In a sea of SF closures, a beloved bar turns 130

Yes, San Francisco is known around the world as a psychedelics and weed town, but really, at its core, this is a drinking town. And people have been drinking at the Little Shamrock in the Inner Sunset for a very long time. In fact, it might be the oldest bar in continual use (meaning using the same name) in San Francisco, but that’s a point of contention among historians and drunks alike. What can’t be argued: This iconic gem of an Irish pub turns 130 this weekend. They’re celebrating with an anniversary and Halloween party at 1 p.m. Oct. 28 at 807 Lincoln Way. Expect split pea soup from a Victorian recipe found in the walls during construction a few years back.

“If I wanted to be a stickler, I could be like, yeah, we’re the oldest bar in San Francisco,” owner, and absolutely hilarious character, Tavahn Ghazi tells me over the phone. “The Saloon [in North Beach] did burn down [in the 1906 earthquake and fire] so the Saloon is 1907. We’re 1893. But at what point do we stop the whole ‘who came first’ thing and just say, ‘Look, we all live in this beautiful city, and we’re all doing our best’?”

You don’t need to be on acid to tell that the Little Shamrock is doing its best as the perfect neighborhood dive bar. Tiffany-style lamps dangle from the ceiling, illuminating the room, while stained glass and historical ephemera line the walls. The tables and chairs look like they came from a combination of garage sales and antique stores, giving the feel of a dowdy Victorian parlor, while groups of people play board games, drink booze and cheer for whatever Bay Area team is on the TV. There’s even an entire darts room in the back. While they do have carpet (you know how I feel about carpet in a bar) it’s made up for by the fact that they have a clock that’s stood still since the temblor of 1906. Walking into the Little Shamrock, you get the vibe that the bar has been around for a long time and seen a lot.

One of the upsides of having a bar that’s a contender for the oldest bar in San Francisco is that it comes with just as much lore as it does history, and often it’s hard to tell them apart.

According to some great history dug up by the Western Neighborhoods Project, while the bar claims it was originally opened on Oct. 28, 1893, by Antone Herzo, “to serve the thirsty workmen who were creating the Midwinter Fair in Golden Gate Park,” the project says, it may have actually been opened by his widow Julia. Traditionally it’s thought that Julia then married a man named J.P. Quigley, who put his name on the bar, as evidenced by these photos, and they eventually owned three bars throughout SF’s west side.  

“One piece of lore that I happen to love is that the bar was started by a woman and she had to pretend to be a man,” Tavahn tells me gleefully. “Her name was Julia Herzo, her maiden name was Julia Quigley, but she married this guy named Anton Herzo, and when he died, she pretended to be J.P. Quigley.”

While this story is certainly a possibility, it’s hard to parse lore from truth since there really aren’t that many records of the west side at that time. “We were like the third water account in the area, after the Sutros,” Tavahn explains. “There were very few buildings in the whole west side of the city. Just a bunch of sand dunes with this Irish bar in the middle.”

And with this in mind, it makes sense why there aren’t many records of what the Little Shamrock was doing during Prohibition. Considering how sparsely populated the Richmond was, it may have been able to slip beneath the radar. There is some evidence that the Little Shamrock and other saloons flew under the radar by operating as soft-drink parlors that served the stronger stuff in the back. 

Tony Herzo Jr. took the helm when his mom Julia passed away. He married his sweetheart, Charlotte, and they had two kids. A lot of their business came from the fact that heaps of sports were played across the street in Golden Gate Park, and that made people thirsty. They also did well when the 49ers played in Kezar Stadium. People who had to park near the Little Shamrock to go to a game would stop by for a tipple or triple on the way to and from the stadium, or a scoop of warm beans, free of charge. Apparently even back then it was a shot and a beer kind of place where fancy cocktails were looked down upon. 

In 1969, Tony sold the Little Shamrock to an Irishman named Enda Barkley who would famously shout at the end of each night, “All right, you bunch of bloody lushes… Last call for alcohol — it’s motel time!”

And then on June 16, 1974, Tavahn’s dad, Saeed Ghazi, bought the bar. It was actually the day Tavahn’s older brother was born.

Saeed Ghazi moved to the United States in 1964 from his native Iran, and on this fateful day 10 years later, his life would be irrevocably changed …twice. His wife had just given birth to his first child at St. Mary’s Medical Center, across the park, and Saeed was on his way home to shower and change clothes. “It’s kinda the lore of the bar,” Tavahn explains. “He saw a parking spot right in front of the Shamrock and said, ‘F—k it, I’m popping in for a quick little celebratory drink.’”

While there, Saeed overheard “this beautiful little old Irishman named Enda” talking about how he was gonna sell the bar, but the guy who wanted to buy it wanted to change things, and it was breaking his heart. “And my dad in his thick accent was like, ‘Nope, I’m getting you a f—king bunch of cash from strange, hairy-knuckled Persian men, and we’re gonna buy this thing tomorrow.’ And the guy was like, ‘Prove it.’ And my dad did. It’s been 50 years.”

While Tavahn took the bar over from his dad in 2003, he grew up in and around the Little Shamrock. When asked about the darts room in the back, he told me they built it because his dad loved darts but also, “When I was a kid, there used to be arcade games in the backroom like Ms. Pac-Man and Arkanoid.” He also told a story about when he was young and his dad helped broker a deal where an Armenian guy sold a sandwich shop next to the Shamrock to a Turkish guy — which he said is a rather big deal considering the history of those two countries. “That was a wild time for me as a kid where I was like, looking at everyone coming together, just getting the sandwiches done.”

One of the most remarkable stories Tavahn told me about his memories growing up around the bar was that his dad befriended a number of the homeless folks who lived in Golden Gate Park and would hire them to work at the bar, and sometimes let them live there. And over the years a few of them died while working behind the stick. “Okay, so when G–– died I remember that because I got pulled out of school and had to go help pull him out of there. I was like 8 years old.”

Surprisingly, Tavahn says the place isn’t haunted … that he knows of. “I’m sure others may have their own things to say. I’ve spent many very late hours in there in prime haunt hours with nary a visit. Practically taunting them at times.”

While there’s an incredibly loyal regular crowd — Val, one such regular, has been drinking on the same stool for 60 years — and a good chunk of the area considers the Little Shamrock the neighborhood’s living room, there’s a specific group of people who visit the bar surprisingly often: fans of the crime thriller novelist John Lescroart.

Since my Kindle is linked to both my dad’s and mom’s accounts, I can read the books they download. My dad reads a lot of crime thriller stuff, so recently I decided to finally check out the work of Lescroart and found that Dismas Hardy, the main character in Lescroart’s most popular series, is part owner of the bar in the books. It was a delight to be reading one of the novels and suddenly find a bar that I’d been to oodles of times (including on acid) was an integral part of the series. There’s even a framed and autographed picture of Lescroart on the wall.

So, I of course asked Tavahn how often people come to the bar and gush about its connection to Lescroart, to which he responded, “People come in and ask about him multiple times a day.” I guess this makes sense considering the author has sold over 12 million books.

Beyond having a devoted customer base, the Little Shamrock also has a loyal staff. “I’ve got the same people working in there for 15 years. One of them, my manager Bob, she’s been there for 20 years and she’s the best. When we had our last press photo, it was her, my dad and I. She’s part of the family for sure.”

After learning the fun history and great stories, I had one last question that had been bugging me for years. What was the deal with the bathroom whose hallway was extremely long, whether you were on acid or not?

“It’s a grandfathered-in, ADA thing that my dad had to include when he added the darts room in the back. So now it’s like a strange little thing like, how many idiots can we fit in there? And what are we going to talk about when we get in there?”

The Little Shamrock has all the bits that make a great dive bar. A long history, wild stories, a quirky owner, a famous novelist, and weird s—t that can only be explained by the fact that it has always been there. I mean, where else would you want to end up after doing acid all day in Golden Gate Park?