John Patrick’s

Jp’s is a hole in the wall neighborhood bar. They have music on weekends and for the most part KARAOKE. Great place to unwind.

This place is a shit hole, but where else can you find porn in the claw machine, a resident methed out old woman dancing and some decent bands for a relatively low cover charge.
True, God only knows where the cover charge goes to – the place is dirty, dingy and sleazy (my BF said he would rather take a sh** in the parking lot than their bathroom), but it’s a fun time if you’ve got a bottle of Purel and an open mind.
There isn’t a real stage and I’m sure this place is held together by spit and old bubble gum, but it’s decent enough to waste a night in.
Seriously – just go to watch the crazy woman who dances and tweaks. She deserves 5 stars for her great dance moves alone.

I usually love dive bars– the sketchy characters, the surly bartenders, etc. etc. However, the one saving grace of a dive bar is USUALLY the cheap drinks. However, when I was there, the beer was about 5 – 6 dollars for a Blue Moon poured in a plastic cup, and 6 dollars for a tall can of PBR! Way too much for what’s supposed to be a cheap beer. Also, there was a constant smell of sewage emanating from the back of the bar.
The one star is for the porno in the grab-​game, and that they are nice to my friend’s band.
I would not go there unless my friend’s band was there.

A real bar, real people and good live music when they have it

Someone said it earlier «If you don’t love this bar it’s your problem». How can you not love John Patrick’s? Fuck if I know but I will tell you why it rules.
#1 your friends band can play there
#2 the bartenders will take good care of your friends band
#3 there is lesbian porn in the grabby grab game
#4 the people are cool and non judgmental
Dont go there looking for the martini you got at The Sir Francis Drake in The City, go with a good attitude, show some respect for Wendy and Dierdra and get ready to have fun. It helps if your idea of fun is getting drunk. The people that I know who complain about this bar are the kind of people who go to Mexico and complain about how you can’t find a decent McDonalds. Love it for what it is and it will love you for what you are.

Super dive. The bartender gets super wasted all the time.

Hate to say it but the one time I tried to stop in here to check it out /​possibly get a drink, I couldn’t get past the front door (this seems to happen to me a lot!)…
… A tranny & older aged man were bickering /​nearly fighting around the outside seating area near the front entrance, so you can imagine how awkward it was to go around them & stick my head in…
Another disappointment! The interior of this place is depressing, gross looking and downright trashy. Reminds me of a TX shhthole. Went well w/​the crazies fighting outside, too.
I couldn’t bring myself to seat myself inside.
Alameda needs better dive bars!

Oh God.
Shitty ass sound system… No real stage… creepy drunk cougar bartender…
Yeah…
I’ve been to dive bars… I love dive bars… but this… this is the Marianas Trench of dive bars.
You may get Hepititis just from walking in.

Nobody, but nobody, digs a dive bar more than I do, but, sheesh, this place goes well beyond the pale.
I guess even I have some standards.
(Sigh.)

came here on paddy’s day. not a good sign that the parking lot was virtually empty. talk about getting a parking space! the bartender informed me they didn’t have green beer. he points to the empty table and says: «we don’t even have corned beef».
ordered a canned guiness (4) and it was very cold and good. the people here were very friendly. one lady tried to hug me a few times.
was referred tp mcgee’s where they said they had «good food».
they have a pool table and karoake on fridays & saturdays. repeatable if i wanted solitude to think and reflect.

I’ve only been here once, but I can’t say my experience was bad. To me, this seemed like a regular, friendly neighborhood dive bar. Deidre was working the bar furiously and obviously had a lot of friends/​customers. Just about everyone in the place besides us appeared to be regulars. We were treated nice enough and didn’t get any «outsider» glares, which was nice, considering I rolled in with two other Asians and a white guy (not all dive bars are all too accepting of that), but hand it to Alameda to not give a sh-​t. Deidre was handling some personal business on the phone that night, something about her ex posting a CraigsList ad with her picture and random creepy guys kept calling her. Ahh, yes, Alameda. The drinks were strong. A live band is always a plus. The claw-​grabber machine can be won. What else can I say, I’d come back (but I’m coming for the bands).

Another in a series of Alameda bars competing for first prize in «Worst in Show», this one manages to actually pull through and take the gold. Which is to say, in my book at least, that is a true victory they should be proud of.
After several attempts to see what the very few one star reviews of this place were all about I finally found this place (which claims to be open 7 days a week) actually open for business.
Deidre, the sassy bartender who I can say, with near certainty, you would not want on your bad side, was more than happy to serve us up some strong drinks and small talk… right after she got off the phone attempting to fill a hole in the band agenda that evening, since one of the bands she booked went MIA, with «whomever was free and wanted to jam, but also had their own PA and shit because the stuff at John Patricks is crap».
While we waited we got to listen to a few of the regulars slurring to each other and take in the dilapidated décor. This place, with its missing ceiling tiles, sticky floor, «show me yours and I’ll show you mine» doorless restrooms and beat up furniture is not for the classy. In fact it is probably not even for those who occasionally like to see how the other half live.
You have been warned.

So bad it’s fucking awesome.
Don’t come here expecting consistently great service– Deidre is working her ass off, undoubtedly, as she’s both bartender and booker, and doesn’t exactly get a lot of time off. Don’t come here expecting the PA to sound good for that touring punk band– it’s not exactly in good condition. Don’t come here expecting a clean bathroom– well, just don’t.
Your experience may vary, but when I came here with my girlfriend, we were treated well. Deidre was on the phone trying to wrangle some bands who were supposed to play that night, but when she saw us sit down at the bar, she still greeted us. A minute or two later, and we had nicely poured gin & tonics in front of us. There were a couple of other people in the bar, at least one a regular, so the place wasn’t exactly busy. Deidre chatted with us about life and other drinking establishments in the area between phone calls.
I had a similar experience the first time that I came to John Patrick’s. Went to see a friend’s band play, last minute, and the bartender treated me right.
Would I expect this when I go back? Nope. Would I get pissed about it? Nope. Just like life, you’re going to roll the dice and see what happens. I’ve been by here and its been completely closed down on occasion. I love this place exactly because of what it is… run down, broke down, and used. If the Gilman served booze, there would be some serious competition for the crappiest bar in the East Bay. I love it.

I always thought myself the connoisseur of dive bars. Dive doesn’t begin to describe this place! The ceiling that I suspect was once white and is now dark gray, had clearly fallen in on some unsuspecting drummer and now sports a big hole above the stage, as well as in other areas. The outside has abandoned bbqs, mismatched paint, and broken bottles. I don’t want to know what the white crust over the top of the pool table is. The women’s bathroom doesn’t have a DOOR on the stalls! The extremely drunk bartender relentlessly hit on my husband who was playing with the band that night, then stumbled away and pissed off each of the 40 or so of our friend’s who came to see the show. One of the girls had a sprite that smelled like rotten meat, how is that even possible? One of the «regulars» shook his head as he told us they often run out of beer. It’s sad when the guy with no teeth/​job/​life is looking down on the management of an establishment.
I don’t care who’s playing, it’s not worth getting the bubonic plague going to John Paticks.

I have now officially met the ultimate psychotic, drunken crazy barfly — yes, even after multiple Unilocal events and being a semi-​regular during the first year of DYL insanity, I found someone who beats all of you — and she happens to be the bartender at John Patrick’s.
We came to this true little dive bar because a friend’s band was playing their first gig. I’m not sure you will actually stick to the floor here, but that’s the ambiance so I think it qualifies as a true dive. The bartender was perfectly pleasant to me, but several of my friends had odd interactions with her. She refused to serve one friend because she had a bill larger than a $ 20. Even after my friend got the bill changed, the bartender flat out refused to serve her so much as a glass of water. Another friend received a long dissertation (on a particular type of vodka) which was so slurred and off-​kilter it made no sense at all. Other people were refused service for different reasons, none of them valid. And yet my friend who sent back a drink because it tasted bad got the best service of the night. Just weird.
Based on other reviews, I suspect these are all stories about the same woman. At least she’s consistently crazy — but since the whole point of going to a dive bar is to have plentiful booze with which to lubricate your evening, why would I come back to a place that can’t guarantee I’ll actually get my drinks?

this placed sucked almost as bad as george bush (both of them). the @#$#! bartender wouldn’t serve me and my friends. in fact she vibed us out as we were walking towards the bar in the parking lot and literally as we were walking there, yelled at us to go away. and then she wouldn’t serve us because my friends had an out of state id. WTF!!! were we acting inappropriately or wrong in any way? no. were we just normal, happy people trying to increase our buzz and give them our money? yes. was there any latent racism going on? who knows. was that miserable bartender lady incoherently drunk as a skunk early in the evening on a weekday? most definitely. i was truly embarrassed because i was trying to show my friends that alameda is cool, but that bartender sure killed that buzz.
i generally dislike the gentrification of alameda, but they could actually steamroll this place and park a few new hybrid toyotas there and it would be a much better use of space. hell. they could park some 1984 toyota echos there or even those funny ass looking scions there and it would still be a better use of space. no wonder the place is located in the parking lot of a used toyota dealer. if there were negative stars i would give this place 5 negative stars. john patricks sucks by the same amount that the pop inn rocks.

This place had potential to be an awesome dive bar, but it failed miserably. Maybe the drinks are strong, maybe their sound system is great but I wouldn’t know.
Two of my friends and I had finished a pitcher of margaritas at La Piñata and decided we could go for some beers and decided on John Patricks. As we entered into the parking lot a very drunk woman was screaming at us to Stop! They were closed she said. We thought she was just some crazy drunk so we kept in walking and realized they weren’t closed.
We sat down at the bar to order and realized that the drunk from outside was the bartender. She walked in and seemed to try to find reasons for us to leave. She carded us, which is fine, but then she said our ID’s were invalid. I am not sure why, my ID is clearly me although it is from out of state. She refused to serve us and told us to leave immediately.
She was drunk off her ass, and maybe it was an off night, but you would think an empty bar on a Saturday night would like the business of three paying customers. I guess not. I’d rather drop my dollars at Lucky 13.

What a charming place. The first time my band played here there was a drunk coasty who we were all sure was going to commit some sort of violent crime — or be the victim of one — before the night was out. It’s as un-​Bay Area as a bar can be; if I hadn’t driven over the Park St. bridge to get to it I could swear I was in Bakersfield or Springfield, MA. Unfortunately, I hear the place is being sold. I hope they’ll keep Deirdre on as bartender.

Jacques Cousteau doesn’t dive as deep as this bar. The PA is all but blown and the owner is probably never going to do a thing about it. But the internet jukebox plays just about anything you could want (at extortionate rates) and the pick-​up-​a-​toy-​with-​the-​claw-​game has porno DVDs in it, so that’s points. The members of E Clampus Vitus often drink there after work. Nice guys, mostly.
If you’re an up and coming band with nowhere to play and a bunch of friends who’ll come and buy beer, this might be a decent place to gig if you bring all your own equipment. Don’t show up expecting there to be a crowd of «regulars». The crowd you get is the crowd you bring. I’ve seen some brilliant night of Rock & Roll when nobody else was paying any attention. I’ve also spent nights when I saw no more than 3 people after 6pm walk through the door.
JP’s is competing with the Club House and the Pop Inn for the low-​end, early morning drunk crowd on Park Street, and those other joints open at 6am. JP’s doesn’t open till 10am.
Basically, if a band you want to hear is playing at JP’s (though how you’d find out is beyond me, JP’s doesn’t really advertise much), go check it out. Other than that, there’s no reason to go by. Unless it’s 10am and you’re an DESPERATELY need to get alcohol into your system and the Pop or the Club House is too far to walk. Then JP’s will get you drunk, cheap.
There is a limited amount of on-​site parking, but there’s plenty of street parking if you get off Park st and walk a couple of blocks.

Another fun ratty little dive where good things sometimes inexplicably happen, if only because the musicians feel more free to let their hair down ’cause it feels like no one’s watching. The sound system is for shite the last I knew, but I can’t completely hate a place where the customers play air guitar at the pool table and really mean it, and where the jukebox has Aldo Nova. Somewhat like the Port-​Lite in that it’s one of those little-​known corners of the Bay area where nothing notable happens, but sometimes some great unsung moments will redeem a night. Doesn’t rock and roll really happen most interestingly when the spotlights are somewhere else?