Chicago’s Essential Dive Bars: The History And Legacy Of 14 Iconic Watering Holes

In 1945, a notice in the paper was seeking a piano player for two nights a week at the “Rainbow Club,” with more wanted ads for a waitress later in the year. The spellings “Rainbow” and “Rainbo” appeared interchangeably as the tavern grew its staff during the ‘40s. In 1946, a for-sale ad listed a number of bar fixtures, including a 2-year-old front and back bar in “good condition,” a 10-foot workboard and sink, a refrigerator, a beer tap, chairs, booths, stools and more.  

During the ‘40s and ‘50s, the club was a neighborhood Polish hangout that entertained with polkas from its small-but-dazzling stage, sometimes being billed as a “restaurant and cocktail lounge.” It was owned by Rose and her husband John, both Polish immigrants. Perhaps a sign of the times, many of its ads also sought Polish-speaking staff and “white” employees and entertainers through the ‘50s. Waitresses had even more criteria: they should be “white,” “attractive” and, preferably, “single.”

Changing eras: In July 1962, John passed away and Rose was forced to sell, according to a listing in the Chicago Tribune. The advertisement noted the property was air conditioned, had a 4 a.m. license, a clover formica bar, entrance to a restaurant and that it did good business. Another ad in August stated the club was being sold by an aging, retired widow and that the buyer “will not be sorry if you buy this place.”

In the meantime, jobs were being again placed in the paper, seeking entertainers, waitresses, and other staff — but without the “white” requirement — though attractive, young and single were still often cited as prerequisites for some roles.

The Rainbo was still for sale in 1964, with ads telling buyers they could make it a private club or a liquor store. “We don’t want to retire after 20 years in the place,” a notice stated. In 1966, an ad reflecting the changing culture sought a waitress “who can dance go-go.”

The club was again for sale in 1983, listed as a lounge with a kitchen, stage, and going business for $32,000. The following year, a notice appeared in the Tribune that James Alan Crane had applied for a retailer’s license for the sale of liquor at the tavern. Crane was a radio announcer for WBBM and operated the club on weekends, in addition to owning it, according to a story in the Tribune highlighting the lounge’s Art Deco and Polonia decor. Then, it showcased red and white checkered table cloths, signs advertising sausages and hot dogs, and it’s fanciful raised stage. 

The hipster hangout: By the mid-80s, the club was transitioning into a place to showcase local art, literary events, film viewings and other creative endeavors, much like it is today. Taira and Gavin Morrison bought the club in 1985 and, along with some other key figures, ushered in a new and influential era of the Rainbo.

By 1990, the place was described in the Tribune as a “low-key Wicker Park tavern that caters to neighborhood and arty types.”

A decade later in 2003, it was billed as the “hipster mecca of Ukrainian Village and the only meat market in town that’s full of vegetarians” in the Tribune. The blurb stated the Rainbo was an indie rocker meeting place known as an incubator for soon-to-be-famous bands, its booth-lined wall, cheap drinks, photo booth and its smoky atmosphere.

Claims to fame: Nineties indie-alt-grunge acts like Liz Phair, Urge Overkill, Veruca Salt, and Tortoise were often seen at the Rainbo. In fact, the iconic cover of Phair’s “Exile in Guyville” was shot in in the Rainbo photo booth, according to the singer. 

In 1949, author Nelson Algren’s book, “The Man with the Golden Arm” was released, which featured a fictional bar called Tug & Maul, believed to be inspired by the Rainbo. According to the Tribune, the rumor is Algren, who lived in the neighborhood, had previously been a repeat visitor to the bar during its polka heyday “under the same ornate neon sign that adorns Rainbow today.”

The book went on to become a National Book Award winner and received praise from Eleanor Roosevelt. In 1955, the novel was adapted into a movie by the same name starring Frank Sinatra, Kim Novak and Arnold Slang.

Legend has it that Simone de Beauvoir also hung out there “before local rockers and artists took over,” according to newspaper reports — and that Algren himself took her there for clandestine meetings during their affair in Chicago. 

The bar was immortalized in the 2000 movie “High Fidelity” during which John Cusak’s character Rob proposes to his girlfriend. 

In 2004, Interpol’s Paul Banks told the Tribune he was taken to the club by Matt Sweeney of Zwan, and he “really liked that place.” And in 2005, Spoon’s Britt Daniel told the same reporter that Rainbo Club was in his top two favorite Chicago hangout spots. It’s also a favorite spot of actor Vince Vaughn.

Vibe: Just south of Division Street on Damen Avenue is a non-descript — perhaps abandoned? — single-story brick building. However, an L-shaped neon sign spelling out “Rainbo Club” that floats above its two front doors reassures passersby that, yes, they can drink here. At night, it lights up in red lettering with a small green cocktail glass between the words.

Although the front doors are technically flanked by windows on each side, they may as well be bricked over — they don’t open. Above them are matching painted panels with a faded blue background and the club’s name sandwiched between two Old Style logos. 

The windows do have a purpose, though, which becomes clear once you step inside. They serve as lit showcases for local artwork, which rotates regularly. Works are displayed behind glass panels fitted to the long, thin, arched wooden frames.

Art has been shown on the walls on a regular basis since the 80s, with Taira giving flexibility and freedom to artists on what to exhibit — though she can’t guarantee people will critique as politely as they would at a museum or gala.

“You’re going to hear exactly what people think; I mean, they’re drinking and all,” she told the Tribune in 1998. “But that’s OK because most artists need feedback.”

Wesley Kimler, a Chicago artist who has displayed work at the club, told the newspaper there was a time when, “I would look around and think that if you dropped a bomb on this place, there wouldn’t be an art scene in Chicago anymore.”

Scanning the spacious room from left to right you first notice the sprawling bar with black barstools and a small, ornately detailed, half-circle stage behind it. Obviously, yes, there is an old-timey register. While performances there are rare today, the stage is used to further display artwork and a Christmas tree during the holiday season.

The stage is as prominent as it is mysterious — stories conflict on its origins. In a 1985 interview with the Tribune, then-owner Crane recalled “the legend behind the stage,”  which took place about 50 years prior when a Ziggy Podulka, of the Podulka family, visited San Francisco. There, he saw a stage that impressed him so much he found the creator and brought him back to Chicago with him to make a smaller version for his girlfriend, who played polka music on her accordion at the club.

“There aren’t too many polkas played on the stage nowadays, but if you go to the Rainbow Club on weekends, you’re likely to catch the Blues Express band,” the paper noted. “You might call that Art Deco Chicago-Style.” 

While John and Rose Podulka didn’t have a child named Ziggy, they did have a son named Sigmund who died in 1982.

However, according to a version Taira told the outlet Eater in 2012, the stage was built after Prohibition by a “guy” for his wife, who was a singer there. She died soon after and the man sold the bar back to the Podulkas.

Just beside the stage near the back of the room is the infamous photo booth — a relic of the ‘60s that’s still capturing snapshots today and is a favorite among regulars and first-timers, alike. Each year, the bar asks customers to submit photos for its annual calendar, with proceeds going to Greater Chicago Food Depository.

Above you, the red, square-tiled ceiling is divided halfway by a support beam that gives a hint toward the building’s past of being two separate rooms. At your feet is a Twin Peaks-esque red-and-black checkered floor. The walls are wood-paneled midway up, then white, art-filled surfaces act as the backdrop to a DIY gallery. 

Along the back wall are the worn, but relatively clean, bathrooms, as well as a couch and pinball machine. The bar’s coveted retro red booths line the northern wall with a few extra small tables and chairs available for singles or pairs.

For the sit-drink-watch TV crowd, if you’re hoping to watch the season finale of “Love is Blind” or college football, save yourself the bus ride: This is not a television joint. 

Today, it feels like a historic tavern-turned-art colony, with a mix of classic Chicago, misplaced suburban egocentrism and a bit of a beanik flair. The Rainbo is known for its welcoming atmosphere and being both queer-friendly and accepting of North Side bros, as long as they’re nice. Whether it be for its polka-Prohibition past or its 90s-early 2000s grungy status, the Rainbo Club continues to be a well-loved, well-attended hangout staple. 

What to drink: Like any good dive, it’s back to basics at the bar. Choose from a handwritten list of cans and bottles, like the $2 Hamms or Old Milwaukee cans, or $3 PBR, Old Style and Miller. Rainbo is one of the few on the list with a solid group of taps for beers like Apex Predator, Three Floyds and Bells Two Hearted. Shots and basic cocktails are also available. Mostly, it’s a beer-and-a-shot kind of place. Or, go full David Lynch and live our your Double R diner fantasy while sipping a damn fine cup of coffee.

What reviewers say: As charming as it is “odd,” Google reviewers speak to Rainbo’s dark, yet colorful aesthetic and to just how far $25 can take you here. For decades, it hasn’t changed — and its clientele hopes it never does. 

• “I used to live around the corner from this place nearly 30 years ago and it hasn’t lost it’s charm. Somehow it has remained an authentic drink hole for the arty, music types. Don’t expect 5 star service or there’s no food, but you will get a bit of history from this place.”
• “Would you be surprised if I said I never remember leaving Rainbow? I’ll know how I got there. I’ll be able to recall meeting friends there. But the next thing I know my wife and I are sleeping in our clothes.”
• “I went on the lamest date here and still had a great time because Rainbo Club is awesome.”
• “What a dive bar should be! Great escape from the boring environment that has been built around here!”

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• In a nutshell: Corner bar in a residential neighborhood with deep Polish roots and an iconic Hamm’s sign.
• Payment type: Takes cards
• Dog policy: ENCOURAGED
• Food: Cheese puffs from a giant container; small snack baggies
• Malört: Yes

The early years: According to a real estate listing, the large apartment building that encapsulates Archie’s Iowa Rockwell Tavern was built in 1911. It was constructed on land that in 1896 were baseball grounds for The Grants — a team that the opposing team The Continental Boys once warned other players to avoid “as they are a lot of robbers and ‘punk’ players.”

The bar years: In 1943, Archie’s was opened by Stanley Boraca and his wife, Polish immigrants. The tavern was named after their son Arthur “Archie” Boraca. It was an instant hit with the Polish community. As the story goes, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, “Chicago Polka King” Lil Wally is believed to have performed there with his polka band. 

In 1956, the facade got a makeover which included its now-cherished Hamm’s beer sign. Also in the 50s, son “Archie” took his rightful place at the command post. Stanley passed away in 1983 and Archie kept on until 2005 when he retired. Twenty years after his father, Archie moved on to the great beyond in 2013. 

However, the family legacy, or its business, didn’t die with him. Now in its fourth generation of family ownership, relative Katrina Arthur and her mother Deborah Pup are at the helm. 

The bar is especially known as a Hamm’s bar — a standout in a city known for its affection for Old Style. Hamm’s is their best-selling drink, with Arthur claiming that Archie’s is the top seller of Hamm’s 12-ounce cans in the entire country, selling tens of thousands each year. 

The tavern’s red, white, and blue sign was taken down for seven months in 2023 during a dispute with the city, which said the building wasn’t properly zoned for the sign, thought it had hung outside the front door for nearly 80 years. After a zoning change was approved, the sign returned just in time for the bar’s 80th birthday celebration.

Vibe: Archie’s is a street-level, corner-facing bar at the bottom of a brick and stone residential building. Its existence is rather unassuming except for its small green awning and popular Hamm’s “Born in the land of sky blue waters” sign. For its location one only needs to look to its full name.

Two Windows and chunks of glass blocks let in hints of outside light, supplemented by buzzing neon beer signs and a three-lamp fixture hanging over the (free) pool table. The green glowing Archie’s sign is a favorite touch. A retro wooden kitchen table with chairs greets you at the door, and often a water dish for the bar’s four-legged patrons is there, too.

Find additional seating with a few small tables in the back, as well as a rail and barstools opposite the bar. For ambiance, pick your favorite tunes from a CD jukebox. Along the back wall is a photo of Archie himself, as well as a TV. Patrons are known to watch Jeopardy together. While some things change, Archie’s remains a laid-back community gathering place.

What to drink: The stately wooden bar is crowned with a shiny stuffed blue Marlin and a bright red Budweiser sign. Sit at one of the tall wooden chairs and watch your $10 bill go to work. Grab a well drink or pair anything from the selection of tried-and-true cans and bottles with a shot of Malört. Hamms is the main attraction and its opening act is a showstopping $2 happy hour. 

What reviewers say: Patrons on Google describe Archie’s as “a diver’s dive” and a “disappearing Chicago unicorn, a corner residential bar” fully engrained in the community. According to one reviewer, the bar’s appeal can be summed up simply: “If you don’t like this place you are not good, that is all.” Others who left reviews on Google said of Archie’s:

• “This bar has been a staple of Humboldt for 80 years, and they’re obviously doing something right to have been around that long. Come here for a delicious and perfectly priced beverage, and make sure to stay for the charm and wonder that the finest bar in Chicago has to offer.” 

• “The perfect place to disappear into obscurity. And they have cheese puffs!” 

• “It’s a true [neighborhood] bar that’s all about the connections between customers. Sure, the free pool table is great and is winner-stays-on, and the free cheeseballs are fun but the burn on the bar where Katrina’s [grandad] used to put the urn of hot soup tells you more about what Archies really is — an honest place for people to come together and enjoy being around each other.”

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• In a nutshell: One of the city’s oldest bars in a house-like building with Slim Jims, pool, and an antique aesthetic.
• Payment type: Bring cash or stay thirsty
• Food: Random assortment of bar snacks like chips, cured meat sticks, and peanuts
• Malört: Yes

The early years: The Chipp Inn is one of Chicago’s oldest drinking establishments, with saloon shenanigans reported as early as the 1870s. In the old days, the Greenview Avenue tavern address first was 22 Holt St. before becoming 832 Holt St., and later it’s current 832 Greenview Ave. as the city changed street names and numbers.

The Inter Ocean newspaper in 1872 reported that the saloonkeepers at 22 Holt St., Meitt & Heller, were fined $25 for selling liquor on a Sunday, and again several times in 1873. These mentions also included tavernkeepers Witt & Heller, Natt & Heifer, Hiller & Wert at the location. The Chipp Inn considers 1878 as the year a bar was “established” there, according to the pub’s Yelp page. 

The tavern was “originally housed a saloon/grocery store in the late 1870s, having subsequent incarnations as a bicycle repair shop and a series of proprietor-run taverns,” according to the blurb. 

In 1884, a J. F. Doerner was issued a beer license there, according to the Tribune.

An ad in a 1910 Chicago Polish newspaper shows the storefront for sale for $4,600 and a “beautiful brick house” with 4, 4-room apartments upstairs, an outhouse, and indoor gas for $5,500. In 1922, it was advertised as a corner showroom in a nice Polish neighborhood with cheap rent and an apartment.

Becoming The Chipp Inn: In 1922, The Chipp Inn was officially established by the Kruzel family. Joseph Kruzel, who also went by Joe or Jozef, was born in Poland and immigrated to the U.S., with wife Zofia, also known as Sophie, following him in 1907 on the Pretoria ship, records show.

The following year, on August 22, 1923, Joseph bought the tavern’s 16-foot bar and 14-foot bar back and mirror frame, as well as other fixtures such as an ice box for bottles, a cooler, a 4-foot cigar case and more, from the Peter Hand Brewery — equipment that was used at the brewery’s tied house at 1321 N. Clybourn Ave., according to a document the bar posted on social media. The bar and back model was called The Metropolitain, made in Chicago in the late 1800s and advertised as “not expensive but very attractive” in ad posted by the tavern.

The storefront was originally wood and rebuilt with brick, including the addition of windows, and relocated the entrance to Fry Street in the late 1920s or early 1930s, according to the bar.

During Prohibition, the bar operated as a “Polish neighborhood speakeasy disguised as a confectionary,” according to the tavern. The Chipp Inn, like other taverns, would get around liquor laws by attracting customers to be entertained and then serving them “free” alcohol. Among their hired talent: a bear handler. In addition to those businesses, Sophie served as a midwife upstairs. 

The barkeep’s son goes wild: In 1928, Kruzel’s son Frank went on a movie-worthy crime spree with two other friends when they stole and abandoned a car in the northern suburbs — and then stole a Chevrolet from a dealership in Waukegan, according to an article in the Tribune. The boys were arrested in the car on the way back to Chicago and charged with automobile larceny, held on $10,000 bond each. 

After being arraigned, they were taken to the boys’ “bullpen” area of the Boys’ Court on the 11th floor of City Hall, where they “attempted a daring escape characteristic of the old-fashioned movie thriller” that entertained hundreds of excited onlookers who watched as bailiffs chased the 18-year-olds. 

According to the story, the boys escaped by sawing off a bar of the bullpen, squeezing through, and running for the fire escape. Kruzel “abandoned the fire escape upon becoming aware the bailiffs had discovered the break and let himself down the face of the building to a narrow window ledge on the tenth floor and thence to the ninth floor window. One misstep would have meant death,” the Tribune wrote. The youth pried open the window and entered the building, where he was captured by two policemen.

Post-Prohibition to now: After Prohibition was repealed, it openly became a bar and liquor store, Kruzel’s Tavern/The Chipp Inn — an already long-time Polski piwiarnia, or Polish saloon. 

On April 16, 1935, the tavern installed its first phone and in 1948 its first TV, a novelty that was such huge draw for the bar that it advertised “TELEVISION” in its window, according to an Instagram post. In 1936, Holt Street was changed to Greenview Avenue.

In 1943, the Kruzel family opted for fresh snapping turtle over a turkey for Thanksgiving, having the shelled main course delivered straight to the bar. The turkey shortage during WWII was because many turkeys were sent overseas to soldiers, according to the bar. 

Sohpie died in 1956, but her family kept running the bar. In 1958, her son Walter’s wife Emily was robbed at gunpoint and had $50 stolen from the bar, according to the Tribune. In February of 1964 Walter died, followed by his father Joseph in September.

In January 1973, two men entered the bar at closing time and announced a robbery, allegedly holding Emily and another patron, an off-duty prison guard, at gunpoint. The guard wriggled free and fired six shots at one of the men, killing him, before handcuffing the other, according to the Tribune. 

In 1985, Emilie Kruzel died. At some point in the 1980s, Josephine Kruzel, wife of Walter “Sonny” Kruzel Jr., began a nearly two-decade run at the bar, according to an Instagram post from the tavern. 

In 2021, the bar sealed off its keg vault along the building’s Fry Street facade. Embedded in a wide step between the facade and the sidewalk was a metal door that swung open for barreled beer.

Vibe: Find The Chipp Inn off the beaten path in a residential neighborhood. Located at the bottom of a simple 2-story building with a gabled roof, its facade is made from a mix of siding and brick. The entrance is a door inside a nook off of Fry Street between two windows bearing names like Schlitz, Hamm’s, Old Chicago, Leinenkugel, Pabst, and Miller. The windows let in an unusual amount of natural light for a dive, but that turns to a red glow at night as the signs take over.

Instantly you’ll notice the original tin ceiling from when it opened publicly as a bar after the repeal of Prohibition — copper, peeling and full of secrets. In the main room you’re surrounded by sage green walls and wood board paneling. People love the small red pool table in the back room, cozy atmosphere, and long tavern history.  A fantastic old Hamm’s block hangs from the ceiling and there are TVs in the corners.

Peruse family photos of the Kruzels and artifacts from the bar’s past hung on the walls. Then, shift your eyes to one of the bar’s framed signs like, “Your wife can only get so mad! Why not stay a little longer?” to get a sense of its personality. An annual spelling bee and chili cookoff are part of the bar’s treasured traditions.

“Today the Chipp Inn remains relatively visually unchanged, retaining its period Brunswick back and front bar, milkglass light fixtures and pressed tin ceiling,” the bar wrote on Yelp. “The function of this tavern is likewise unchanged, serving as a public gathering place for neighbors and strangers of varying ages, genders and ethnicities to socialize.” 

What to drink: Sit at the bar or at one of the establishment’s antique tables and enjoy generous pours at fair prices. Get basic beer (plus some surprise selections) in bottles, cans and drafts. 

What reviewers say: There’s something mysterious and charming about The Chipp Inn. Customers love its long history, off-the-beaten-path location, and friendly atmosphere. Others on Google say:

• “Do you like drinking in bars that look like houses? If so, you’re in for a treat.”

• “One of the oldest bars in Chicago and a good one at that. Walked in one day and fell in love with the simplicity and homely feel.”

• “Classic corner bar like my grandpa used to take me to decades ago. Tried my first, and last, Chicago Handshake here.”

• “Locals only on the weekdays and a party on Fri/Sat. Great place to [hang out] and chat with strangers over a Schlitz. Cash only, no bad vibes allowed.”

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• In a nutshell: Vintage family-owned neighborhood bar with an artsy twist located in a former funeral home.
• Payment type: Cards have no meaning here — cash-only 
• Food: Some small chip bags and wooden bowls for cheesy poofs, or BYOF 
• Malört: Big time

The early years: Some of the earliest records for the location of Bernice’s show a woman who lived there by the name of Katrina/Katherine Block was a midwife in 1884. A city directory of businesses in 1887 also showed a Frederick Block as a butcher at the address, along with Julius Fisher. Other early names include William Gerringer, who sold wood and coal, and Frederick Schroeder, a painter. According to the bar’s owner Steve Badauskas, it was a funeral parlor in the early 1900s.

A rebellious house of the dead: By 1914, it did appear to be used as a funeral home. Chicago Lithuanian-American newspaper Lietuva reported on a woman whose funeral was held there with some controversy: According to the story, the woman was to be buried at St. Casimir’s Cemetery, but didn’t belong to the Catholic parish “and therefore local priests refuse to bury her with church rites.” With special permission from the archbishop, Father K. Ambrozaitis and a deacon performed the church ceremony, but the other piests weren’t happy — they sent letters threatening to “break all the windows” of the chapel “if they dared to let the ‘godless’ body into the church.” 

Instead, Ambrozaitis went on with the funeral, delivering “an impressive sermon, during which half of” the attendees “burst into tears,” according to the article. 

At the address, people could also sign up for a subscription to the Catholic Lithuanian newspaper “Katalikas” from P. Kenutis, according to an ad.

Speakeasy years: In 1920, weeks after the start of Prohibition, ads started to appear in another Chicago-based Lithuanian newspaper, Draugas, for The Sen-Rayto Co. at the location, which sold “hair tonic” for men. The ads lasted about a month between February and March. Cars continued to be sold from the garage, including limousines. 

By 1924, the Bridgeport Auto School, run by Petras Gusaitis, was open to budding mechanics, with ads appearing in Vilnis, a Communist Lithuanian newspaper published in Chicago. Later that year, another business at the location was the Mercer Parts and Service Co., a dealer of car parts, services, and cars themselves.

The front of the property continued to hold funeral services, with a story on the funeral of Everest F. Balchunas, a Lithuanian immigrant and member of the Lithuanian socialist federation, whose was held there, according to a blurb in The Daily Worker newspaper. Bernice’s claims that the building was a speakeasy during this time.

Post-Prohibition Communist bar: In the 1930s, after prohibition ended, out was the funeral parlor and in was the tavern: Adam’s Place, opened by Adam and Anna Dauksha. In 1940, the couple placed an ad in Chicago’s Lithuanian communist newspaper congratulating it on 20 years of publication.

Adam Dauksha was the owner of several establishments in the “Lithuanian Downtown” of South Halsted Street, according to the book “Images of America: Bridgeport.” In 1951, Adam went foraging for mushrooms for the first time and brought his bounty back to the tavern, daring anyone who doubted his spoils to come see them at the bar, according to an item in Vilnis. 

In 1956, the tavern was listed in the Bridgeport News as Marie’s Lounge, and by 1963 it was listed as John’s Place, run by “your friendly host” John Bardauskas. 

Becoming Bernice’s: Badauskas had been an employee of Adam’s and took over the bar in the early 60s. By 1965, it was John & Bernice’s Tavern, and in 1975 the couple bought the building outright from Adam. While it was his operation, it was wife Bernice who stole the community’s hearts, with the bar often being referred to as hers. 

“I came down one day . . . John asked me to watch the bar. And I never left,” Bernice told the Chicago Reader in 2015. 

Adam’s picture still hangs on the wall. John died in 1998 at the age of 85 after “outliv[ing] most of his clientele,” his son Steve told South Side Weekly in 2018. Sons Mike and Steve joined their mom to help run the bar. Steve quit his job as the manager of a factory and the head of his own machine shop, he said. 

He ushered in a new era of open mic, live music, karaoke and Stingo, a popular bingo night Wednesday tradition hosted by Steve, with about 10,000 games or more under his belt. In 2018, Steve said people have gotten engaged at Stingo and that there are about a dozen Stingo or Bernice’s tattoos that he knows of. Some of the tattoos are of the bar’s coasters, which showcase art designed by Steve himself.

Bernice died in 2017 but her legacy of being a woman for the people lives on. Her son Steve is there to do her bidding. 

“This is my house,” he said. “I’m greedy. I want good people, I want only good people. As one of my friends who comes in here puts it, ‘This place is a house of friendship.’” 

Vibe: At the base of a two-story building with a brick facade that hides the original Bernice’s Tavern. Above the door is a red and green sign with “Bernice’s Tavern” in gold. Only one small window with a phenomenal neon sign alerts you to the fun inside, which you can experience after being buzzed in.

Once you enter, marvel at the red-Terra cotta colored walls and the cheeky art, red neon Malört sign, guitars, photos, signs for Stingo and brewery memorabilia, and the Halsted street sign that blankets them. The whole place is decorated with tchotchkes, knick-knacks and creative do-dads, with white lights strung around the bar. In the back, the ceiling is still partially tiled. The retro ‘50s jukebox has a solid rock-and-roll selection. There’s a small stage in the back corner with a disco ball.

The customers: Everyone from artists to blue-collar workers hang out here, vibing and making art one way or another. The key here is to be nice. 

What to drink: Pull on up to the Formica bar counter or one of the wall-mounted high tops with round black barstools for a cold Svyturys, a classic Lithuanian Beer. Or, opt for a bloody, canned or bottled beer, or a stiff shot. A wood sign reading “Bernice & John’s Place” still hangs above the bar, a gift from their son Steve.

What reviewers say: Bernice’s is “simply one of the most excellent places in Chicago to be, period,” reviewers say, citing the great vibe, owner, and drinks. According to others, visitors should know: 

• “Chicago dive bar. What you see is what you get. CASH ONLY! If you’re looking for an umbrella in your drink don’t go.”

• “There’s a sign on the wall that says, ‘If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.’ It very well defines this bar. And it’s exactly what I was looking for to stop in and get a quick beer.”

• “A neighborhood institution. They love their local regulars and are always kind to new faces.”

• “One of the top 5 bars in America. If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.”

• “I [don’t know] what I walked into lol I came here to grab a drink. Turns out it’s bingo night but they call it ‘Stingo’ cus the guy who’s hosting it is named Steve…Someone yells ‘Stingo,’ they get handed a mini fridge. He yells out the number 69 and everyone yells out ‘Yesssss.’ Someone brings in a cake with candles and suddenly everyone’s singing happy birthday and hands him the cake. This is Bernice’s Tavern.”

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• In a nutshell: A Hyde Park institution known for its University of Chicago ties, Swiss hamburgers, and love for longtime owner Jimmy Wilson.
• Payment type: Cashola, exclusively 
• Food: YES, an actual kitchen with greasy spoon classics 
• Malört: Yes

The early years: This Hyde Park establishment has been slinging beers and burgers since the early 1950s. But before it became an institution, it was another fledgling business trying to find its way. 

In 1926, the space was available for rent, perhaps for a restaurant, a Tribune ad suggested. In 1933, another ad was seeking boys on the South Side 16 and up to sell ice cream bars at the address. By the 1940s it had become a bar called Little Tom’s Place, according to UChicago Magazine. That same year, an unknown by the name of “Jimmy” started bartending in the neighborhood. 

In 1943, when liquor was scarce, the tavern was robbed of $490 and some booze. At that time, “whiskey has become as good as cash” the Tribune wrote when describing a slate of gangster-driven hijackings and robberies of taverns and delivery trucks.

Battle for the  Woodlawn Tap: Five years later in 1948, James “Jimmy” Wilson and Michael A. Filz bought the bar and an adjoining liquor store after hearing it had become available. They named it the Woodlawn Tap, though it would become known as just “Jimmy’s” to most.

In 1952, the city revoked its liquor license after a 15-year-old burglary suspect claimed he was served booze there. However, the revocation and complaints of underage serving were attacked by two city officials known to frequent the bar who had never “found anything wrong there,” according to the Tribune. Wilson was arrested for selling liquor to minors after police brought the boy to the bar and he pointed Wilson out as having served him five pitchers of beer.

Wilson declared he would take a lie detector test to prove his innocence, and he had support from several University of Chicago professors who said they used the tavern as a “study hall” where they could read the newspaper while enjoying a beer and a hamburger. The judge said there was no law permitting the return of a license after revocation, but it was eventuallly indeed returned and business continued.

In 1958, the tavern was noted as having “chased beatniks away by playing classical music” and “encouraging ‘square’ activities such as chess.”

After Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination in 1968, the area saw disinvestment. By 1980 it was “one of three buildings in 55th Street left standing after the urban renewal of the ‘60s” according to the Tribune, still a place for “university students, neighborhood chauvinists, and nostalgic alumni.”

Wilson died in 1999 and the tavern’s liquor license went along with him. It was closed for a few years while new owners Bill and Jim Callahan replaced much of the interior and worked to bring the place up to code. The bar once again had to fight the city to restore its license — they said that the tavern was 11 feet too close to a school. Eventually, their lawyers successfully argued otherwise and the license was returned.

Today, it’s run by Matt Martell, a longtime employee.

Achievements: Jimmy’s, aka Woodlawn Tap, is simply legendary, an institution. According to the Chicago Bar Project, the establishment is responsible for Illinois’ smoking ban after the Environmental Protection Agency found the bar to have the worst air quality of all the places it inspected. The air was found to be “hazardous” — the equivalent of a volcanic eruption that was 195 times more polluted than a non-smoking location. 

Still, a place this hazy has served Pulitzer and Nobel prize winners. The University of Chicago even named him an honorary post-doctoral alumnus for his 70th birthday.

After Jimmy’s death, the state legislature passed a House resolution officially honoring him and recognizing that he “built a tradition of bringing together community residents…crossing divides of race, class, and ethnicity and providing entertainment, humor, and joy to the patrons.”

Vibe: Woodlawn Tap is part of a single-story brick strip building with large glass pane windows and a white sign above them with the bar’s technical name in bold white letters. There’s abundant light in the day thanks to the windows but it turns dark at night with its black-painted walls and ceiling. 

It has a multi-room layout with its main room being home to the bar. Pick a barstool along the Formica bar with its worn wooden rail, speckled from time with tiny worn-in knots and divots. The back bar is wood and the tin ceiling is original. There is a handful of short tables and a few high tops in the main bar, TVs for sports and beer memorabilia on the walls. 

The middle section is known as the “liquor room” for its previous history as the liquor shop, and in the west room, formerly the University Room, extra tables and a second bar are on hand for especially busy times. It’s here where you may also see or at least hear from a couple of rooms over a jazz performance. The swinging door that separates two of the middle sections and the lattices above them are also original, Martell told the Hyde Park Herald.

Elsewhere you’ll find stained-glass hanging beer lights, photographs, an old non-working cigarette dispenser, and a sprawling space for Chicagoans and visitors alike to mingle (or not) with a cold drink and hot fried food. 

The bar opens early at 10:30 a.m., a tradition from the old days when the area’s blue-collar workers got off the third shift and needed a spot for a beer and a sandwich. Back then, it opened at 8 a.m.

The customers: Over the years, it’s been visited by everyone from poet Dylan Thomas to literary nerds to construction workers — a mix that continues today.

Jimmy’s still “busily caters to students, professors and even Nobel Peace prize winners from the University of Chicago with equal vigor as to neighborhood residents, tradesmen and barstool philosophers from the School of Hard Knocks, of all races and economic solvencies,” according to the Chicago Bar Project.

What to eat and drink: Dives don’t typically serve food but that goes out the window at Jimmy’s. The pub serves food in paper boats and disposable plates on cafeteria trays and is famous for its hamburgers (get it with Swiss). Patrons also love the fries, Polishes with grilled onions, the Rueben, and the hot dog.

Wash it down with help from the tap — a classic Miller or something more crafty should be on hand. You can also get wine, a classic cocktail, a beer and a shot, or pitchers. 

What reviewers say: Throughout its ebbs and flows, the Woodlawn Tap is still a “a community place,” Martell said. It’s a dive “in the best sense of the word,” he contends. Reviewers on Google seem to agree.

• “I stumbled upon this bar on a cold and windy Friday morning and found a friend in the bartender.” 

• “It’s a college dive bar, it provides exactly what is promised. A variety of reasonably priced good beer, [a] basic cocktail if you want one; tasty burgers, hot dogs, and even vegan sandwiches to satisfy drunchies; and some really pleasant bartenders keeping the annoying grad students and crusty local regulars happy.”

• “The vibes are always immaculate; bartenders are chill and actually skilled, tons of seating available.”

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• In a nutshell: Possible watering hole to Kurt Vonnegut in a 1930s Art Deco building with one of the best neon bar signs in the city.
• Payment type: Cash-only 
• Food: Feast on chip baggies or bring outside food 
• Dog Policy: Welcome
• Malört: Oh yeah

The early years: This long-time Hyde Park lounge was supposed to be a spectacular hotel for the rich. In 1924, the Tribune reported that the northeast corner of 55th Street and Everest Avenue was slated for the development of a tall “high-class hotel.” But while other hotels and apartments went up around it, for years it remained undeveloped.

It wasn’t until 1937 that plans were underway for the building, designed by the firm Lowenberg & Lowenberg and owned by Henry Perlman, set for completion in October of that year, according to the newspaper. The building was to cost $200,000 to construct and would be housed by tenants Stineway Drug Company and The National Tea Company, the Tribune reported. An ad seeking more tenants in 1938 suggested it would be a “gold mine for delicatessen, florist, [or a] cleaner.”

The bar years: By 1939 it was Art Frasik’s Cocktail Lounge and a directory of liquor licenses from 1946 lists the business as the 1750 Cocktail Lounge. Supposedly, author Kurt Vonnegut drank there and was possibly inspired to write his first novel “Player Piano” from spending time at the bar, which had a jazz piano then.

In 1970, it was advertised as Howard’s Cocktail Lounge and by 1975 it appeared as The Cove Lounge — a name which has remained ever since.

Vibe: At the eastern end of a tall, single-story concrete Art Deco building is The Cove Lounge, famous for its large classic neon sign, which reads “Cocktail” vertically and “Lounge” horizontally. 

Its front door sits between two large windows. You’ll know that you’re at a bar because of the huge “cocktail” sign, but you may not be sure which one as the actual words “The Cove” are nearly impossible to find from the outside — unless you’re looking at the alley side of the back door, which displays the bar’s name framing an old ship’s wheel. 

Walk into the main bar room and you’re transported back in time. If you notice a smell in the air, you’re not alone, but you know mysterious odors are par for the course. Most of the walls are red and white. They’re less donned with clutter than other dives, but what they do have is classic, like brewery mirrors, neon signs and the occasional photograph. 

The red carpet — turned maroon from decades of tread — leads to a brick-colored tile floor with red leather high-back chairs lined up along its surface. On the left, the large bowed wooden bar is lit with vintage fixtures and a rail with chairs is on the wall across the way. 

According to the Chicago Bar Project, a former owner, Dick O’Connell, outfitted the bar’s now largely faded nautical theme. Above the bar large fish are mounted, hinting at the past motif.

Beyond the bar the red carpet returns. There is another wall rail and a few short tables with antique chairs. Above the rail is a city-inspired mural. 

Originally a one-room bar, The Cove expanded into the second storefront of a former bookstore. There is a major vibe shift between the two rooms — the first being older, darker and grittier compared to the bright, hip, vibrancy of the more updated second room.

The adjoining room has even more murals — the Chicago skyline dons the east wall, complete with Barack Obama’s face, depictions of jazz and Chicago history, and a man cheersing a frothing beer at the bar with its iconic sign. Across the room is a street art-style rendition of “Hyde Park” and another spelling out “South Side.” Strung lights hang between the walls, and the room houses a handful of sturdy wooden picnic tables, a couple of short two-tops, and a section of rail along the wall with high-back chairs. The wall is cut out there so the two rooms can see each other and that section of rail is shared by both sides.

The second room also hosts karaoke and open mic nights, plus other events like fitness classes and chess nights. For those who prefer darts, that option is there, too.

The customers: The clientele beside you is likely a mix of students and neighborhood regulars, all looking to drink in some Hyde Park history. 

What to drink: All the usual drinks from Schlitz to Revolution can be found here — a mix of cans, bottles, and taps with the basics as well as some Midwestern crafts. Get a shot or a straightforward cocktail. Customers say they appreciate the affordable prices. 

What reviewers say: Reviewers praise the friendly atmosphere and even better bartenders. It’s a “plain and simple” neighborhood bar, yet still the “best bar in Hyde Park,” according to Google reviews.

• “What you need to know about the Cove is that it is a very local neighborhood bar. You should build a [reputation] with the bartenders and bouncers, conduct yourself well, and after they get to know you, you’re treated like extended family.” 

• “This is the quintessential Hyde Park dive. Community. Friendship. Booze. Come [with] a positive attitude. Good people.”

• “Terrific bar to pop in on the way back from a dip by the lake. Spacious inside, with pleasant staff and cheap beer. The decor is fun and lively, and it feels like you’re in Hyde Park.”

• “I found the last great dive bar in Hyde Park. It reflects the different classes, races and ages that inhabit this amazing neighborhood. Sometimes you need a good hole in the wall to get your head together. This one will be my go-to place from now on.”

• “It’s the same place that I used to visit 45 [years] ago.”

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• In a nutshell: If you love drinking and watching 737s land, this exceptionally wood-paneled Midway Airport neighborhood bar is the place to be. 
• Payment type: Paper or plastic, your choice 
• Food: Mini-bagged snacks may be available, or bring your own  
• Dog Policy: Come on in

History: The origins of Mr. C’s Midway Bar date back to at least the early 1940s. A 1944 mention in the Tribune said Italian tavern owner Achille Liberatore was robbed at the location by four men of $75 worth of liquor. Liberatore died in 1958 and in 1961, a Chicago Croatian newspaper had an ad naming the location as Vern and Ann’s Tavern. 

Later, a June 1983 notice in the Tribune showed a Daniel J. Lane applying for a liquor retailer’s license for the address, and by 1993 Mr. C’s Midway Bar Inc. was incorporated, according to state records. 

Andrew Chilmon, the son of Polish immigrants, eventually became the owner after he bought the bar from a friend who had named it after his uncle, the original “Mr. C,” according to Sun-Times article. He also said that at one point the bar was owned by a pilot. Now Chilmon, who grew up around Midway, is Mr. C. 

Vibe: Mr. C’s location offers a unique place to lets you live out your Wayne’s World plane-watching fantasy, being just three short blocks from the walls of Midway International Airport. Planes pass over the pub like clockwork at a height that could only feel normal to South Siders. It’s a place where off-duty pilots, flight attendants, ramp agents, baggage tossers and maintenance workers can gather alongside locals and travelers to take the edge off.

Located on the bottom floor of a standalone two-story brick building at the northwest corner of Kilpatrick Avenue and 63rd Street, Mr. C’s exterior has two glass block “windows” with a white awning above saying “Welcome to…Mr. C’s Midway Bar” in black font. An Old Style sign was replaced with one that depicts a tan, blue-eyed bulldog with a spiky red collar holding a martini. Enter the bar through the single door on the left.

Most of the natural light comes from the front door being open, with help from a few bulbs above the bar back and some glowing tube lights under the bar tops. The decent-sized bar is wooden underneath (now covered by silver aluminum sheeting for a more industrial look) and Formica on top. It spans most of the eastern wall with black high-top chairs. The barback has two display cases on each end filled with liquor, glassware, and trinkets. 

On the left wall is a jukebox and historic overhead shots of the runway field. The linoleum tile floor is a neutral color. Admire the bar’s exceptional diagonal wood paneling, a feature tied for first place with the fantastic copper tin ceiling. The room also has the obligatory stuffed blue marlin, sports memorabilia, neon beer signs, family pictures, old photos of Midway and plenty of other nods to its aviation history.

The bar leads into another room with games like darts, a pool table and other video games. In other eras, this space has also showcased an ancient cigarette dispenser and old gumball machines. A rectangular beer-sponsored lamp lights the pool table and there’s additional rail seating along the wall. You’ll also find here a tribute Chilmon made for his friend Johnny “Red” Kerr, the famed former Chicago Bulls announcer and coach.