John Barleycorn Pub

CLOSING OCTOBER 27TH !!!
The barleycorn’s last night is Oct 27^th, 2007. Stop in before then to cherish the magic one last, or several last times. =]
This bar is amazing. It’s such an oddball amalgam of different historical things and objects. Truly delightful place.
And to boot, the drinks are inexpensive, and made with utter precision, the kind of precision you get after bartending for 40 years. It looks effortless, yet is done so expertly, you’d be a fool to think you can make a drink just the same way as Larry does.
Best old fashioned I’ve ever had, hands down.
My friend Vanessa summed it up nicely, she said. It feels like you’re drinking in grandpa’s living room.
John Barleycorn, you’ll be missed, but your memory will live on in the hearts of the San Franciscan’s that loved you, just like the rest of this city’s rich and lavish history.

I love being able to text message my friends Zoe (about 4 below) and Sean with…
” ‘Corn?“
And they know exactly what, when and where to meet me.
So sad…
I hate hate haters… thats a NOFX song.

The John Barleycorn was the first pub I’ve ever set foot in that felt immediately like I had come home. It has a warm atmosphere, friendly bartenders, and the mix of people there every night makes it feel like you’re among family. There’s a wide range of ages, but they share a great, laid back temperament.
It absolutely kills me that they might be put out of business because the new building owner doesn’t even want to talk to them about renewing their lease. There’s no conversation happening there at all.
I live in the East Bay, far from the Barleycorn, but every time I’m in the area I drop in so I can pretend it’s my local. I’m actually looking to move into the area and a big draw was the Barleycorn’s presence. And it sucks that even if I get out there this summer, I may only have a few months left to get my visits in.
Please visit
to learn what we can do to help. Until then, I’ll just keep dropping in and wearing my t-​shirt and crossing my fingers.

There is something to be said about history. You walk into this place and you can see straight away that it has a story to tell. You gawk at the church pew benches, and the mismatched wood, and the old little trinkets covering the place. You wonder where the bar came from, and how long the bartenders have been working there, and how long the regulars have been drinking there, and what kind of stories they have to tell as well. Then Tony «the tour guide» stops you from talking and tells you everything you ever wanted to know about the bar, from where each piece of furniture came from to how long the bar has been in that location. I doubt this happens every night. I’m pretty sure we were the lucky few to get this history lesson in the midst of a packed DYL, and unfortunately its probably because they are getting shut down. That’s right. I just found this place, and now all this history is being taken away. Its sad. I never got to sit by a fire while playing backgammon or putting together a Darth Vader Mr. Potato head. I never got to sneak into the nook and steal kisses with some adorable boy. I never got to do a lot of things.
PS. Thanks so much to the John Barleycorn for supplying Unilocalers with their first happy hour prices. Its cuz we rule.

Do you know heart when you see it? Can you feel soul when it’s near you? There is a difference between history and tradition, and although John Barleycorn circumscribes both, it is perilously close to losing it’s vibrant, living tradition and fading into the cold halls of history.
The wood here smells of San Francisco, of life and lust and respect and levity. The cozy interior forbids the echoes and conversation-​neutralizing typical of your modern drinkary, welcoming instead an intimate and flatly embracing setting that gently puts an arm around you and asks what you’d like to drink with rosy cheeks and a wink in it’s eye. Every seat here welcomes you into it, and considering where the motley assortment of chairs and benches came from it’s a pleasant surprise to find such comfort once you’re planted.
The bartenders are on loan from boozery heaven. Perfect drinks, served quickly with a genuine smile, and a supernatural ability to handle a massive crowd like DYL with aplomb. After a few drinks, you’ll feel a strange desire to perhaps pour one of them a round; sure, take a load off and let me serve you, you’ll think. I’ve never seen anything like it.
When I walked out of this fine, fine establishment and stepped into the cold night air of San Francisco, I didn’t feel like I was going home; I felt like I left it.

I have to say that I think it’s a damn shame that they are closing this bar. It is a great hole in the wall kind of bar — one that makes you feel like you’re hanging out in the rec room or weird hunting lodge of one of your parent’s friends. The bartenders are as historic as the surroundings… The drinks are poured strong and served with a wink and a smile…
I will have to go back there quickly and check it out when it’s not packed to the gills with Unilocalers… given that I think I described the vibe in there last night to someone as «kinda like having a huge party in a dorm room or something»… I bet when it’s quiet that it is a good place to curl up with a brandy and a book…
Damn shame they are closing it — I hope they are able to save it…
Link ganked from Omid T. — please go check it out and help save this awesome SF landmark.

«Being towards Death creates Care» — Martin Heidegger, Existential philosopher.
According to Heidegger, when we realize that one day we will die, we start caring for the preciousness of our lives by identifying what we are most passionate about (our Lives’ project) and that’s when we start leading an authentic existence.
John B. faces potential death at the hand of a new landlord who wants to tear down a piece of history. Keeping up with last weeks drinking with an activist streak (new found Care), Unilocalers descended in droves last evening and created amazing memories in this island of elegance in Nob Hill, where the bartenders can quote Shakespeare.
The imposing exterior, along with the dark wooded interior and the warmth of the fireplace make you feel that the Christmas spirit is kept alive all the year round in this Bar.
Death comes in many forms. We have death of time, death of youth, death of opportunity. but one of the biggest fear in humans is death of potency, when we can’t get it up no more. But all hope is not yet lost for John B. Debauchery driven activism like DYL is like applying VIAGRA in the face of potential impotency.
The big question is, will the Viagra do its job and convince the new landlord to give John B. a new lease of life? If the new landlord is cut with a line of the finest Columbian blend Coke, then it will work. However, if the line is street crack instead, then all efforts of activism will fall through the crack. Only, time will tell.

**Ok, I love the Barleycorn so much that I deleted my original review that had like 10 useful and 8 cool votes just to bump it to the top. Show me some love people!**
*update 4/​21/​2007*
I had such a blast here last night for DYL. Not only was the night educational (we learned all about the history of the bar and the various fixtures/​furniture inside) but I also got really drunk and made out with a hot Unilocaler in the hidden nook behind the fireplace. Ok, that’s a lie but as long as the Barleycorn is still around there is always that possibility.
Why oh why does the Barleycorn have to close? Booo mean Luisa’s woman. I’ll never eat at your crappy Italian restaurant or go to whatever generic bar you put in the Barleycorn’s place.
*original review 8/​20/​2006*
What a great neighborhood bar! I can’t believe I live four blocks away and haven’t been before… grab a seat in front of the fireplace and order some scotch and watch your worries melt away in no time.

This is utterly futile, isn’t it?
Why should I bother reviewing a place that’s hopelessly destined to close up shop thanks to a landlord who refuses to renew a lease?
I felt it was utterly pointless to go here to «Save the John Barleycorn.» I mean, seriously, how is attending a pub going to save it? It’s not like they’re broke and need to fill the tills. It’s not like they’re dying from a lack of business. They have a jerk landlord, that’s all. Just who are you going to help by packing into a bar and drinking beer, anyway?
Turns out, you could be saving San Francisco. Or a bit of its soul.
For as much as I’ve heard about John Barleycorn, I never knew anything about it. I never knew its owner and bartenders were such warm, friendly people. I never knew the history of every bit of décor in this place, about which the staff are more than happy to tell tales. I never knew that such a neighborhood hangout really existed, where locals and visitors alike could take in the historical environs over a pint of ale or a tumbler of something stronger.
I sat in a church pew, hung out in the little «back room,» drank several pints, and then it hit me why coming to this watering hole could save it. One would have to be incredibly hard of heart (even more so than myself) to not feel the charm and character oozed by this joint. It’s truly a «local,» one of those gathering places that offers a warm seat and a cold drink to all who need it. And once taken in by that charm, it’s almost impossible not to sign the petition to save the place.
Please, go to
and learn more.
Unless, of course, you’re one of those twats who actually wants another Starbucks or TGI Friday’s or Applebee’s to show up in its place. In which case, you are cordially invited to go [penetrate] yourself.

When I was in college and lived up the street from The Corn, my roommates and I rated our nights by where we stumbled home from. Tonic=4, Bigfoot=3, The Buc=2, The Corn=1, and Shangai Kelly’s didn’t rate at all. Oh, there was nothing wrong with the Corn, per se, it just meant that we probably didn’t get any #s or have much success with the opposite sex (I lived with 4 dudes), as The Corn tended to draw an older, ok– WAY older crowd. It was our convenient choice when walking more than 2 blocks for booze seemed simply out of the question.
Last night’s DYL makes me think I just had a little growing up to do. This time around, it was a ligher, happier corn. And the company was much more age-​appropriate than ever before.
The drinks still weren’t very strong but the bartender was lovely and I’m actually sad to see it go.

Tragic. I just found this place and they are already about to get shut down.
Tony the off-​duty bartender was utterly charming, and we bonded over watching a Rolls Royce crash into a Lincoln Towncar, and he was super appreciative of all the reviews people have written about the place. He gave us the full tour, which conveniently involved taking not even one step, and the guys behind the bar were quick, friendly and attentive. I only drank beer, so I can’t comment on the quality of the cocktails, but I never heard a single complaint.
It was a little overwhelming to be crowded in among many more patrons than the space would comfortably serve, but I imagine that on a regular night, it would be a really comfortable place to sit with a small contingent of friends and drink the night away. There are all kinds of historical pieces in the bar including the tables, the benches and the bar itself.
I hope I can make it back to JB for at least one more round.

This small historical bar has been around a «long» time, and sadly, an era will end very soon. There can’t be a better way to conclude the era of this bar by letting Unilocal having a DYL/​Happy-​hour here.
Matt lives in the neighboring area a long time, but has never been to this bar. As a non-​alcoholic, this will be the first & last visit before this bar will sign-​off later on in the year. Whenever Matt walked by this bar, the only people who hangs out here are the regulars, who are also sadden and strucked by the closing of the bar.
The owner started introducing himself and the other staff and elaborated the birth of the historical bar on how it all started. All the upholsteries and other items are antique and rare; furnitures you can’t find anywhere these day in ages including Craigslist.
After his historical birth speech, he let us do our usual socializing gathering and proceeded our party. From the bar, Matt ordered a $ 2.50 non-​alcholic drink, which is a mixture of Orange, Grapefruit and Cranberry Juice. The virgin drink didn’t sound too exciting, but enough to quench Matt’s thrist. Many of the Unilocalers asked Matt, «OOH, that is a pretty drink, what is it?»
Matt replied, «It’s just a mixture of assorted fruit-​juice!»
Like Matt mentioned in previous reviews, and Matt will continue to say it again, whenever you go to Unilocal events, these events are great ways to meet friends. Unfortunately, this is a «SMALL» bar with limited seating and there are so many Unilocalers at this party, that it tooked Matt 10 minutes to get through these human trees and straight to the doorway. Many of these Unilocalers tried to restrained and blockaded Matt from going home.

On first impression, this was a three star joint for me. And all three stars were going to the fact that it had a fireplace. That — alone — is worth three stars in my opinion. Because this town is way too foggy and windy for EVERY establishment — bars, restaurants, hair salons, drug stores, gas stations, whatevah — not to have a fireplace.
Other than the fireplace, I wasn’t drawn to much else. I mean, it’s a GREAT fireplace. Good for toastin’ next to with a Jameson rocks and a good friend. But I was way too self-​absorbed this particular evening to pay much attention to anything else Barleycorn had to offer.
Then, as we were leaving, pow-​wowing on the sidewalk outside about where to go to dinner, Drue C. began to regale me with tales of the history behind the bar. «The wood in that table there is made from the planks of an old ship that sailed San Francisco Bay a century ago… Those benches came from some old cable cars…»
Really? Cool. Four stars.
I was now on the outside, looking in, thinking I outta go back in there and chill a little while longer.
Then she told me the place lost its lease and is closing in May. Bummer.
So long, John Barleycorn. Nice knowin’ you and your fireplace for an evening.

Everyone needs a favorite neighborhood bar, and I’m fortunate enough to have this as my number one.
Quiet and unassuming with friendly staff and patrons alike. This isn’t where you go to for the party. This isn’t where you go to pick up chicks or hang with the hipsters. This is where you go to relax and enjoy yourself with your friends after a days work or wind down a night of drinking.
Such a calm and cozy place, and one of my loves because it is rarely packed or crowded. It is comfortable, with it’s clientle of locals, stone fire place and old benches. Every little piece of the pub is a bit of San Francisco history, which makes me sad that the pub itself may become history soon itself.
Come here to relax, come here to enjoy your friends and surroundings, and if you come here when it’s slow, ask for the historical tour and sign the petition to keep it open.

I am naming my first-​born son John Barleycorn!
Dim lighting = sexy
A few of us stumbled in before calling it a night after watching Etta James perform at the Masonic Auditorium. It was the perfect spot for a quiet nightcap and recap of the show.
Cash only — as a pub of this nature should be.
Would definitely stop in again!

I stopped here on the way to see David Lynch’s «Inland Empire» because of Unilocal.It’s a really lovely looking piece of SF history and I was very upset to hear that it will likely get shutdown because of the new owner of the building. Sign the petition folks!
PS: Anyone know what the hell is going on in that movie? I think the only way I’ll figure that one out is to take a bit of Lynch’s brain matter, smoke it, and see the movie again.
EDIT: Amy E. had the link and I totally missed it. Thanks Amy E!

After an early dinner dip in some clam chowder at Swan Oyster Depot — we thawed ourselves by the cozy fire at John Barleycorn.
This was our 1^st visit and could be last as I hear it is closing. We signed the petition
and you should too — even if you have never been. It would be a crying shame to loose such a cool historical bar.
The huge window is just breathtaking. You will feel like you are in another time, far away as you sip your cocktail or pint. The bartender and patrons are friendly and with an intellectual vibe.
I did have to refrain from running endless circles around the fireplace. After a couple drinks, the husby and I got all flirty and chased each other around the circular fireplace, ducking into dark corners in the back. Nobody kicked us out, in fact, I think they liked the playful display.

The John Barelycorn offers authentic pub culture particular to San Francisco and specific to its neighborhood. It’s removed, unpretentious and inviting, The tone is set by the fellows who run the bar. This is important in that beer/​wine/​cocktails can be found anywhere in a multi-​block radius but what gives the Barleycorn its appeal is the experience.
The barmen are genial and professional, and smartly attend to the eclectic cast of customers that ebb and flow throughout their shifts. Their backdrop (stage, really) is a collection of San Francisco artifacts that range from ancient church pews, to a Pacific Heights formal bar and small reading room, to cable car benches and pewter mugs reserved for the JBC senior senators.
Perfectly prepared libations often fuel lively conversation on all things San Francisco. Unlike other bars, if you engage the regulars, you will want to have an educated opinion. If you are a Giants fan, you’ll love it there. There is a lot to this place, but not surprising given it’s unflinching 40+ year history.
Once caveat and one caution: they have a history of repelling repeat idiots (even on the first day of Lent) and the bartender on the weekends makes the finest Bloody Marys in the city.

UPDATE: The JB closed on Oct 27^th.
If all-​night underground raves are your thing, don’t bother.
If, on the other hand, you appreciate friendly, (mostly) intelligent, conversation in a warm and cozy setting (yes, there’s a fireplace), this hidden gem is for you.
The staff are walking encyclopedias on everything from baseball to, uh, barley, and will cheerfully serve up anything from a great Guinness to what I hear is a stellar Bloody Mary.
The JB simply is a must-​visit.

UPDATE — This building was just sold and the new owner wants to close down The Front Room (wouldn’t break my heart) and John Barleycorn (would break my heart) to open her own chic restaurant, which I will never go to if it happens. Please go in, buy a drink and sign the petition to keep this place alive!!!
This bar could become one of my new favorite haunts in a hurry! What a great place, and one I have never even noticed in the many years I have lived here. Thank goodness for the Red Door Café having a wait in the morning so that I actually looked across the street and noticed this gem.
We stopped in after breakfast one morning just to take a look at the place, and though we made it clear we were not ordering drinks that morning, the owner was more than happy to share with us a great history of the place… where the seats came from (old seal stadium seats, old cable car seats, old grace cathedral seats), where the bar came from (old SF hotel bar), where the fireplace stones came from (old boats importing items to SF)…you get the idea. Ask about the décor, its a great slice of SF history.
So, I came back the next night. And what did I find? A band playing in the corner, a middle aged couple dancing to that band until they became too drunk to do so anymore, a group of young adults playing with a Mr Potato Head and a Oija board… compliments of the book and game room they have tucked in the back corner of the bar, several regulars sitting and talking, a knitting group that apparently meets here for their knitting circle, a warm fire and a warm feeling.
I hope this place does not get discovered because it is perfect just how it is… a great mix of people and a comfortable place to enjoy a drink, that feels more like your grandfathers sitting room than a bar.

If you want to hang out casually with a small group of close friends and are not in the mood for the glitzier people on a bar crawl (Polk Street denizens) I recommend the Barleycorn Pub.
My friend lives up further, so the walk down is easy. Upon entrance, we are greeted by raucous laughter and heavy male talk coming from the bar. We find a narrow table and my knees are knocking against the person across from me. While the men settle on beers, I go for the foo-​foo drink of a midori and a whiskey sour. Both, of which, the sweetness masks the strength and soon, I am getting all warm and fuzzy.
There are decks of playing cards and trivia, which we end up playing. Try answering political and historical trivia while your brain is off zoning.
Great ambiance, the ability to remain auspicious in a casual background. We left to hit the pool tables up farther, and the walk up was a bit more challenging.