Desperate and dateless: Cheers to pick-up joints we used to love

Before Tinder, singles and wannabe cheaters set out across Adelaide, Port Lincoln and Broken Hill to hook up in the flesh. These were SA’s best and worst pick-up bars and clubs.

Remember when you were looking for love in all the wrong places? Here’s some of Adelaide and country SA’s best – and worst – pick-up joints we love to recall or are trying to forget.

Joplins was nestled between the Newmarket Hotel and Heaven nightclub. Picture: Advertiser Library

JOPLINS

Named after wild rocker Janis Joplin, this 90s nightspot was part of the Newmarket Hotel complex on the corner of North and West terraces where Colonel William Light began the survey of Adelaide in January 1837.

But was it a place to survey talent? Quite possibly not, because according to one of our sources its nickname was “Sloppy Joppys”. Why? Because, being next door to Heaven nightclub, it was a sort of hell.

Joplins was said to be the last resort when it came to pick up joints, as in, the place to go at the end of the night when you were tired and emotional and had exhausted all your options, but – insert desperate face here – were still looking to meet a (not necessarily so) special someone.

Fun fact: One night there was – by all appearances – a runaway bride at Joplins dancing like no one was watching in her bridal gown and veil with no groom in sight.

MY PLACE

What sort of name for a nightclub or bar is My Place? Well, it existed back in the late 1980s. It also caused much confusion for anyone who was new on the scene.

You’d meet a seemingly nice potential date who you thought might even be suitable to take home to meet the folks (after a few months, thanks, we were not stage-five clingers) and after a couple of West Coast Coolers at Lennies at The Bay their posse would be about to leave and they’d ask, “are you coming to My Place now?”.

And you would think to yourself, you haven’t even bought me dinner at Don Giovanni’s (a pizza house in Rundle Street back in the day)!

As for the meeting spot My Place they were referring to (or were they?), it was somewhere in the city.

Supermarkets used to be pick-up joints!

NORTH ADELAIDE FOODLAND

Back in the 1990s a magazine, like Cleo or Cosmo, maybe highlighted this supermarket as a place to meet eligible bachelors.

Yes, long before Tinder, we were swiping barcodes across the supermarket scanner in the hope of meeting a partner, be it long-term or with whom to share some Ben and Jerry’s Netflix and Chill ice cream (which wasn’t a thing then either, but you’re cool with what we’re suggesting, right?).

Actually, perhaps no one was scanning anything because we didn’t have DIY check-outs, for starters, and, according to one of our sources, singles would just cruise the aisles with empty trolleys or a single item such as an upside down pineapple which is code for I am a swinger.

BTW, this Foodland is not the one in North Adelaide Village. It was closer to The Royal Oak and The Oxford, which were also popular if you were a single who wanted to mingle.

BLACK LION INN, BROKEN HILL

This establishment, just across the SA-NSW border, has quite the reputation.

Some time back in the noughties it was listed in a men’s mag as one of the top 10 pick-up joints in Australia. An explanation for this may be that the drinking hole also has a hotel attached.

Or it could be “gold” because it’s one of the few places in the Silver City that stays open until the early hours.

Curious? Being a small town, you’ll meet a cross section of folk who are footloose and fancy free and not-so singles on the prowl.

Did we mention that BH has the highest rate of morbid jealousy incidents per capita?

For those not familiar with these crimes of passion it’s things like breaking into your cheating partner’s place and sprinkling the carpet with alfalfa seeds and water before turning the heating on or cutting the crutch out of all of their pants. Ouch!

Cascades cocktail lounge at The Grand. Picture: Supplied

THE GRAND

Oh, the hours for which we would line up on a Sunday night or public holiday.

The line up outside the Grand Hotel back in the 90s.

And this was before there was Instagram and TikTok to mindlessly scroll through!

This was the Glenelg club of choice for 18-21-year-olds (and those whose driver’s licence identified them as such) through the noughties.

After inspecting the talent in the line-up, it was game on inside: dancers crammed in front of the DJ at the front, and more relaxed snogging going on behind the bar. Here, you might’ve picked up someone new or (perhaps regrettably) rekindled with an ex – either way, it was perfect gossip for the next day.

Then there was the cocktail lounge out the back, which attracted a more mature clientele and was affectionately known as “Grab a Granny”, which was also a nickname for the nightclub at the top of the Arkaba Hotel.

MARION SHOPPING CENTRE

Well, not so much the shopping centre (though we’d love to hear of any escalator love stories), but, more specifically, two daytime diners that transformed into clubs by night: New York Bar and Grill, and Shenannigns.

This was the Thursday night destination through the early 2000s, whether you stuck to one venue or bar-hopped to find richer pastures.

At New York’s, Thursday nights were bubblegum nights, and if that doesn’t strive to appeal to cute young things then we don’t know what does. The sprawling venue provided numerous spots for a pash, whether front and centre stage (literally), by the lounge or upstairs.

Over at Shenanigans, $2 vodkas on Ladies Night upstairs got everyone in the mood (getting back down the stairs was always fun) and it was small enough to “bump into” that certain someone.

THE ELECTRIC EEL, PORT LINCOLN

Picture it – it’s 1994 and the DJ at the Electric Eel disco, tucked in the back of the Grand Tasman Hotel, is dropping all the hits. East 17’s It’s Alright, Slave to the Music by Twenty 4 Seven, a bit of Salt ‘N’ Peppa.

Everyone on that dancefloor, though, knows that there’s big finale song coming at 3am and after that the lights are coming on and everyone’s getting kicked out. That song, of course, is Cold Chisel’s 1978 classic Khe Sanh.

If you haven’t found a girl by the time Jimmy Barnes sings “I left my heart to the sappers ‘round Khe Sanh” then you’re probably not finding one at all.

In fact, in a town that ran on fishing and farming where girls often took off for uni in the city straight after school, just finding a girl to talk to was quite a challenge. Didn’t stop people from trying though, every Saturday night.

Cold Chisel back in the late 1970s. Picture: Supplied

BO DEANS, PORT LINCOLN

This is going way back, back before Sharkies and back before the Electric Eel.

Way back into the late 1980s, when Dirty Mothers – Kahlua, brandy and milk – were the drink of choice and INXS, The Radiators and Bon Jovi were guaranteed to fill the dancefloor.

It was also an era when cash was king, and fishermen would regularly get back from sea with hundreds of dollars in their pocket and an overwhelming urge to spend it all in one night.

The girls had big hair, the boys had big muscles and more than a few marriages came out of Bo Deans.

For those who missed out there was always the option of grabbing a hamburger from The Pantry and watching blokes fight each other on Lewis Street.