Joe Pop's - 2002 Long Beach Boulevard Ship Bottom, NJ 08008

Heading over the causeway onto Long Beach Island as the sun dips low, casting that golden glow over the bay, the salty breeze whipping through your windows, Ship Bottom's just a quick zip down Long Beach Boulevard, that quirky borough with its shipwreck lore and easygoing charm. And there, at the corner of 20th Street, sits Joe Pop's Shore Bar and Restaurant—a staple that's been the pulse of LBI nightlife since folks could legally raise a glass again after Prohibition. It's not some glossy chain; it's the real deal, where the wooden floors creak under flip-flops, the air hums with ocean mist and faint fryer grease, and the stage has launched more shore legends than you can count on a six-pack.

Joe Pop's didn't just wash ashore; its foundation is etched in the island's sandy backbone. The liquor license dates back to the 1930s, a post-Prohibition lifeline snapped up amid the Great Depression's grit. Back then, it was a no-frills spot for locals—fishermen swapping tales of rough seas over simple drafts, the bay's bounty fueling both plates and chatter. The current building rose in 1950, but the vibe? Pure endurance, weathering nor'easters and economic swells. By the 1960s, as LBI bloomed into a summer haven for families fleeing the mainland heat, Joe Pop's evolved into the go-to after-beach hangout. Sundays after church, kids' first sips under watchful eyes, and that unbreakable sense of community where strangers become shore buddies by last call.

The '70s and '80s cranked the dial to full party mode, mirroring the Jersey Shore's explosion of muscle cars, transistor tunes, and endless sun-soaked escapism. Incorporated in 1987, it solidified as the island's premier nightclub, drawing crowds with its cavernous interior—think warehouse-sized space aglow in neon, lined with beer signs and a stage that became a rite of passage for tri-state talent. Cover bands ruled, blending rock, funk, and pop into sets that spilled onto the street. Enter The Nerds, that high-octane crew who's owned Wednesdays and Sundays for decades, turning the dance floor into a sweaty sea of air guitars and spilled pitchers. The Benjamins joined the fray, their party anthems packing the house on weekends. It wasn't just locals; nationally known acts cut their teeth here too, the stage a gritty proving ground where echoes of future hits mingled with the crash of nearby waves. Tiki Joe's outdoor extension debuted in 2010, slapping a palm-thatched oasis onto the side—picnic tables under string lights, cornhole games in the gravel yard, and acoustic strummers picking Buffett tunes while you nurse a frozen daiquiri, toes tapping to the rhythm of the tide. Dogs on leashes? Welcome. Families by day? Absolutely. But after dark, 21+ rules kicked in tight, a hard lesson from past underage slip-ups.

Hurricanes tested the mettle, but Joe Pop's rebounded like the shore itself. Superstorm Sandy in 2012 flooded LBI, splintering homes and silencing the summer hum, yet the bar clawed back, renovations polishing the edges without sanding off the soul. A 2022 refresh under new ownership—Marty stepping in as the fresh face—brightened the interiors, spruced the menu with shore staples like buffalo wings, crab cake sandwiches, and mussel pots that draw raves for their garlicky kick, but kept the heart vintage. Full lunch and dinner spread means post-beach pit stops are sacred—salty margaritas, frosty IPAs, and that $10 beer tower on college nights that turns Tuesdays into flip-cup frenzies. Live music? Seven nights a week from Memorial Day to Labor Day, DJs spinning till 2 a.m., bands covering Van Halen to modern jams, the crowd a mashup of Philly weekenders, NYC day-trippers, and lifelong islanders in faded tees.

2025's been a whirlwind, the kind that leaves you breathless but buzzing. March brought big news: Owners listed the "iconic" spot for $3.9 million, calling it the "cornerstone of Long Beach Island memories for generations." In a candid Facebook post, they explained the pivot—bought four years back as a passive gig, but life pulled them into the daily grind of running the show. "We love Joe Pops and our staff, and still do," they wrote, quashing rumors while committing to sail through spring and summer unchanged. No sale yet, no offers inked, so the party's on—Nerds Wednesdays drawing lines down the boulevard, tiki happy hours with golden-hour acoustics, and Fourth of July fireworks vibes that light up the night. St. Patrick's flooded the taps green on March 14-16, a seasonal wake-up call, while summer swelled with private bashes: corporate retreats swapping suits for tanks, engagement toasts under the stars, holiday pop-ups with spiked eggnog. Charity nights too, like past Cruisin' for a Cure rides rumbling classics up the strip, buffets from Panzone's Pizza fueling fundraisers for cancer battles—rain or shine, the spirit holds.

Still, the faithful flock: "A blast as always," one penned after The Nerds night, sound system quirks be damned. It's that unfiltered energy—bartenders slinging your usual with a nod, crowds linking arms for "Sweet Caroline" choruses—that cements its rep.

Now, as October's chill rolls in, Joe Pop's is closed, that familiar "Currently closed" sign on the site till March's thaw. No full shutdown, though—just the seasonal hush that hits every LBI spot when the tourists thin and the dunes go quiet. The sale hangs like a question mark, but the legacy? Solid as the bulkhead. Nearly a century of drafts poured, stages rocked, hearts hooked. Next summer, when the causeway clogs and the bay calls, swing by 2002 Long Beach Boulevard. Grab a wing, catch a set, feel the shore's heartbeat. Joe Pop's isn't gone; it's just catching its breath, ready to roar back with that timeless Jersey magic.