Peoria, Illinois. When I moved to this city of 112,000 in June, I expected to find myself living among all things all-American.

County fairs featuring tractor pulls, livestock shows and country western music. An agriculture report on the afternoon news. Packed town hall meetings to discuss the local high school cheerleading squad. Minor league baseball, frequent pledges of allegiance and lots of singing of the national anthem. Soccer tournaments, Girl Scout cookies, barbecues and Bible study classes.

And Peoria has given me all of that. After all, the third-largest city in the state has long been equated with the essence of middle America.

For years, Peoria was the test-marketing capital of the nation before the equally unremarkable Des Moines, Iowa, stole away that distinction. Company after company brought their products to the heart of Illinois, assuming that if their TV dinners and stainless steel knives were good enough for Peorians, they were good enough for the rest of blue-collar America. The old vaudeville saying, "Will it play in Peoria?" took on new meaning as the city became a benchmark for the nation, helping to gauge American attitudes toward politics, religion and culture.

Pardon me then when I was disturbed to learn that one of Peoria's most famous and accepted social institutions is a strip club. Big Al's, a "world-famous gentleman's club" located in the middle of downtown, features "the world's most beautiful women," fine cigars, cognac, a lunchtime buffet and Wednesday night wet T-shirt contests.

The club has earned its fame. Since the 1970s, it has been the only adult entertainment business in the area that has a liquor license. The club was featured in a 1997 A&E special report on the adult entertainment industry, and the club's managers were once guests on the Phil Donahue show. According to one manager, Eric Clapton was once spotted in the audience. The same manager says comedian/actor Sam Kinnison was a regular during his lifetime. On more than one occasion, when I have told people outside the tri-county area (that my newspaper covers) that I live and work in Peoria, they have asked--sometimes jokingly--if I've been to Big Al's.

I have long since abandoned my assumption that the Midwest is a collection of small, chaste towns, but I still don't understand the way many Peorians accept, support and patronize Big Al's. Men go. Women go. Couples go. Businesspeople here for conventions go. And most people aren't embarrassed to admit that they go.

So, I decided it was time that I go. When in Peoria do as the Peorians do. I could not continue to criticize what I had never seen for myself.

I called up Big Al's one day and made an appointment to talk to the managers and visit the club. One week later, accompanied by three male reporters from my newspaper, I ventured into the club, cringing as I walked by a sign advertising that night's amateur contest.

Before I stepped through those doors on Main Street, I never really thought about what "a den of sin" would look like. But after spending more than two hours in Big Al's on a busy Thursday night, I have a pretty good idea. Women dancing on stage wearing nothing more than spiked heels. A big, shiny brass pole. Men--some dressed in neatly pressed khakis and polo shirts, others still talking about the last long shift at the local plant--drinking beer, enjoying lap dances, burying their heads in the dancers' bare chests.

With Dave Matthews' "Crash" playing in the background, two Big Al's managers--Lloyd Hendricks and Al Zuccarini--tried to convince me that stripping was just like any other 9 to 5 job, minus the clothes.

"These women are taking advantage of a wonderful situation," Hendricks said. "They're young, they're beautiful, and they can make a lot of money in getting up on stage and dancing. At this age, how else are they going to make that money?"

A stripper usually makes at least $300 a night. Four strippers once interviewed by my newspaper said they had so much money at the end of one night of stripping that they would pile it up in the middle of the apartment they shared and jump in it for fun.

During our interview, one of Big Al's 50 dancers walked by in a huff, upset because she and another dancer had been harassed by customers who wanted to see more than just their bare breasts.

"I told them, I don't take off my bottom unless I see some tips. How else am I going to make money?" she said, stalking off after Hendricks told her he would take care of the problem.