Brooklyn Inn is one of the best neighborhood bars you could hope for, and fortunately, it’s in my (extended) neighborhood. Yes, I’m a lucky guy. I drew it, and I’m including it in my upcoming book Great Good Places of New York, to be published by Rizzoli in 2018. Handmade prints available in my store, signed, numbered, and shipped for free.

The Brooklyn Inn: Some Background

“When we took over the business, we had one mantra…let’s be smart enough not to fuck it up. It’s legendary for a reason.” The words of Jason Furlani, manager, on the responsibility of buying the legendary Brooklyn Inn, one of the oldest bars in a borough that really, really values its old bars — yet has a hard time agreeing on what is, in fact, the oldest bar. “What is amazing and a true testament to the place is that, throughout time, everyone saw the value in the space itself. There have been minor additions and improvements over the years, but the one thing that is consistent is that no one fucked it up. The room itself is sacrosanct.”

That’s the feeling you get when you walk into the Brooklyn Inn. It’s almost like you’re in a church. It smells like the inside of an old violin. The 25-foot ceilings soar, as does the intricately carved, almost alter-like mahogany backbar. Stained glass glistens, tin cherubs watch over you, and woody gargoyles grimace from the backbar. The place definitely has religious overtones.

Since 1885 congregants have assembled here, taking communion (in glasses only; there is no food and that goes for wafers), and connecting with each other. “It’s the people,” bartender Heather Clinton tells me when I ask her what she loves about the place. Regulars are revered here, but first timers are equally welcome. “It’s typically a steady mix of regulars and newbies,” says Furlani.

The mood of the Brooklyn Inn runs the gamut from sacred to profane. On a Saturday afternoon, the place can be quiet as a law library, every patron reading, writing or waiting for a friend, holding their conversations—for the time being. Five hours later, it’s absolutely raucous, like a roaring, whiskey-fueled 1958 cocktail party at George Plimpton’s pad, people pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with friends and strangers, banging elbows, talking, drinking, howling, yawping.

“Saturday nights are the wild-card night. That’s our ‘anything can happen day,’” Furlani says. “It can be a shit-show of young entitled asshats, or a wedding party will show up (as in: the entire wedding), or three birthday parties will pile in like a clown car, or it can be a nice, fun straightforward experience.” But Sundays at the Brooklyn Inn are special in a different, much quieter way. Maybe it’s the Inn’s churchy atmosphere. When the sun is low and the light pours in all those big corner windows, it’s transcendent. A moment of grace; out of time, free of the jangly rhythms of the city, and you’re completely in the present.

Furlani puts it this way: “We’re a harbor in the calm waters of routine and a port in the storm of life. We do the same thing every day, and we welcome both newcomers and regulars with open arms. Long as they don’t rock the boat. It’s hallowed ground, something to be both respected and revered.”

A Few Brooklyn Inn Facts

Drink
• Most Popular: Guinness. They sell an immense amount of it so chances are a new keg has just been tapped, and the beer system itself mixes both nitrous and CO2 for the perfect pint. “One of the best outside of Ireland—perfectly calibrated, perfectly cold and always fresh,” according to Clinton.
• Not to be missed: A shot, to go with your Guinness. Pours are heavy and prices are right.

Notice
• The gargoyle-like creatures carved into the bar, laughing, maybe screaming at you (Clinton suggests “judging you”) as you knock back your drink.
• The stained glass panels that adorn the main room, including a stately “AZ” from 1885, the initials of original owner Anton Zeiner, a pillar of the local German-American community.
• In the back room with the pool table, you’ll see several little old “doorbell buzzers” above the wainscoting. Decades ago, when the Brooklyn Inn was a restaurant, diners in back would summon waiters with a push of a button, like attendant call buttons on airplanes. People still love to press them, looking around to see what will happen, like naughty little kids. But they’re not connected to anything. Or are they…?

The Bar
The bar itself was assembled from catalogue kit, probably made by Brunswick (well-known for pool tables and bowling alleys, at one time they also built bars.) The original color of the wood and surrounding trim was the same warm blond mahogany of the bar surface. Someone along the way painted the remainder of the bar black. “Could’ve been worse,” Furlani says.

The Building
Built in 1851 (with a facelift in the 1880s), the three-story brick building is perched on a quiet corner of leafy, residential Boerum Hill. Legend has it that when Zeiner opened the bar, a local preacher railed against such a den of iniquity invading his neighborhood. Then again, this still happens a lot in rapidly changing Brooklyn. Oh, and the place is “lousy with ghosts,” according to Furlani.

Best Seat in the House
“I could tell you that but then I’d have to kill you,” Furlani says. “Only because the regulars would show up on my lawn with torches and pitchforks. I have a family to think about.” My personal take, not surprisingly, would be the leftmost seat at the front end of the bar, near the front windows with great view of the room and street outside. Bonus: it’s conveniently located near the radiator, which is great in the winter. Just watch out for those regulars with their torches and pitchforks….

Best Times to Visit
I like Friday, Saturday or Sunday afternoons, when the crowd is sparse, the sun is low, and the whole room glows with magic light so you can really appreciate the high relief of the bar’s carvings, not to mention all that stained glass. For a rowdier time, stop in Friday or Saturday (anything can happen) night.

Getting There
Take the G or the F train to Brooklyn’s Bergen Street stop, then walk a block east, to Hoyt.