This place is where fun goes to die.
I came here with my friend after work on a Friday, because I am a connoisseur of random Chicago dive bars (this is the first of many such reviews to come). We got there around 6PM and found the doors locked. I thought the place was closed for good (a known hazard when frequenting dives in gentrifying areas), so we went across the street to a little diner to regroup and decide on our next stop. Our waitress told us that Sunnyside was open, but it opened whenever the septuagenarian owner felt like it. So, after a quick snack we headed back over to find that it was in fact open.
You know how sometimes you can enjoy a dive bar genuinely because of the cheap drinks and fun and random characters, and other times you can enjoy it ironically? Well, neither of these frameworks worked this time. The only person in there was the elderly, non-talkative owner (who took both our beer order and our payment in silence), and the only sound was two 12" televisions mounted to the ceiling, emitting that weird too-blue light that often happens when cheap old televisions are on their last legs. Â The decor was a few Spuds McKenzie-era Budweiser posters that had seen better days. We sat near the front door with our coronas (limited selection and no tap, despite the name), as the owner stared at us from across the room. Actually, he was staring at the television directly above our heads (I believe "Cops" was on), but the effect was the same.
My friend and I drank our beers, talked in that forced jovial manner that you do when you're in a situation that you want to at least find funny but deep down just want to get out of, and left. Please don't let this experience be in vain - there are many dive and non-dive bars in the area to check out, heed my advice and go to every other one before stopping here.
If you don't love this place, you are obviously a vapid & soul-less philistine. Take the wholistic approach and appreciate it for what it is.
The posters on the wall range from '87 to '92, as do the more contemorary tunes on their malfunctioning jukebox, upon which only the "popular" button works. The carpeted restrooms are soaked in piss. The bar has a wicked curve on both ends.
The lady bartender is a beautiful old Italian woman who seems as reluctant to assimilation as this magnificent dive.
You want a dive bar? You need the Tap. On a birthday dive bar pub crawl this was our last stop and it WON! We came with about eight, we owned the bar, jukebox and the 80 year old bartender who wasn't prepared for such a large crowd and there wasn't much change available. Was this bar the spring-break capital of 1986? The Spuds and Cathy Ireland posters think so. So bring singles, enjoy the High Life, bizarre-ness and you might as well tip well. This type of beauty is soon to be extinct.
Review Source:Like the other have said...how this joint stays in business is beyond me. Â I live around the corner and go for a few PBR's when I dont want to be found sometimes. Â In 5 years I have never seen more than 3 people in the joint (including the bartender) at the same time. Â Once in the dead of winter my drinkin' pal dave and I started there around 7PM..we left cuz it was freezin cold in there and no action...surprise surprise...so we left. Â Had to go back ten minutes later cuz I forgot my gloves...the barmaid had turned the heat on after we left. Â That kinda explains the place
Review Source:I am not new to Lincoln Square. Â In fact it is the one neighborhood in the city that I feel confident in saying "I know this neighborhood". Â I know the locals, the man that walks up and down the street everyday with his fedora, the man with the two very large Great Danes. Â I know this neighborhood...or at least I thought I did. Â In fact I only knew this neighborhood East of Western. Â Western is one of those streets that is really a dividing line for me. Â I don't venture past Western often (unless of course I am making my weekly trek to Harvest Time, but I will save that for later). Â This changed on Wednesday of this week. Â
My gentleman caller suggested that we meet at the Sunnyside Tap, which is pretty much your quintessential DIVE BAR. Â When he said it was a dive I had in mind Carol's, which according to some is THE DIVE BAR. Â You know the place where you can get the hip shitty beers, a random hipster kid will trickle in, but for the most part it is middle-aged men belly up to the bar. Â This is not the case with Sunnyside Tap. Â I arrived at the agreed time of 6:30 (a bit early?) and waited at the bar by myself for a bit. Â The bar-maiden was outside with her gentlemen and didn't realize I had wondered in, which I can't blame her it was 6:30 on a Wednesday night. Â When she finally meandered in I asked her if she had a house red wine. Â As soon as these words left my mouth I realized how stupid it was to ask such a question. Â RED WINE HERE???? Â Am I really that pretentious? Â Surely I must be kidding! Â She informed me that they did not have wine and so I went with my second choice of a Vodka Tonic. Â My vodka tonic came back to me in a small glass with ice and no lime. Â NO LIME???? Â Like I said DIVE BAR! Â The drink was weak but wet and cold...so I was fine with my selection. Â The lady behind the bar talked with me (as I was alone at this point) about her converter box for the TV and how only one of the two seemed to be working. Â I said I didn't mind not having the TV on, but she seemed intent on having both sets ablaze. Â After she left me to join her friend out back I took a peak at the Juke Box, which didn't seem to have been updated since 1991 (I attribute this to the fact that Amy Grant's song "Baby Baby" was one of the tracks I could have chosen). Â I wish that I could say that this was a GREAT DIVE BAR, but in my opinion it was only OK. Â The drinks were not cheap (ok my vodka tonic was only $4, but at Carols they are much less than that and a bit stronger) and the washroom was not the cleanest, Â but it does have more character than many of the other bars in this neighborhood. Â Will I come back? Â Yes...but only because it is right around the corner from me and because I love the song "Baby Baby".
The divebarness gets the five stars.
The owner, also known as the ONLY OTHER PERSON IN THE BAR WITH YOU AND YOUR GUEST, gets five stars for a delightful smile.
She and I were here for nearly 3 hours with only one other person coming in for a quick bathroom break. And the owner's older gentleman friend. Aside from that, 3 hours of obviously awkward conversation, as is the case with any conversation that involves me.
But this place gets a three star update.
We had company, in the form of ANTS on the bar.
I can take the shitty, creeky barstools that slant. The fact that there is no footrest at the bar (biggest petpeeve). The watercloset. The jukebox that hasn't been touched in ages. BUT WHEN THERE'S ANTS ON THE BAR, I CALMLY MAKE A MENTAL TO KNOCK IT DOWN.
So there, 3 stars. I don't hate you, shit, I'll be back soon, but hopefully my flicks will prove a point.
I walked in here yesterday and asked if they needed a bartender. The guy behind the bar (maybe the owner) put his hands up in disbelief as if to say "You're the only person in here, you're not even drinking, and you think we need a bartender at this gin mill?".
Anyway, I thought I'd give it 4 stars for the smell, the lack of conformity to anything since the Johnson Administration and the ovalness of the bar (for some reason, I like oval-shaped bars).
I'd really like to work here. No really. I would like to show people that you can have a divey bar in a fairly decent area and make a go of it. Plus, the task of getting more than a half dozen customers in there challenges me.
So if anyone knows the owner, the camel-toed barmaid or anyone having to do anything with this place, let them know that I will bartend for free as long as they let me play the jukebox and get bus money in tips.
Lovers of the Old Man Bar unite -
The mothership is here
Amazingly odor free, gorgeous curved bar, christmas lights and a Museum honoring beer campaigns of the 80's
A draft system that does nothing - all beers come in bottles and plenty of Rock n Rye
jukebox gives you 30 songs for $5
And they are decent - the kind everyone knows the words to and sings along
personally, I was forced to dance with hubby to Anniversary Song - we've come so far - so proud
One of my party did not enjoy - why? Because they did not know the way of the Old Man Bar -
1. Even if draft system is working, order bottled- at least you can sue bottling company for illness
2. Rum & Diet?  Really? Of course you got it in a juice class with flat pop & no name rum   Beer or shot Beer or shot Beer or shot
3. Malort - umm  uness you are a true Old Man and therefore have your reproductive years behind you DO NOT drink the Malort
How does this place stay in business? Three stars 'cos it is a true dive bar. Not sure how the perfectly preserved 80's posters stay so fresh.
Staggered tipsily in here on a Saturday after the OTS fest with my brother and SIL. No. One. Was. There. Saturday night. Empty.
A bunch more people show up. We ask that the jukebox volume be increased so we can listen to and scream along with the same three Madonna songs over and over . . . except louder.
The beer we had was a fairly unusual brand 'cos my brother picked it out. Don't ask me what it was, though. If you want a quiet dive bar on a . . . Saturday night, Sunnyside is your destination.
This has to be a front for something and I'm dying to know what. Â I went in here with my boyfriend and a friend and the old lady barmaid refused to serve us because we did not each have 3 forms of I.D. on us.
Perhaps next time I'll come back with my birth certificate and social security card. Â That'll show her.
In terms of ambiance and irony I can't add much more that Rick or Michael. However, if your kids go to Queen of Angels you might appreciate its one advantage: it's right next door to the Queen of Angels gym and community center. The only people I've ever seen in there were either waiting for their kids to leave a dance or were ducking out of some dry event.
Review Source:I am absolutely stunned that the Sunnyside Tap has served a patron in the last decade or so much less received a Yelp Review. My evening commute takes me by the place each evening and I have made it a point to peer into the window encased in the door (similar to those used in MSSHU - maximum security segregated hosing units)
EVERY day since my ill fated trip to what I now refer to as the tap. There has never been a SINGLE PATRON in here, EVER.
   The sign outside reads "May God have mercy on your soul because we will show none in here" I ordered a Johnny Walker on the rocks and was little disconcerted to find that there ws no ice. Several minutes later after the barkeep (I cannot improve on Mike S description of the barmaid) CAREFULLY , measured the shot , I attempted to make small conversation. This failed. After a few shots I decided to play some music ,(Hotel California?) and was told " We appreciate it if you did not play music, Her use of the word WE was more than a little unsettling given that WE were the only 2 souls and one of us (me was doing the requesting)
   I AM VERY INTERESTED in getting some Yelpers together to make this a real business,  I am virtually certain that ONLY myself an dMike have crossed the threshold of this Godforsaken , dank , hole and Mike's speculation that "real estate taxes" are paid for via the profits is absurd. There is something far more sinister going on here and if I can persuade a Yelper to join me , we can get to this bottom of this. The presence of Spuds McKenzie is , granted, amusing at first but I'm timking of some paranormal explanations as well.
Sunnyside Tap has nothing on tap. One star for that irony.
There was not a soul inside this incredibly dated place when I walked in, but the TV's, each with rabbit ears (damn, remember those?) were on. There was no bartender here, either. So, I kept my coat on and looked around at the decor: old beer promo posters of bikini-clad women with big Texas-style Eighties hairdos no one wears any longer. There was an illuminated Spuds Mackenzie atop the cooler that held the beer - in six-packs. Ah, a clue to how little volume this place does; they buy beer in six-packs and resell it.
Finally, a 60 or maybe 70-something year-old woman hobbled in the back door from the alley and told me she'd been outside smoking a cigarrette. She sat down behind the bar, took her shoes off, and put her feet up.
I asked her for a Corona. She sighed, didn't bother to put her shoes back on, and got me a bottle of Corona. She settled back into her throne, apparently expecting no one.
I didn't stay long. My curiousity had been satisfied. I'd driven by here frequently, and happened to have had something to do in the neighborhood. So, finally I wandered in, and now, out.
My best guess: the Eleanor Rigby type woman behind the bar owns the building, acquired the liquor license a very long time ago, and has no means or intention of fixing the place up. It's probably good for a few bucks that cover the real estate taxes on the buidling, and since I suspect it's her home upstairs, she ain't ready to turn the place over to developers or operators who might make the place modern.
This was eery, and well worth the visit. Places like this still exist.
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