On Friday, Milwaukee mayor Tom Barrett took to the stage in front of an early-evening crowd that would, as the sun set, eventually become 5,000 strong. Barrett had come to Cathedral Square to make a proclamation, one pertaining to a subject that was near and dear to many of the onlookers. That his proclamation was made after following a Creedence Clearwater Revival tribute band while being flanked by two men in bowling pin costumes was not only appropriate, but wholly expected given the solemn occasion that he had arrived to officiate.
“As a city,” he proclaimed, tongue firmly in cheek, “you don’t know you’ve arrived until you’ve had Lebowski Fest come to your town.” It was official: Now was the time for the imbibing of White Russians, the improper use of the word “nihilist,” and a marmot used as a torture device. This is the world of Jeff “The Dude” Lebowski, and it’s a complicated case.
How did it come to this? In 1998’s The Big Lebowski, Jeff Bridges starred as “The Dude,” an aging hippie happily idling away his life of bowling and pot smoking until a case of mistaken identity makes him the dopey hero of a kidnapping plot. The movie met with critical and audience indifference on initial release. Lebowski had its fans, and as the years passed the film’s cultish appeal only grew, eventually becoming a beloved hit and the most quotable comedy since Caddyshack. So it’s got that going for it. Which is nice.
The evening continued with a twilight screening of Lebowski, an assortment of local restaurants (Saz’s, Jake’s Deli and Louise’s Trattoria, among others) sold snacks not out of place at a bowling alley or greasy spoon, and the typical Milwaukee appetite for alcohol. Merchandise tables offered T-shirts, bumper stickers, posters and products like Dude-branded sunglasses. When the movie ended, the official after-party was at Bad Genie Rock Lounge, where DJ Tarik the Architect offered up a “Lebowski Remixed” dance mix that was very un-Dude but kept the crowd moving.
All this was just day one of Milwaukee’s first Lebowski Fest. “For the record,” Scott Shuffitt says the day after the Mayor’s proclamation, “I took my proclamation to a hot dog stand [the Dogg Haus], and I got free cheese curds. Make sure that makes it in print somewhere.” He has just spent the night emceeing the Fest’s sold-out Bowling Night at AMF Lanes, taking to the mic to egg on the assembled throngs of bowlers and do things like corral the overcrowded trivia contest (Sample question: “How long was the Jesus in Chino?”) As one of the founders of Lebowski Fest – his official title is “Co-founding Dude,” with Will Russell – Shuffitt was the right man for his time and place, helping to start the very first Lebowski Fest in his hometown of Lousiville, Ken., in 2002. What began as a modest convention in a local hotel of a few hundred “Achievers” is now going into its second decade and dozens of cities. Shuffitt arranged the Milwaukee visit through the Pabst Theater’s Matt Beringer and local radio fixture Scott Mullins, an old friend. “[Mullins] kept saying, ‘You gotta go to Milwaukee, you gotta go!’ It took us a while to get things together, but we finally got here.”
Milwaukee is, quite clearly, a town of Achievers. Amid the bowling, trivia and mass consumption of The Dude’s favorite cocktail was a raucous costume contest. The alleys at AMF were clogged with Achievers in purple jumpsuits, bodices with bowling ball demi-cups, and replicas of bowling jerseys featured in the film. The crowd, gathered tight around the costume contestants or mingling among the lanes, regularly shouted out the movie’s profanity-laden dialogue, Rocky Horror-style, and never was a string of cuss words so warmly received by an audience. The Dude himself was a common sight (all you need is a bathrobe, long hair and a goatee), as was his overzealous friend, Vietnam veteran Walter (pulled off by any heavyset guy with a vest and sunglasses). Some of the costumes were conceptual: Two unrelated men dressed as the thug who urinates on The Dude’s rug, and the other dressed as the rug. The more popular characters naturally had more representation: The small stage had to accommodate a trio of Bunnies, a gaggle of Maudes, a gross of Walters, a googolplex of Dudes. Their prize: a cheap bowling trophy, and it might as well have been made of gold.
“I wasn’t expecting such a large turnout,” said Xal Glover, a veteran employee of the festival and self-described “Girl Friday,” speaking as she manned a busy merchandise table. “It exceeded expectations. Milwaukee is a very friendly city. Very open and accessible. This is one of the best Fests I can remember.” Looking around, it was hard to argue: AMF buzzed with the chatter of Dude-alikes, college kids sporting in-joke t-shirts, and all points beyond and between. Shuffitt encourages people to socialize. Shannon Hunter, attending with her sister, Stephanie, had to count up all the Lebowski Fests she has attended on her fingers. “New York, New Orleans, Chicago… 8?” Stephanie Hunter added: “We meet a lot people at these Fests. We hook up with friends all the time.”
“My husband and I have been to a total of five,” Glenetta Krause of Cincinnati gushed. “We went to the first Fest and fell in love with it. Bought our own ball, ball bag, took lessons. We’re into it.” Such sentiment isn’t uncommon: In all the strikes and gutters, ups and downs of the movie’s fortunes, the strange sense of familial bonding among the fandom, like a secret handshake or exclusive club, has carried the Lebowski Fests from city to city. Or maybe it’s just all that Kahlua and vodka.
“We’re definitely coming back. Milwaukee has really put out for this event,” Shuffitt says. “We had restaurants changing menu items, the mayor came out… the vibe is a lot like Louisville. Every city is different. Sometimes the costumes are better, sometimes the trivia is better, sometimes there’s more of a crowd. Milwaukee is aces in all categories,” Shuffitt says.
The party is winding down, at least at AMF, and the next day’s Lebowski Fest activities end with Dude-themed brunches at the Lowlands Group cafes referred to, naturally, as “the hangover.” “It’s been amazing,” Shuffitt continues, taking a sip of his White Russian. “I’ve never been to Milwaukee before, but it’s an absolutely beautiful city; people are really nice. You guys will certainly abide.”
