The Old Stag Tavern

this place has the best TUESDAY dance night IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!

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Stag
Pronunciation: \stag\
Function: noun
Inflected Form (s): plural stags
Etymology: Middle English stagge, from Old English stagga; akin to Old Norse andarsteggi drake
Date: 12^th century
1. or plural stag: an adult male red deer; also: the male of various other deer (especially genus Cervus)
2. chiefly Scottish: a young horse; especially: a young unbroken stallion
3. a male animal castrated after sexual maturity — compare steer
4. a young adult male domestic chicken or turkey
5 a: a social gathering of men only
b: one who attends a dance or party without a companion
It is what it is… old… stag… While there weren’t any deers, horses, or turkeys running around this tavern, there were some chicks that worked the bar. They made some mean drinks in a plastic dixie cup.
It was indeed a gathering of men. And dancing was involved… sort of… errr with themselves… and while they may not have been castrated, they should have been. And while I was in good company, the old stag was filled with old stag indeed.
If you’re looking for a dumpy dive bar, this is the place. Just know that you will have some old stag trying to get their hump on. So be sure to bring lots of protection (and by protection — I mean a crew of peeps to protect yo’ arse).

Old Stag is a Dominican bar on Washington, right near my old apt. that I never even noticed because everything starts getting a little fuzzy for me on that side of Ruggerios. Apparently this was an old corner Irish bar on Washington that changed hands but kept the stellar macho name and wood paneling.
I stuck out a bit with my Sam Adams and pink polka-​dotted shirt. I might as well have put Arcade Fire on the jukebox. Thankfully P comes here off and on over the years and was welcomed with sincere smiles (and prolly appeared like the man with us two girls) after he was patted down!
I kept a good attitude and passed on the sexual-​harassment-​flavored appetizers — salt city!
We were looking for an escape from hipster masses which we found. Looking for a little quiet, which we did not find. Desperate celebration music blaring in a run-​down pub as if it wasn’t Jesus’s day.
OLD STAG.
Stag=male deer (I like the atmosphere, not the menz)
Stag=going solo (not me, here)
Stag=last hurray/​sex with other before marriage (my new Canadian roommate tells me this is Canadian slang)
The lady bartenders were quick and friendly. The men are rearing to go and repping Boston and Mets on TV? But everyone was pretty respectful.
Pool tables. Real sharks, prolly. Small dance floor.
New live music on a Sunday night; crooning, trumpets, rhythmic piano, congos, cheese grater, etc. Dease live jam.
The swarmy to lonely Stag musicians were working hard but crime was no one was dancing (except in our chairs a bit) as if it was a typical Boston rock club and not a Dominican joint. Energy started to really pick up when we left around 11:30pm, I am sure everyone eventually threw down.
Apparently Thursday is «Beach Night» where they have a bikini contest. P might go back with his snorkel but I think I’ll skip that night! I’ll hold out for turtleneck/​poetry reading night at the Stag!
I thanked the musicians for the good music and asked us why we were leaving so soon! Welcoming vibe even though the three of us were second cousins three times removed.
I felt like I was in a diff. country! And I kind of was! Who knew there was life in this hole behind a brick face.
If you go with people who are down–
Mix it up

I love a place that calls me Mommy and pats down all the men in my group for weapons.
My kind of place.
The music is loud. The drinks are cheap and strong. The patrons might still be carrying (if they smuggled their weapons in with the chicks).
I had a good time and the only reason I left is because half of my group wound up at a different bar!

Old Stag is a place that I figured my formerly hippie bf would have gone into ironically sometime in his past. But it turns out that it’s only someplace that he’s always been dying to go to. Because it’s the kinda place that you wonder what the heck is in there (if you notice it in the first place.)
While walking from Egleston, en route to Doyle’s, some people got lazy and so we decided to stop in here. The trade-​off for them was either walking through a sketchy neighborhood to Doyle’s or stay in the sketchy neighborhood to go into Old Stag. I would have chosen the former, especially as I’m a JP resident and have little fear, but we went to Old Stag.
So. yeah, it was as lame as the exterior and neighborhood would suggest. Some scattered people dancing to modern and 90s dance music. Sketchy guys watching the girls dance. Mystery drinks. At least now I know what’s in there for curiosity’s sake.

After the Unilocal Elite event, a few of us wandered down here, first trying to find Doyle’s (EDIT: I get my JP establishments mixed up), but then simply deciding on grabbing a cold one. The bar is quite interesting. It’s the first time on record that I’ve ever been frisked before entering a bar, so that was mildly disconcerting.
That being said, it’s a decent place, with a small dance area accompanied by some pool tables, along with your standard bar-​related shenanigans. Beers were decently priced, and the service was good. It’s a decent dive if you’re down in that area, but not something to necessarily seek out.

I have to say i enjoy it. The bar reminds me of the townie bars i frequent when i visit my mom.
I went on a Sunday a few weeks ago. The bar was empty which appealed to my soon-​to-​be-​roommate and myself. We played the jukebox, some extra extra extra erotic photo hunt and played some free pool.
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UPDATE: I’m bumping this up to 5 stars simply for Hot and Sexy Tuesdays.
I’ve been to plenty of nights at places that were Hot and other nights that were Sexy. But Tuesdays, Tuesdays have it all you get the Hot you get the Sexy you get the… awesome? (i don’t know I’m not great with adjectives) Some times there are delicious appetizers most of the time you can get nameless shots made by the lovely Lulu. Random drink specials with names i find fun to say (Woo Woo… come on!)
You could play the erotic photo hunt game on this night but that would be a waste of your time, also those dollars are to be used for something greater. It’s what you are there for. Hot and Sexy Tuesdays is one of the most fun drag nights I’ve been too. These fabulous ladies strut around being fierce, You don’t have to throw your money on a stage (who can throw dollars far? No One) This is hosted by the wonderful wondrous Lady Trinity Gotti the 1^st Empress of Divinity Entertainment, but you can just call her Trinity.
I went on my birthday and she made it special, she added a personal touch that drag shows are missing.
Go. Drink. Eat. And hand your dollars off.

edit: Closed
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I’ve only been to the Stag once, technically. But I know many of the regulars (I bartend a few miles up the road at the Hyde Park pub), so I feel like I have a decently good handle on this type of bar. Like other reviewers stated, this is definitely a dive bar. It’s a casual place, and you won’t find a huge variety of things in stock. The beer is relatively cheap, but the mixed drinks are about average price.
I’ve heard many great things about their ‘Tequila Nights’ on Thursdays. Free shots of tequila, scantily– clad girls dancing around, and a crowded, energized atmosphere. Sounds pretty interesting to me! I LOVE Bob, the part-​owner/​bartender who is there most nights. He is so friendly and has a great handle on things. He really knows his craft, and is just an over all good guy. Edwin– the owner– is also really friendly and a great guy. The entire staff is very personable and approachable.
Now…
This isn’t the kind of place to bring a date, or anyone to impress. It’s not squeaky clean, modern, or classy. It’s a neighborhood pub, in every sketchy aspect. I’ve heard a few people say they didn’t feel completely comfortable going in there, but I think that can be said of any dive bar on a given night. That’s kind of the fun part about places like this, though– the ‘interesting’ people you meet. It always makes for a good story the next day, at least. It’s the type of place to hit up for a beer, when you don’t want to drive out of your way to go downtown and/​or when you don’t have a ton of money to spend. Or if its laundry day and you don’t want to go someplace where you’ll feel on display.

Yeah! My neighborhood bar, steps from my house!
Sweet bartenders, cheap ass drinks, pool, cool exposed brick walls and about the most diverse group of peeps you can find in one place in Boston.
I made the mistake during my last visit to order a Manhattan, straight up, after having several on our pub crawl. I had to tell the bartender how to make a Manhattan, and then he used WAY too much vermouth. I was slightly annoyed because every bartender should know how to make a Manhattan, but my girlfriend reminded me that I should have known better than to ask in the first place. She’s right. My bad.
Jen and I like walking down the street, getting a couple of beers and saddling up to the video game machine. The last time I put in 5 bucks and it got us a good 25 rounds of «erotic photo hunt» and «peep show». Now, that’s a date…

I liked this place, the jukebox has a variety of songs that matches with the diversity of the crowd. The bartender reminded me of this bartender of a place that I used to go with my Dad when I was little. The first thing I noticed was a board with a bunch of things written on it, I only read TEQUILA NIGHT, TEQUILERAS.
After the jukebox was turned on, my first choice was obviously to please the local patrons.
Then Jeffrey took over and chose some Kelly Clarkson — gay, but cool — and Kenny Chesney — weird, not cool -.
Then some guy sitting at the bar — just like the man in the video — chose this song:
And I decided to serenade Chloe with it, yes I learned part of it by osmosis.
The décor of the bar is very Latino, several pictures of Kumbia Kings look-​alikes, Santana look-​alike, childhood neighbors look-​alikes, etc.
Maybe if I find my self around this neighborhood, say on a Wednesday night, I could stop by to check what’s up.

Sure an Old Stag is an aging deer. No coincidence it’s also showing up alone to the dance.
Two physics-​defying pool tables and a bArcade covered in a litany of fingerprints at Erotic Photo Hunt nipple height make up the entertainment. I can’t say a jukebox cranking the sweet sounds of K-​Clark and Fitty to a room of soon-​to-​be-​widowmakers and the Boston legion of Black Panthers is anything less than inappropriate, let alone full o’ merriment.
Surreality aside, the beer is «did you even keep count?» cheap and owner/​barkeep is an amiable codger. The pool was free, either because of the construction next door or the decay around the ball cage. Whatevs, the cues are well kept and THAT shows righteous prioritization. Racks were split between local hustla Willy and Chloe’s mang, who laughed at my feeble attempts to keep men full of piss out of their bathroom. See, the Ladies’ door wouldn’t shut leaving MO OWLS MO OWLBUMS and her pea-​sized bladder to do the Urinal Hover. As much as we tried to give her audience, walkers-​in missed le finale grande.
Dive is as dive does, this place is the tits. If Joshua Tree is an ex-​girlfriend and Sligo is a hooker, the Stag is your elderly neighbor with low cut tops and T-​Rex arms who hugs you too long and smells like poodle sex. Creepy but damn does she make good snickerdoodles.

So sometimes, when you’re all standing out in drippy rain holding cups of ice cream pellets, and you’re not ready to go home… things like the Old Stag come up in conversation and all of a sudden you’re driving through Hyde Park to drink Corona and play erotic photo hunt.
Bob the bartender was kind enough to help out Lizard and I with our penthouse ladies, as they ooh’ed and ahh’ed as we pointed out their missing nipplez and clear plastic heels. The free pool was definitely an upside, even if I didn’t play, as it offered some male bonding time for me and Liz’s couple fest 2k8. Barfzilla. I had the pleasure of using the mens room, since the «ladies» room was occupied. The door wouldn’t shut all the way, Damien said he would watch it, and I got walked in by some drunken local. Lucky for me, I had my pants up and was already making my hands soapy. HAI!
There was a jukebox, which appeared to be unplugged, but mysteriously got turned on, and Nadya entered some Daddy Yankee for me, ROMPE! ROMPE! ROMPE!

I guess this place is okay. It kind of seems like it’s the meeting club for stonemasons or biker gangs or any group except a bunch of white twenty-​something yuppies.
We all ordered Coronas [plus one bitch who ordered a Bud Lite *ahem* Jeffrey *ahem*] and were all nursing them for a while to which the bartender muttered under his breath, «*grumble* *grumble* Who drinks one beer in an hour? *grumble* *grumble*» Whatever. While people played nudie photo hunt, I sat and watched «Swordfish» with the sound off. Has anyone seen this? John Travolta has a chin bob and a strip of goatee under his lip that looks like it was drawn on by Sharpie. And Hugh Jackman is wearing leather pants. And this was in 2001!
Also, the photos of presumably other patrons of the bar wearing spandex or at some biker rally shellacked onto slabs of wood are a nice added touch. It’s like some grandpa’s basement rec room when he wants to escape his nagging wife and play with his train set. Maybe that’s why the bartender was annoyed with us. But I guess I’ll have to come back on a day/​night when I want to do some heavy drinking. But for now, it just gets a meh from Meh.

Dive bar, check.
Dickies overalls on patron, check.
Beers on display, check.
Beers on display actually being available, uncheck.
Jukebox, check.
Jukebox functioning, uncheck.
Jukebox eventually functioning, check.
Gay man playing Kelly Clarkson, 50 Cent & Kenny Chesney, check.
Nude video games, check check check.
Boston Panthers convention in back room, check.
Overall sketchiness combined with good company, alcoholic beverages, and general debauchery.
Check.

This place is full of character.
Between the hilarious «Beer Man» poster behind the bar, the bartender apologizing for being pretty much out of everything beer, the flat screen TV playing a bad movie on TBS, the jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner, and the group of somewhat shady dudes gathered around a table in the back… this place is tops.
I ordered my Corona (the only beer he seemed to still have in stock at the time) and relaxed while some of my friends huddled around the naked lady Photo Hunt game. This place is a serious dive (something Boston seems to be lacking in more and more these days) and if I lived in the neighborhood, I’d probably be here every night.
But never by myself.

OK — I live right up the street and stepped into OZ when I w3walked in to the Stag.
Absolutely original and so chill. Best part was it served as the first of may tests my new boy passed. He got the full pat down at the door — not the junk though. We were the only white folks and no one stared, we were made to feel welcome. The pool looks great some real sharks — hoping my boy will get the courage to play, and that i get the courage to dance — great music. Owner is the bartender and again great — he could definitely take care of any «situation».

holy shit…
I’ve been coming to this bar for a while. I live so close that I once made it home from there totally blasted, with a four foot tall basket over my head with no problems, well, at least not in getting home, plenty of problems… anyway, yeah, the thing that gets me about this place is how good everybody is, the crowd is definitely not my crowd, and they definitely do not give a wooden shit whether or not I come, but when I do; they’re damn nice, and genuinely nice, a rare thing, ive found. If youre a white boy that can pretend to salsa dance, well then, you can entertain the ladies… trust me, ive seen it happen… plus, TEQUILA NIGHT, no shit, free tequila shots from like 10pm to close, and its served by some very friendly and lovely young ladies, whos actual nature I cannot decipher… as for what night it is, I wont say, mofo’s can’t just be showing up for tequila night, you should earn that. and beside that, but yeah, other than that. well what else do you need?

THIS is a dive bar. I flipping love this place. There might be stuff on tap? They might have that bottle of beer out back? They might have club soda for your drink? No fountain soda, it’s in bottles — 2 liters under the bar. Cheap, cheap, cheap drinks. A very latino jukebox. Two pool tables. Serious drinkers and a very diverse and friendly crowd. And the décor, ohh la la the finest of inflatable beer bottles and things attached to the walls with huge screws so they can’t be thrown around. The Old Stag is like a Dominican version of the Sligo. Oh, and they will truck in food from a few doors down for you if you ask politely (if you don’t ask politely you probably won’t get shived bur you might not make it home with your wallet).

Goddamnit. Methy Hobo beat me to the first review.
The Old Stag List (because I don’t feel like writing complete sentences):
— they do not have cider
— they do have Mike’s, which is kinda gross
— the bathroom is spectacularly, awesomely nasty– and it’s pretty clear people still smoke in it (twinsets & pearls and/​or pink hats probably shouldn’t cross the Stag’s threshold)
— no Clash on the jukebox
— but it appears that they do have naked lady photo hunt
— cheap
— there is not an old stag head mounted anywhere
— instead there is a black velvet painting of a deer
— pool tables
— damn strong gin & tonics
— I was the only girl in the place (besides the bartender) for most of the night
— Raucous pool tournaments every Monday night
— founded in 1892 or some other date in the 1890s (I admit, I don’t remember)
— spitting distance from my house
— fun times