Still, you’ll be hard pressed to find another dining room in Baltimore with such a visibly loyal following. Some taverns have mug clubs. Johnny Dee’s Lounge has tiny metal plaques. Hundreds of them. The wainscoting beside each four-top and adjacent to each olive or tan naugahyde club chair and coffee table reflects the dull shine of engraved brass squares. (I count 22 by our table.) Norty and Nancy sit here. So do Tim and Kim, Joan and Fritz, Augie and Norma. C--, whose name bears a deep groove obliterating all but the first letter, is not deceased, a server explains. Rather, she had a falling out with other members of the plaque “girls club” and no longer visits. I’ve heard tell that seated customers have been asked to move when regulars come in to claim their table, but management says this is not true. Still, the sense of community is so palpable at Johnny Dee’s that it comes as no surprise when you ask your server, a 20-year veteran employee, about an acquaintance who was a regular here and with whom you’ve lost touch, and she tells you where he’s moved, who he’s now married to, and how many grandchildren he has.