Boozy Dewey Beach Peers Into Its Future

In a Town That's Party Central to Many, an Election and an Identity Crisis

Only in Dewey Beach would the former mayor find, after moving to a new house, that she kind of missed all the beer cans in the yard.

Just as the welcome sign says in this easygoing, hard-drinking town, Dewey Beach is a way of life. In the town election tomorrow, voters will help to decide whether it's time to change that.

It's been 25 years since this scrap of land between ocean and bay became a town, mostly because the parties had gotten so out of hand that residents wanted a police force.

Mayor Courtney Riordan won past elections on a promise not to knuckle under to the big restaurant-bars that dominate this tiny Delaware town, saying they should have to contribute more toward revenue and not be allowed to expand. The bars, and three of Riordan's political foes, who are running for two of the five council seats, have been fighting hard to get him out of office. And they think that people in the D.C. area, who own a lot of property in the town, could swing the election -- if they vote.

It hasn't been pretty. Riordan called the principal partner of Highway One, which owns most of the bars and restaurants in town, a weasel. Someone made T-shirts with drawings of the mayor labeled, "The Grinch who stole Dewey."

And Riordan helped to sue the town.

Twice.

It's all been complicated by Dewey's volatile finances. The town has no property tax -- that's right, no property tax on all those expensive beach houses. So it is dependent on taxes levied when homes are sold and on business license fees, parking permits and fines.

Town leaders are working on a sweeping long-term plan, and, since home sales have slowed, are talking about ways to raise money.

About half of the town's budget goes to the police force, and Riordan says the only reason for investing so much in policing is the crowds that stagger out of the bars, yelling or fighting or just happily weaving their way home. Tens of thousands of people cram into Dewey on summer weekends.

This summer, Riordan floated the idea of a special-events permit costing as much as $1,500, which would require the big restaurant-bars to ask for permission when they want to move tables out to accommodate crowds.

That happens every day that those businesses are open, said Jim Baeurle, a partner in Highway One. If voters don't make a change, he said, "it's going to be dinner, close at 8, Guy Lombardo playing."