The Buckaroo Tavern

1^st bar I went to after fishing for 4 months about 15 years ago… what a night it was!
Too bad it closed…

This place is fine for what it is, but I just don’t think it’s THAT special. They have a good beer selection and it’s a cool atmosphere because it’s been around forever and usually has a good sized crowd. I know some people are die-​hard Buck-​ers for life, but I’m just not one of them. This could also be because I live right across the street and the noise from the motorcycles revving their engines at 11:30pm on a Wednesday can get really annoying.

I stopped by here after lunch at Paseo with friends and got a pint of cider. Its your typical dive bar, the stewards being neither friendly nor unfriendly just there to help you and that’s really it. They had Strongbow cider which isn’t my fave by a long shot but it hit the spot. They have random locals drinking all the time as far as I can tell and a few crazy/​weird regulars… but hey whatever.

Years ago, some intoxicated woman speeding down Fremont Avenue tossed a Tom Waits song out the window. The song cracked open where it landed, and by 7am the next morning, it had become the Buckaroo Tavern.

Been there once and love this place for its dive-​bar-​safari chic. A cash only bar where you can grab a few drinks when the civilized folk start heading to bed, the Buck is fanTAStic for having a few drinks late night and watching the regulars.
Be advised: the buddy system should be considered mandatory for late night excursions.
The clientele is a little shady after the witching hour, and while generally friendly, we need to remember that most are until they get you back to their van with promises of candy and more PBR. You only make that mistake once. Well, twice, but he had really good candy.

A slice of heaven in a hellhole– ‘nough said.

The buckaroo tavern looks like it came straight out of a wild west movie. All thy are missing is a swinging shoulder high wooden gate.
They serve beer, lots of beer and only beer. If you happen to love beer like I do this isn’t a problem.
The pitchers are relatively cheap depending upon what you get (PBR is 8.50)
As with most bars in Seattle the bartenders are total douches, frequently leaving the bar area for 10 – 15 minutes at a time (where are they going?) When they are are at the bar, and you are the only person waiting for a drink you should still expect to wait atleast ten minutes just so you don’t forget whos boss.
But don’t let the staff scare you away — it’s a fun place to drink. Video games, pool tables — good times.

So apparently back in the 60s this was a place that the Hells Angels frequented. They did a lot of shooting and stabbing people who were not Hells Angels.
Luckily that’s not the case nowadays. The last time I was there, the Fresh Prince theme song came on the sound system. Yes, you know the one. EVERYBODY knows that song and EVERYBODY in the bar sang along. It was really weird but also really awesome. Then they played some Rammstein. Oh and at one point someone started handing out pre-​election Obama shirts?
I love this bar more every time I visit. Another reviewer described it as the kind of place where you can do whatever you want and nobody cares — that’s exactly right.

Sweet bar, as in there were more «real» locals here than hipsters, and it’s low-​key. My first foray into the Fremont area was fun, but «the scene» was almost ridiculous. Buckaroo was set uphill and far away enough to avoid it all. Interesting mix of people, cash only bar, friendly and not overpacked with douchebags. Prices are reasonable.

I generally don’t care for bars that are all about pool-​playing, because I suck more than anyone you’ve ever met. The Buckaroo must be magical, though, because I actually hit the correct ball into the hole at least three times… and because of other people’s bad luck with the 8-​ball, managed to WIN two games. SCORE!
Lots of beer, so that’s a plus. No liquor, though, which might bum some people out. I was more bummed by the fact that it’s all cash-​only, but my friend reminded me beforehand so I stopped at an ATM on the way.
I also had the enjoyment of a random man in sweatpants telling my boyfriend that he should buy me a diamond ring for Valentine’s Day, because… well, it seems something about me makes all the creepers come out and hit on me through my boyfriend.
(And in case you’re wondering, no, there was no diamond ring, but Valentine’s Day was quite lovely. ;P)

This place is sorta like «Cheers». Except no one really knows your name. They just smile at you a lot when you walk in.
Free pool on Sunday nights, which is rad.
Every time I’ve gone there, I’ve made friends with an older biker man (a different one each time) who is conspicuously perched at the bar and who has seemingly had one too many.
My only problem with this place is that they don’t serve liquor. But they do have a righteous patio that over looks Fremont Ave.

Open on Christmas: Awesome
Great people watching
Cool bartender
Beers for any taste
Pool table
Old posters
Yup — I’m a fan of this dive. Right, Cliff?

«Older crowd drinking themselves to death. Beer tastes funny, bar is dirty and there is a persistent toilet smell in the air. They have a large beer selection but so do many other more desirable bars in Seattle.»
As quoted above from Alex V. — but this is what makes it kickin-​A for me.

This is a «dive tavern». So, what you want in this sort of establishment is nice choice of libations, unique atmosphere, and convenience. On its own, I’d give Buckaroo 3-​stars:
1) There is a very decent selection of draft-​beers to choose from (lots of local brews). And a pitcher was cheap! (~$ 12.50 for a Sam Adams Oktoberfest Seasonal Ale for example.
2) There are is tons of graffiti throughout (how many penises can people draw on the walls!!!). All kinds of mumbo jumbo is etched into the woodwork of the tables and chairs. We were also treated w/​the talk of Democrats talking about those pesky Republicans – I totally felt at home and safe – especially coming from Washington’s ultra-​Red «east side» (lucky me!).
Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut,
Buckaroo gets a fourth star wholly because of their letting us come in and munch on our food of the Gods: Paseo sandwiches from up the street. They had no problem w/​us dripping our Paseo juice onto their tables (I guess this is where the etched graffiti comes into play – it acts as a gutter to capture our Paseo Cuban messiness!). Paseo, pitcher of good beer, and cool talk to eavesdrop on. Yeah, Buckaroo’s gets 4-​stars!

Went to this place for the first time last night with my friend Devon who had to drown his sorrows due to a break-​up. Sad times. But, those sad times were turned into good ones at the bottom of a pitcher of Manny’s (or tw… err, three). As he had mentioned, the best part about this place is they have no jukebox; which means I don’t have to listen to what all (it’s true what Agnes G. said about who comes here) the different people want to hear. Instead we had a best-​of of Soundgarden, The Shins and some Metallica playing last night. Good times.
Be wary of the booths, while they’re reasonably comfortable, the tables are wobbly as a 17 year old at a frat party. On more than one occasion a wily-​knee would strike the table leg and send my precious over the side of the glass. It’s times like that I find myself on the verge of tears; beer going to waste, and good beer no less. If there were a jukebox I would definitely put on some «My Chemical Romance» and try my best to masturbate, cry and put eye-​liner on at the same time. But I digress, this place is great, and «My Chemical Romance» has no place there; nor does my trying to masturbate, cry and put eye-​liner on at the same time. Yes, it was necessary to paint that picture for you a second time.
In the men’s room there is some deep and inspiring words that grace the walls. While breaking-​the-​seal I read «I ain’t afraid of no ghost» to my left. Truer words have never been said, and as the night went on I found myself wanting to find a ghost, just to tell it how un-​afraid I was (and still am).
There were a couple of douchebags there who brought their girlfriends/​moms/​something, the dames had wine. What. The. Frack. (I love Battlestar Galactica). Wait, that’s not a sentence, dammit. Anyway, they should have been laughed out when they got wine, for serious. There was also a crippled guy with a dog that wouldn’t stop barking at people sitting at the bar. He wasn’t a service dog either, well, unless it’s a service to be an annoying dog. I wouldn’t pay for that service.
They also have pinball, and a couple of pool tables. I look forward to frequenting this place more; it’s always nice to find good bars in the north end since I don’t make my way up there too often.

RIP, Fabulous Buckaroo. (sad face)
I’ve been coming here almost as long as I’ve lived in Fremont. 11 years. Eeeeeeeesh. The first time I stopped in was after class, to study. I quickly became friends with the bartender, who’s since died. I remember how he’d tease me for opening my books while I was there… because he and I would just bullshit the whole couple hours instead. I’ve always been partial to dive bars but since my friend passed away, I don’t stop in as much. It’s just not the same. My favorite bartender played the best music, gave the best hugs, and always made me smile. I miss that jerk.
Now, if you’re considering stopping by the Buck… bring your friends for a cozy hangout session, play some pool, choose from the myriad of beers, eat some greazy weiners & hot nuts, check out the pinball, and take a look at the memorial photos of the best damned bartender that place has ever seen.

Shame on anyone who doesn’t love this bar. That’s like hating the retard at the end of the block just because he smells like piss, has a huge tongue, and may have tried to violate your cat. Just stop thinking, get inside, and maybe a bartender will show up to get your something to drink. Maybe. Don’t touch anything. Seriously. You’ll get a staph infection. It’s like a David Lynch movie in there.
If you want something easy, walk about 15 minutes down the hill and clone yourself as you step inside The Dubliner, or the Red Door, or the Ballroom, or the Triangle, or any of other McPubs that have spread like herpes across lower Fremont’s nether regions. For the rest, don’t pass the Buck. Go meet someone mean.

Following a belly-​warming feast at Paseo, the cabal headed down to The Buckeroo. The beer was cheap and cold, the two pool tables clean and inviting. Honestly I didn’t notice much about the décor because there were two pinball machines in excellent repair, a Simpson’s and a Creature from the Black Lagoon.
There were some cirrhotic regulars, true. Yes, cash-​only is a social filter. It’s a bar. With pinball and pool. Near a couple of great restaurants. Sometimes you want to mingle with the shiny set, and sometimes you need a place like this.

I don’t know what’s wrong with the belly-​aching wankers. The place is a DIVE! It’s not one of those neo-​dives, but it is an actual, bonafied dive. It, like the Blue Moon, was built at the end of the Prohibition. There are only a handful of taverns built at that time, which are still standing. Dives REEK of their history. And that means spilled beer, cig smog, and the kinds of stuff that shouldn’t be mentioned in polite company. Of course they smell funky, strange, weird, disturbing…
Have an issue with the motorcycles revving it up? Well, the place is called «The Buckaroo” – as in horse, as in an animal you ride like a motorcycle. Get it? That’s why the bikers go there – you ninnys! You no like, then you can find plenty of other opportunities down the hill. That’s how it works, right? You no like, you no go in. Simple. I used to live on the street the bikers pulled off of Aurora to make the last two blocks to the ‘Buck. Yeah, the Harleys would set off car alarms, but that only happened once in a great while. It wasn’t chronic enough to whine about.
Aside from the bikers, it has been popular with commercial fishermen who live in the area. Those are the guys who tend to hog the pool tables. They do so, because they almost always win. You win and you get to stay until you lose. If you want in, you have to wait your turn and win the right to stay. That’s how pool works. You no like, try out the pinball machines or head to Ballard and try the ski-​ball at Kings.
BTW, anyone wonder why they never got a credit card machine? It’s to keep away the «plastic» frat-​boy and yuppie crowd (I once witnessed the bartender razzing some frat-​boys who wanted to use their credit card. They slinked out the door) who are too lazy or spineless to carry enough cash to fund a night of drinking. It’s only the working class sending a message.
The place is what it is, and it rocks!
‘Nuff said.

I’m not sure what to say about this place.
When I arrived, I thought about some crazy bar I ended up in after I crossed some ridgeline in the «mountains» of Arizona where it went from complete arid wasteland to snow covered pine forest in almost the blink of an eye.
We stopped in a town that was straight out of the old west. There was a general store, a shack of a bar, and a gas station. It looked like they were dropped from the sky to appear haphazardly beside the road.
We entered the bar in this Stephen King town and were greeted with a tiny static-​filled tv in the corner with a football game on and hundreds and hundreds of dollar bills that were stapled to the walls and ceiling with peoples names on them. I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I did anyway. They were the names of people who were prospecting up in the hills for gold and when they gave up, they would at least be able to leave town with one last dollar.
Man. What a bleak outlook.
This is almost the same place, sans the dollars, and with a somewhat larger beer selection
Old tables with the names of people whom I can only hope are long dead from liver disease carved on them? Check.
Smells like someone has been renting the place out at night to smoke sides of beef? Check.
Feels like the whole building might fall down around you at any moment? Check.
I haven’t been subjected to the throttling motorcycles, though I have seen them as I’ve cruised by and seen their screaming owners out in front of the place.
I imagine that it sucks to live near this place quite a lot. Hopefully I am not describing you.