An Ode to Ye Olde Pub

Me, in a Belgian Pub.
Photo by Chelsey Browning.

I love a good pub.

And no, it’s not because of the beer—though I enjoy a pint as much as the next fellow.

No. It’s because of what I envision a pub to be, namely a place where humanity exercises its most phenomenal and foundational qualities.

Today, we mostly use the term “pub” as shorthand for any bar, or at best a specialized version of one. Many associate such places with simple drunkenness and debauchery. Those qualities are sometimes present, but hardly primordial. If that’s your attitude, it’s probably best you navigate away from this blog now. All nations welcome, except Carrie, as it were.

My appreciation for the pub rests firmly in its etymology. Short for “public house,” the pub serves primarily as a gathering place, at one time the economic, social, political, cultural hub of neighborhoods and towns.

Travelers of the Elizabethan Age sought lodging at the attached inns. Patriotic rabble-rousers in Boston sparked the flame of revolution. Families of the Victorian Era purchased food and other goods. Workers of the Industrial Revolution and beyond would unwind in the company of peers. Politicians campaigned for (and outright purchased) votes supporting countless candidates and causes. Hell, I met my wife at one!

I realize what I’ve said here is vaguely romanticized, largely idealistic, and bordering on the mythological, but it authentically represents my perspective. We are fundamentally social creatures, craving connection and capable of our best (and worst) in collaborative efforts. Pubs have consistently facilitated that need and that promise.

My sincerest hope is that they continue to do so in a modern world that barricades as much as binds us. Social media is often—and rather ironically—antisocial. The information superhighway seems perpetually logjammed with 20-car pileups of misinformation, bullshit, and lies. Most days we’d rather stab rivals in the back than look them in the eye and attempt to understand them. Genuine connection could serve as a salve in some cases, and at its heart, that’s what a pub provides.

Perhaps no other nation appreciates the value of the pub more than the United Kingdom. Famed 17th-century diarist Samuel Pepys once described them as the “the heart of England.” Now, here in London, I’m hard-pressed to disagree. You could cross the town hopping pub to pub as you could a river stepping stone to stone. So I figure, what better place to celebrate these venerable establishments?

My task for the next several weeks is simple. I’ll be searching out, visiting, and sharing my thoughts on historic pubs across London. While my definition is a bit loose, broadly speaking, I’m considering a pub historic if it predates the founding of my homeland, the United States (several in London predate the colonies). For the record, I’m also dating from the pub’s establishment, not the age of the current building. Disasters of various kinds wiped out many of the older, wooden structures—the Great Fire of London serving as one notable example—but if the proprietors rebuilt and soldiered on without interruption, I’m counting it.

With that, I’m off to put my foot on the brass and a pint in my hand. I’ll report back soon.

Cheers!