Boozy Dewey Beach Peers Into Its Future
In a Town That's Party Central to Many, an Election and an Identity Crisis

By Susan Kinzie
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, September 15, 2006

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."

Divergent Outlooks

"Hey, Claire!" someone shouted on a recent Friday night, and candidate Claire Walsh waved from a plastic lawn chair in the concrete breezeway of her house in the thick of the main drag.

She's old-school Dewey: Her dad was a bartender at the Bottle & Cork, a legendary 70-year-old rock-and-roll bar, when he met her mom. When she was growing up, there were keg parties on the beach, piles of beer cans in the sand. The Starboard opened directly across the road in 1960, and her first job, at age 8, was changing the eight-track there at breakfast. At home, sometimes they'd wake up to find that a stranger had wandered in and used a sofa to sleep off the previous night's drinking.

She knows that the packed bars are the draw for the guys from the District who rent part of the family's house, an arrangement that brings in $35,000 every summer. But Dewey has changed a lot since the crazy old days; there are more families. What is needed is more enforcement to clear troublemakers out quickly, Walsh said.

The other day, an Amish family went right by her house. Walsh laughed. "If they're booking their vacation here, how bad can it be?"

Pretty bad, some say.

"The drinking causes so many issues," said Commissioner Mike Eisenhauer. "The drunks on the streets -- the urinating on the streets -- the trash, the vandalism."

Commissioner Bob Fitzgerald said property values would go up if the town could shed its boozy image. Fitzgerald is among three Riordan supporters elected last year in a sweep that forced a mayor out of office. They campaigned on promises to fight decisions they said unfairly benefited Highway One.

Many say the real split is between Riordan and Highway One, or older and younger voters; many of the 300-plus year-round residents are retirees.

"So many people that are in office now would like to see this turn into a retirement community," said candidate Suzanne Evans, who says she doesn't want that to happen.

Resident Jerry Kernan thinks the mayor's doing a good job trying to raise revenue.

Alex Pires of Highway One said people such as Riordan come to Dewey because it's cheaper, then demand that it change. But it's the nightlife that brings the tourists who keep the town humming, he said. With a surplus every year. With no property tax.

Voters' Decision Is at Hand

Late on a Friday night, Commissioner Dale Cooke, who is running for reelection, watched a police officer follow a group of guys singing and kicking a flattened beer can.

Cooke liked that the officer was keeping an eye on things, not overreacting; Cooke said that is his approach on his walks through town. He listened for noise levels -- the rapper 50 Cent thumping on one block, crickets rasping on another. This past year, commissioners pushed for noise limits, and bars invested in soundproofing. (They also give something back to the community, said Starboard owner Steve Montgomery, who donated more than $20,000 this year.)

Cooke said he thinks most of the problems, such as the car that was left outside his house and got covered with crazy foam, are solvable. "People with grudges get over them, end up having a beer together."

At home the next day with flowers blooming behind a picket fence, Riordan opened a can of beer and explained: He doesn't want to turn Dewey into a retirement community. He does want to give control back to homeowners.

He started vacationing in Dewey because it was affordable, a nice beach. He and his wife retired here recently and take in animals: They have 11 adult cats, seven kittens and two dogs. "If we had all these cats in Rehoboth," he said, "we'd probably have neighbors complaining to the town."

Dewey's laid-back style is great, he said, "until someone comes along and, because of the greed factor, starts abusing it."

He fought a bid by the Bottle & Cork to expand. And when he disagreed with votes, including one that would allow certain motels to convert to condos -- decisions he said would be harmful to the town but worth a ton of money to Highway One -- he offered to represent citizens suing the town. Both cases were dismissed. Dewey spent $26,000 on legal fees in 2005.

It's ridiculous, Baeurle said; in the past few years Riordan has tried to chip away at the businesses in any way he could. More than 50 businesses put up "Save Dewey" posters calling for a new mayor.

Riordan said that before he came to Dewey, Highway One was able to manipulate commissioners to ensure huge profits. "I've paid the price, believe me," he added. "I'm anathema. I'm a . . . social outcast."

". . . We should have less drunkenness, less alcohol consumption, less unruly behavior, [and] so fewer police," he said. "I think a lot of people feel that way. We'll find out." He opened his hand, the beer can crushed in his palm.