through a tunnel. But when you go outside the speakers sound perfectly clear. If that doesn't make much sense, that’s because you’ve never been to D’Mongo’s. They do everything their own way there. You would too if you owned a speakeasy with two apostrophes in the name. There’s a million things to look at in D’Mongo’s. Best description of it I’ve heard is the ghetto Bennigan’s. Records, photographs, books, antique vignettes as far as the eye cares to see.

The bathrooms are of special merit. Both are built up off the ground so the plumbing pipes don’t cut into the floor slab. You walk up two rickety steps into the inside-outhouse and close the door behind you to do your thang. Only it doesn’t really close. Its about two inches too short for it’s frame. So make it quick. The toilet sits on the opposite wall, way in the corner of the tiny space. Actually, it’s technically beyond the corner. You can’t really fit toilet and sink in there, so the wall paneling has been cut away in the profile of the toilet to make more room. You can hear the kitchen people talking the whole time to your left. There is absolutely no soundproofing. I’ve thought many times about saying something to the kitchen staff while I’m in there- you know, Good Ribs tonight Boys and such, but I always hold back. And writing this now, sober, I’m glad I always manage to hold back. I just do my business and get back to the speakeasy.

As for the High Life's- there’s a waitress there who I call Phyllis who usually serves them. She looks like an old-school tennis player. Like a Phyllis. Phyllis dresses a cold High Life in a warm white paper blanket. You always think you’ll stick with this cheap means to a buzz, but before long you break down and get a Glass Chalice Cocktail. They’re huge. Two-handers. Instant party. Long islands are the standard issue, but you can get anything you like in those glass prizes. The same can’t be said for the food menu selections. Instead of giving you the full range of choices there, they limit you to two main course options. But you get to play survivor when you order. Vote off one entrée and one side dish and get everything else. Genius.

The Larry Johnson, AKA LJ’s, is your next bet for a quality High Life in Detroit. Geek out on the Kings of Africa Budweiser mirrors that surround the joint while you’re there. I know beer mirrors well- I’ve grown up around the beer business my whole life- and I can spot unique ones from a mile away. In fact, one of my first words as a child was O’tyle meaning Old Style, cause I saw the logo everywhere. But that’s another story. This is one about High Life’s and LJ’s outstanding Budweiser mirrors. These are the best. Robed African kings stand proud before their country’s quintessential landscape with an excerpt about the history of their reign in the lower left-hand corner. There’s about 12 of them. The only problem with the LJ’s High Life is that it’s not never-ending. I’ve been there when they’ve run out, more than once. Then you gotta break down and get a PBR like every other hipster and you fee cheap and used. Damaged is more fitting. But luckily that’s only once in a while. Mostly LJ’s is a High Life kingdom, amid great African kingdoms.

Of note- you gotta pay cash for your High Lifes. No credit cards. And it seems that you always forget this fact until it comes time to pay. Chase bank is not too far, but it’s dark as hell over there. No drive-thru, junior, so remember your cash.

Where next?

Green Dot Stables. Get a High Life in a leather bucket seat. Watch horse racing and get a cheap steak. Or come Friday night for karaoke. It’s the full-on smash. Especially if you’ve just blown in from D’Mongo’s. Then the mic awaits you. Christina will learn your face and drink preference quickly, so once you come in a couple times you get a High Life delivered to you with a kiss in the middle of the crowded bar. And don’t worry, you can carry your High Life with you like a p.f.d to the mic and sing away. This is new. It used to be a crazy lady there with her husband who ran O.C.D. karaoke. No drinks at the mic. No walking beyond the monitors with the mic. Wait till she sings her sappy songs before you get to sing. Get scowled at constantly before, during and after you sing just for being there. But now it’s a dude with LaserDiscs and the hairstyle to match and an understanding of how to draw the best performances out of local singers. He wouldn’t quit at 2. It wouldn’t make sense.

Go back and get a High Life during the day there with cops and secretaries or get into a game of gin with the five or six regulars who play during the week. I haven’t tried yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.

The Bronx bar is a great place for a High Life, but it’s a better place for a Blatz. Who’s got Blatz?!

The Rathskeller, aka the Dakota Inn, is also a great place for a High Life, but they’ve got Blatz ON TAP! That’s a no-brainer. Go drink glasses of Blatz and belt it out in the German sing-along. You’ll forget where you are entirely.

The American Legion off Michigan Ave has a terrific selection of High Life. You can sit in the small bar with the lousy video poker games and really focus in on the beauty of your beer: the perfectly clear glass bottle*, the light amber juice, the fresh-looking white bubbles, the smooth compound curve of it’s neck and that pretty southern belle perched up on the crescent moon, toasting her High Life to you. Is she winking-? Then someone might call you away from your fancy and take you down the hallway to show you the tiny theater. A huge American flag behind the stage and a painting of a lake and some dramatic mountains on the wall. I think some animals too. Small stage and maybe eight fold-up tables ready for the big show. You can start off on your next dream of which act you would put on for your hit talent show. Karate? Break dance? Hand stands? I was told that if you rent it out, you can bring in your own team of High Life's to party with. Cheap deal! Just don’t tell the owner.

Whiskey In A Jar could also be easily called High Life In A Bottle. I think I saw the Dude from Big Lebowski there last time. Long blonde hair, wearing the equivalent of an old bathrobe. Whiskey’s High Life's are just plain, ordinary High Life's. They come in a brown box of 24.

Abick’s High Life's are special because there is a cat that roams around and watches you drink them. She hides under the pool table or climbs up onto the beautiful woodwork and gazes at you, pure envy at your clear bottle of golden potion. Abick’s has a wonderful Small High Life that always comes in handy. It’s 7 oz of High Life and when you order it they shoot you a look of confusion. It’s for old folks, they say. I say young folks are the new old folks. And if you don’t believe it, then I say 7 ouncers are the new roadies. And you can’t argue that.

Nancy Whiskey sells you a High Life in the old Corktown neighborhood setting. In North Corktown where there’s so much empty land that you’re pretty much guaranteed to see or hear a colorful wild pheasant during the day, a neighborhood bar seems impossible- but this one just makes it. Great live blues acts and a great, diverse crowd- the only thing standing out will be you with your golden child. Cause mostly, it’s a brown bottle bar.

For reference, the Detroit High Life typically costs $2-$3.

More of the Detroit High Life to come…

*Suckers always claim that High Life is a lesser beer because it comes in a clear bottle. The liquid gets damaged by light more easily in clear glass, they say. But keep in mind, they're suckers. Miller keeps light from damaging The High Life by using tetra-hops, which are immune to the ill-effects of light rays. They do what a force-field does for a super hero. Look it up if you still doubt, sucker. Long live the Detroit High Life.