The Big Lebowski weaves a cinematic tale of bowling, nihilists, ransom, an Oriental rug and, of course, The Dude (aka Jeffrey Lebowski, played by Jeff Bridges), a virtuoso of hippie slackerdom. The cult classic’s huge following includes Dudists from all walks of life, even academia. This Year’s Work in Lebowski Studies (Indiana University Press) features scholarly essays, like “Lebowski and the Ends of Postmodern American Comedy,” and an introduction that posits, “What kind of thing is a Lebowski? How does it exist in the world? How does it present itself to human consciousness?” (The answer, according to co-authors Edward Comentale and Aaron Jaffe, apparently boils down to partaking of marijuana. Thanks, guys.)
Fans gather at annual Lebowski Fests in cities like Chicago, Denver and Austin, Texas, but shockingly, not Milwaukee. How can Brew City, with our love of the lanes and our penchant for beer (essential elements of the movie) not be included? This lack of aggression will not stand, man. But don’t let that harsh your mellow; just channel your inner Dude and have a personal Lebowski Fest in Milwaukee.
The Dude clearly has the makings of a corner bar regular. He would fit in at Wolski’s Tavern (1836 N. Pulaski St.), the 102-year-old Milwaukee staple that’s busy any hour, any day (nicely accommodating The Dude’s hectic schedule). Head there during the day, and have PJ (or Paul Johnson, if you’re not into that whole brevity thing) mix you one hell of a Caucasian (Lebowski speak for White Russian). Wolski’s everyman vibe radiates Dudism.
“We have regulars in the afternoon, suits at happy hour and students at night,” explains PJ, a 17-year Wolski’s vet. “We don’t separate the masses.”
“Bowling alley” is not the preferred nomenclature – it’s “bowling center.” Bluemound Bowl (12935 W. Bluemound Rd.) fits the bill for Lebowski diehards. Purveyor Hank Posnanski, the president of the Milwaukee Bowling Hall of Fame, has seen The Big Lebowski “100 or so times” and claims to be a Little Lebowski Urban Achiever (and proud we are of all of them). Bluemound Bowl’s parking lot is strikingly similar to Hollywood Star Lanes, where the movie was filmed. Bowlers fill the lot on weekends, leaving nihilists nowhere to park, so your ’73 Gran Torino will be safe.
Of course, every Dudist needs to eat. Since the closest In-N-Out Burger is in Utah (pretty sure the Gran Torino won’t make it that far), Kopp’s (several locations) is your best bet. The burgers, with buns as big as your face, dwarf those at In-N-Out, and The Dude would have loved the easy access to custard.
Condolences if you’ve lost a “Donny” during your personal Lebowski Fest. Take solace knowing there’s a place to spread your dead friend’s ashes. The bluffs of Mequon’s Virmond Park (10606 N. Lake Shore Dr.) offer a breezy dumping point (from a Roundy’s coffee can, of course) and a perfect podium to eulogize, “As a surfer he explored the beaches of Wisconsin, from Sheboygan to Kenosha…” You get the idea.
And finally, if intruders soil your prized rug while you are out, Shabahang & Sons (601 E. Ogden Ave.) can find you a suitable replacement to tie the room together.
Given how the city seems so Lebowski-ish, you can’t help wondering, could The Dude abide, and abode, in Wisconsin?
“You can’t walk around in a bathrobe and jellies all year long here,” explains Jim McIlvaine, Marquette basketball radio announcer and a Lebowski aficionado who’s seen the film at least 40 times, read books on the movie, and even made a pilgrimage to Hollywood Star Lanes. “The Dude seems to have found his niche. He chose Southern California, or maybe Southern California chose him.”
Maybe. But let’s not forget our summers. The Dude could certainly visit. And once he tried some Kopp’s butter pecan, who knows?
