Pen and Pencil

Great poetry events hosted by Bob Zell.

This place was terrible, I was waiting to get in and there were several Marines in uniform. They would not let them in, the bouncer kept opening the door and yelling expletives at them. These were active service member’s for Christ sake.

So I do not work in the service industry and I am not a writer ( Unilocal doesn’t count) but somehow I have been here a few times. I do not remember much but I do remember a grumpy bouncer, a smokey room, and some steps. I have been here a more than once and I am still not sure where it is located.
As with all the after hours spots in Philly-​shoutout to Voyeur, The Republican, and Ruba, these seem like an excellent idea at the time but are usually a big mistake. At least there is no entry fee at the P and P!

How is the PnP? I wouldn’t know. Tried to go with the Circles crew and the doorman (doorman…doorman!) wasn’t having it. Apparently the owner’s business card, ID, and company credit card was not enough to gain us access. Worst of all, he was rude about it.

Is «After Hours Speakeasy-​style DIve Bar» a category of watering hole? If so, these guys invented the genre back in the 1890s. Best thing to do is to show up around 11pm and hang for a few hours. You’ll watch the place transform itself from being a neighborhood joint for a handful of chain-​smoking hard-​drinking sixtysomethings to a restaurant industry mainstay filled with servers and bartenders in their twenties. And local journalists do actually drink there if you get there early enough, and they have some interesting events and local author book signings and wine tastings and such. Every bad thing ever said about the P&P is true. So is every good thing ever said about the P&P. Grab a pack of smokes, down some martinis and Yuenglings, shut up, and let whatever come what may. Just don’t call me for bail money, and if the cops ask you where you were drinking, mention the name of the place you drank at BEFORE you hit the P&P…

Sometimes I don’t want the night to end and want to party till 3AM. I love this place because it allows me to do that, while still being in the comfortable confines of Rittenhouse.
The bar is smokey, the décor is ugly, but who really cares when it’s 3AM and you’re already too drunk to notice/​care. They also have free crock pot hot dogs here in the back corner, which is a great drunken snack. This is my go-​to after hours place.

Every time I go to the P&P, I wake up the next morning enveloped in regret. I should probably stop going, huh?
It had been a long while since I set foot in the place. So long, in fact, that I was told the ground floor bar had been closed for renovations for some time and the bar action was now upstairs.
The upstairs bar area looked like part of a sad comedy club from the early 80s. The only brightness in the room came from a small television, and the creepy monitor from the video camera trained on the front door. Absolutely no music played, and I didn’t see or smell any hot water dogs. Downgrade.
My three stars are for the daydreams I have, thinking about what characters have sat at the bar over the years and wondering if they shared the same melancholic feelings as me while doing so.
I hope not to return, but at some point I probably will.

+ it’s open late
— it totally creeped me out and i only stood there for about 3 seconds before deciding to leave.

The Pen & Pencil is the traumatized, and traumatizing, Two-​Face of the the bar world.
On the Harvey Dent side of the coin, the P&P is the oldest members-​only writer’s club in the country — they host regular panel talks, off-​the-​record dinners with politicos and mover/​shakers and serve absolutely respectable food to real, live reporters. This place is a monument to the cigar-​chomping, typewriter-​banging old-​school newspaperman who hardly exists anymore (outside of Hollywood).
Then, late night happens and the hero dissolves into a snarling beast breathing toxic smoke out of both nostrils, drinking crock-​pot hot dog water for a free beer and telling self-​aggrandizing stories to a dead-​eyed, twitching companion.
It’s where members and service-​industry folk with the paystub or reputation to prove it congregate after the decent bars give last call at 2 a.m.; a drink of last resort when you just can’t let the night end yet.
I love this Two-​Faced tavern but I can only hang there about once a year — the smoke levels are truly fearful for my lily-​white lungs.

I’ve only been to the PnP once, and yes, it was one of nights when we got kicked out of the bar at 2am and want to get another drink or two in before calling it a night. So we ended up here…
I’ve heard much about it over the years and it certainly lived up to my shady expectations. The only disappointment? There were no free hot dogs in the crock pot. However, the bartender offered us some brie cheese leftover from earlier in the evening. So shady. Niiice.

P&P is good for when you don’t wanna go home yet, but on weekends, there’s never anywhere to sit. The jukebox is always broken. And the one bartender says last call like 30 minutes earlier than when it’s the other bartender. And they don’t have milk for White Russians. But the staff is mostly awesome.

A speak easy should have some class and style. The bartender is barely keeping up with the onslaught of jocks and frats that are swarming this bar. Not one suit or well dressed person entered. If you are looking for a speak easy this is not it. Its just a place to drink after hours and for me that is only one part of being a speak easy the other part is having a place that brings the rockstars of partying with style out. This place does not.

The PnP is never a good idea. I think this basically the unofficial motto of the Pen and Pencil, at among a lot of the service industry patrons. That said, It’s almost always been a good idea every time I’ve been.
I’m not sure where people are getting that there is hype about PnP and how this particular establishment is apparently «not worth it». It’s a private bar that’s not changed since 1902. The end. Nothing special about it. There should be more after hours joints in Philly to keep douchebags away from here so the degenerates and malcontents can have their bar back.

Terrible. Not worth the hype.
Its a speakeasy wannabe. Ppl are desperate for good after-​hours joints, so they go here and accept it. Its no big trick to get in.
Beer selection sucks, music blows and décor is early 70s. Literally, its been there decaying since the 70s.
Go if you want to hang with skanky, pretentious wannabes. Smoking in there, cause they can. Checked this off my list, and won’t be back. Trust me, you’ll go and say «This»? «The big hype is all for this»? So not worth it, Ive had better after hours bars at the VFW, really. This place makes The Pit look like the 4 seasons.

Ass-​table

Jim said it perfectly, ASSTABLE! Sorry, inside joke. Speakeasy is the best description. This isn’t a swanky place but rather resembles more of an old Italian Club bar back were I grew up (with secret pass codes, and private members). No polish or pizzaz but is a great place to hang out with some friends and grab a few inexpensive drinks and sit and catch up for a while.
I always appreciate a bar with older guys hanging out in there that can tell you great stories and remind you that we’re all the same (maybe just in an older package). We all have the same experiences, ups and downs, and hopes ‘n dreams. They also break out a bunch of hotdogs and plop them in the crock pot (yup, a real crock pot just sitting on the counter with tongs that you’ll dive in a catch the dogs yourself). How could you not love that? Its a little smokey so if you don’t love places that have aged décor with a smokey atmosphere then this isn’t for you. If you’re the kind of person that likes to meat new and interesting people regardless of their age or packaging then this is your heaven. I enjoyed it, not to mention I also enjoyed the great company. Thats what its about!

I went to the pen and pencil at the point in the night when most people would (should) just go home and snuggle up with a bottle of water. We were escorted there by a bar acquaintance whose real name I may never know and who is prone to fits of mania. When I walked in the door I was immediately in love with the place.
At this point I should tell you that the details about the «décor» are a bit hazy for reasons that you can surmise. 3 floors? Maybe 2. Sketchy old men scattered throughout. Broken down couches. A crockpot full of questionable hot dogs floating in grey liquid. A pungent odor of old, stale beer and sadness wafted into my nostrils. It was my kinda place. Once the lights flickered on, my friends and I invited some newfound friends to my apt for an after party (I don’t like ending nights). One new friend, a hot bartender named Phil** immediately downed 6 shots of Jameson as I watched in horror/​admiration. I was in love, again.
Suddenly he reached into his coat and removed a large glass candle.
Why do you have that? I inquired. He looked embarassed. You can tell me, I said, and put on my most sympathetic face. He then regaled me with a story about how his roommates didn’t pay the electric bill so his lights got cut out. This candle, you see, was to light his home.
I died a little inside.
This man went out of his way to, rather than pay his bill, steal a 4 dollar candle from an after hours bar.
That is the story of my love life.
And that, my friends, is the Pen and Pencil.
**Names changed to protect the ridiculous

Ended up here during my recent trip to Philly. I had heard of this place, oddly enough, through Unilocal,and figured that after working in the restaurant industry for 11 years and also being a freelance writer on the side, I ought to be able to find the right people to befriend to get me and my friends inside.
Of course, once inside one of my dumbass friends decided to flash a picture, which almost made the rest of us kick him in the balls. Way to not draw attention to yourself, dickhead. People were staring at us enough as it was already.
Regardless, we were able to sit at a table and pound a few more back until about 3:30 or so.
What else to say? P&P is dark, dank, smoky, shady as all hell, and a complete shithole. In other words, it’s awesome.

This is the place you end up at the end of the night after all of the other bars are closed. This is where you find yourself in a smoky room filled with writers, wanna be writers and various hangers on (it’s members only) watching reruns of «Law & Order» and drinking Whisky Sours. This is also the place where you may get pushed down a set of stairs or punched in the face, depending on how late it is and how drunk said patrons are.
So, all in all, it’s a pretty rad place.

Oh the PnP, you have been the author of many of my most drunken moments. It was initially devised as a place for newsies and writers to drink after hours, so that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Now it mainly caters to restaurant industry employees who, upon finishing their shifts, want to get their drunk on. And oh do they. All kinds of craziness goes down in this seedy underbelly of Philly. It’s usually a good time while it’s happening but the next day you will hate yourself. Bring proof of either press membership or restaurant industry employment if you want to be let in the door.
Also, I am very impressed that I made it to the PnP on my 30^th birthday after a whole day of celebration. Go me!