Friday, October 29th, 2010—Bar 292

Day 292—Thursday, October 28th, 2010
Phil Hughes
While Googling around tonight I came up with what I think will be a real winner. I found a bar on the Upper East Side called Phil Hughes that has been around for four decades, so they must be doing something right. Plus, if you’re like me, you’re wondering, “Who the hell is Phil Hughes? Let’s go find out.

The outside of the bar is unassuming and kind of looks like an apartment house, but the Heineken sign gave them away, let's go check it out.

Oh boy, this looks like the real deal here. A dark, quiet dive bar where people come to drink, period.

The bartender was a nice woman, but didn't want her picture taken. She took my photo and then reluctantly said I could take photos after I told her I wouldn't bother any of the people at the bar and would keep my flash off so I wouldn't bug anyone. The following pictures were snapped in about five minutes before she could change her mind. I had to document this joint!

There's lots of booze here, but I wouldn't order a Cosmopolitan if I were you.

An ancient Guinness sign hangs on the wall behind the bar.

I think this cash register is the original deal.

There's dark wooden tables opposite the bar, but none of the regulars sit at them.

Here's a window seat, table for two!

A lantern on this wall illuminates some pictures of sports scenes from the past.

And there's more pictures and a lantern on this brown wall.

There's a pool table in the back room, but I don't think it gets a lot of use. The regulars here use most of their energy to shuffle to their spots at the bar.

Old Glory hangs on the back wall. Somebody cue up The Star Spangled Banner.

After taking my pictures I had a few beers and chatted with a retired sanitation worker at the bar over a few Budweisers. On about the fourth beer I asked the bartender who Phil Hughes was. She told me he was the original owner and that he died a couple years ago. His family now owns the bar and hopefully they'll keep it in business. She pointed to his picture hanging at the bar hugging a dog. I asked if I could take a picture and she smiled and said I could. "Oh," she said, as I walked over to take the shot, "turn on your flash for that one." It was one of those moments that make me glad I'm doing this. TO PHIL HUGHES! Goodnight, everybody.

Review
This is one of the last true old-school New York watering holes. If you’re under 60-years old, you’ll probably be the youngest person in the joint. This bar has absolutely no frills, no specials, no gimmicks and is a true throwback to what a bar should be—a place to sit and throw back drinks in a dark and dank atmosphere. The patrons of Phil Hughes are grizzled and drizzled regulars who shuffle and limp to their bar stools and drink beers and shots. Talk can get lively and then it will fall silent again as everyone takes pulls off of their bottles of bud and straight up scotches.

There’s a full bar here, but the beer choices are strictly domestic and if you order anything more complicated than a screwdriver, you’re pushing the limits here. There’s no food or kitchen, but if you want to bring in a slice from a neighboring pizza place, I don’t think anybody would mind. And if you’re an early morning drinker, like a lot of the retired regulars here are, you’re in luck, the bar opens at 8am.

Stop in and have a drink or two at Phil Hughes and keep a legendary dive bar alive. But leave the plastic at home, Phil Hughes only takes cash...on the barrelhead, son.

Phil Hughes
1682 First Ave. (Near 88th St.)
No phone (The mark of a truly great bar!)