5 Favorite Bars and Five Bar Stories

In what may be a shocking revelation to those who know me in my former capacity as a schoolteacher in this town, but now and again, once in a while, I go to a bar and order a drink. Let me make it worse by saying that—aghast!—a few times I’ve had an adult beverage with a former student and at least once was served a drink containing alcohol by someone who had written five-paragraph essays for me. If you need a moment, go ahead, take it now, then read on. It’s going to be okay, I promise.

While not an expert on anything in the spirit, brewed, or vinification categories, and as someone still not sure how one makes an ordinary martini dirty, let me say that I feel at least minimally qualified to single out my favorite places to sit and sip—maybe sometimes gulp—a liquid item for which I had to show my driver’s license in order to initiate the purchase. Let me also acknowledge that this may be the most reckless, rabble-rousing list I might ever create, for more than coffee, more than your high school alma mater (Go Falcons!), misprizing and possibly excluding an establishment that serves hard drinks may stir the ire of some readers beyond forgiveness. Luckily, I’m a brave man. Remember, I taught middle school. So here we go, five favorite bars and five vignettes as to why.

The Fireside Lounge

1453 Webster Street, thefiresidelounge.com , 510-864-1244

Well of course everyone loves the Fireside! They love the indoor and outdoor seating, and when they open the big windows. You can watch a game there, or play trivia, listen to really good music, eat their really good bar snacks, drink from their ever-changing selection of incredible beers, and, of course, everyone loves Sandy, who makes it all work. She’s warm and friendly, her bartenders are warm and friendly, the loyal customers are warm and friendly, and when I’m there, I’m warm and friendly. While I don’t think there’s an actual fireplace where one can sit beside the fire, the Fireside really does have that feel.

I love it for all the reasons above, but for an additional one unique to me and my circumstances. I run the Foodbank Players and we play three doors down at the Healing Garden. We’re at 1435 Webster and the Fireside is 1453, so we’re number-cousins. But we’re also neighbors in the old fashioned way that gets people all weepy and hankering for days of yore—we help each other out! If my actors need to do some important actor blathering (“You were so good! No, you were so good!”) we head there to blather.

And then there was the time I needed some black paint to touch up the stage in the Healing Garden in preparation for an upcoming show. Our stage is really the stage Tanoa Stewart built and rebuilt in cahoots with the Fireside and WABA . And when ’twas made, ’twas painted black. But stages are subject to use not only by actors but musicians, dancers, and kids who sometimes like to climb onto the stage and cavort like kids. Set pieces and musical equipment gets moved on and off, so sometimes there’s scrapes and you need to paint the scrapes. One time I needed to and went over to the Fireside, and a very warm and friendly guy there said sure, the paint is on a shelf in the back, help yourself. So I got the paint, did the touch-up work, returned the paint, said thanks, and that’s how the stage came to look so good for those actors who really were so, so good.

The Lemon Drop

2542 Santa Clara Avenue, lemondropalameda.com

Let’s not talk about the time at the Lemon Tree when I accidentally sat on a guy’s seat while he was in the bathroom and moved when he returned only to earn audible grumbles shared with his pal at how audacious it was for me to not know it was his seat. We were all way too old and fragile for fisticuffs, but the tension was as thick as waffle syrup. Instead, let me sing the praises of the 2.0 version, The Lemon Drop, by noting the very cool décor, the very cool folks who work there, the cool imbibers, and how fun it is to hang out not on Park Street, but just off, a few blocks down, where the Drop is nestled alongside and across from some shops (including my favorite restaurant in Alameda, Asena —but let’s save that for a future five favs). Speaking of cool, that’s part of the story I’m going to tell about this great place.

Once upon a time I met a friend there for a drink. We chose to sit outside on the really cool overstuffed couches, but as time went by the fog rolled in, we were ill-suited, cool turned to cold, and we were uncomfortable. That’s when our server saved the night. Next to each couch they have these outdoor heater things so we asked our person if they might turn it on. Turns out the propane tank was empty, so another was retrieved, but it too was bereft of gas. Then heater #3 arrived, and after a few twists and turns and clicks, voilà ! The heating device glowed red and we ceased our shivering. Old people often complain about how service was destroyed by the Millennials or Generation X, Y, or Z, but that’s just hot air. That night, at that wonderful bar, someone less than half my age went out of their way to make me comfortable, and that’s why The Lemon Drop made this list.

Lucky 13

1301 Park Street, lucky13alameda.com , 510-523-2118

Lucky 13 is lucky in that more than any other bar in town, it is the bar chosen by locals to commemorate the achievement of another significant number, 21. Maybe having strolled past and stared through the large windows during their younger years, when many of them reach that milestone, it is there where they must go with their legal pals, sometimes wearing a crown or sash announcing the occasion. More than once I’ve been there to witness this, and one time it was not pretty. Said celebrant, replete with royal accessories, was being helped out by friends after having had one or maybe five or ten too many. Oh 21!

I will also say that there are at least two distinct Lucky 13. One I’d visit after work to maybe sit and grade papers while eating fries from Scolari’s next door, alongside others of my age nicely winding their workday down. Then there is the nighttime Lucky 13, which I’d visit after an evening of selling books across the street. Once the sun had set—and this was more on the Thursday-Saturday part of the week—we elders were few in the crowd, with the population being patrons whose Social Security was way off in the distance.

My Lucky 13 story is about Chris, one of the barkeeps there, who was central to a stretch of joy that still makes my skin get goosebumpy. I’m a Warriors fan, been so since I was a kid and they won their first championship in the Bay Area in 1975. So from 2015 to 2018, when they added three more banners with that Curry guy, his court pal Klay, and Draymond Green as the core 3/5, and even during the 73-win season that did not end with a ring, having someone to talk hoops with was essential. Books Inc. closed at 10 and the Warrior’s game was usually done by then, so I’d cross the street, sit, order a PBR or Scrimshaw, and talk hoops with my guy. Chris played hoops, still plays, so with patience and presence he’d help me understand even more how magnificent it all was. And still is! Go Dubs! Go Chris! Go Lucky 13!

Swell Bar (formerly McGrath’s Pub)

1539 Lincoln Avenue, swellbarca.com , 510-263-8004

Nostalgia is pretty darn wonderful, especially when the place that triggers your warm memories is still around to visit and rejoice. When I visit Swell, a neighborhood bar in the very literal sense, with a corner store across the street and laundromat next door, there is warmth, a smile from the bartender and folks who walked over and in after work or dinner. Part of what I love about bars is that the people there—those behind and in front of the actual bar—dress like me, casual. Sure, sometimes a customer or server may fancy it up a bit, but at Swell my baggy shorts and worn T-shirts fit right in.

My story about Swell goes back to when it went under the name of McGrath’s Pub. I’d visit after taking my kids to play practice. I had a few hours, teachers get thirsty, and they used to have something really remarkable there on Monday nights. Bluegrass musicians from all over the bay area would gather, forming that unbroken circle of guitarists, lute players, sometimes a fiddler, occasionally a banjo person. Ten to 15 pluckers and strummers, standing and performing. There was a beautiful process to how it worked. A person would start, not from a pre-arranged list, but more on a whim, and everyone would join in until they were all playing the same song with a polite gusto unique to acoustic music. They sang the same language. One time a young person sat next to me at the bar, instrument case in his lap, and shared that he came to play, but was nervous, noting how good they all were. Eventually he unzipped his piece, stepped forward, and the circle opened and grew by one.

Wally’s Corner

1600 Webster Street, @wallys-corner on Instagram, 510-522-4412

Wally’s Corner may be the smallest bar of my five, and maybe the shrimpiest in town, but the ambience is terrific and I’ve never felt crowded there. Always a seat, often a table, a game of pool easily available. In many ways Wally’s is the West End of Alameda, or maybe the old West End, the working class part of town that, along with Ricky’s Tattoos and Albert’s Cafe (now gone) were places where the folks there went when they wanted to be somewhere. I’ve never heard anyone shout at Wally’s, never seen a bar fight brewing (sorry), and happily never saw a former student stagger in or out. But one night, there with a fellow educator, I did see something rare and wonderful.

Having chosen Wally’s over the noise of an establishment nearby, we ambled in, took a seat, got our drinks and began to do what teachers do—we kvetched about how hard our job was. Kids! Parents! Administrators! State Testing! Ugh! And that’s when it happened. An older woman I had not really noticed earlier, fully tattooed, sauntered her way towards the bar. Dancing to the music, she bestowed personal performances on each of us patrons with equal parts badda-bing and badda-boom. Go Wally’s Corner! Go Dancer!

Okay, Alameda Post readers, bring it on—who did I forget, how foolish have I been, let’s start the what abouts right now!

Gene Kahane is the founder of the Foodbank Players , a lifelong teacher, and former Poet Laureate for the City of Alameda. Reach him at gene@alamedapost.com . His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Gene-Kahane .

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