Just Deserts: Santa Monica’s Circle Bar

Santa Monica’s Main Street bar is the latest California business to come to an end

This is a cultural story of discovery, happiness and heartbreak.

Let me explain. I walked into my first dance club as a teenager. The experience and subsequent experiences formed some of my most indelible memories, which I wrote about for a Chicago newspaper. As an amateur and professional dancer in my youth, I danced at New York City’s Danceteria, Peppermint Lounge and the Red Parrot. I was once invited to step on stage and dance with Chubby Checker at the China Club (most recently, Flo’Rida’s entourage invited me up on stage to dance while he performed.) Later, I found my way to Heartbreak on Varick back when DJ Toni C. produced songs for Whitney Houston. In Chicago, I danced at the Vic, Neo, Park West and Cabaret Metro and Smart Bar. Since those early days, I strive to find a dance floor with room and reason to dance. When I do, I’m often the first to step out.

In LA, the search has proven elusive. Oil Can Harry’s recently went out of business—another victim of LA’s pandemic lockdown—after decades of ballroom, country and western and disco dancing for a varied straight and gay clientele. Other dance clubs (and restaurants) permanently closed, too. I still dance (and choreograph), though it’s challenging to find a place to express and enjoy myself in Southern California. I want to immerse myself in a place with a variety of customers and music—preferably a blend of pop and rock—where it’s safe, unpretentious and accessible. Several weeks ago, thanks to a DJ’s tip, I found Circle Bar on Main Street in Santa Monica.

From Jim Morrison and Truman Capote to today's contemporaries, Circle Bar continues to attract the most vibrant and diverse crowd on the West Side with DJs and dancing every night of the week,” the bar’s website states.

Named for its bar (more rectangular than circular—calling it oval is a stretch)—Circle Bar opened decades ago. Once owned by longtime LA bar owner Jack Garner, it’s been owned by Howard Alpert, who co-owned it with the late Will Karges, since 1999.

This week, Alpert told everyone that he’s closing Circle Bar, which apparently has had the same floor plan since it opened in 1949. Mr. Alpert recently sold Rick’s Tavern, which reportedly had been open since the last days of Prohibition (though I’m unable to confirm this). Circle Bar moved to Main Street from its original Venice location on the Pacific Ocean Pier in the early Sixties. “It’s not an easy task to keep a place busy with the right crowd so by embracing our nostalgia, heritage and commitment to good service, Circle Bar will be around for years to come,” Alpert’s partner, the late Karges, once told a reporter.

Upon my first visit, a barback named Erik greeted and welcomed me before filling me in. After the DJ arrived and set up his gear, I started dancing. I’ve been back several times since. Packed with locals, tourists and young technology and entertainment industry workers gathering after work—Santa Monica’s an artistic and business hub where I’ve met and interviewed director Robert Benton, author Alain Mabanckou and producer Frank Marshall—Circle Bar’s quickly become my favorite place to dance.

An extended bar dominates the room. Patrons can smoke on an outdoor patio—vaping is prohibited inside—and dance space is modest. The dance floor’s surrounded by cushioned booths where I sit with friends, drink with strangers and toast to finding a dance floor where I can move freely. From rapper Diesel to security boss Theo and bartenders Flora and Erik to Marissa, Tomas and Kelley, each of whom exude warmth and hospitality, everyone works hard and inculcates Circle Bar’s ambience that life deserves a celebration.

It’s going dark in August. Though I know that Howard Alpert has reason to bring this place to an end, I’m sorry to see Circle Bar close because these have been happy weeks. There’s unmistakable harmony at the door, at and behind the bar, in those booths and on the dance floor. Harmony’s no easy feat to achieve, let alone maintain. At its best, dancing feels like a total wholeness with the tune’s rhythm, beats and melody—and, tethered to the sense that I am among those who either want to bear witness or indulge their own imagination in moving the body to music, it’s euphoric. It took 30 years to find a decent LA place to dance. I am heartbroken. My search goes on. For now, it is at least revived.