Whimsy, Community and Pipe Tobacco

There's no need for me to sing praises to Albany's Pub. Numerous glowing Yelp reviews have that covered. But I can tell you what it's like to visit the Pub on a Wednesday evening.

Cheerful and relaxed conversation greets you at the front deck. Once inside, it's fragrant, warm, friendly and comfortable. Conversation follows you wherever you go. Weaving from the front deck to the inside and over to the bar, through the hall and the door that leads to the back room and deck, bits and pieces of unceasing conversation let you in on day-to-day human experiences.

Chris Strong, having escaped his previous job with the federal government seemingly unharmed, bartends here several nights a week. Besides working the beer tap, he pours glasses of wine and Prosecco so full to the brim they require you to lean over and sip them down before you can consider carrying them to your table. A pleasant inconvenience, if you ask me.

He shows me one of several large photo albums from the early days of the Pub in the 1980s, when much of it was still being built. Though this is only my third time here, I already recognize several of the people in those albums.

Moving to the back room, the conversation continues to flow freely, from sharing Burning Man stories to discussing the oil spill in the Gulf, to advice on how to tile your bathroom.

"This place forces you to talk," says Strong. When I walk into the back room, it took only a few minutes to join a conversation with complete strangers. With seating arranged along the walls with coffee tables in the middle of the room, the strong community vibe here is unmistakable. 

"When this was an antique store, they used to sit and have drinks in the back when business was slow, and I'm sure one day one of them said, 'You know... we can probably sell this stuff and do pretty well!'" continues Strong. "John [Schmidt, owner of the Pub] always made sure to maintain the atmosphere of the 1970s pubs he hung out in when he traveled in England."

This means word-of-mouth, no advertisements, minimal pretense, plenty of authentic kitsch, and absolutely no Wifi.  

Enjoying a hand-rolled cigarette on the back deck, I find myself in conversation with the builder of that same deck. Guy Cavalli has been with the Pub from the start in 1984, when it was still a Chrismas and tobacco store. He built the deck, and most of the cabinets and shelves around the bar when the place was transformed into what it is today. From a Christmas store it became an antique store. Much of the furniture is still leftover from that era, and even more of it was slowly sold off to make a bit more room.

"[The Pub] became this wonderful gathering place where ideas of abstraction and existentialism were discussed by these thwarted intellectuals," Cavalli recalls. "It's the intimacy of being able to talk about one's life endeavors. It has maintained that Bohemian quality. It was built on that."