OP-ED: Where everybody knows your name
September 30th marked the 40th anniversary of the debut of the most bar-centric sitcom in television history when “Cheers” premiered on NBC in 1982. “Cheers” went on to become one of the most beloved television shows of the modern era, and its iconic opening theme song was perfection in capturing the essence of what a neighborhood bar can mean to a community. It is a place where you feel welcomed and at home the moment you enter and where the troubles of daily life can be left on the other side of the door if only for a couple of hours.
Taverns are, of course, deeply woven into the DNA of American culture. Members of the community would gather at the local tavern to spread news, talk politics, strengthen communal bonds and consume strong spirits and smoke clay pipes. We know that this is where the seeds of revolution were sewn, and here in Western Pennsylvania it is where the Whiskey Rebellion was conceived.
As the nation grew, the importance of the neighborhood bar was not diminished but enhanced as places for thirsty factory workers to gather after a grueling shift in the steel mills and glass houses. It’s no coincidence that many bars were built adjacent to factory properties.
The neighborhood bar is not defined by location alone, although many in my hometown – Chester’s Tavern, Celetti’s, Barbella’s – were located in actual residential neighborhoods and some of them operate to this day, but more of character built over decades of operation. A neighborhood bar has its own personality, dim lighting, yellowed framed newspapers of monumental sports achievements and comical regalia such as a large jar filled with “de-boned chicken” – hard-boiled eggs.
Neighborhood bars are owned by saloon keepers who live above or in close proximity to the bar and know all of their customers. It’s a place where you can walk in with a dime in your pocket and drink your fill because the owner knows that without fail you’ll be there on pay day to settle your tab. Try as they might, modern chain restaurants cannot artificially manufacture the sense of a neighborhood bar. Try to order a boiler maker from a guy in a bow tie and suspenders festooned with funny buttons and you’ll set off a verbal interpretation that would look like the UN.
I have a favorite watering hole that is the quintessential neighborhood bar. Its eclectic and welcoming atmosphere is what makes a great neighborhood bar. There is everyone from construction workers to bankers to people who haven’t worked a day in their life. Prejudice, bigotry and judgment are all absent in this tavern, as evidenced by a Black transvestite who used to be a somewhat regular. Although I did once chide him for wearing an evening gown before 6 p.m., that’s about as heated as the mood gets.
If the local tavern has survived from our nation’s founding to the present day I feel hopeful that they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, and I think our society needs these oases in an increasingly faceless world. Modernity is foisting upon us places that won’t take cash as payment and require you to use a QR code just to read a menu. We need places where the other patrons feel like family. Where the barkeep is always glad to see you. Where you can forget the cares of the world. And yes, where everybody knows your name.
Joe Manning is a resident of Washington.