There are bars the tourists flock to, and there are bars the locals enjoy. Then there are bars the locals get worked up about. The Windjammer owns that last category, and there’s a banner over the bar that explains most of it: “All Y’all Are Welcome But You Gotta Act Right.”
Even Logan, our Southern born and bred bartender, got chills talking about the place. I don’t know where you find people like Logan, but it says something about the ownership, the crowd, and a dozen things I can’t measure.
It also gets you corrected. I ordered a Stone Buenaveza off the draft board and mangled it badly enough that Logan stopped me: “if I can pronounce it, you can too.” He then pronounced it perfectly, in an accent thick enough to stand a spoon in, and followed it with this: “well, when you have a Southern accent, you really aren’t meant to speak another language.” Which sounded like a free pronunciation pass to me. I ordered the beer. It was cold. I did not press the issue.
The Full Story
The Windjammer has been at 1008 Ocean Boulevard since 1972, when brothers Malcolm and James Burgis rented the beachfront lot for about a hundred bucks a month. It says Established 1972 right on the menu, and they’ve earned the right to print it.
It wasn’t a music venue back then. It was a sports bar with a sand floor, pool tables, pinball machines and a volleyball court out back. There was no Isle of Palms Connector yet, so the only way in was through Sullivan’s Island, which meant just about everybody who walked through the door lived within walking distance of it.
Then Hugo. September 21, 1989, and the old Windjammer went with most of Front Beach. Nine months later a new one opened, and here’s the part I love: the second story wasn’t a design choice. It was federal regulations. They jacked the whole place up on stilts because the ocean had made its point. Locals grumbled the rebuild was too nice. Locals kept coming.
Logan also told me about the guy who ran up a bar tab so deep he started bartending to work it off. That’s Bobby Ross. Not only did he clear the tab, he came on staff in 1980, was managing by 1982, and is a co-owner today. Forty-five years on the wrong side of one bar tab.
Back to the music. The day we were there a local band called Winyah was on deck and people were already waiting to get in. The indoor stage isn’t big, so I assumed small-time. Then I wandered out back.
Holy smokes.
Being up on the second story gives you a bird’s-eye view over the volleyball court to a full-size, real-deal, we-ain’t-messing-around stage sitting directly on the sand. Play it right and you can watch the band and the ocean at the same time with a cold beer in your hand. Not many beach bars can make that claim. Flora-Bama comes to mind, and that’s good company.
The history is on the walls, and it’s the inscriptions that sell it. A signed Zac Brown Band guitar. A Sister Hazel platinum record. And a Hootie & the Blowfish award for Cracked Rear View made out to Bobby Ross and the Windjammer by name, which beats any list of famous people who once drank here.
One house rule, painted on a surfboard: no table service, bar service only. Feels about right.
Sidenote: beach bars will ALWAYS get bonus points when they have a TV dedicated to Baywatch reruns. It’s in the bylaws. The Hoff rules.
Beach Bar Bum’s Prime Seat
The row of tall wooden chairs out front, facing the ocean and the stage. Look at the backs. The names are carved in. Gare. Jace. Doozer. Hallie. That’s this entire place explained in a few feet of weathered lumber. We didn’t stay for the show, but I’d wager the people watching from those seats earns its keep.
