Greg Barila: Pubs with no cheer - Adelaide’s watering holes have lost their heart

WITH their near-identical decor, walking into a pub in Adelaide these days, is a lot like walking into a chain supermarket or hardware store. You could be anywhere. And it’s a damn shame, writes Greg Barila.

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WANNA catch up for a drink after work? Great! I’ll meet you at that pub in the city.

You know, the one with the wood-panelled bistro and the fancy burgers.

The one with the copper microbrewery and the subway tiles behind the marble bar.

Huh? What do you mean all the pubs in Adelaide look the same?

When a visiting Canadian friend casually dropped this observation over a pint at a city pub, for a moment I was taken aback — then quickly realised she was absolutely right.

The classic city pub is dead.

With dwindling exceptions — The Exeter, Crown & Anchor, The Grace Emily — going to a city pub these days is a lot like walking into a chain supermarket, fast food joint or hardware outlet.

With their near identical decor, you could be practically anywhere — as my friend opined.

Many a youth was misspent in the Exeter beer garden.

“It’s as if the motto is ‘let’s give all the pubs in Adelaide the same generic three or four star hotel lobby look — caters to everyone but has no signature taste’ — vastly different to the scene back home in Toronto”, she explained.

“Toronto isn’t perfect but I will say this much, the bar scene is strong.

“There’s a great variety in the atmosphere, interior design and signature themes.

“Toronto is a much larger city, so taking that into account there ought to be a little more diversity in the pub scene, but it is a lot harder to come across two bars there that look alike.”

It’s not hard to track, or even understand, the homogenisation of our city’s watering holes.

Australia’s eating and drinking culture (thankfully) has become increasingly sophisticated since the days of the six o’clock swill.

And in the face of growing competition, pubs have clearly been looking for ways to bring in a new clientele: young people, women, families — not just fat toothless truckies named Darryl and Ken.

But sadly, as my Canadian friend pointed out, by seeking to be all things to all people — part tavern, part gambling den, part sports lounge, part restaurant, part nightclub — our city pubs have lost the character and authenticity that made them so unique and richly interesting.

The famous McSorley’s ale house, in New York City. Photo: Leonard J DeFrancisci.

I don’t know about you, but I like my pubs with a patina of grime.

One of the best places I’ve ever lifted my elbow is McSorley’s Old Ale House in New York, a hole in the wall on Manhattan’s lower east side and the city’s fourth oldest pub.

Hunter S. Thompson drank there in the fifties. Fancy it is not.

There’s sawdust on the floor and nearly every square inch of every wall is plastered with Americana: comic strips, political buttons, the detritus of 150 years of a nation’s and a tavern’s history.

Ordering a beer is a cinch — you’ve only got two choices: light or dark. There’s no TV, no sports, no pokies, no music.

Adelaide pubs have lost their heart.

It’s become near impossible to find a city establishment where it’s still possible to simply pull up a stool at the bar, order a beer and make a few new friends.

Despite expensive upgrades, several city pubs have struggled to stay afloat in recent years, with the industry blaming rising costs, flat turnover and a proliferation of ‘‘pop-up’’ venues, which they say have drained profits from bricks-and-mortar businesses.

Some blame the State Government for championing small bars at the expense of larger venues.

But as Ian Horne from the AHA told The Advertiser in 2015, SA’s population growth has been slow for two decades yet this state has the highest number of liquor licences per capita.

It’s about time some of them started trying to find a point of difference or it could be last drinks.

Have Adelaide’s pubs lost their heart? Have your say below.

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