Old Man Bar

OUR ARTICLE

Every son has a different memory of the man who they were once a twinkle in his eye. The smell of new leather when opening up your first baseball glove, the feeling of shaving cream on your adolescent face before he wiped it away with a razor. Catching a game where his beloved team was playing — now undoubtedly your favorite team.

They all had their tendencies, too, right? Crunching oat bran while reading the local paper every morning, always laughing at their own jokes, or the way they talked about the internet, never truly understanding it. What about vices? How did he take his Martini? Or was it scotch, neat or on the rocks? Maybe just a classic beer from the local watering hole? Regardless, he was indubitably a man of distinct tastes, pleasures, and traditions — your old man.

In this man cave, vintage glassware is your hammer and bourbon will be the nail that sets you free.

Nestled behind Hatchet Hall like your dad’s garage in your parents’ house is Old Man Bar. A true ode to the past, where you can imagine Davey Crockett meeting up with Bob Dylan to toast an Old Fashioned while talking about motorcycles, taxidermy, and the new and old trends of bourbon and Japanese whiskey.

While the crowd it attracts isn’t famous for singing “Like a Rolling Stone,” that doesn’t stop the bartenders from throwing the record on and letting that vinyl spin. No Congressman Crockett, either, but the aesthetics inside take you right back to his old Tennessee home.

When the restaurant and bar were under reconstruction, they landed on the name “Old Man Bar” for the space behind the swinging doors in the back of the eatery. The name comes from the space’s old tenants, Crest House. Rumor has it that every day at 4 o’clock, the bar would fill up with old men all hiding out from their wives. Cigarettes and cigars were puffed, martinis were inhaled, politics were vehemently argued, and more than one fly-fishing tale was told. And all the while, we sat in the carpool lane with mom…

Aesthetically, the bar renovations are more money than your dad’s money clip. The joint is an ancient haunt in all the ways it should be. Besides the aforementioned record player and taxidermy, they’ve got animal skulls and black-and-white portraits illuminated on the walls by the dim shine of antique lamps, candles, and a fireplace. The brown wooden bar top complements the handsome glow of whiskey bottles on the wall, and the black bar stools lure you in to grab a seat and start talking about stuff you don’t really know about, like backgammon, Richard Nixon, and Lucky Strike cigarettes.

In this man cave, vintage glassware is your hammer and bourbon will be the nail that sets you free. They have ten different Old Fashioned variations on the menu, and we’ll be damned if you don’t try them all. This place is what would happen if you and Clint Eastwood got to do the adult version of a father and son school project — and the topic here is creating a grade-A badass Old Man Bar.

[Note from the author: My dad once told me, “You’re not a man until you’ve seen every James Bond movie.]