The Bowery

The ghost of "Don't Cry Joe" Shotkus, a singing bartender who worked The Bowery for fifty-three years from 1944 until his death in 1997, is said to sing near the bar after hours. Owner Victor Shamah disputes the ghost tour version of the story, which distorts an actual incident where Shotkus collapsed but was revived into a tale of a man who died and finished his drink.

In the 1930s, Joe Shotkus and his sister Mary set a marathon dancing record of 5,295 hours. That's seven months, ten days, and fifteen hours on their feet. The record still stands. Decades later, Joe would let patrons pack him in a coffin full of ice for up to an hour as a bar stunt. He could carry twenty-five beer mugs at once. And he worked at The Bowery in Myrtle Beach from the day it opened in 1944 until the day he died in 1997.

Joe got his nickname at a joint called Sloppy Joe's, where he'd sing "Don't Cry, Joe (Let Her Go, Let Her Go, Let Her Go)" and start weeping mid-song. The tune was written by Joe Marsala and later recorded by Frank Sinatra. Shotkus brought the routine to The Bowery, where he poured beer and entertained customers for fifty-three years as the singing bartender everyone called "Don't Cry Joe."

The Bowery was built in 1944 by Jack Cook and Cooter Jennings, fifty yards from the Atlantic Ocean, to serve visitors, locals, and servicemen stationed at the nearby U.S. Army Air Corps airfield during World War II. The honky-tonk faced the old Myrtle Beach Pavilion and quickly became a gathering place for the beach community. Its place in music history was locked in when a young country group from Fort Payne, Alabama, became the house band from 1973 to 1980, playing six nights a week for tips and beer. The band, Alabama, signed with RCA Records on April 21, 1980, and was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2005. The Bowery trademarked itself "The Eighth Wonder of the World."

Victor Shamah bought the bar in 1981 at age twenty-two, selling his car and borrowing money from his father to make the down payment. The seller owner-financed the property. Shamah was there the day Joe collapsed. Shotkus was drinking a beer at the bar when he passed out and started turning blue. Shamah and others revived him. When Joe came to, he wanted to get back to work. He didn't die that day, but the story took on a life of its own.

Ghost tour guides now tell visitors about "Barman Joe," a patron who died on his barstool, sprang back to life long enough to finish his drink, and then died again for good. The actual story is less dramatic but more human. Shamah has expressed frustration that the tour companies perpetuate the distorted version rather than honoring Don't Cry Joe Shotkus, whose fifty-three-year run behind the bar is far more interesting than the fiction.

The bartenders do report things after hours. A man's voice singing near the bar when the place is empty. A tap on the shoulder from a hand that isn't there. The Bowery is a regular stop on Myrtle Beach ghost tours, where the Barman Joe legend gets recycled nightly to crowds who never knew the actual Joe.

The Bowery stays open seven days a week with live music, its walls covered in over eighty years of memorabilia from the bands, the beach, and the regulars who made it a landmark. Shamah knows what happened and he'd rather you heard the truth. A man who danced for seven months straight, let himself be buried in ice for entertainment, sang until he cried, and then spent half a century pouring beer at the same bar fifty yards from the ocean. The ghost tours can have Barman Joe. Don't Cry Joe was better.