It’s sandwiched between Skid Row and Gallery Row: between problems that have always been and gleaming prospects of what’s to come. It’s a hospitable Checkpoint Charlie at an invisible, but very much present Berlin Wall of economic and social status—a place where the often clean lines of the societal checkerboard blur: off duty Mission employees sipping Gin and Tonics with their ID lanyards still on; timeless drunks singing along—and forgetting the words of—the same 10 country songs they play on the jukebox every night; Parakeet trainers in 3 piece suits, Architecture students in collared shirts, lonely old men, shameless eccentrics, cookie-cutter hipsters. It’s a former piano shop whose basement was once the nerve center of the underground tunnels that sustained Downtown LA’s clandestine liquor business during prohibition. It’s a social scientist’s mad laboratory.
KING EDDY Saloon may very well be the only place in Downtown Los Angeles where two neighborhoods isolated by 100 years of history and decades of aggressive public policy mix; where two populations deemed to be oil and water miraculously blend to an emulsified vinaigrette. What brings everyone together? Despite the gritty kitsch, I don’t think it’s the indoor, plexiglass smoking room with the sign warning you not to do drugs of “any kind” inside. It’s not the madness happening on the other side of Los Angeles Street and it’s most definitely not the tuna salad sandwich they purport to serve. The most simplistic explanation is the $2.50 cocktails and the kind, salt of the earth service. However, the real lure are the guarantees: namely, that you will never walk out its doors without some kind of crazy story, and that you will undoubtedly get a revealing glimpse into the dynamic and utterly fascinating story of what’s happening in Downtown Los Angeles. In any event, this place will undoubtedly incinerate any notions you have that LA is categorically “superficial” and “fake”. If anything, KING EDDY Saloon is arguably too real.
In stark contrast to the complex and convoluted history of the area, the reason for the invisible wall along Main Street very is unsettlingly simple: a dip in elevation. West of Main, higher ground gave rise to the swanky and exceedingly opulent historic core of the city, but to the East low lying land and adjacent Los Angeles River formed a flood plain ideal for establishment of an agricultural community. When the Transcontinental Railroad reached it’s terminus in the area in 1876, migrant workers from all ends of the country began arriving to take advantage of the abundance seasonal harvesting work. Packing plants, shipping yards and other industry related to the bourgeoning railroad soon cropped up, attracting even more transient workers as well as the notoriously rough and tumble crowd associated with the railroad itself. Soon a small community of motels, month-to-month apartments, bars and shops took root in the area to serve this influx of wayward souls; however, it was not long before rampant alcoholism, drugs, prostitution, violent crime and other vices associated with single, uneducated and nomadic men began to plague the area. Missions were built to try and curb the bedlam, but as the 20th century wore on their services soon lured the very element they were striving to combat. For every person they help show the light, two more showed up on their doorstep. It is now estimated that within its’ 50 square blocks there are 9,000 people living in varied states of homelessness: making it the largest concentration of homeless people in the United States and what Police Chief Bratton called “the worst social disaster in America”.
The endemic problems of Skid Row were ignored for years because Downtown Los Angeles was, well, largely forgotten by Angelenos and visitors alike. However, the construction of Staples Center, Disney Hall and other mega-structures have—in addition to a strong sentiment among many in Los Angeles to live in a denser, more pedestrian friendly community—put Downtown back on the map in a huge way. True, it’s been called a nascent a Manhattan, but the harsh realities of Skid Row are still right on the doormat of this exciting new community of hip bars, cutting-edge restaurants and young professionals. Things have gotten much better east of Main Street, but many argue that this is due to controversial and patently aggressive police action designed to contain the problems to smaller areas in Skid Row and(in general) away from the new Downtown.
Aside from being a microcosm of the beguiling hodgepodge of socio-economic conditions in Downtown Los Angeles and a living history of where the area has been and where it’s going, at the end of the day KING EDDY Saloon is just a great fucking bar. Whether it’s for the history, the cheap drinks, the country music laden jukebox, the unparalleled people watching or to see a side of LA that you never knew existed, just go. If you’re worried about safety, remember that KING EDDY Saloon is on the border of Skid Row and that the Skid Row “crowd” is largely it’s harmless, but exceedingly kind and eccentric residents. But as with any other big city, keep your wits about you(especially after crossing Main Street) and don't mistakenly miss it and wander over Los Angeles Street.
Weekday nights tend to be a little less eclectic and quiet, while Friday and Saturday nights tend to have that all too characteristic, KING EDDY-esque mix of both sides of Main Street. Appropriately, daytime(on any day) is when it really bustles.
And despite being an unparalleled social laboratory and an amazing bar, the only complaint that I have got about KING EDDY’s is that it’s not a place that you can hang out for prolonged period of time. This is my neighborhood bar, but it can be a bit like a good Fettuccine Alfredo: a small serving more than suffices. This is not to say—in any way shape or form—that you won’t be thinking about coming back for a second helping in the near future.
And despite being an unparalleled social laboratory and an amazing bar, the only complaint that I have got about KING EDDY’s is that it’s not a place that you can hang out for prolonged period of time. This is my neighborhood bar, but it can be a bit like a good Fettuccine Alfredo: a small serving more than suffices. This is not to say—in any way shape or form—that you won’t be thinking about coming back for a second helping in the near future.
