The secret location of Brooklyn’s undisputed greatest bar of all time has been revealed: hang a left past the cow pasture in Oakville, drive about 10 miles up an old gravel logging road and stop when you see pickup trucks and flannel.
Brooklyn Tavern doesn’t cater to many hipsters, but it is indeed the best watering hole in its now-unincorporated logging town: Brooklyn, Washington State. In fact, it’s the only business in town.
“Well, except for the meth labs that pop up from time to time,” said Ray Damitio, the tavern’s owner and easily the most avid socialite in this secluded town of less than 200 people.
Last week, we embarked on a journey across the country to find out how — with such an awesome and established array of dives in our own Borough of Kings — this quaint, out-of-the-way tavern thinks it has the guts to bear its legendary name.
What we found was a packed house on a Saturday night, complete with loggers and gun racks, a salmon barbecue out back, and even a creek running through the bar that used to serve as a spittoon during the town’s heyday in the 1920s.
But since it’s a good 18 miles to the next bar — or sign of city life, for that matter — it seemed unfathomable that this bar would pull travelers every week from as far away as Centralia (think Bushwick to Coney Island by train).
The people said they came for Damitio.
“You walk in and the guy not only knows you by name, but he already knows you want a 40-ounce Bud Light,” said out-of-towner Eric Schwartz, who fittingly cradled a 40-ouncer in his hands. “Ray’s the real Brooklyn.”
Damitio took ownership of the bar in 1990, but he’s lived “just over the hill” for most of his 74 years. Since he became a regular himself, he’s seen Brooklyn degenerate into a logged-out country getaway, the bar burn down and get rebuilt, and plenty of loved ones come and go.
He hasn’t spent much time in the borough, but agreed that both of the coastal Brooklyn’s share one solid trait: character.
“I’ve met so many dang good people here,” Damitio said, interrupted as he handed a beer to a guy he called “Chip” who walked through the door. “But they don’t come for me, we all come here to see each other again.”
