Yogi’s

This place was the greatest. Country jukebox. The most eclectic crowd in the city. The best dive I’ve ever been to. I miss it.

Miss you, Yogi’s.

This place has unfortunately shut down — it was one of the few small vendors left directly on the Broadway :(
I guess the exorbitant rents got the better of them.
Another one bites the dust…

Oh Yogi’s… you wiill be missed.
Yogi’s shut down shop this past weekend, but fear not — this gem will be back in action across town before you know it. Plans are in the works for an east side location and I am thrilled to know that I can go to sleep knowing that a bar like this isn’t going to die easily.
People have said it before: Yogi’s is a shithole. But it’s a fantastic shithole. This place is (was?) what every great dive bar should be… pretty dingy, kinda smelly, rather trashy but most importantly a bar that serves cheap booze with cute female bartenders.
The pitchers here are so cheap they are legendary. The dart board is such a piece of crap that it’s unforgettable. And the music, well it has just always been perfect… perfectly country, that is. Now, don’t get me wrong, country music kinda sucks — but for some reason the country music here always made me feel like I was in a familiar home. Yogi’s was a warm, welcoming place. And that bear out front (PLEASE bring this to the new location) never failed to put a smile on my face every time I approached.
A great dive bar hass gone under (the sign in front says that the landlord increased the rent), but soon enough a new Yogi’s will be back in action. In the meantime, I’ll be heading to Black Bear Lodge… not the same, but it will serve a purpose until a new Yogi’s emerges.

I love dive bars and this might be my favorite dive bar of all time.
1 star for cheap drinks (and free shots on more than one occasion)
1 star for bartenders who may be dressed for the men but always made sure the women had a drink in hand
1 star for free peanuts
1 star for a jukebox full of cheesy country music
1 star because it is the only bar where I’ve ever danced on the bar (and I almost never dance).
That was one hell of a summer!

Slutty Girls, cheap drinks, and country music. I love this bar.
One down side, rumors are it’s closing in Dec 2008.
It’s a sad day for a great Bar.

I have no idea how this bar has 4.5 stars.
If you’re into bad country music (and I don’t mean all… I mean baad), dirty hole-​in-​the-​wall bars and sleeeeeezy men — COME HERE!
Seriously…sleeeeezy men is the first thing that comes to my mind as I recollect the 20 minutes I was there.
Yeah it’s cheap, but they don’t take plastic. The music would have been OK, maybe if I had been wasted. Although having a jukebox is cool.
Other cons: lack of space to sit down, on the dirty side and sleezy, old men, sleezy, old men, sleezy, old men!

Call me Toby Keith, ’cause I love this bar.
To say Yogi’s (I’m not sure if it earned the name because of the large wooden bear outside, or if the bear is there because of the name — either way, it’s the only indication other than a neon «Bar» sign) is a dive bar is to be disrespectful to dives like Rudy’s or Grassroots Tavern.
Yogi’s is a shithole, in the kindest sense of the word. Ever wondered what it would be like to stumble into a backwater oasis off I-​85 in Kernersville, North Carolina (I kid because I care, K-​town)? Then step inside of the door with the huge crack down the middle, take in a big gulp of the stale smell of beer, peanuts and country-​song sad sackness and get ready to have one of the best nights of your life.
Sing along to a jukebox dominated by Merle, Toby, David Allan Coe and other great country luminaries. Flirt with the bartenders in skimpy shirts (if that much) or head to the back and throw darts while munching on peanuts.
But don’t stray too far. That incredibly cheap pitcher of incredibly terrible Coors Light won’t refill itself and you’ll want to have plenty of cash (no cards) to keep the drinks coming all night.

Hey there, boo boo!
Yogi’s as amazing. Cheap as shit and dirty as shit, too, it’s the dive of all dives. Uptown, that is.
The Macallan 12 is only $ 5 for an overpoured rocks glass of delicious single malt that isn’t watered down by anything but ice. The PBR cans pile up while the skanks tending bar pause to dance on it.
It’s filled with old men who would love to buy you a drink, but just say no. The booze is way too cheap and the men are way too gross.

Welcome to the neighborhood Hogs and Heifers! Let’s see…
1. Pretty and sassy girl bartenders, check.
2. Who dance on the bar and pour drinks down the patrons throats, check.
3. While country music plays on the digital jukebox, check.
4. While you guzzle down $ 2 PBR’s, check!
The only thing missing is the free shot with each beer. This place is pretty great for a local dark and divey bar with lots of atmosphere. Any given night finds a mix of locals and people waiting for or coming out of a show at the Beacon Theater. Its nice to have a place like this in the UWS. It’s just a really fun place to start off the night or to come mid-​week and listen to some Dolly or Johnny while snapping open peanuts and playing darts. We came here after a Yankee game to blow off some steam after a bad loss and we left with a good mood and country song in our heart.

**DISCLAIMER: This review has been done in ICR format (In context reviewing) under a special category; «Watering Holes». This, I repeat, is not done under the «Dive Bar» category**
Let me cast away any doubt whatsoever you may have as to the ethymology of this ugly mole in the UWS; indeed, it’s name stems from the allusion to the fun loving character of our childhood, Yogi Bear (who was in itself a nod to baseball player Yogi Berra), but this is an interesting allusion; it has a malevolent undertone in the form of a wicked smile… Right outside, the most ugly sculpture of a horrendous Bear greets you; it is black, rugged, and with it’s mouth open wide, revealing vicious fangs and a dry, old tongue. I’d never would have thought that I would think of Yogi Bear in correlation with the portrait of Dorian Gray.
Enter.
Narrow. Old, dry and dead wood; but wise. Having survived relentless tides of alcohol throughout the years, it’s skin has become hard and pale like a rugged sailor… Neon signs scattered here and there, but with no particular decoration effort; this is not a fancy place after all, you come here and fucking drink. And we did.
Recently departed Unilocaler Justin R. had summoned us, and pitcher after pitcher we descended into drunken tranquility. Our bar stools were swiftly and mysteriously snatched from our behinds; Julie K lay pale and tipsy like a Sunflower amidst a Hurricane… and it was a Hurricane, for the clientele were primed and ready, in case the ominous call should come: «Bar brawl!»
I went out for a smoke… A guy who looked like John Lennon goes out at the same time, weirdly observes me and asks for a light … I oblige; then he looks me with the face of a madman and says, I quote: «Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll give you the opportunity of a lifetime»… even in my drunken state I am deeply shaken… but resolute not to sleep with the creatures that reside deep below the calm Hudson, I prime my eyes, stare him with the fierceness of the Lion who must not be awakened, and respond slowly: «You look like John Lennon» *blow my smoke* Piss my cigarrette, go inside and put my heart back in it’s place.
I head for the restroom. A biology lesson ensues; two little unidentified insects crawl slowly on the white tiles and I remember my Kafka; the detriment of the bathroom can only be compared to that of the cheapest whorehouse in Montmartre circa 1923.
I go out, have one more pitcher, and I’m gone. Justin R stays, his fate to be unknown.
Four stars you say in disbelief? But you are mistaken; Yogi’s the king of watery holes.

Words cannot express. SO. GOOD.
Despite the sleaze factor of some of the patrons, yogi’s and it’s dedicated clientele ALWAYS equal an interesting night. It is not difficult to get massively drunk with the dirt cheap prices, either.
If you go, you must climb the bear.
The only thing that could make this place better is big buck hunter. But on the other hand, this bar really doesn’t need such novelties. It’s fucking bomb.

Came here years ago with old roomies didn’t realize how much of a Unilocal watering hole this place was until I saw the ROTD today. Really just had to laugh at the PBR and the wood chips all over the floor and loved the energy of all the people. Yeehhaaw.
There isn’t much that I could say that hasn’t already been mentioned. Just had to laugh that I was there again last night when Yogi’s was officially awarded ROTD. Good ol’ Yogi’s.
Date Rating: 2 (8 if she/he’s from the south)
Pick up Scale: 5
Strong Suggestions: Sport yer tough guy look in this place it’ll go over super smooth.

Cheap ass beers served by friendly, flirty, very skimpy dressed bartenders.
I’m sold.
It can get extremely crowded though, as it’s a pretty small place. That can be annoying…

Every time I hear the White Stripes’ song «Jolene» I think of Yogi’s.
I had walked by this dive bar a million times before a friend and I wound up here late one Wednesday night.
This is a GREAT dive bar. How can you beat honky tonk music, a bartender with memorable cleavage, girls dancing on the bar and smokey the bear guarding the front door?
You can’t.

I love this bar. It is a true dive bar. The bartenders are cool and the clientelle is interesting. The best thing about this bar is the cheap beer and shots. $ 3 for a shot in NY is amazing. Everyone is friendly and having a great time. It’s a great place to have a bunch of beers and get roudy!

I was a little apprehensive walking into this place due to its name, but realized the name comes from the wooden bear sculpture next to the door. Sorry to disappoint those out «bear-​hunting».
However, I’m still not sure what to make of it. Its a typical sports bar with crappy TVs with crappy reception and a projection screen in the back, filled with dudes (bikers, cowboys, blue collar working class, young, old, you name it) the occasional girlfriend, and scantily-​clad hot female bartenders. Thats where the typical stops. The music is all country and is extremely loud. The place erupts into dancing and sing-​alongs (there are people in the city who actually listen to country??) quite frequently. Be wary of the hole in the floor by the dartboard, and be very wary of the restrooms as they are not the cleanest. As soon as we walked in the bar was overwhelmed by the smell of bleach, and the bathrooms distinctly reeked of Raid.
This place could make for an interesting night at a dive, but not a regular occurence.

The «Bear Bar» as I always knew it is as divey as it gets. And for that distinction, coupled with some very pleasant memories, I hereby extend a four-​star rating!
Not being a huge fan of beer, I would trek down from Columbia with my classmates, to simply have conversation, watch some of them get hammered or, better still, a few of them make pavement puzzles on the floor after overindulgence. You can always drown all the unpleasant sounds by getting the juke box going on country music.

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||||_​_​_​_​_​Priceless: Drunken revelry of my Columbia buddies
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||||_​_​_​_​_​$ 20: Three pitchers of beer, ample use of the juke box
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||||_​_​_​_​_​$ 6: Pitcher of beer and loads of fun conversation
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||||_​_​_​_​_​$ 2: Glass of beer, front-​row seats for the donnybrook
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My friends who frequented this fine establishment shall remain unnamed. Suffice it is to say that they would gladly acknowledge that their evenings at the Bear Bar were the most enjoyable, but that whatever went on inside is not for public consumption.
The bar’s reputation was positively reinforced when I recently joined a bunch of NYU regulars who come up to the UWS simply to indulge in the cheap beer, the unique coziness and wing-​ding appeal of the Bear Bar.

When I found out that the Patriot Saloon had a sister bar uptown, I was excited. When I finally went there, I wasn’t that excited anymore. However, the similarities to the Pat definitely make up for what turned out to be my biggest problem: the slim, trim, suck-​it-​in bar area. It’s really, really tight in there and the second a small crowd comes in, it gets messy. The back of the bar sort of opens up, but I couldn’t even make it back there.
But the drink prices are the same as the Pat with maybe a .50 difference. The bartender was really nice and appreciated the fact that my gang and I weren’t like the regular bunch of sleaze that was hitting on her pathetically the whole night.
I’d totally go back, but I’m not really in any sort of rush to do so.

If you took a crack house and a burned out meth lab, put them together and added a bar, it would look like Yogi’s. Do you remember that weird looking guy that was on the subway the other day staring at your girlfriend, you know the guy, big lummox, crooked teeth, greasy comb over, eyeglasses caked with dandruff, smelling of stale urine and engine grease? Well, he drinks here. and so does his twin.
The drinks are really cheap. I mean third world cheap. You won’t find your 15 year old single malt here, but you will find a cheap buzz.
The crowd was cool, including a few guys drinking alone that could be best described as just, ‘disturbed’.
This place has to be seen to be believed.