A man walks into a bar

  

Tyler, bartender at Schuba's, 3159 N. Southport.

      Sometimes a man needs to go to a bar.

      Okay, "needs" is the wrong word. In my world, if you need something, then you probably should avoid it. What I needed was a convenient spot for dinner. The bar happened to be that place.
     This was last Tuesday. Our theater tickets were for 7 p.m. My wife got off work at 5 p.m. The venue, Theatre Wit, sort of a freelance stage for hire, is at 1229 W. Belmont. There was the matter of dinner. Schuba's is a couple blocks west, at the corner of Southport. Why not meet there at 6 p.m.? But first wondered if Schuba's serves food. Isn't it a concert hall now? A bit of online checking. Yes, there seems to be food — not much of a menu. But enough.

     I can't express how lovely it felt to stride into Schuba's — particularly after a solid hour on the expressway — all dim and airy, cool and summery. Tyler asked me what I wanted — some bartenders botch that part — and I asked him if they have any NA beer. Some bars still don't, particularly neighborhood places.  

     Schubas has a list. The first on the list was "Visitor," a Chicago-made lager, so I ordered that. Visitor was great, truly excellent. I finished it and moved down the list to a Paradiso IPA. Not quite as superlative as Visitor, but not bad either. I tweeted photos of the beers — originally I planned on echoing all those "Undisclosed location" shots that certain Chicago peripatetics  tweet from bars. Then I realized the Schuba coaster would give away the game, if I pulled the can slightly off it, and I went with "Disclosed location." That struck me as clever. 

     Admittedly, I don't spend much time in bars anymore. It felt very refreshing to be back for a visit, particularly to Schuba's, which I had been to before ... a thought came to me. "Didn't you used to have a photo booth?" My older son, about 5, when we still were in the city. His pediatrician was nearby. We must have grabbed lunch beforehand. I remembered crowding into the photo booth together. "It's still there," Tyler said, pointing toward the back. Most things change; a few stay the same.

     The bartender and I chatted. People came and went. My wife showed up, and told me she had run into our old friends, Cate and Ron — they too were going to see the play, "Shaw vs. Tunney," by Doug Post, the world premiere of a three-person character study about the unlikely friendship between the great Irish playwright, George Bernard Shaw, and boxer Gene Tunney. I wrote about it couple weeks ago. 
      We ordered, hummus and a salad with chicken, a draft cider for Edie. Cate and Ron showed up. More pints, and some brussels sprouts. Chairs were pulled up. The hummus was laden with grilled vegetables, the pita soft, the chicken on the salad was succulent, the butter lettuce fresh. Conversation ensued.
     Soon it was time to go. From what I had seen of bar life — a young woman my wife had noticed sprawled on the sidewalk with her friend; now threatening to tumble off her bar stool, drinking more — I can't say I wished I were one of the tattooed regulars, if that's what they were. But it was a nice place to visit. Schubas: the food and the service are great. And the atmosphere. And the location. And the exterior. It's actually quite a list. Yes, I know, the place is an icon — built in 1903, a "tied house" owned by a brewery, with the gorgeous Schlitz terra cotta work glorying the building. It hardly needs my endorsement. I'm not spilling the beans. ("When visiting Wrigley Field, look to the wall: there's ivy on it!") But I figure, maybe you could use a reminder — I know I did, in the form of a play luring me to the neighborhood. I'll be back.

     The play, by the way, "Tunney v. Shaw," is an engaging piece, well-acted and intimate. Richard Henzel stood out in the role of George Bernard Shaw, playing the Irish writer with captivating wit and sparkle. I was particularly impressed toward the end, how he transformed into an aged Shaw, not through make-up, but just by altering his mien. He just seemed much older. In an intimate space like Theater Wit, the play practically unfolds in your lap, and it takes a lot of artistry to make the thing work. "Shaw v. Tunney" works.

      I hadn't known much about Shaw before; I did know he was a famous atheist, but didn't realize that he ... spoiler alert ... struggled with his atheism. Watching the play, I felt at times it was Delivering a Message a tad heavy-handedly. Or maybe it just wasn't a message that I like to hear — faith conquering doubt after the most threadbare of miracles. At the after-party, I asked playwright Doug Post whether that narrative was fictional, and he assured me it wasn't, that the lines he put in Shaw's mouth about being a fallen atheist were direct quotes. 

     The play runs until July 8, and tickets are $38 and $40. It isn't "Medea." But it'll give you and your date something to talk about at Schuba's afterward. Edie and I and Cate and Ron certainly talked about what we had seen for quite a while, and that is the mark of a worthwhile theater experience.