Tommy’s Tavern

The sign says $ 4.00 for the beer. They charged me $ 5.00 over and over again. Then mentioned they «forgot» to update the price on their list on their wall.
Also the bartenders insulted me to each other at the end of their bar. Did they not think that their LOUD whispers would not carry in a nearly empty space with no music playing?
I’m glad this place is closed everytime i walk by. IDK if it’s for good but I sure hope so.

This place is kinda grimy in a pleasant way. I saw a great
punk show in the back room once.

You all are talking crazy talk! This bar is amazing. It just depends what you’re looking for. Me? I’m looking for a real dive that reminds me of my former and beloved days in Columbus, Ohio. And if you, too, are looking for what I describe below, Tommy’s is as good as it gets.
It’s all of two feet by two feet inside, and there is poorly written graffiti on the walls decrying «Tommy’s Fuckin’ Tavern» or something equally ridiculous like that. You will most assuredly get bashed in the middle with a pool cue, because most of the two feet by two feet are being used up by a very popular pool table. I was astounded to find locals of the Midwestern type inside Tommy’s — and can’t help but wonder if these misshapen Iron Maiden-​tshirt-​wearing folk are in fact transplants from my beloved former place of residence. The drink menu for Tommy’s is — wait for it — poorly scrawled on a piece of printer paper and taped up behind the bar. I ordered a beer in a can called a Schaeffer, and it was joyously anticlimactic. Tosh.0 was on the TV, but this was readily drowned out by such choice jukebox selections as Social Distortion, Metallica, and yes, Rancid. This experience was completed by the fact that some very rough-​around-​the-​edges looking lesbians were making out in the corner.
Now, it might sound like the Midwest — and Tommy’s — are places you never, ever want to go. And let me tell you, maybe you don’t. After all, someone else’s review says something is a bit «off» about this place. And it’s true. However, this is by no means the epitome of the Midwest, just the seedy underbelly of the Midwest (endearing in the way that 1970s Times Square porn houses are endearing) that I have never seen before in New York… until Tommy’s. My cousin and I walked by it looking for Saint Vitus a couple weeks ago, and though Tommy’s doesn’t havea sign, some bearded down-​home gentlemen were hanging around outside, and we both agreed that whatever that place was, it would be an «Ohio bar»… and we right.
I’ll be back, Tommy’s… I’ll be back.

Ugh. You mean Murder Bar? No thanks. It won some sort of obnoxious award from the Village Voice a few years ago for being the loudest bar in NYC. Lately they’ve been doing what look like hardcore shows. Drawing big crowds, and those folks seem into it. It’s just not my scene.

After reading the reviews here was kinda scared to go meet my friends who were playing there. And it was a really fun night. No awful bartender, they were super friendly it was super divey and the crew that worked there was quite awesome. But I will say there was a man punched in the face and I DO think his nose was broken… but he was asking for it…

My partner suggested I add more stars. His reason: «It wasn’t that bad. You didn’t die there.»
Enough said.

I went to a birthday show that was held here for it’s dive-​y atmosphere. From all accounts I would think that was the most people that place had seen in a single night– you’d think that the bartender would be thrilled at the prospect of all those tips– but it just seemed like she was pissed that she had to work at all. Her mixed drinks were decidedly missing alcohol– and when I ordered a round of shots in honor of my boyfriend’s birthday (okay, this may sound gross– it’s half whiskey half Jäger– try it!) she had the nerve to roll her eyes and make a snide comment… and then proceeded to charge me $ 7/​shot. Whatever– that was only $ 56… at least I saw her pour them, and it was actually alcohol (compared to my first drink). I totally was stupid enough to tip her like $ 9– her attitude still didn’t improve. I mean seriously?! Anyway, stick with beer and shots if you see the skinny, miserable blond with the tats behind the bar.
In all fairness, I gave this place two stars because there is a tiny backroom where bands play– the main reason the party was there. It was cool to see bands (which were totally amazing) rock out in such a tiny space– everyone can really get into the music and totally makes the atmosphere awesome.

I have a tolerance for crap bars. But the bartender here was just awful. Ignoring customres, insulting customers — and these were people who were buying drinks and tipping. If I wanted that I would have stayed home. F her and f this place. I’ll not return.

I heard that this was to be my go to dive bar where I’m moving, so I was pretty excited that a friend was going to be playing a show. I walked in, and instead of the usual dark, cozy dives that I love, I was met with a pretty cold and uncomfortable atmosphere.
It feels as if the owners had at one time attempted to update the bar, what with the strangely shaped sofas and gigantic, digital juke box. There was just something totally off about this place and I couldn’t really handle it.
The Schaefer was cheap, and their happy hour deals are good, but what’s the point of sitting in a dive if you can’t have fun? Guys, I just wanna get my dirty drank on and be done with it! Unfortunately, the female bartender had no smiles to give.
In addition to the unsettling vibes, a girl my friend knew showed the staff her passport to be served (she is 23), and they demanded her green card. She doesn’t have one. She was VISITING. I’ve never heard of a passport not being enough identification, and at that point I was honestly read to leave. Pair all that with a shitty sound system, and the only redeeming thing about my night was the fact that a band playing (Eloise) rocked the house and there was a cab really close by for our speedy departure.

Me: «It smells like piss in here.»
Him: «WHAT?!»
Me: «IT SMELLS LIKE PISS.»
Him: «WHAT!!!»
This place is loud yet empty, with a heaping helping of nasty. There’s a back room for noise bands to do their thing in, and a front room in which aging hippies can wax nostalgic when they’re not too busy looking at your legs.

A local bar with a pool table. You won’t go poor here. What more could you want?
There’s a back room where they have shows some nights.

Wendy L. summed it up pretty well: I too saw a customer fight with the barkeep. Some guy that was hopped up on coke slugged the female bartender and ran off. I chased him down, got the police involved and then I was considered the narc and felt threatened in the bar. This is the only place in Brooklyn I’ll never return to.

Where the drinks are cheap and the bartender gets into bloody bar fights with the customers.
…maybe i was here on the wrong night