George’s is a destination for the traveling tavern, and is good for the service’s business. No, this is not the oncoming arrival of a particularly rowdy Amtrak party car, but of a rather improbable vehicle - a bicycle-operated tavern that has traveled the pancake-flat streets of Walkers Point to make a stop at the bar. Soon a rumbling comes from the east, accompanied by whoops and hollers. The music gets cued up, a reception committee is formed, George unspools a coil of yellow tickets and heads to the concrete stoop in front, the expectant host. Within minutes, all is activity, like a factory at the end of a shift, when they used to have factories here, and the workers would perk up and head off to this bar for a drink. A tavern phone rings, and things begin to stir here. Things settle into the routine, with the old guys talking and a visitor taking in the quiet scene. Immediately to the east, elevated railroad tracks carry freight and passenger trains to and from the heart of the city, while to the west a cinder block warehouse building is just about a foot away from this blue, 1,414 square foot, 115-year old frame tavern with the American flag aflutter, and the “Budweiser / George’s Pub / OPEN” sign above. It’s used for storage now, but it, and a since-razed building located behind the main structure, were used as residences for many years. There is interesting stuff on every wall and on every imaginable surface in the tiny 783-square-foot room. There is Elvis in plaster, countless miniature trucks and action figures, a certificate attesting to George’s status as a Veteran of Foreign Wars (Korea) and and number of stickers that inform the visitor that We Support Our Troops! In the back, through an open door, you can catch a glimpse of a 631 square foot apartment just beyond the bathroom. A sign warns that “ID Checked if Young Persons Enter,” which we’re guessing doesn’t happen often.
Those days are over anyway for most of the regulars. Behind the bar is a mirrored wall, which serves more to set off a collection of bottles than to provide a means for customers to admire their good looks.
Don’t mess with George - or his customers. Washington St.), and an outline of a pistol. There is room for maybe 10 customers to sit on the brown, swiveling, padded, backed barstools, and George joins them - on the customer side - leaving the bartending duties to another.Ī number of the regulars are wearing George’s Pub T-shirts, adorned with the tavern’s name, address ( 224 E. Done with the fiddling, George returns to the bar that starts at the front window on the south, takes a small bend west and extends as far to the north as it can manage before the rest rooms interrupt the activity.