Joe Sheehan’s 35th Street Tap

This tavern is actually fronting (without a sign) on Halsted. No hipsters when dropping by a couple Saturday nights ago, just some middle-​age and olders. Lots of cigarette smoke and clearly serving as a local clubhouse for tobacco addicts. Cheap drinks, good-​looking back bar, but no reason for a non-​smoker to be there. Better choices north a block or three, or if you want Bridgeport history and to be welcomed, Schaller’s Pump is just to the south.

I went to this place last week for the first time because we were in the area of Cellular Field. We entered this place and it seemed like we were walking into a movie. The patrons all looked at us like we were walking in nude. The smoke in the place was thick from all the cigarette smoking (I’m a smoker so I didn’t mind but my wife hated it) we were there just about an hour and I had politely asked the group of 17 year old kids all drinking in the place that no my wife was nit the «stripper» entertainment as they said. They continued to throw remarks and insults until I finally walked over to them an lifted my shirt ad showed them my hand gun and then produced my sheriff badge. I explained that I was off duty but I didn’t have to be so nice. The bartender then said to me, if I didn’t behave myself I was going to be removed. I asked if he was kidding and then e said these «kids» pay the bills so if you have an issue with them «you’d guys» gotta go. We left ad went down the street to buffalo rings and wings and had a great rest of our night with an all 21 and older crowd. While we left we seen the same kids beating up 2 other patrons out front and the same bartender standing and watching this all happen. This place should be closed immediately.

There’s nothing quite like trudging through an unfamiliar neighborhood in ankle-​deep snow trying to fetch a buzz. There’s also nothing like trying to enter an open bar and finding a locked door.
The barman sees us and comes over. After a moment of hesitation, he opens the door and lets us in. Several locals stare us down. I’m not even talking old men, I’m talking people our age (20’s) that act as if we’ve just violated some ancient south side law.
The barkeep sits us at the end of the bar without any coasters. As if our awkward appearance (read: no gold jewelry or leather jacket) didn’t set us apart from the normal male clientele enough, my friend drops the bomb. «$ 5 for the Millers,» says the bartender. «Five for both?» says my naïve friend. I knew at this point, there was no going back.
We uneasily drank our beers, noticing a few patrons smoking cigarettes. No biggie, I understand that some places need more time than others to comply with the no-​smoking reg (see the Two-​Way). You can’t end a hundred years of tradition with a single pen stroke. But the level of comfort usually common in these hole-​in-​the-​walls after the initial shock of «outsiders» never developed.
One star for the 90’s rock on the stereo and the cheap beers.