The Hideout

The Hideout is a regular guy bar for irregular folks who just don’t fit in, or just don’t want to fit in. We didn’t choose the name; it has been called the Hideout since it opened (legally) in 1934. The Hideout is a 100 year old balloon-frame house, built in two days, still here a century later. Hammers pounding in nails faster than the city could tear it down. Built by undocumented workers at the end of the 19th Century, run by undocumented bootleggers and gin runners, running numbers, racing horses, making deals, and moving in the make. The Hideout is the place where the hard working man and the hard working hustler met for beer and eggs. Where the “26 girls” rolled the dice for dances and 10 cent drinks. Born as a 19th Century Shanty, straight from the mud by ditch-digging Irishmen with dirty boots and hats, always hats, pushed aside by the nickel and dime Prohibition Era Sicilian button men. Cold War steel working Polish made way for the alternative, indie, free jazz, country, punk, post-rock of the 21st Century. Haunted, holy, hallowed ground. Born of risk and haste, from a shack to a house, then a Public House. Hearty drinking, where everyone buys a round for everyone else. Family and friends, friends of friends, word of mouth, hand to mouth. The Hideout, same name since they made the juice legal, no sign on the outside, inside, and insiders only. Once inside we’re as thick as thieves. A clandestine destination with a guaranteed good time.