...Of newspapers and dive bars

[MisterCreosote]

Here's a great look back at The Post Pub, which is a dive bar catty-corner to the soon-to-be-former Washington Post newsroom at 15th and L streets, where reporters, editors and pressmen could tie a load on, sometimes during work hours, when bartenders went out of their way to accommodate the necessary quick turnaround:

The Post Pub after The Washington Post: A dive bar bids goodbye to its namesake

Some of the greatest nights of my life were spent in dive bars with my newspaper friends, some of whom passed out for an hour or two in the newsroom parking lot before starting their delivery runs. I know it's a completely different world now, but it's weird that things like this are what I get wistful about, not any of the more substantive things I achieved in the business.

 

[Michael_ Gee]

J.J. Foley's was the bar a block from the Herald, and also in my time was a couple blocks from Boston police headquarters. A magnificent bar for serious drinking and lying and although the cops and the Herald have moved away, the Foley family has successfully transformed the place into a more upscale pub for a more upscale neighborhood.

 

[User 11148]

Back in my day, at a much smaller daily in a much smaller town, there weren't many places open after deadline on the nights I worked the desk. I finally got in the habit of having a beer or two at this dinky little strip club that was a block or two away from the paper (and on the way home).

 

[cranberry]

Getting to Kenny's or Chuck's (at the Civic Center) for last call was a primary objective after a game or desk shift in Hartford. I've probably told this story before, but I covered a great Davis Cup match between John McEnroe and Boris Becker in July 1987 at the Civic Center. It began at 4:30 in the afternoon and didn't end until 11:15 pm. The concession stands ran out of food. Around 9 pm, I called and explained our predicament to the bartender at Chuck's, Jim, who sent in a big bag of hamburgers and fries for the media. Becker defeated McEnroe 4-6, 15-13, 8-10, 6-2, 6-2. We used to refer to Kenny's as a "Kenny's Restaura" because the "n" and the "t" from the neon sign never worked once in the years I was there.

 

[MisterCreosote]

The bar we went to would let us stay until they were done cleaning up, usually around 4 a.m. It took about a half-hour for us to get there after a sports shift, but as long as we got there before last call, they'd keep the taps flowing. If we had remote capabilities back then, I'm sure we'd have fired up the laptop from the bar more than a few times.

 

[playthrough]

At my first shop there was a pool hall/bar across the parking lot that we'd retire to after seeing the next day's paper come off the press. I had some pool skills and would usually come home with $20-$30 cash, which was not insignificant considering my salary was $16k.

 

[Flip Wilson]

Pat's Idle Hour Lounge was the bar of choice for many folks at the Waco Tribune-Herald back in the day.

 

[JayFarrar]

One of my stops had a nearby watering hole and when the paper moved out of downtown, the watering hole stayed the same.

Bar closed at 2 and if you were a regular, they wouldn't make you leave as they cleaned up.

They also had pizza and would make pizzas until 1 or 1:30, so it was the destination after a night of desk work.

Another bar, just down the street, served until 5 a.m. and we'd stumble down there after we left the first place.

It was some good times.

 

[Chef2]

I love visiting old bars, and I love reading about old bars.
When I win lotto, or when I retire (whichever comes first)....I'm going to open a bar.
Not a bar/bistro/pub and grille.....no...
A ****ing bar.
With bar food like Hot Mamas.....pickled eggs.....pretzels.......chips......
You won't come into my bar, and find a grilled Panini sammich with.......no......**** that.
BAR.
With beer. And whisky.
Anything more is too much for a BAR.

 

[Riptide]

I love visiting old bars, and I love reading about old bars.
When I win lotto, or when I retire (whichever comes first)....I'm going to open a bar.
Not a bar/bistro/pub and grille.....no...
A ****ing bar.
With bar food like Hot Mamas.....pickled eggs.....pretzels.......chips......
You won't come into my bar, and find a grilled Panini sammich with.......no......**** that.
BAR.
With beer. And whisky.
Anything more is too much for a BAR.

Dunno, man. You said "sammich." It might be too late for you.

 

[Chef2]

Dunno, man. You said "sammich." It might be too late for you.

Nonsense, poopy pants.

 

[Riptide]

Don't forget the pickled toes.

 

[Chef2]

Don't forget the pickled toes.

nyet.

 

[justgladtobehere]

Was/is the Billy Goat Tavern a place for Chicago Tribune employees?

 

[old_tony]

Back in my day, at a much smaller daily in a much smaller town, there weren't many places open after deadline on the nights I worked the desk. I finally got in the habit of having a beer or two at this dinky little strip club that was a block or two away from the paper (and on the way home).

I believe the saying is "Any port in a storm." And if the port has naked women, all the better.

 

[Bronco77]

My first job in the early '80s was with a p.m. paper and there wasn't really a good post-work afternoon gathering spot in our old, dead, downtown, but a few of us in sports (most of my co-workers were under 30 and single at the time) often would gather at night at a sports bar-type place that was close to where most of us lived. Because of less-than-restrictive zoning in that part of town, the place was open until 4 a.m., and we were known to occasionally stay until closing time. Well, we had to arrive at work at 5:30 a.m. -- with a straitlaced sports editor boss who was a stickler for promptness. So we'd go home, detox for maybe 30 minutes, take a shower and head to the newsroom. I never arrived late and don't remember any of my fellow barflies doing so, although I can't say our sports section was very good on those occasions. To this day, I don't think the sports editor (who I still stay in touch with) realizes what was going on.

 

[spikechiquet]

My last paper...the bar next door basically stayed open because of the lot of us. In fact, it shut down when the crew I was a part of, split off and all moved on to new jobs.
Many late hours of Euchre, SoCo shots, Coors Light and driving the town drunk home. I even met the main PxP TV guy for a NHL hockey team in that bar. Great times.

 

[TigerVols]

The Redwood belongs on the list; and don't believe what your read here...well, the part about it being a punk bar now is true, but happy hour is still full of LAT types.

Tales of the Redwood, for decades the LA Times' bar

 

[Inky_Wretch]

One of my stops had a nearby watering hole and when the paper moved out of downtown, the watering hole stayed the same.

Bar closed at 2 and if you were a regular, they wouldn't make you leave as they cleaned up.

They also had pizza and would make pizzas until 1 or 1:30, so it was the destination after a night of desk work.

Another bar, just down the street, served until 5 a.m. and we'd stumble down there after we left the first place.

It was some good times.

Well, they only let you stay because you knew me.

But, yeah, there were a lot of good times in that place. Went there the other night for pizza and didn't know a damned soul except the owner.

 

[albert77]

Back in my beer-drinking days, my best friend at the paper and I would retire to Nick's Ice House, on Hardy Street in Hattiesburg, a picture of which should be next to the words "dive bar" in the dictionary. During the day, it was a real ice house, and even at night you'd see the meth heads wandering in to buy dry ice.

This place had funk all over it. The bar stools were old commodes with pads attached, the men's restroom did not have indoor plumbing (they'd just fill a trough with buckets of ice, and we'd joke about going in to "melt cubes.") and all they sold were ice-cold longnecks at a buck-fifty a pop. At times, if there was still a decent crowd at 2 a.m. closing time, the bartender would just lock the door and keep the beers flowing. They even had a shed out in the back of the lot by the alley where you could go to bust up some weed, if you were so inclined. About the only things in the place that had any class at all were the pool tables and foosball tables. Those they kept in immaculate condition; everything else in the place was authentically trashy.