If Dave Beemer had a nickle for every Pabst he drank at Top’s Tavern in Hooversville, Pa., in 1974, he’d have had enough to pay my dad the $20 for another week’s rent. Thank God he ran out. No shoes, no shirt, no legal ID? No problem; ol’ Tops would give you service with a smile, long as he remembered his false teeth that day. Legally blind, Tops had no patience for reading IDs, which is why Beemer and I drank there nearly every night as 19-year-olds living at my parents’ country house for three winter months. Beems now thinks Top’s Tavern is a story that demands public exposure, so I’ll try and do it justice.

(0) comments

Welcome to the discussion.

Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language.
Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated.
Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything.
Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person.
Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts.
Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.