Sunday, March 27, 2011
Inside Lincoln Tavern
One of the oldest bars in the neighborhood, Lincoln Tavern was established in 1934.
Owner Billy was extremely kind to me, and while he hadn't heard of the e-pipeline, he listened to my shpiel, showed interest in my flier claiming to be an e-newsletter around for the past two years that he'd never heard of, and allowed me to photograph him inside and in front of the tavern which was established by his grandparents way back when. Billy now runs the tavern with his sister.
He then mentioned he had received an award from the chamber of commerce, as well as other awards over the years. He said something about five stars on Yelp, and I promised to look it up, which I did, along with this lovely Metromix blurb detailing more of this hidden gem's history, from its days as an ice cream parlor during Prohibition to a bar the minute the ban was lifted.
Tired of Golden Tee Golf? Why not try your hand at a hunting-inspired arcade game? There appeared to have been a hunter game inside, though do not take my word on whether or not it works because I'm not sure, and it's 7:50AM on a Sunday and I just decided I should find a way to put out a pipeline this Tuesday/Wed, even if it's shorter in fare and scope than usual. There's something about habit and tradition that is comforting, maybe like PBR on draft, or a chili sandwich, both of which I see advertised on the tavern signage. Shoot, I may as well admit it. I love working on the pipeline. It gives me hope in people and in the power of a neighborhood to come together to keep each other informed and inspired. More, importantly the pipeline gives me something to do, and places like Lincoln Tavern and people like Billy provide the reason to keep on doing it.
Maybe there was a time when the deer antler chandeliers swung and the place shook, with the kitten heels of flapper girls hitting on the flooring, but now, or at least on a cold spring Saturday afternoon, it was like walking into a quiet but homey scene out of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks, into the kind of place that has been around forever, and rightly so.