But still, while everything outside is blinding heat and stark industry, inside the 1889 is an antiquarian's fantasy of Old West atmosphere. And once you reach its swinging saloon doors, you just might feel like you've stumbled from a dusty frontier street into a Tombstone-style watering hole, complete with card games, whiskey by the bottle and painted ladies. In the giant asphalt pasture that is the parking lot of the Stockyards steak house, you'll find the 1889. The bar has a seasick quality to it, seemingly designed by munchkins with a desire to add on, like a vortex house on the side of the highway.Īnd if you have to break the seal, the rest room features a green shower curtain tween urinal and toilet for moments of reflection.Īmong the titty bars, porn parlors and machine shops of East Washington, it's hard to resist its charms. The paneled-cum-patchwork ceiling droops poetically in the right places, making the average Joe feel 10 feet tall.
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Having opened in 1933, it boasts the second-oldest continuous liquor license in the county. The indoor/outdoor carpet was once burgundy, the patrons range from neighborhoody to weekend hipsters to indigent. It's dark and smoky, old and wonderfully worn. At least one pool table and one pinball game shuffleboard and darts a bonus.įinally, a jukebox featuring '70s rock, tear-in-my-beer country and eclectic oldies. Affordable shots of your favorite amnesia.
A cold-ass bottle of Bud for around two bucks. Plus: a sense of history (in Phoenix, this means at least 25 years old). A hard-to-define but present odor, either coming from the belly-up buddy next to you or the ancient, labyrinthine pipes also preferred. Wood wall coverings a plus and a wood bar itself, better.