Here are a some more pics from the old M&M. First we have Allen and two barkeeps (Jim Lyons, left, and "Doc" Lyons -- no relation -- on the right) in their sleeved white shirts and dark ties, a standard dress code maintained until the fashion revolution of the late 60's made it all pretty stiff-looking.

In the second photo, Allen wears a golf shirt behind the bar. My guess is he actually went golfing either before or after coming to the M&M. Isn't that a club-head cover on the bar in the foreground? So maybe a stop at the M&M for a Bloody Mary or Screwdriver before the first tee... or the traditional 19th Hole refreshment stop, although the nearest golf course was across town. 

​The M&M maintained a sort of family-friendly environment during most hours of the day. Here we see the family of Bob and Tina Lee, with their beaming little grandson. Allen McVeigh truly appreciated the Lee family, and if the M&M were still open today I expect some of the Lees would be spending their time there. My father used to speak of some guys being "professional Irishmen", which implied somebody who took the Irish heritage thing a bit far. Bob Lee never seemed to take his Irishness too far, from what I could tell... but he did have an outstanding Irish tenor singing voice and belted out good ole songs from the good ole sod... like "Rose of Tralee". Bob was a semi-professional Irishman, I guess. Like Al McVeigh, come to think of it. Al could hold his own on the Irish tenor stuff, and sang for years in his church's choir. Some self-proclaimed music critics would scoff at the talents of both these men, but in my opinion they had wonderful voices.  ​

Judging from the pictures above, beer seems the beverage of choice in the M&M. But hard liquor and mixed drinks tended to reign throughout the day and were the bread-and-butter of the M&M business. That being said, the predominance of beer-drinking in these pictures may be due to the fact that those customers who drank beer were often nursing their 10-oz glass for a good 30 minutes before ordering another, thereby providing ample opportunity for the photographers to catch a special moment.

In the above images, at the left we have a tender moment between a couple sharing a bottle of Olympia. I'd like to point out the M&M's air conditioning system visible behind this couple and consisting of an open slatted window with a big fan. This sophisticated arrangement helped displace the smoke and humidity of the crowded bar with San Francisco's naturally cool atmosphere... and alcohol even provided for a bit of fog!

The middle picture portrays another touching couple... Joe Neumann and his unnamed but dapper comrade. Joe never appeared in public without an "A's" baseball cap -- he probably had several of them, or maybe just one very greasy one. Behind them is the men's restroom entrance with the union-made "Customers Employees ONLY" sign. Despite the sign, the M&M bathroom provided a public utility for the nearby Skid Row neighborhood of 6th Street. The homeless -- known as "bums" back in the pre-PoliticallyCorrect days -- would furtively slip in from the Howard St entrance and use the toilet. Usually these visitors did no harm and were tolerated. Occasionally they provided cheap and singular entertainment. More on this later.

The right-hand picture frames the classic pressman/cigarette/beer portrait. We can only imagine the sublime thoughts going through this man's head as he peruses the bottom of his bottle of Bud. You might notice the fellow's elbows resting on the edge of the linoleum bar -- at each seat of the bar were complementary right- and left-handed wear marks on the linoleum, the effect of thousands of arms rubbing against the bar. And a word about photographic technique apparent in this image... photographers often took pictures from across the bar (as in this case), standing up and sniping a picture from over the liquor bottles to capture people at their candid best.

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​Here, Al McVeigh tips a glass with writer Harry Jupiter. The M&M fairly often gained mention in the pages of the Chronicle. On mere fact of the writers spending so much time in the M&M. Writers often write about their home town, their mother or father, their school, their previous jobs, their previous spouses ... and their bar: the M&M. ​

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Conversations in the M&M often carried on from several seats away, as seems to be the case in the first photograph where a customer cups hand to ear. An omnipresent din of talk and clinking glass filled the bar during hours of operation, along with the deafening crash of liars' dice. A radio tuned to big-band or sports broadcast sometimes blended into the mix but always took a subdued presence -- never the excess volume of music found in singles' bars. A television sat overhead at one end of the bar, usually only turned on during sports events or for "The Benny Hill Show".

We next have two fellows sharing thoughts at the bar. Dialogue played a big part in the M&M experience. Of the archetype "drinking buddies" there were many. These two men seem engaged in gentle conversation: "How old are ya, mate?" "Old enough to drink cup after cup of this here grog!"

And third is Al McVeigh with sports writer Walter Radke . Several newspaper writers frequented the M&M and provided some of the best conversation. Besides Walter Radke, the M&M often hosted the likes of Bill Boldenweck, Larry Hatfield, Stephanie Salter, Harry Jupiter, Jon Carroll, Bill Burkhardt, Jane Conant, Bob Patterson, Carl Nolte, Lynn Ludlow, Carol Ness, and many others.​

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Bartender extraordinaire Len Wiggin looks to be holding up the building, and in ways both literally and figuratively he actually did. Lenny worked during the busiest hours, but nothing got past him. It's amazing that he stood still long enough for the photographer to snap the shutter!
Lenny knew what was going on at both sides of the bar. Always energetic, always congenial, always on top of things, always honest... it spoke well of the M&M that Lenny spent so many years working there. He would serve drinks and entertain a crowded bar, take a second to oust a deranged transient that strayed in the door, and be back pouring drinks without missing a beat! A real pro.
This picture captures much of the M&M decor: at the top-right corner sitting on a stereo speaker is an ugly long-nosed gnome doll God knows who put it up there or why it stayed for so long; and below Mr.Gnome is the sandwich warmer infra-red oven (antacids were located nearby); moving towards the middle we have the tall gallon bottle of golden Galliano liqueur which lasted for years since nobody ever ordered the stuff; then we see the bearded mien of Examiner staff writer Larry Hatfield, who sometimes vacated his M&M seat to write copy.

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M&M Tavern -- The Early Days

"Tales From The M&M Tavern" would not make a popular comic book... but maybe a cult comic book. For a cult of old barflies.

But these stories should warm the innards of the strictest teetotaler -- and elicit a beer-belching-belly-laugh from a less sober audience.

This first set of stories will be straight from Al McVeigh's written archives. Allen McVeigh arguably spent more time at the M&M than anyone else (although there were quite a few runners-up, many of them customers). His stories are uniquely bar-owner-ish, as opposed to bar-frequenter-ish. These stories are transcribed from Allen's own typewritten notes:

Al's Tales #1: Ed The Pressman
Ed was a pressman at the S.F. Chronicle who when he had a few drinks became a pest. He wanted the bartender's undivided attention and insisted on shaking hands every five minutes.

On this occasion Ed has reached the pest stage and I was tired of shaking hands. I told him he was cut off and could not have any more to drink. He asked me to loan him three dollars so he could take a cab home. Anxious to get rid of him I quickly loaned him the money and called a cab.

About a half hour later who came in the door but Ed. I asked him how come he didn't go home. He replied, "I went home but my wife gave me three dollars and sent me back."

Al's Tales #2: Cashing Paychecks
I cashed a lot of paychecks at my bar especially on payday for the S.F. Chronicle. After my third trip to the bank I left with some friends for the racetrack. Shortly after I left the bank teller phoned the bar asking for me because she was short a thousand dollars. When the bartender told her I had gone to the racetrack she almost fainted thinking I was gambling with the bank's money.

When I came home the teller had left a message for me to count my money. I went to the bar and on counting the money found I was over a thousand dollars. I called her with the good news and the next morning brought her the money.

Al's Tales #3: Cashing Paychecks II
The bank teller shorted me four hundred dollars but I did not know it. Shortly after I left she was robbed. On returning to the bar I had to use the money to cash paychecks without checking it. Fortunately for me, the robber was caught in The Emporium and brought back to the bank. When the robber was searched he had four hundred dollars more than the bank was short. The police couldn't figure why he would rob the bank if he already had four hundred dollars. Finally they called me and asked me to count my money. I did and discovered I was short four hundred dollars. The police asked me to please come to the bank and get my money and solve their problem.

Al's Tales #4: Cashing Paychecks, With A Cockroach On The Side
I kept a plastic raincoat hanging in my office in case of rain. The weather forecast was rain and I wore the coat to the bank. While the teller was counting money, a cockroach ran out of the sleeve of my raincoat. As was my habit acquired over many years in the bar business I smashed the cockroach with my fist. The teller was startled and asked me what happened and I showed her the dead cockroach. She called the manager and he called the pest control people. I didn't have the heart to tell them the cockroach came with me.

Al's Tales #5: Cockroach on the Side, and on the Babushka too!
Almost daily Shirley and Betty would stop in for coffee and would split a donut or sweet roll. They sat on the farthest seats from the coffee machine at the counter and expected Dorothy, the waitress, to warm their coffee at just the right time.

On this day a cockroach fell from the ceiling and landed on Betty's shoulder. Neither Shirley nor Betty saw the roach, but Dorothy and I both saw it. I knew if the bug got to Betty's face she would probably scream and everyone at the San Francisco Chronicle would hear about Betty being attacked by a cockroach at the M&M Tavern. Snapping a damp bar towel at the bug my aim was good and fortunately I got him. I was relieved until I saw the roach was now on Betty's babushka. Shirley and Betty were very upset with my weird behavior. I snapped the towel again and this time Mr. Cockroach was gone. Now the two gals were really angry and told me so as they left. Dorothy told me I had used up my luck for twenty years.

Al's Tales #6: The Local Cop's Beat
When I started in the bar business the beat cop was John Donovan, who would come into my bar about three times during his shift. He would look around and if he saw a noisy group would ask me if I wanted him to hang around or if anyone was giving me trouble John would quickly show him the door. On his last visit each day John would place 25 cents on the bar and order "A bottle of Olympia". No one ever took the coin and I'm sure when John retired he still had that 25 cent piece in his uniform pocket. He was a great policeman.

Al's Tales #7: Melee On The Sidewalk
Here's another Al McVeigh remembrance, one which I wrote down after one of the family weekends at The Sea Ranch. That was not the only occasion where I heard this tale... but at the time I wrote the story down while the details were still fresh in my mind.

Allen spoke of a drunk -- a well-dressed man, but still a drunk -- coming in and being refused service. The man wouldn't leave and so Allen escorted him out. Still the man returned and again my father took him out to the sidewalk. When he took his hands off the man, knowing the drunken fellow was going to take a swing at him, my father ducked. The drunk missed Al but hit an old man who was walking by. Both the old man and the drunk fell to the sidewalk with Allen standing over them. Just then a neighbor of Allen's came around the corner and was aghast at what appeared to be Allen decking an old man and a well-dressed fellow.

Al's Tales #8: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BODY!!!"
Al recalled an incident with a pesky panhandling woman. The story characterizes the typical "cheap entertainment" which arrived impromptu and often unwelcome at the M&M.

A woman came into the M&M and went around the horseshoe bar begging from each customer. Allen called from across the bar, telling her to cease and desist. Adept at her panhandling profession, the gal turned a deaf ear to Allen's requests and continued her circuit. Al came from around the bar and took the woman by the arm so as to escort her outside. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BODY!" she hollared, sharply kicking her heel into Allen's shin. This display was greeted by hoots and catcalls from the M&M clientele. Al decided this was a situation for the police. He called in to report this unruly woman disturbing the peace at the M&M. Later on... maybe the better part of an hour, well after this female bum (bummette?) left the premises of her own volition... the SFPD showed up. Allen gave them his story and the police said they were acquainted with the lady and that she was a pest at several of the local businesses. This experience taught Allen that in such a situation he should simply report "an unruly violent person causing a disturbance" and leave out any reference to female gender -- otherwise the cops'll take a donut break before responding.

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​The following page(s) has/will have stories pulled from whatever sources provide them. Any and all contributions will be appreciated and considered... just send them by email to Marty McVeigh -- mmcveigh@pacbell.net

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Mary McVeigh -- Queen Mother of The M&M
I found some stories on a now-defunct website "Fables From Floyd". One concerned the perceived stinginess of the M&M operations, and how an Examiner writer Tom Emch once exposed such miserly behavior by writing his name on the bottom of a bread roll which got sent back with his dirty dishes only to later turn up on another customer's plate!

Now, Al McVeigh believed in economy, but not to the point of recycling unused food from the dishwashing station! Any such episodes probably originated from the actions of Al's mother, Mary McVeigh.

Mary McVeigh's life involved many years of hard work and lean living. Consequently, what others considered appropriate restaurant practices, Mary viewed as wasteful. When ketchup bottles got down to the last tablespoon, rather than toss it out Mary would mix a little water in to make it flow better. Customers drenched their food with the watery mix, and so Allen had to reconcile the situation. The pragmatic solution, one might think, was to toss out the fag ends of ketchup bottles. But a win-win solution was achieved by means of a little metal cylinder which would fit over the top of one ketchup bottle, and then the other nearly-empty ketchup bottle could be put top-down into this cylinder and the two bottles mated until the one on top spilled its drippings into the other. Mary saved several tablespoons of ketchup every month with this innovation.

Mary also had a thing about throwing out perfectly good pickle slices. Rumor has it she salvaged them from used dishes, washed them off and replaced them into the sliced pickle bin. The other kitchen staff would look the other way and, as one employee put it, cop an "I see nothing!" attitude like Sargeant Schultz in "Hogan's Heroes".

A devoted mother and woman of many fine qualities, nevertheless her strong character sometimes went against the grain of operations. For example, Allen had hired a temporary waitress while the regular waitress, Dorothy, was on vacation (and as any M&M person will tell you, 1 Dorothy = 2 other good waitress). One day the waitress came in with what Mary considered a too-revealing outfit. Mary told her to leave and "don't ever come in here looking like that again!" The woman was in tears. This episode threw a wrench in the M&M gears -- something Allen tolerated little of. But, as he put it, "How do you fire your mother?"

Indeed, for many years the M&M served unofficially as Allen's means of occupying his mother's time and keeping her happy. Mary McVeigh was never happier than when "helping out" at the M&M.

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The Formative Years
Allen McVeigh spent many years running the M&M without respite. Seven days a week, until his wife Frances insisted he spend one day each week at home, at which point he closed the M&M on Sundays to be with the family. But vacations were out of the question. So with a certain eagerness and anticipation he watched his sons grow up. He first weaned them in at their early teens as dishwashers. Maybe the hardest part of that job was having to get up in the early morning and drive in with Dad who was awake and talkative the second he got out of bed. He seemed impatient with his bleary-eyed progeny, and would extoll them to "Wash your face with cold water!" This did not seem to help. The zombie son would see the difference as being "comatose tired" versus "comatose tired with a cold wet face". The dynamic duo would step out into the clammy cold darkness of a South City morning, get into the car, and head off towards the Bayshore Freeway towards downtown. Allen often listened to talk radio, voicing commentary to his indifferent son. Reckless freeway drivers were also worthy of Allen's notice -- "Look at that horse's ass!" being a common expletive.

Eldest son Dan had the first try at each M&M apprenticeship -- and fortunately for his brother's Dan set the performance bar low and so wasn't a hard act to follow. As a dishwasher, Dan left his mark most visibly upon the large canister of detergent which served him a a seat during the dull in-between hours as he waited for the dirty dishes to pile up. The detergent canister approximately resembled a short stool, but Dan's posterior left it looking more like a bean bag by the end of a few weeks. Dan also found a dark, relatively quiet phone booth tucked cozily behind the Howard Street doorway. He would snatch a cat nap at every opportunity, and in the phone booth could doze undisturbed... until the pile of dirty dishes called, or a bookie needed to make a call.

Tales From The M&M Tavern

​Text by Martin McVeigh

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Here are a couple bartender-in-action photos -- there's Bob Bruce at the left and Bruno Del Buffalo right. Some other well-liked and long-time bartenders were Fred Zimmerman, George Stoltz, Jack Payne, Jim Scully, Ron Sailor, and Henry . Most of the barkeeps at the M&M were long-time veteran union bartenders... as were Bob and Bruno. Their dress code was a light-colored collared shirt, tie, and slacks. Their manners were friendly, attentive, and capable. The slicked-back Brylcreem hair was also in favor. ​

Images From The M & M Tavern

Text by Martin McVeigh

It was the Chronicle's termination of this lease in 1957 which forced Allen to seek a new location for his business. This new location turned out to be 198 5th Street, at the corner of Howard. Allen approached the owner, a Mr. Bing Poon, to inquire about a lease, to which Mr. Poon replied "I think I sell." McVeigh then stretched his finances to the utmost limit, mortgaging everything but the children, and bought the property at corner lot (including the lowscale Hotel George above), thereby finding a new home for the M&M Tavern. Yet, although another battle was won, the war could still be lost... Al McVeigh had spent nearly everything he had, but still needed furniture and fixtures to equip his bar! Faced with this daunting situation, Allen did what any true-blooded Irishman would do... he went to St. Patrick's Church on Mission Street and prayed! McVeigh left the church, picked up a newpaper, and saw the answer to his prayers -- a newpaper ad announced the sale of all equipment from McCarthy's bar. McVeigh put down a bid and won. The equipment -- all quality stuff -- found its way to 198 5th Street. Allen (with a lot of help from his brother-in-law Jim Kuhlman) spent several weeks putting the whole shebang together; the large horseshoe bar, stools, tables, sinks, taps, refrigerator, and registers served the M&M for the next few decades.


To the left is a picture taken during the Christmas holidays sometime in the 1950's. It captures details of a bygone America and of a chapter in Al McVeigh's life. The Second World War being a recent memory, Joe Rosenthal's classic photograph of the Marines at Iwo Jima sits proudly on display -- Joe frequented the M&M. The cash register shows a 40-cent charge ... maybe the price of a beer in those days. Conspicuously displayed are plaques of the bartenders' names: Al McVeigh, Jim Lyons, Tom Keating, and 'Doc' Lyons. A B&W television set sits high up at one end of the bar. The three caucasian male customers sit on barstools, disinterested with or avoiding the photographer; my guess is this photograph was taken early in the day, and everyone has yet to fully awaken (or to shake off their hangovers!) A close inspection of this image finds many familiar labels on the bottles of liquor: Old Crow, Ancient Age, Early Times, Jack Daniels. And on tap we have Michelob! -- "strictly uppa crust!" You can also buy some Roi Tan cigars, and maybe some Clorets to disguise your breath when returning to your job or driving home. The reindeer and artificial frosted trees block what may have been the most unique and memorable feature of the old M&M -- a mural of topless South Pacific islander girls cavorting amidst tropical flora. As legend has it, a customer did the painting in lieu of cash for repaying a bar tab from Martin McVeigh.

​In the first picture we have one of the "belles of the M&M", showing flair as she gestures with one hand, lit cigarette in the other. The M&M was not known for its ravishing beauties, but the gals were intelligent and congenial... and could hold their liquor too! Back to the lady in the photo... the bartender behind her looks to be the notorious Barney aka Charles DeLap, who spent years as the M&M janitor until he "stepped up to big pay" as a bartender. I call him notorious because the drinks he poured were doubles. If you asked Barney "gimme a double" I think he'd hand you the bottle.

Next is a regular customer engaged in discussion with Bob the bartender (same guy can be seen shadowing Bob on page 3). Bob has turned his back to the camera -- I believe he was self-conscious of his big nose, which you can see in all its glory in the 3rd picture on this page. Beyond Bob is the M&M kitchen, and there's a hand holding a broom or mop stick, ergo it's late night and the janitor is cleaning up. Signs at the kitchen say it closes at 2pm (M-F) and advertise the "McVeigh Special!" which was a hamburger patty and scoop of cottage cheese over some lettuce -- a sort of early 1970s Adkins diet offering, way ahead of its time! The M&M kitchen served a fine hamburger and other stick-to-the-ribs lunches and breakfasts. The Crab and Shrimp Louis salads were to die for! And whenever the cook took his/her 2-week vacation, George the bartender and ex-chef (and ex-WWII Marine) would sit in and whip up unheard-of lunches like Stuffed Turbot.

The third photo shows a gent in serious contemplation. The photographer deftly caught this rare event.      

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The best images from the M & M are of the customers. In the left photo we see a pressman engaged in a serious conversation with bartender Bob -- probably about the 49ers. And in the right image a couple of gals appear to be discussing the merits of the M & M's fine cuisine ... note a half-demolished hamburger held up like a consecrated host, while the woman at the left is saying something like "Got any Rolaids, Mary?". Also note the photographs on the walls; the several newspaper photographers who took up part-time residence at the M & M got into an unofficial competition and their pictures were grouped on a wall for public appreciation. The images you are enjoying were saved from those posted photographs. 

Al McVeigh , pictured above in his typical bartender garb, spent the greater part of his life working at the M&M Tavern. The United Press caption (by longtime friend of the McVeigh family Richard Harnett) alludes to the difficulties in running a bar. But Al McVeigh ran it quite successfully. Other men have tried, and other men have failed ... or at least not done so well. And although luck and circumstances certainly played their part in the M&M's fortune, a greater portion of credit is due towards the character and abilities of Al McVeigh. For example, look at the picture above: Al really has an interest in this customer -- a working stiff stopping in for a beer or two and a cigarette or two, and who for a brief few minutes of the day can be at ease amidst the warmth and humor of human companionship. Allen knew what his customers wanted. And that wasn't always a stiff drink. It wasn't always a shoulder to cry on, or a bar tab to be granted, or a baseball game to watch. For any given customer that came into the M&M, a unique personal experience await, each according to their own desires, needs, likes, and dislikes. It served hundreds as their anything-but-exclusive club. Allen McVeigh's M&M tavern could accommodate the masses in a way that kept them coming back for days, months, and years on end. 

The Prohibition ended on December 5, 1933, and in 1934 the original M&M opened under the partnership of Martin McVeigh and Mike Malloy, its location 150 5th Street between Mission and Howard -- a site now occupied by one of The Chronicle's buildings. Some changes in ownership occurred over the next few years ... Malloy being replaced by Ray Hake, who then sold to Nick Ivancovich. Co-founder Martin McVeigh died prematurely in 1937 due to a respiratory condition (a result of being gassed in WWI and working in Nevada silver mines); his wife Mary McVeigh remained part-owner of the M&M. Their son Allen went to Sacred Heart High School, and then St. Mary's College in Moraga, until joining the Navy during WWII where he served on a ship in the Pacific as an Electrician's Mate, was honorably discharged after the war, returned to San Francisco and married Frances Roddy in 1946. Allen worked at the M&M and at a second job while trying to earn a degree at USF. About this time Nick Ivancovich offered to buy out the McVeigh interest in the M&M. This put the McVeigh family in a quandary, and so Mary McVeigh scraped up enough money to buy out Ivancovich while Allen put his college degree quest on hold to work full-time at the M&M. Dreams of being a teacher or an engineer faded away as Allen McVeigh took over managing the M&M, becoming its owner and operator until his retirement in 1984 at age 62. 

​This image is of myself, Mart McVeigh as my family calls me, in a daytime shift as a bartender at the M&M. The attentive observer may notice a few subtle differences between my father at the bar versus myself: Al McVeigh's demeanor is ease and familiarity; myself, I am more like a dog getting a bath -- the loyal dog submits to the bath-taking ceremony, but he'd rather be just about anywhere else.

This picture was taken during one of my first bartending shifts at the M&M. I do not remember a photographer taking my picture, but I do recall my very first shift being on July 18th, 1978... the day after my 21st birthday. I think my father enjoyed ushering his boys into the bartending life, partly because he would be able to take a couple weeks vacation -- something he never did for 20-something years while the kids were all too young. But it went deeper than that; bartending represented a McVeigh coming-of-age ritual, where the soft-skinned idealist student got a dose of reality and learned "this is what brings in the bacon, boys!" Both my brothers Dan and Tom served their time behind the bar, and we all went on to higher education and careers in other fields. I suspect our bartending experiences lent some urgency to our college pursuits. Side note: blurred in the background are Tina and Robert E. Lee, famous in M&M circles, Robert for his brilliant Irish tenor, Tina for enduring Robert!     

The M & M Tavern Memorial Website

Located in sunny downtown San Francisco, nestled at the corner of 5th and Howard Streets, there once was a famed watering hole preferred by many a discriminating barfly... "The M&M Tavern". A seminal and iconic Newspaper Bar, the M&M catered to clientele from the erstwhile Examiner/Chronicle, the even more erstwhile Call/Bulletin, and myriad other south-of-Market businesses during an era that recalls Bloody Marys, Screwdrivers,and Raw-Egg-In-A-Beer breakfasts, the famed Martini Lunch, and the apres-work battery of Manhattans, Old Fashioneds, Gin & Tonics, Whisky and Sodas, Tom Collinses and a hundred other quick fixes for the workadingdongday. At a time before "zero tolerance" office drinking policies, back when DUI's were still considered a minor offense, and when tobacco smoke and liquor went together like corned beef and cabbage, the M&M ranked as one of the busiest drinking establishments of The City. The M&M operated on 5th Street for over 40 years, mostly under the tutelage of proprietor Allen McVeigh. This web page hopes to recall and preserve some of the memories of the M&M Tavern.

The bar no longer operates under the old name... the location now houses a fine Irish-theme pub called The Chieftain. But the echoes of a bygone age can still be heard -- at least to someone familiar to the old M&M, much like revisiting the neighborhood you grew up in. For those of you who hold memories of the M&M Tavern, a perusal of the following images and stories can awaken those foggy, nicotine-stained brain cells and hopefully warm the soul like a straight shot of Old Yellowstone bourbon, with a beer back please!