For more than 20 years, Diamond Jim’s Saloon in Arlington has been a place where outlaw metal bands could find a friendly stage to annihilate crowds and inspire mosh pits and headbanging as “ridiculously cheap alcohol” flowed from the taps and the bottle — depending on your poison of choice.
Located off the beaten path near the border of Arlington and Grand Prairie, it was a two-story biker bar frequented by an outlaw motorcycle club that isn’t fond of headlines. It had great pool tables and house cues that were straight, and it was the scene of pool and Texas hold’em tournaments that locals frequented.
As one faint-of-heart reviewer wrote on Google, “Even on the inside, it looked like I was in an Old Western movie. I would not advise anyone to go. It’s a rough crowd, and I thought I was going to become their barbecue sauce.”
But Diamond Jim’s was more than a place where you could hear good to not-so-good heavy metal and karaoke, get slobbering drunk off cheap drinks and possibly get shot in the parking lot. It was a second home for many regulars who shared memories of the saloon and a couple of hundred comments on social media last week about long-time bar owner “Daddy” Carl Webb.
Webb, 67, died on Jan. 7 due in part to complications from high blood pressure. A week later, Diamond Jim’s closed its doors for good, surprising many people by its abrupt closure.
“I remember my friend and I were up there 1 time and had run up a hefty tab and Carl came up to us and said, ‘Let's flip a quarter, if it lands on what you called, I'll pay your tab’ and he did!!” wrote one of many customers who shared memories on Diamond Jim’s Facebook page. “That was 1 of my first times up there too.”
“I used to play Jim’s years back with my band 3Eighty3!” wrote bassist Zach Stewart. “Carl was the best. We played there, probably the most outta any bar in the area. Our fans even considered it our home bar. So sad to see it go. My singer Jude passed a few years ago, but I’ll never forget the countless shows and hands down great times we made in this venue. Cheers for the great memories I’ll never forget.”
“I first met Carl when I started bouncing for him 15 yrs ago, he was much more than my boss; he was one of my best friends,” wrote a former bouncer named Bear. “I've seen both sides of Carl, the side where he and I were all business, taking care of a problem and how a small child could melt his heart and bring a tear of joy to his eye.”
Those heartfelt comments were echoed by Sonya Hopkins from Rogue Radio, the longtime house band at Diamond Jim’s, in a Jan. 17 email to the Observer.
“Diamond Jim's (and the owner Daddy Carl) was our ultimate home,” Hopkins wrote. “We are just devastated from his passing and the closing of our home venue, especially with losing all the live music venues we have lost recently in the metroplex. Not only were we the house band, for years we also provided live band karaoke every Thursday night called Rogueoke.”
Born in the late 1950s in Dallas, Webb spent his childhood in Oak Cliff where he became a Golden Gloves boxer and eventually a champion, his daughter Tanya Hayes recalled on Monday.
Webb married his wife Rita in the late '70s. A few years later, there were two daughters, Amanda and Tanya. Hayes, who has a different mother, isn’t much younger than Amanda, but she didn’t want to delve into the specifics of what happened.
Throughout the 1980s, Webb worked at various bars around North Texas such as The Lancaster Club Pool Hall in Oak Cliff, the Apple Club in Dallas and Bear Creek Crossin’ in DeSoto. Hayes says local metal icons Pantera played as the house band during their pre-Phil Anselmo days.
It was a fact Webb liked to mention from time to time.
“He always tried to support local musicians,” Hayes says.
When she got older, Hayes would fill in as a bartender on Wednesdays and Saturdays at the Happy Days Club near Red Oak. Happy Days was a small private club with an old jukebox and a roof that leaked. Webb operated it for 20 years. Membership was free.
“He got the roof fixed, and customers were upset,” Hayes says.
In 2008, Webb began looking for a larger place. Happy Days was winding down, and Hays says her father was negotiating on several places when, in 2009, he struck up a partnership with Jim Batchelor who owned Diamond Jim’s Saloon, a place Hayes says was past its prime then.
“He kept the name the same and just worked his magic,” Hayes says. “Word got around quickly, and he had a following. It wasn’t about the building. The people came for him.”
Bikers, punks and metalheads — all were welcomed at Diamond Jim’s, a saloon where the Observer reported in 2013 “leather jackets and tattoos are king.”
A year later, Diamond Jim was dead, and Webb convinced Jim’s wife not to sell the saloon but to let him continue operating it. He poured a lot of himself into the saloon. There were pool tables and foosball, lots of tables and booths lining the mosh pit/dance floor and a balcony upstairs where people could sit and watch the chaos unfold below.
Thursday nights were “Rogue-okie” when contestants could join Rogue Radio on stage for a night of karaoke. Tuesday nights there was the Platinum Poker Club; Webb was known for his love of pool and poker. Free Latin dance lessons took place on Sunday nights.
Over the years, Webb treated his customers like family and, as one commenter mentioned recently on Diamond Jim’s Facebook page, “always made everyone feel at home and comfortable being there no matter what creed or color you were.”
Webb never knew a stranger and “always made you feel as though you were the only customer in the bar,” as another longtime customer wrote.
Of course, Webb was passionate about Diamond Jim’s, and Hayes says that it wasn’t uncommon for her father to walk employees to their cars after hours and then lock up and bury himself in paperwork overnight at the saloon.
He had just walked someone to their car and was locking up the saloon on early Tuesday morning in early January when he died. A manager, Hayes says, found him later that morning inside the saloon.
A week later, a post appeared on Diamond Jim’s Facebook page: “So, unfortunately, [the] doors for Diamond Jim's Saloon are closed. I will (Nicky) be taking myself off the page but let's flood this page with all your memories and stories for all of us to come together and come to peace with this tragic end to history for Carl and Diamond Jim's!”
Memories of Webb and Diamond Jim’s flooded the page — though many were surprised by the family’s decision to close the saloon so soon after Webb’s death.
“Lots of great memories at Jim's as a fan of the bands that played there and as a musician myself that's been fortunate to play there!” wrote Phil Holland, guitarist and backing vocals for Interment. “Huge loss not only for our D/FW music scene but for his family and friends. So glad I got to experience Diamond Jim's! I first went there when it was TX Billiards ... later when it was Hungry musician ... but Jim's was the best!”
Webb’s widow, Rita, also posted a reply to another post that thanked everyone for sharing memories and encouraged people to avoid negative comments: “I want to thank the staff and even people that didn’t work there for all of your help during this more than difficult time. Carl would have been proud. And just know that we have tried to follow his wishes and do what he wanted.”
The staff would have probably appreciated more notice.
Hayes says she wasn’t part of that family decision but points out that her father didn’t own the saloon and that Diamond Jim’s widow, Belinda, had actually sold it in 2022 to a local person who owns several properties around the Arlington and Grand Prairie area.
It’s unclear how much money Webb was making from the saloon, how much his rent was or what kind of deal he had made with the new property owner.
“It did happen really fast,” Hayes says. “It was so abrupt and unexpected … but he was the only one who knew the business. … There was no one else in the family who could take his place. They made the best decision, based on immediate circumstances, liability and grieving.”