On a narrow stretch of East 7th Street in Manhattan East Village sits a weathered brick building with a carved wooden sign that simply reads McSorley’s Old Ale House– established 1854.  Step inside and you’re stepping into another century– where the air smells of ale and old wood, and the floor is still covered in sawdust. 

 

McSorley’s is more than a bar.   It’s a time capsule, and every scuffed table, dusty frame and yellowed newspaper clipping tacked to the walls seems to whisper the secrets of generations past.

 

Founded by Irish immigrant John McSorley, the Ale House opened its doors in 1854 — though some say it was even earlier.  At this time the Bowery was covered with bars,  bums, vagrants and out of work actors.

 

What is certain is that it has stood through the Civil War, Prohibition and both World Wars.   Abraham Lincoln is rumored to have had a beer there as well as Teddy Roosevelt,  Boss Tweed, Jackie Gleason, John Lennon, Hunter Thompson, Woody Guthrie and Harry Houdini.   Behind the bar a pair of his handcuffs still hangs on a hook, untouched for decades.  

 

McSorley’s is famous for its simplicity.   No TVs, no blaring music and for the longest time no choices– just light or dark ale served in small clinking mugs two at a time. It’s always been that way, and regulars like it that way.  

 

During Prohibition McSorley’s reportedly survived by selling “near beer” and serving onions, cheese and mustard with crackers, still on the menu today.   It was also famously a men only establishment until 1970, when a court ruling forced the Ale House to admit women.  Even then, the first women’s restroom didn’t appear until 1986.

 

The bar’s lore is built into the dust on the lamps and the slogans painted on the walls:  “Be good or be gone” and. “We were here before you were born”.   The walls are packed with historical bric-a-brac — badges from long forgotten fireman, photos of long gone politicians and a wishbone collection said to have been hung by doughboys heading off to World War I, waiting to be taken down upon their return.   Many still remain.  

 

No piece of memorabilia has been removed from the walls since 1910.  Everything here should be in a museum, well it is.

 

Writers, poets and artists have always been drawn to McSorley’s The poet E,E. Cummings immortalized it in verse calling it “snug and evil,” a place where “the ale was the ale was the ale”. 

 

Today McSorley’s remains a rare piece of New York City’s old soul– a place untouched by trend or time, where conversations flow as friendly as the ale and the past feels as present as the foam on your mug.  

 

So if you find yourself in the East Village, push open the wooden doors and slide onto a creaky bench.  Order a light or dark and raise a glass to the place that’s seen it all and refuses to change.  

 

And don’t forget it’s a cash only bar.