Cheers, The Regal Beagle, Moe’s Tavern, Rovers Return Inn: anyone who recognizes any of these names will know that the pub has served an iconic function in the primetime sitcom. It’s not simply an after-work hangout, but a thriving community all on its own. We’ve seen our favourite television characters form lifelong friendships, get married, and make major life revelations, all from the barstools of these second homes. In fact, did we ever see Sam’s apartment or meet Norm’s wife? The answer is rarely, if ever, because there was no need to; the Cheers bar was where the love, and beer, was brewing. But does such a mythical place exist in real life?
Toronto is a city populated by 2.5 million people. Its many districts and divisions make the city the cultural mosaic it is, but they can also have an isolating effect. Social hubs that bring a community together are essential.
I set out to see if there are places in Toronto where everybody knows your name and are always glad you came.
The names in the descriptions below have been changed by request, largely because the people interviewed did not want their wives, husbands, or 85-year-old mothers knowing what they were up to before they came home from work.
The Artful Dodger
12 Isabella St.
“Like a day at the beach in Britain, eh Ron?”
Happy to finally have company, a lone man at the bar greets his friend who’s just arrived from work. Ron chuckles as he quibbles with his companion over which seat is his. At 4:30 in the afternoon the pub is nearly empty, and available seats are abundant — but this holds no bearing to either of them.
Ron, originally from Yorkshire, has been coming to The Artful Dodger since 1985, not long after he moved to Toronto. “You come to get drunk,” he laughs. After a pause he adds, “But also to talk to your friends — about soccer, or banking, or anything. Every weekend we’ve got a soccer pool. I’ve got friends who I met here years ago.” Ron and his friend sit in front of the television, their eyes glued to the tennis match. But for the occasional comment regarding tennis’ inferiority to soccer, the two men sit in silence and sip their pints.
Until a few years ago, The Artful Dodger was a hub for Toronto’s British population, but the cozy pub has recently opened its taps to a host of diverse demographics. “I serve anyone from two years old to eighty years old,” says the barmaid, who’s worked here for the past ten years. With an empty bar to serve, she joins the two men sitting by the television. “It’s quiet now, but come evening we get loads of different people in. About eighty per cent of those people are regulars, and I’ve gotten to know twenty per cent of them quite well. It’s a real family atmosphere we’ve got going on. I’ve seen people who’ve fallen in love and gotten married… and gotten divorced.”
Sure enough, by 6:30 the seats are filled, fireplaces are lit, and a cheerful banter runs across the rooms, bringing together the separated tables of people. A large crowd has gathered around the bar, but no eyes or ears are paying attention to the television behind it. At the centre is Ron, who is a few empty glasses into the evening and is significantly cheerier. Indeed, the place is filled with people of all ages: students who have finished class, two older women enjoying some wine, and a family that has come for Dodger’s classic dinner — bangers and mash. The three-year-old boy who sits with them is by far the most popular patron in the house — attracting visitors and acquaintances from each table. Fittingly, his name is Oliver.
Konrad Lounge
2902 Lake Shore Blvd. W.
Ramone was once a track and field star. During his career, he won the Boston Marathon and is one of Canada’s all-time great track and field athletes. He’s got a plaque hanging in the Konrad Lounge to prove it. Now he sits next to the plaque with a host of other comfortably worn locals that have collected in the corner of the bar.
He sneezes loudly.
“Gesundheit!” says the waitress as she comes around the bar and pats him on the back. “You’re supposed to sneeze into your sleeve, you goof,” she adds in a maternal tone. The waitress, Eila, was a regular at the bar for fifteen years before she started working here three years ago. “We’ve got a lot of regulars because we’ve got a mutual respect with our customers. We take care of each other. We’ve taken care of funerals if someone here loses someone. We’re a tight-knit group here.” At the end of her shift, Eila joins the group she’s just been serving.
Don’t be fooled by its name. The Konrad Lounge is more a mix of an old lodge house and a sports bar than it is a lounge. From its elegantly tiled walls hang the usual commercial posters alongside a large moose’s head. The music jumps back and forth between top forty hits and polka music, and the customers that pass through only add to the blend. The regular patrons that come in every day are mostly non-workers and retirees, but as the night progresses, the regulars that sit hunched and planted in their seats are joined by hipsters, businessmen, and an array of offbeat characters. After sitting there for a few hours, it can start to feel like something out of a Billy Joel song.
“Let’s call it a zoo but with semi-tamed animals,” Pauline, another waitress, describes.
“And that makes you the zoo keeper?” interjects Ramone.
“Yeah, but now I think I need an electrical prod,” she replies, with a loud, fervent laugh.
“I’ve worked at a lot of bars, a few in the financial district where they’re all pretentious… I won’t say whats. But this one is special because of the relationships. There are the quirks. The regulars think they rule the roost and can do no wrong.” With a wide grin she shifts her glance to the group huddled in the corner. “That’s disputable. But this neighborhood calls for raw and brutal honesty. These people, they’re fun, they curse, they swear, they’re belligerent, but at least they’re real, and because of that I get to be just like they are.”
Hot Pot Café
1336 Danforth Ave.
Through the back doors of a seemingly generic Moroccan restaurant is a vivacious café. The walls are painted a calming beige and the couches, lined with satin, are abundant in pillows. The floor is covered with hookahs while light, aromatic smoke, and Middle Eastern music fills the air. There is a low muttering of conversation in the room — primarily spoken in Arabic — as each couch is filled, to the cushion, with people. A massive silk tent is strung at the very back of the room.
Stepping into the Hot Pot Café is like stepping into another land.
On the one side of the café sits a group of women, diligently studying and working on laptops in the corner. On the other side, a massive board game of more than ten people carries on for over two hours. Scattered between these two polar opposites are small groups of friends, couples, and a gathering of middle-aged men who sit at the very back under the tent, silently smoking their hookahs and sipping traditional Moroccan mint tea while reading the news.
Located in the heart the Danforth, the Hot Pot Café is a social core for residents who want to experience something different, and for those who want to experience something a little closer to home. “Many of our customers come from Egypt, Somalia, Arabia,” says the waitress. Born in Palestine, she has worked here for just over a year. During her shift she flits from table to table, greeting customers with friendly hellos, sitting down to chat with a few of them, and even taking a pause to enjoy a puff from a hookah.
Abdul, a regular customer for the past two years, has not only become good friends with the owner, but has also helped set up the layout of the restaurant, and praises the café for the unique cultural experience it provides in the community.
“The place is great for building relationships — business, friendship, anything. It attracts a lot of people from a lot of different cultures, and a lot of different languages. You get to exchange new ideas and learn new things. As soon as I come in I’m saying ‘hi,’ ‘hi’ to most of the people in here. It’s like a home here.”
Drinks All Around!
From the exotic to the eccentric, Toronto is home to many different pubs and hangouts that people have come to call their own. Though the differences between these three spots were numerous, there were some things that remained constant throughout. In each of the pubs the waiting staff served as a pillar that brought the customers together, the backbone behind the familial atmosphere that was ever-present in all three places. Furthermore, all of the interviewees were quick to describe their spot as a “home” and those who frequented it as “family.”
When beginning this project, and for many years watching television, I feared that the heartwarming hangout where one could always find a friend existed only in the fictional world of network television. It soon became clear that this was not the case. When asking for advice on “Cheers-like” bars, almost every person I spoke with was quick to reply, “Check out this place I go to all the time. The people there are really nice.” From their responses and the findings above, it seems clear that the welcoming pub, always there with open taps and open arms, is not just a myth originating from a sitcom, but a vital part of the many communities in Toronto.
So if you’re alone at home watching Cheers reruns, longing for your own Sam, Diane, Carla, and Woody, just take a stroll down the street to your nearest corner pub. You may be pleasantly surprised at what you find there
