A beer bar near downtown Salt Lake City petitions to serve booze and a temperance movement breaks out.

Over the top? Unbelievable for Utah's blue-hued capital, especially in 2009? Perhaps.

But as the city wrestles with a zoning tweak to permit neighborhood bars to graduate to hard liquor, the blow-back seems almost satirical -- except it is real.

In recent weeks, The Great Divide over drinking has pitted polygamist families against gay-bar patrons, bungalow-bound hipsters against state alcohol honchos, and neighbor against neighbor, who debate whether stocking liquor bottles above beer taps will lead to kids getting mowed down outside new private clubs.

All this in the heart of Utah's progressive capital without a peep (yet) from conservative crusaders Mike Waddoups or Chris Buttars at the Legislature.

Like most quarrels over booze in the Beehive State, confusion abounds. The City Council may vote next month on a conditional-use permit for Andy's Place, a cozy tavern bordering a vegetarian restaurant at 479 E. 300 South. The move to allow liquor would apply across the residential mixed-use zone -- a 12-block swath just east of downtown -- provided a bar snares the proper club licenses from the state. The area runs roughly from South Temple to 400 South and 200 East to 500 East.

To this point, the boundary does not include the restaurant and retail strips bordering 9th and 9th or 15th and 15th. It doesn't stretch into Sugar House. And it doesn't come near the Avenues or University of Utah.

But the Marmalade district west of Capitol Hill could be next. Any day, a tavern owner there is expected to submit a similar zoning amendment request for Jam in the Marmalade, a gay bar that needs cocktails to survive at 751 N. 300 West.

"I made this dumpy, dumpy, divey bar into a gorgeous bar, a sophistication," said Bob McCarthy, Jam co-owner. "When you read the master plan, I think the city had this in mind."

Carlton Christensen, a right-leaning councilman, is "optimistic" some balance to permit full-service neighborhood bars can be reached. "I'm hopeful," Christensen said. "There's a lot to be gained from it. On the other hand, if we're not careful, there's a lot we can lose."

Can nightclubs be neighborly?

Before pubs can proliferate, city leaders want to carve a set of rules so they can't be a nuisance.

New planning czar Frank Gray suggests limiting size, requiring security and lighted lots, and banning both outside lines and tunes.

"We think they go a long way to addressing the integration of club-type activities into residential mixed-use areas," Gray said.

Council members also may consider earlier closing times on weeknights. And they are wrangling with how to prevent cigarette smoke from wafting into lofts from bar patios.

If the conditions are cemented, Councilman Luke Garrott insists private clubs would become venues for "community building" that simultaneously would make neighborhoods more walkable.

"This," Garrott said, "will increase the quality of our neighborhoods, property values and the quality of life in our city immeasurably."

During a public hearing last week, a throng of capital residents agreed.

"I'm saddened to stand up here and feel like I need to fight for my honor or trustworthiness because I drink alcohol," Marina Gomberg told the council. "I like to patronize businesses in my neighborhood. Also, it's just safer to walk."

Critics counter that the advent of booze will boost drunken driving. And they dismiss the walkability line.

"That argument's a little thin, and I doubt I'm alone on that," said Ted Lewis, an ex-legislator and a former commissioner with the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control. "It's logical that if you go beyond the 3.2 beer you serve in a tavern and you serve mixed drinks … that changes what the consumption effects are."

Hard to swallow

Few sound opposed to Andy's switch, but there is an anti-private-club fervor -- fueled by nearby polygamists -- in the Marmalade.

Jam neighbor Sam Petersen frets about the "40 children" he says live within 50 yards of the bar.

Laura Fuller, a mother of nine who lives behind the Jam, warns the brood of youngsters will be endangered by drunken drivers. And Brent Ruesch, who has lived in the area for 12 years, worries about the preponderance of both children and elderly.

"Safety sometimes trumps rights," he said.

Still, the bar has been slinging brews for more than 50 years, most of the time as the Cedar Lounge. And in 1996, the city approved the private-club request of Faces, a bar just 622 feet south of the Jam.

Brian Morris, Jam's co-owner, says, given the polygamists, his bar is in, well, a jam. "They surround us," he said about the Kingston relatives. "One of the sons told us he had 106 brothers and sisters.

"They know that we can't survive as a beer bar -- we'll go broke and close. It's in the middle of their little world. But we won't let that happen. We've invested too much money."

A slow pour

Milwaukee, Memphis, even Missoula, Mont., we ain't, so few expect the zoning tweak will tip the city's drinking culture.

Indeed, Andy's request has languished for two years despite the existence of a private club across the street. And new zoning reviews -- for the Marmalade's mixed-use zone, for instance -- average nine to 12 months.

But McCarthy hopes all that will speed up -- and perhaps spread to other neighborhoods -- once private-club criteria are established.

He's banking on it. McCarthy has invested nearly $200,000 in the Jam -- leveraging cash from his Stoneground restaurant -- to create an urban oasis. Without club approval, his eatery, adjacent music store, home and 40 employees are on the line. "I'm really concerned about losing everything."

He could have allies -- and maybe the four needed votes -- in City Hall. Councilman Soren Simonsen cites statistics that show DUI fatalities down near bars. Councilwoman Jill Remington Love says size constraints make her "comfortable." And Garrott is penning a guest editorial titled, "We want our neighborhood pub."

"Every neighborhood should be a microcosm," Garrott said. "It's complementary to other businesses as well."

Count Salt Lake City's Todd Randall as a fan.

"I'm proud to say I enjoy going out to have a drink with my friends. And when I do," he said, "I don't drive, I get a taxi."

If neighborhood bars get the green light, he can ride his Chevro-legs.

djensen@sltrib.com