The Ultimate Guide to Classic S.F. Bars Because the city's old bars come in all shapes and sizes, and they should all be appreciated. Share your favorite

The Gangway. The Elbo Room. Hemlock Tavern. The Lexington. Which beloved, long-standing bar will be the next to close? Every year, a little bit of the old yields to the new, and we mourn the loss of a bygone San Francisco – a San Francisco where a bar didn’t have to have a “concept,” where drinks didn’t cost $15, where bartenders actually talked back to you. Whenever news circulates that a local drinking institution like Mr. Bing’s or Doc’s Clock or the 500 Club changes owners, or loses its lease, or might, for any other reason, be forced to close, we hear an outcry from sentimental San Franciscans who don’t want to see another dive bar, or neighborhood bar, or family-oriented bar eclipsed by a faux speakeasy serving matcha-infused cocktails. Read more

1851 Old Ship Saloon The Old Ship Saloon’s claim to being the oldest bar in San Francisco is disputed, but what’s indisputable is the awesomeness of the Old Ship’s origin story. When a Gold Rush ship named the Arkansas ran aground on Alcatraz in 1849, it was towed to shore. There, it got a second life in 1851, when someone cut a hole in the side of the ship, dropped a gangplank and advertised booze inside. Over time, the “bar” was landlocked by landfill and a building was built atop it. That is now the corner of Pacific Avenue and Battery Street, which has housed variously themed bars over the decades. Today, you can read about these tales on the Old Ship’s cocktail menu. The bar transferred hands last year, ensuring its preservation into the next era of Financial District bar goers, game-watchers and Barbary Coast enthusiasts. Paolo Lucchesi

1858 Elixir Claiming to be the second-oldest continually operating bar in San Francisco, this tiny Mission District watering hole has been through several incarnations since opening in 1858, much like Swede’s (a merchant marine bar) and La Bandita (a gay bar in the 1980s). Now known for its whiskey selection, antique decorations and cozy, wood-paneled interior, Elixir stays current on cocktail trends without getting pretentious, while small touches like Sunday Bloody Marys and barbecue have kept it a local’s spot. It also has an endearing tendency to go all out with decorations at Christmastime, if the smell of hot apple cider wafting from the cauldron at the end of the bar wasn’t already enough to draw you in. Emma Silvers

1861 The Saloon A curious number of bars in San Francisco claim to be the city’s oldest, but if the Saloon, allegedly open since 1861, doesn’t qualify as the oldest it certainly comes close. For such a small space, the bar manages to pack in a lot of energy, and a lot of people who pay $5 on weekend nights to see live blues music, usually by the same group, the Daniel Castro Band. If it’s the weekend and you didn’t come here to dance, you came to the wrong place. The Saloon can get sweaty and smelly, but what it lacks in polish it makes up for in spirit: smiling bartenders, raucous dancing, sultry blues. Esther Mobley

1891 Shotwell's One of my favorite things about older bars are stumbling upon these unexpectedly beautiful and ornate back bars – palatial backdrops where the liquor bottles are displayed. House of Shields has a great one; same with the Philosophers Club. So does Shotwell's in the Mission. The bar on the corner of 20th and Shotwell was born as a combination grocery and saloon in the 19th century. Since then, it has survived several major earthquakes, Prohibition, gentrification and perhaps most impressively, multiple owners and "concepts." Since 2006, it has been named Shotwell's, home to one of the most thoughtful beer lists in the Mission. Paolo Lucchesi

1893 Little Shamrock The Sunset is a reservoir of standout dives and neighborhood bars. Silver Spur. Shannon Arms. The Four Deuces. The list goes on. We, regrettably, couldn’t include them all on this particular list, so we thought it best to pay respects to the elder statesman: Little Shamrock, established the same year Grover Cleveland was president and the Ferris wheel was invented. The interior is a mishmash of decades, creating an appearance somewhere between cluttered and Bohemian. There’s even a fireplace in the back, too, a apt pairing for a bitter Irish coffee or one of the better-than-your-average-dive beers on tap. I’m not sure that they make bars like this anymore, but if they do, it’ll take a century or two to get to this point. Paolo Lucchesi

1902 Homestead With a wood-burning stove, peanut shells on the floor and a vast whiskey selection, this cozy, dog-friendly Mission hideout dates to 1902. That means it’s survived earthquakes, fires and Prohibition (when it became a popular “lunch counter” that served booze on the sly). With aesthetic touches like deep red and gold wallpaper, a pressed tin ceiling and some tastefully scandalous paintings of nude ladies, the Homestead has done an admirable job of preserving a laid-back local feel and reasonable prices along with its Victorian charm. Reserve the back parlor for an even more immersive time-machine experience. Emma Silvers

1908 Hotel Utah Built in 1908, this SoMa saloon is a homey vestige of old San Francisco in a neighborhood that has transformed several times over since the tech boom(s) and construction of AT&T Park. In the 1930s, it was a hangout for gamblers, longshoremen and ladies of the night; by the ’50s, the ornate wooden barback, imported from Belgium, served as the setting for customers like Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe. In the ’70s, owner Paul Gaer installed a stage and promptly ushered in a new age of live music and comedy, with a little help from opening acts Robin Williams and Whoopi Goldberg. It’s a legacy that continues today: The Monday night open mic is still a rite of passage for Bay Area musicians. Emma Silvers

1909 Double Play Bars are windows into different eras across time, and a stop at Double Play is a throwback to the midcentury era of baseball on 16th Street, when San Francisco Seals and Mission Reds played across the street at Seals Stadium. It doesn’t seem like Double Play’s trappings have changed much over the decades. These days, it’s home to a contingent of regulars, $4 beers and a full food menu, set to a backdrop of memorabilia and one of the finest signs around. (Pro tip: Get the breakfast burrito.) Paolo Lucchesi

1912 House of Shields The grand, clock-less House of Shields has been encouraging patrons to lose track of time for more than a century. The SoMa bar’s history is full of scandalous legends, some not entirely verifiable, like the rumor that President Warren Harding died here in the arms of his mistress. (Official records indicate he died across the street at the Palace Hotel.) And while the dark, wood-paneled, high-ceilinged bar did not allow women until the 1970s, today it’s a welcoming place for all under the ownership of chef-bar magnate Dennis Leary, who also owns the nearby Natoma Cabana and Tequila Mockingbird. Not exactly a dive, the House of Shields is a classic setting for classic cocktails – order a manhattan or a martini, then walk upstairs to the mezzanine and take in a view of the crowd. Esther Mobley

1912 Dogpatch Saloon When asked about his favorite thing about the Dogpatch Saloon, my friend Brady, who is a regular there, waxes poetic about the way that the light hits the building across the street at dusk, reflecting into the windows at the bar, creating a sunrise feeling at the beginning of the evening hours. Isn't that beautiful? He's right though, adding how awesome the bartenders are with giving advice, and how the bar is the neighborhood's de facto living room. I would add that it also has a very strong case for the best bar in San Francisco for dog-watching. Paolo Lucchesi

1926 Glen Park Station This Glen Park institution since 1926, with a “liquor to take out” addendum on its vintage sign, doesn’t stray from its mission. Black and white photos cover the walls and a fireplace and line of green bar stools stand at the ready for a steady influx of neighbors. There is often something free to eat – hot dogs or baked beans or meatballs in a Crockpot – with a drink purchase. Those who are feeling fancy can order a pizza from Gialina, which a waiter will drop off when it’s ready. In addition to being a dive, it’s a sports bar that fills up most during big games, when the free food offerings get even more generous. Tara Duggan

1933 Tony Nik's Tony Nik’s is old-school but not kitschy, clean but not snobby, fun but not divey. It’s the kind of place you want to bring a particularly promising date to chat at a cozy back table over potent boulevardiers. It’s the sort of spot where you can gather a crowd of friends for beers before heading out for pizza, or roll in solo to talk with whoever’s working that night. Go for an excellent old-fashioned ($11) made with 100-proof rye, plenty of muddled orange peel and, instead of sugar, a dollop of the syrup from Luxardo cherries. Moscow mules and French 75s are popular, and on a crowded night, you may need to dodge an errant selfie stick. But while time marches on, Tony Nik’s still feels a bit like a friend’s living room. Maggie Hoffman

1935 Twin Peaks Tavern When Mary Ellen Cunha and Peggy Forster opened the Twin Peaks in 1972, it was revolutionary: a gay bar with big enough windows to show the world who was inside! The Twin Peaks has retained the 1970s love of Victoriana – stained glass, ornate carpentry – as well as a certain pre-tech-boom pace of life. In a neighborhood whose weekend energy brings in thousands of bar-crawlers, it’s a place where you can while away the afternoon watching the Castro pass by, or sneak up to the mezzanine for a long conversation. Jonathan Kauffman

1936 Marina Lounge Similar to nearby old-timers like Lucca and CC’s, Marina Lounge has become an outlier in its neighborhood. As the Marina has changed, M Lounge has not. Its bartenders know you by name, and if you’re a regular, or even close to one, you know them by name, too. It is a place to relax and unwind and escape from toils of modern city life. It is not a place to watch a game per se, but it is a place to talk to strangers about the game while watching it. It’s a place to play pool, and a place to interact with your fellow humans, because to me, what makes Marina Lounge so special are the people. But also the stuffed leopard that used to be at Gio’s. That’s pretty cool, too. Paolo Lucchesi

1937 Trad'r Sam When it comes to early tiki bars, Trader Vic’s across the bay in Emeryville tends to get all the credit. But Trad’r Sam, in the sleepy Outer Richmond District, opened only three years afterward, the first of many to rip off the Vic’s Polynesian fantasy. It may not have the rum selection of Smuggler’s Cove or the theatricality of the Tonga Room – in fact, at this point you could probably name at least 10 tiki bars in the city that outpace Trad’r Sam by every measure, from drinks to decor to service. But that’s also what feels so reassuring about Trad’r Sam: It’s a tiki bar that knows it’s kitschy, dingy and kind of bad, which is maybe what all tiki bars ought to be. Drinks here are painfully sweet (many, actually, are milkshakes), and the menu’s descriptions are amazingly unhelpful. The Lava Flow ($6.50) “tastes like melted Hawaii.” Of the Mango Madness ($7), the entry states merely “this is one crazy drink.” Esther Mobley

1937 Li Po Lounge The sounds of liar’s dice – rattle-rattle-rattle-THUMP – are a constant at Li Po in the nighttime, but they’re far from the only reason people come to Chinatown’s most picturesque bar. Like much of Grant Avenue, an architectural confection since it was rebuilt after the 1906 earthquake, Li Po wears its weathering beautifully, with tattered paper lanterns and ornate wood fixtures rimmed with dust. Along the bar, green bottles of Lucky Buddha beer alternate with Li Po’s signature cherry-topped Chinese mai tais, predatory in their sweetness as well as their strength. The day drinking here is superb, if you’re not a sunny-day kind of bar goer. There are few spaces where Chinatown locals and tourists and San Franciscans from other neighborhoods drink alongside one another. Jonathan Kauffman

1938 Clooney's Some bars that purport to be “dives” are not, in fact, dives — they’re great spots for a laid-back date, or simply a bar without a fancy cocktail menu. Clooney’s is not one of those bars. Clooney’s is a true dive. Clooney’s, which somehow hides in plain sight at 25th and Valencia, opens at 6 a.m., and what happens after that at the horseshoe-shaped bar or around the pool table is between you and the bartender (and the community of loyal, hard-drinking regulars). Clooney’s also serves some of the best barbecue in town, along with heaping breakfast plates — helpful for offsetting whatever else may come your way, if you’re having the kind of day that starts at 6 a.m. at Clooney’s. Emma Silvers

1941 The Riptide I can rely on several things each time I go to the Riptide. There will be a dog in the bar. There will be good beer, and it will be cheap. The vaguely nautical-themed interior will provide a sufficient amount of physical and temporal escapism. The ATM in the corner is where an newly enlightened first-timer will get directed. I will feel like I’m in the Outer Sunset, steps from Ocean Beach, a place isolated enough to not attract many folks outside the area. And let’s be honest: The Riptide has the perfect slogan: “On the edge of the Western world.” Clearly, more bars should come with slogans. Paolo Lucchesi

1942 Aub Zam Zam Perhaps you’ve heard the legend of Zam Zam’s former owner, Bruno Mooshei, who mixed impeccable martinis and 86’ed aspiring drinkers for the slightest peccadillo (taking a seat at the table instead of the bar; ordering vodka). His legacy lives on in a house cocktail that transcends the martini’s fall from fashion and return and fall again, and in the decor of one of San Francisco’s most intimate bars, a fantastical blend of Deco and Persian art. The U-shape bar is small enough to refract conversations around the room, reminding you why drinking in public isn’t just about talking to the friends you came in with. Jonathan Kauffman

1942 Gino and Carlo Gino & Carlo is the bar equivalent of a North Beach red sauce joint: basic, old-school and comforting. The main difference is that you’re more likely to see longtime regulars at the bar here than tourists. Old photographs of champion boxers, family members and the occasional celebrity line the walls surrounding two pool tables. This cash-only joint still opens at 6 a.m. daily and stays open until 2 a.m. Chances are you’ll be served by a member of the Rossi family, who have owned the bar since 1954. (Don’t ask for Gino or Carlo, though; the bar’s namesakes had already departed the business when the Rossis bought it. Esther Mobley

1947 Tommy's Joynt Here is a true story about Tommy’s Joynt. Once upon a time, after an evening of pastrami and reverie, I accidentally left my laptop at the bar. (Mind you, I wasn’t actually using it there; I was just on my way home.) Because I am a stupid person, I didn’t realize my gaffe until I got home, at which point I returned to Tommy’s and, because every once in a while the human race can surprise you in its benevolence, the bartender/godsend happily returned it and told me something along the lines of, “No one here has any use for it.” Anyway, Tommy’s is a civic treasure, the original S.F. beer bar, the last remaining hofbrau, a unicorn in this field of horses. May it never disappear. Ever. Paolo Lucchesi

1947 Pop's Cheap drinks, friendly people and surprisingly good DJ sets: A neighborhood bar that checks all these boxes is a rare and beautiful thing. The history of Pop’s dates back to 1947, when army veteran Jack O’Connor had returned from fighting in World War II and decided to go into business with his father – his “pop.” The bar has changed hands several times since, most recently in 2013, when Michael Krouse, who also owns Madrone Art Bar and Bar Fluxus, purchased it. Its neon light on 24th Street remains a comforting sign that cocktail bars haven’t completely eclipsed the Mission’s great dives. Also: Pop’s may have the friendliest bouncers in town. Esther Mobley

1948 Vesuvio Vesuvio is a landmark that belongs to North Beach, and it’s here that you’ll sit alone on the mezzanine with an Anchor and look out onto City Lights Bookstore and Columbus Avenue and the traffic and the neon lights, and you’ll feel part of something bigger than yourself, a speck in a century of a city that has reinvented itself over and over, oftentimes told through this very saloon where great minds and misfits and hippies and beatniks once contemplated this city in just the way you are now. Or, maybe that’s all too complicated and Vesuvio is just a really great bar. Paolo Lucchesi

1933 St. Mary's Pub The year of this bar’s founding, 1933, is auspicious – the founders must have moved fast to open between the repeal of Prohibition on Dec. 5, 1933, and the beginning of 1934. Located on Mission Street in between Bernal Heights, Glen Park and the Excelsior, and near the original site of St. Mary’s College, it holds fast to its dive bar identity even though its round, red vinyl tufted booths and linoleum tables were upgraded not long ago. On a typical rainy weeknight, it’s not unusual to see neighbors huddle at the bar while someone spins records on its two portable turntables. The pub recently achieved legacy business status from the city of San Francisco, which is good timing as the building that housed it just went up for sale, leaving local fans partial to the pub’s weekend Bloody Mary menu and welcoming atmosphere concerned about its future. Tara Duggan

1950s 500 Club When news of this beloved Mission dive’s sale began circulating in 2018, many feared the worst. Luckily for devotees of the dark, cheap, no-nonsense corner bar, which dates to 1953, new owner Ali Razavi is an S.F. native who seems to understand the spot’s minimalist charm: He’s made only slight changes so far, like a bathroom upgrade and booths that aren’t completely falling apart. With its old-school Giants paraphernalia, punk-filled jukebox, cramped photo booth, fresh-squeezed greyhounds and glittering neon signage beckoning the thirsty from blocks away, this dive’s still got it where it counts. Emma Silvers

1951 Phone Booth Named for both its size (tiny) and its proximity to the 25th Street Telco Building, this Mission dive looms larger than life for generations of San Franciscans. Opened in 1951, the bar had its heyday in the ’70s and ’80s, when it became a gay-friendly neighborhood spot under the ownership of woman-about-town Linda Pancost. These days a mixed crowd enjoys its punk-rock-kitsch decor, pool table, affordable drinks, free popcorn and lovingly curated, old-school jukebox (some have called it the best in S.F.). Just take your fancy, 10-ingredient cocktail orders elsewhere. Emma Silvers

1952 Buena Vista How to sing the myriad praises of the Buena Vista in a single paragraph? No other bar in San Francisco – and probably the entire Bay Area – is as closely linked to a drink as the Buena Vista is to its famous invention, the Irish coffee. On most days, a light veneer of tourists may gloss the bar, but the real secret is that San Franciscans love this place more than anyone. And the thing is, it’s still the real deal. The bartenders and superhero-like servers are everything they should be – friendly, efficient, witty – and the Irish coffees are … perfect. They are studies of contrast, blending hot and cold, creamy and sharp, boozy and sweet. The only problem is that they go down very quickly, and that means they add up quickly as well. Oh well. Let’s say it’s a special occasion. Paolo Lucchesi

1959 Sam Jordan's When it comes to describing the oldest black-owned bar in San Francisco, Sam Jordan’s, as my parents would say, is “a grown folks bar.” Its history manifests in the misshapen grooves along the edge of its bar top, the smell of barbecue wafting from its ramshackle back patio, the colorless spots along the bar rubbed clean by decades of resting elbows. Founded by Sam Jordan, a prominent black community leader who, in 1963, was the city’s first African American mayoral candidate, the bar received historical landmark status in 2013. To this day, it’s a beacon for working-class folks and destination drinkers infatuated by the bar’s history. Justin Phillips

1959 Waziema Serving up plates of hearty Ethiopian food, red velvet wallpaper and a homey atmosphere, Waziema is a crowd-pleaser even if you don’t know the room’s history. But knowing the history doesn’t hurt: From 1959 to 1978, Waziema was Club Morocco, a jazz club whose stage welcomed Tina Turner, James Brown, Billie Holiday and Marvin Gaye, and saw regulars like Willie Mays and Herb Caen. After lying empty for 20 years, it reopened in 1999 under the ownership of community fixtures Nebiat Tesfazgi and Giday Beshue, who’ve kept it a low-key haven in a rapidly changing neighborhood. Emma Silvers

1960s Red's Place Red’s bills itself as the oldest bar in Chinatown, but its decor is less Barbary Coast and more 1940s formica-and-pleather – not to mention beer signs and paper lanterns. Another claim easier to substantiate: It is the friendliest bar in Chinatown. Much of the neighborhood shuts down after dark. Not Red’s. The office workers who’ve tromped up the hill for afterwork drinks stay long past happy hour. Neighbors filter in after dinner, keeping the bartenders busy pouring shots, craft beers and well drinks. There’s always a game on, and always people clustered around the barstools nearest the screen watching it. Jonathan Kauffman

1960 Philosophers Club First of all, this is the best bar name in San Francisco, right? (Tip of the hat to Grandma’s Saloon, Brass Tacks and the Bitter End.) So many of the bars on this list exist as foils to modern San Francisco, a time traveller's flight into another era, an escape from the real world. The Philly Club isn't that. It's a natural outgrowth of its neighborhood. West Portal is a ray of normalcy in San Francisco, and the Philly Club – with the L train rumbling in the background, high school helmets on display and the Fernet flowing – is ground zero for re-establishing a connection to the city we still love. Paolo Lucchesi

1961 Doc's Clock From 2016 to 2018, the saga of Doc’s Clock began to feel like an emblem for the endangered state of all San Francisco dive bars, especially in the Mission. First the beloved joint was forced by a new landlord to relocate. Then, once owner Carey Suckow found a new location two blocks away, she struggled for over a year to reclaim the flashing neon sign that had made Doc’s Clock a Mission Street landmark. But in late 2018, Suckow got the sign back and lit it up once again, to the great relief of those who hope Mission can retain a little of its grit. The new Doc’s is strikingly unchanged from the old: It’s still got mangled Barbie dolls, shuffleboard tables and curmudgeonly signs along the backbar, as in “Shut up and drink!” That’s an order. Esther Mobley

1962 Wild Side West Lesbian bars may be an endangered breed here in San Francisco, but for nearly 60 years Wild Side West has been a welcoming oasis to all. Late owners Pat Ramseyer and Nancy White opened the place in 1962 in Oakland – naming the bar after the Barbara Stanwyck film “Walk on the Wild Side” – before moving the bar west to San Francisco a few years later. Considered an institution by its loyal patrons, drinks are strong and cheap by S.F. standards, but what truly sets this neighborhood saloon apart is its eclectic character, which among other things includes a shrine of women’s shoes near the bar, as well as a lush and whimsical garden out back. Sarah Fritsche

1965 Tommy's Mexican Next time you enjoy a margarita made with lime, agave and really, really good Tequila, raise your glass in thanks to Julio Bermejo. After being introduced to Herradura Tequila in the late 1980s, he began overhauling the bar at his family’s Outer Richmond restaurant. It was a move that ended up revolutionizing how we think of Tequila in the Bay Area (and beyond), and some believe Bermejo, who earned the title of U.S. Tequila ambassador in 2001, helped pave the way for the next generation of single-spirits focused bars like Whitechapel and Obispo. At 54 years old, Tommy’s maintains one of the most interesting and thoughtfully curated Tequila collections outside of Mexico. Sarah Fritsche

1965 Gold Dust It seems like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been about seven years since the plight of the Gold Dust was a front-page melodrama, sparking outrage that one of the city’s legacy bars was getting kicked out of its longtime Union Square home. Landlords are the worst! New San Francisco sucks! Long live the Gold Dust! Well, here’s the thing: The bar was resurrected in Fisherman’s Wharf - garish trappings, signature marquee, discount Bloody Marys and everything. But I wonder: How many of you who shook your fists about its initial closure have frequented the Gold Dust since? Despite its exile, it’s still a part of San Francisco, so perhaps a pilgrimage is in order. Paolo Lucchesi

1967 Mr. Bing's How beloved is this no-frills 1967 dive, perched at the border of Chinatown and North Beach? When word got out in 2016 that the charmingly grimy bar had been sold and could possibly close, none other than Anthony Bourdain chimed in: “Just another day in the death spiral … a fine drinking establishment, ground under the slow, inevitable, pitiless forward motion of the Terrible Wheel. It will consume us all in the end.” Thankfully, Mr. Bing’s new proprietor Pete Cooper (of Irelands 32) decided not to close the place — but some major interior renovations were deemed necessary, including removal of the iconic V-shaped bar. The exterior signage, generous pours of Fernet and old-school-S.F. appeal remain, at least for now. Emma Silvers

1968 Specs' In a cluster of very old and very character-filled bars in North Beach, Specs’ Twelve Adler Museum Cafe stands out for its melange of tchotchkes. Items including an Alaskan king crab and a petrified soda bottle from a 19th century Australian shipwreck line its cluttered walls. The late Richard “Specs” Simmons, a former Vesuvio bartender, opened his namesake bar in 1968, and his bespectacled face was a fixture there until his death in 2016. (Specs’ daughter Elly, an artist, runs the bar now.) It’s an exceedingly friendly place that draws a loyal crowd of regulars alongside tourists, who flock to Specs’ for a glimpse of the seedy, bohemian North Beach of yore. Esther Mobley

1975 Cinch Saloon This funky, saloon-inspired bar is a reminder of Polk Street’s not-too-distant past as a gay mecca: Both the decor and the regulars make you feel like an extra in Armistead Maupin’s “Tales of the City.” The staff and the crowd are neighborhood-bar friendly and the pour is usually generous. Don’t forget to look up over the front door for a gander at the famous (faux) Venus fly trap. Tony Bravo

1978 El Rio Though always game for a party, El Rio has always been much more than a bar. It’s an LGBTQ community space with two long, narrow indoor rooms and a backyard big enough to get lost in. El Rio has hosted Salsa Sundays with live merengue or salsa bands for over 30 years, a time and place where everyone dances with anyone. Opened in 1978 as a leather Brazilian gay bar, this Bernal Heights institution feels welcoming to all with a mantra of “no dress code but a strong preference for tutus and wigs.” The sense of camaraderie comes out in so many ways, with free Pacific oysters at happy hour on Fridays – another decades-old tradition – pingpong games on Mondays, community benefits and queeraoke and comedy nights. Tara Duggan

1980s Lone Palm Dive bar prices, dim lighting, Art Deco interior, strong martinis, goldfish crackers, white tablecloths, votive candles and a red-painted bathroom that would make David Lynch proud: The Lone Palm is tucked in behind an awning at the corner of 22nd and Guerrero, and thanks to neon signage, a few “Miami Vice”-esque touches and attentive but not overly intrusive bartenders, the whole place feels relatively unchanged. Though the space has been a bar for over a century, the Lone Palm opened in 1991; its owners had a palm tree business (the Palm Broker) across the street. This is the rare sort of neighborhood lounge that’s got range, or maybe a split personality: It’s perfect for both drowning one’s sorrows in the dark and sharing a lively conversation with a first date. Emma Silvers

1980 The Brazen Head The art of good bartending hasn’t faded at the Brazen Head, a dark, unmarked pub at Buchanan and Greenwich streets in the Marina that’s long been popular among San Francisco cooks and bartenders. And while it’s not a place for precise, complex mixology or innovative garnishes, it’s something even more important: a time capsule of a charming, bygone San Francisco. Owner and longtime bartender Eddie Savino will give you the drink you want, without the slightest pause for judgment, even if what you want is a martini on ice. Maggie Hoffman

1980 O'Keeffe's The Inner Richmond’s bar scene is generally confined to Clement Street and Geary Boulevard, which makes O’Keeffe’s, on Balboa, feel off the beaten path. Ireland-born Annie O’Keeffe, whose late husband, Tim, opened the bar in the 1970s, still serves drinks three days a week, and she knows much of the neighborhood by name. Just don’t ask her to make you a cocktail; she doesn’t mix drinks. Irish cultural and political paraphernalia populate the busy walls. Most patrons come in for a beer, but be warned: There’s no draft system. At just $4 a bottle, though, we don’t mind. Esther Mobley

1985 The Ramp Few San Francisco neighborhoods are upscaling as rapidly as Mission Bay right now, but you wouldn’t know it at the Ramp, where you can still enjoy waterfront dining and drinking in downscale plastic chairs. The space, which includes a divey indoor bar and a spacious backyard, was originally a bait shop in the 1950s, servicing the nearby boat yards; it later added a hot dog stand to service the boat yard, too. Today it’s the best place in the city for a beer and a view without Embarcadero-style price tags (though this is still S.F., and a burger does cost $17). If you like salsa dancing, so much the better. Esther Mobley

1987 Aunt Charlie's Before the Castro was San Francisco’s gay-bar destination, there was the Tenderloin, where bars like Aunt Charlie’s provided a refuge for gay men who had flocked to this city from other parts of the world. Few of those Tenderloin gay bars still exist, but Aunt Charlie’s has managed to retain its original clientele while also attracting a new generation of customers, gay and otherwise, who come here for the evening drag shows and DJ’d dance parties. The bar is known for its senescent bartenders, bargain prices ($3 well drinks during happy hour) and free dinners on Thanksgiving. Esther Mobley

1987 Toronado For over 30 years Dave “Big Daddy” Keene’s Haight Street pub has helped shape local beer culture and turned numerous casual Bay Area bar goers into a veritable cult of beer geeks. On the industry side, his impact has been so strong that several brews have been named after him, including Speakeasy’s Big Daddy IPA and Anderson Valley Brewing Co.’s Brother David Double and Triple abbey-style ales. Over the years, the bar has added two spin-offs in fellow West Coast beer havens Seattle and San Diego. The bar’s near-obsessive collection of dozens of beers on tap and equally epic bottle list continues to thrill. Sarah Fritsche

1988 The Plough & Stars In true Irish bar fashion, the Plough & Stars is a music venue as much as it is a watering hole, with live performances most nights of the week – sometimes with set dancing, sometimes a seisiún, or session, in which customers are encouraged to join in the playing. (Saturday nights, however, are reserved for bluegrass bands.) The large space on Clement St. is rarely crowded but always lively, serving up plenty of traditional Irish libations, from Smithwick’s and Harp beer to Redbreast and Bushmill’s whiskey. It’s a place where strangers actually speak to each other. Esther Mobley

1989 Lone Star Saloon The 30-year-old SoMa spot is known as a historically bear-friendly gay bar: Don’t worry, Goldilocks, they don’t mind if you sneak into their beds. The vibe is leather-meets-Western: Things heat up around the Folsom and Dore Alley fairs, but it’s still on the milder side compared to wilder neighbors like Power House. The bar was purchased by longtime bartenders Bruce Jennison and Charlie Evans in 2017. Tony Bravo

1996 Martuni's This list makes an exception for Martuni’s, which does not meet the 30-year-old age qualification. The piano bar at Market and Valencia streets opened in 1996 after many of the city’s old piano bars had already closed, anticipating the age of karaoke. But Martuni’s feels as if it’s been around for a century, and its type feels as endangered as any in San Francisco. Variations on the martini, many of them sweet, comprise the short cocktail menu: a cosmo, a lemon drop, a “creamsicle martini.” All are very, very strong. When your waiter brings one to your high-top table, you might feel a little more emboldened to put your name in for a song – though the competition can be tough, with talented crooners (and even more talented accompanists) belting show tunes and oldies past midnight. Esther Mobley