The Beer Shed always has been a place where everybody knows your name and they're always glad you came. Now a new owner is making it even more cheerful.
By JANET ZINK
Published May 28, 2004
[Times photo: Toni L. Sandys]
Sunsets on the Alafia River are a favored attraction at the Beer Shed, usually drawing crowds of friends and strangers to the waterfront watering hole, where you can boat in or drive in.
Karaoke is another favorite activity at the Beer Shed in Riverview. Regulars Kelly Sloan of Riverview, left, and Wayne Guthrie of Brandon get down with the sound, much to their own amusement.
The Beer Shed didn’t get its name from serving fancy martinis, so bottles and mugs of beer always are in great evidence at the popular spot that has been around for decades.
Smiles usually come easy and often at the Beer Shed, especially among regulars like Sharon Fugate of Valrico, here with a group of friends.
RIVERVIEW - It's Saturday night and, as usual, the karaoke machine is cooking.
One after another, the Beer Shed's regulars take their turns at the mike.
Bald, tattooed Ralph Leonard, wearing a white Harley-Davidson T-shirt and black leather vest, tenderly croons Billy Ray Cyrus' Where'm I Gonna Live. Next comes Howard Neal, thin as a dime and swaying a bit to Bob Seger's Turn the Page.
"Here I am, out on the road again; here I am, up on the stage."
Late in the night, Rhonda Rickman, who got married at the Beer Shed on Valentine's Day, belts out a song about an agitated cat, her voice a nod to Nashville. And when someone chooses Dancing in the Street, a good 20 people head out the door to shake what they've got on the road. Mark Sullivan, his shaggy blond hair framing a face deep in thought, leans against a wall behind the bar and takes it all in.
Sullivan, 44, is a self-described treasure hunter who recently took a job interpreting old Spanish texts for a Tampa marine exploration company. He once participated in a dive near Florida that netted a gold doubloon.
Most would consider the Beer Shed his biggest find.
He bought the property on the Alafia River about 18 months ago and has been vigorously polishing this diamond in the rough ever since.
Longtime patrons have always considered it a jewel.
Some have been coming for decades. They arrive by land and sea to catch up with friends and family, unwind by the river, or grab a cold beer and a burger. The people who used to come with their parents now come with their kids.
Bikers drop by. So do Riverview schoolteachers.
Inside the one-room tavern, the decor exudes humility: an old wooden bar; tables anchored by old tires; dark wood walls and a mish mash of faded, dusty beer signs.
But Sullivan brought improvements, including a new deck with umbrella-shaded tables, a remodeled boat dock, a Foosball table, a horseshoe pit, cheaper food and beer - and, say customers, a friendlier atmosphere.
Sullivan bought the Beer Shed from Max and Joanna Brown, who ran it for 25 years. By the end of their reign, they were weary of the late-night scene. They closed each night by 10 and chastised people who used too much profanity.
Since Sullivan took over, there has been an influx of new Beer Shed enthusiasts.
"I've always liked bringing people together and having a big party," said Sullivan, a Florida resident for 20 years.
He and his sister, Eileen, who live in the old fishing village behind the bar, run the Beer Shed as if they're hosting friends at home.
When he bought the place, Mark invited 42-year-old Eileen, a veteran of the restaurant and bar industry, to move from St. Louis to operate it.
She knows everyone's names and birthdays. She socializes, joins in the karaoke. She put in the Foosball table when regulars asked for it. She serves free chicken wings on Wednesday nights, and offers free pizza and live acoustic music on Thursdays. On Tuesdays, anyone who wears a Beer Shed T-shirt gets $1 longnecks. She started a Beer Shed softball team.
Word is she inspired a bevy of Beer Shed babes to snap on their T-back bathing suits, scrawl "The Beer Shed Rocks" across their bottoms, climb into a boat and head down the Alafia to moon at two other riverfront bars.
As the sun set on a recent Saturday, Donna McClelland, the "S" and "H" portion of that human billboard, dove into her chili cheese fries and fretted that a newspaper article might invite an invasion of newbies.
"This is our little hideaway," she said.
On weekends, Bonnie Koon, 31, cooks up hamburgers, hotdogs and fried chicken nuggets in the Snack Shack at the edge of the property. A sign outside the service window reads: No shirt, no shoes, no problem.
"This place captivates you. It did me," said Koon, who's been partying at the Beer Shed for more than six years. The Beer Shed's earthy beginnings came roughly 60 years ago, when it arose from a fishing village. Old-timers remember the dirt floor and the oak tree that grew straight through an opening in the roof.
Some of the cottages built back then still surround the structure, which now has a complete roof and a concrete floor.
On a recent Wednesday, Lavone Schocke, 83, Jane Borrows, 85, and Jerry Patterson, 81, sat at an outdoor picnic table drinking beers and munching on peanuts while ducks glided across the river. Borrows and Schocke began coming here more than 20 years ago, when their husbands were still alive.
Now, Schocke's 60-year-old son, Ronnie Burdette, drives her from their Carrollwood home once a week so she can meet Borrows for a beer. Burdette hung a sign in their family room that says "Beer Shed," with an arrow pointing south. He's the designated driver on these weekly jaunts.
"But I still have fun," he said. "It's relaxing with the water."
Old-timers welcome the energy the Sullivans have brought to this haunt.
"Since the new owners came in, they have so much personality, this place is busy," Borrows said.
"They have improved the place 180 percent," Patterson agreed.
Billy Terry, 40, is as much a fixture of the Beer Shed as the neon Budweiser sign. So is his mother, Bessie Miller, 73, who began bringing Billy to the Beer Shed when he could barely see over the bar. Miller laughs when telling of the time Billy tumbled from the dock into the river.
Terry and Miller say they like what the Sullivans have done with the Beer Shed.
Still, they see a downside.
"I've been coming here all my life," Terry said. "Now there are people coming in I've never seen."
Les Bullock, 53, part of a family of cattle ranchers, started coming to the Beer Shed with his grandfather in the 1960s. His grandpa would buy a beer and sit Les down with an 8-ounce bottle of Coke and a bag of peanuts.
"A lot of different people belly up to this bar," Bullock said. "Teachers, doctors and lawyers. It's a family place."
Bullock said he helped pour the concrete floor, pitted with rock salt so boaters in wet shoes don't slip. Howard Neal said he helped build the roof over the patio. The stuffed head of a hog shot by regular Terry Sweat hangs over the front door.
It's kinda like that at the Beer Shed. People pitch in when they can. The fire pit just appeared one day after Mark Sullivan wished for one.
When he wanted to put in a new deck along the river, more than a dozen Beer Shed regulars stepped up and helped a contractor build it for nearly nothing.
With its prime location on the river, the Beer Shed would have been an easy target for residential development, already in store for the forested land across the river.
No one wanted that to happen. Not to the Beer Shed.
When the Browns put the property up for sale, they were approached by people who looked at six decades of history and saw only condos.
But the couple chose to sell to Sullivan, who promised to keep the Beer Shed open.
"They were waiting for the right people to come along," said Eileen.
In the eyes of some, that's what makes the Beer Shed special.
The right people keep coming along.
River holiday
The Beer Shed is hosting Memorial Day weekend barbecues Sunday and Monday from 1 to 5 p.m. Cost is $5 for a plate of barbecue. To get there from U.S. 301, go west on Balm Riverview Road. Bear left on Park Street and go left on Del Rio Drive. The Beer Shed is at the end of the road. For details, call 671-1885.
