O’Keeffe’s Bar

A dying breed.
You can’t find many bars like this in the city anymore.
Annie and Bob care about their patrons. They always know what I want to drink. They’re always down to have a good conversation.
The pool table is table is leveled out regularly. Their sticks are checked for warping regularly.
Jukebox is stocked with great songs.
Seating everywhere.
$ 5 drinks.
Etc. etc.
It doesn’t get better than that.
Come. Drink. Have fun.
Edit: I’ve left my custom made pool stick here twice. Both times I’ve called in, and it was there the next day. Taken by the bartender. Good patrons, good people.

Love this bar. We don’t come often but every time we do it feels like coming home. Welcoming, relaxed, familiar faces. Great neighborhood bar.

This is a pretty good local. Friendly staff and a good selection of bottled bear, (Guinness in cans). Full bar of Spirits, (liquor not ghosts). No draft except when the door opens. It’s usually closed even when it’s open, (the door that is). Most people in the bar are regulars, but will make you feel welcome, even if your a first timer.

Bobby and Annie are the best ! I come here after work all the time and I never need to ask them what I want. Jameson neat with a nice LG ice water is my usual here. $ 5 rate for hard liquor and Pool only costs 50 cents so this bar is basically unbeatable. Dive On Unilocalers!

Best dive bar in SF. They treat you like family if you’re not a dick. AND there’s plenty of ABBA and Irish tunes to go around. Watch a Giants games, play some pool, get comfy. It’s like drinking in your living room, but with good company. And take advantage of the room temp Guinness cause it’s god damn delicious.

Stopped in this little hole in the wall after some bay to breakers shenanigans.
Bartenders-​attentive and friendly
Full Bar
Entertainment– a few TVs to watch the games and they have a pool table
Music-​juke box=winning. Customers are the DJs
like most dive bars in San Fran its Cash Only

O’Keeffee’s Bar
SF: Richmond
4pm Sunday 19^th April 2015
Four Stars
It is definitely a dive bar. Not crowded but with a fun atmosphere. We got a Bud and Jameson shot for a reasonable price. We watched some playoff Hockey. The bartender made sure everybody had a drink and then shot some cue himself. I really enjoyed that laid back sort of attitude in a bar.

You want a bar like Cheers with a huge bit of Irish Rebel and culture on the side? This spot is one of my favorite places in the city. Annie is amazing and makes everyone feel welcome. Bobby «the man» is our Ted Danson! Up the Kingdom!

Well, I’m sorry to report that the tech bros have discovered O’Keefe’s. I used to consider this place a hidden gem. Now it’s just another asshole bar.

Great place, Annie is awesome. She’s owned the bar since 1974. Only problem was the band. Nice Irish music in the back ground, but they kept shushing the bar. Hey fuck you guys. Your playing for free. I’m a paying customer have a few and making Annie some money. They kept telling everyone to be quiet. I finally said «I’m in a bar am I not allowed to talk?» As I was leaving I said «I’m going» to which one of the band said «good» really? You asked to play here. Are you paying Annie to play? No you are not so stop being an ass. This kinda turned me off to this place. I’ll give it another go on a Friday. Happens again fuck it I’m gone.

Casey U. Falls in Love:
It begins with a bar. It always begins with a bar. It always begins with an aimless walk around the neighborhood that ends up at a bar. It always begins, somehow, when he least expects it. He is cold; the fog rests heavily upon his brow and in his lungs.
There is a group of people outside of the bar that he thought was closed forever. He is curious, the premises lit by neon, the long, thin lines of Irish reels seeping through the locked door, tile in ivory and peach and aqua on the stoop. They are boisterous, calling inside the bar, banging on the door, phoning their friends who might be at the bar. He asks them «Is it worth it?» They laugh. He stays, despite never having had the patience to wait to get into a bar before. They stomp their feet against the evening.
The door opens. He walks into the bar. He sits down at a bar stool, orders a Guinness, and the can is poured into a glass. He sips the beer, and a shot is slammed in front of him by the bartender/​owner, a fixture since 1972 «for being so patient, for waiting». He drinks the shot, it splashes on his mustache, burns over his recently-​shaved stubble. The bar is dim, with slanted rafters, and wooden walls, and football paraphernalia from the isles sharing space with revolutionary propaganda and old photographs. If authenticity is the craving of a generation of millennial, he is pleased to have finally found it, and pleased to know that he will never, ever, share this place with his friends. He falls in love, just a little, warming to the place.
A woman walks up to the bar. A woman with her friend. She bats her eyelashes at him, he’s too shy to show that he notices. They are from Ireland, they’ve taken a road trip across country, ending up in the bar that he ended up in after a long night’s walk. He sips his beer, looking at his tired reflection in a broken and battered mirror, an Irish driving cap covering his bald spot, the bags under his eyes more visible then ever before in the dim light. Everyone talks to one another, he talks to a professor from SFSU, she talks to a retired paramedic. Their eyes meet more and more often. He feels like the teenager he once was, sitting in the coffee shop in his hometown, drinking hot chocolate as his eyes met the girl across the room, knowing with the certainty of a young man in lust that she could be «the one», chest filling with what seems to be tepid, thick molasses, hoping that she felt the same way, hoping that she noticed him (and she never did).
And the woman at the bar leaves. And he sits and drinks and marvels at the beauty of it all, of the lost potential in the moment, at what he imagined could have been. And he goes into the bathroom, is not a teenager with a full head of hair and a full face, but a grown man with scars and a hooked nose and wrinkles and a failing career. And he is cold again.
So, he drinks his beer, drinks another shot and he laughs with his new friends, and he puts his hat on to leave, sighing and grunting and shaking his head, a little drunk, but not as drunk as he might be.
And she walks back in the door, and she looks at him and sits next to him, and she smiles… and something which had been gelid and dark within him begins to glow…

Great ambience. Bartender is super cute. Low key, down to chill. They have cheap drinks, but they’re really strong. There’s a pool table if you’re down to play. They also have funny dolls everywhere that are pretty entertaining.

6 shots of Jameson 2 beers $ 18. — That should be all I need to say about that.
So there was a gruff Irish woman at the bar and you could tell that this was a locals hangout. But once we sat down and ordered a couple of shots of Jameson, that seemed to signal that we were okay. There was live music on a Friday night and it was really cool listening to some old Irish music played on some traditional instruments. The locals were nice and willing to strike up a conversation. We tried to buy the band a round of shots but the bartender basically said no, and served them up to the band anyway. I’m thinking that’s how they were being paid for their services.
Ultimately we had 6 shots of Jameson, 2 beers and the tab came out to $ 18. That’s all you really need to know.
Great vibe, we will definitely be back.

Coming from NYC, I’ve been on the search for all the dog-​friendly bars in San Francisco. Not only was my little mutt welcomed at O’Keeffe’s but I also got a can of Guinness for all of $ 4. What? That’s less than how much you can get it in downtown Brooklyn. Plus it was served at the proper temperature, slightly less than room temperature, to get all the flavor.
There are no drafts at this place. Just bottles and shots. And there’s a pool table. Rock on! Neighborhood dog-​friendly joint. And Annie is a doll.

I have a real love/​hate relationship with St. Patrick’s Day. I do enjoy drinking the occasional Guinness and, believe it or not, I look pretty awesome in green. Plus, I spent a few years Irish dancing so a full day of hearing fiddles and tin whistles everywhere brings back fond memories (and the urge to bust out a step or two). But the problem is that on St. Patrick’s Day every asshole thinks they’re an Irish dancer, and nothing raises my blood pressure more than seeing some super drunk college girl hopping around and falling over on her meathead boyfriend while trying to «jig.»
Thankfully we found O’Keeffe’s which, at least while we were there, was free of that kind of tomfoolery. I was able to feel like I was participating in St. Patrick’s Day revelry but still drink my cider without having the urge to spill it on someone. It felt like the kind of dive I might go back to on other days of the year if I were in the area.

Been going there for 15 years — and all of these people that love it are made foolish by the ‘true-​irish’ as they call themselves. Everytime I’m in there — the ‘true-​irish-​douche-​bags’ are making fun of someone.
They act nice then actually make faces to each other while the persons back is turned. At first I thought it was kind of funny — poor judgement on my part, but then it just became sad and pathetic. These alcoholics go out of their way to be jackasses to everyone. Especially anyone that is American born and has that wanna be irish attitude — parents are from ireland etc. Doesn’t matter — if you ain’t from there the douche bags are playing you for a fool. Seriously seen it over 100 times.
If you think it isn’t you — too bad, it probably is.

I have been going to O’Keeffe’s for 27 years. I regularly go to Ireland every year and this bar is the closest I have seen to a real Irish country bar that I have seen in the States. Annie O’Keeffe is a wonderful hostess and a better bartender/​owner. You cannot find a bar anywhere in San Francisco that is as authentic as OKeeffes — the rest are «theme» Irish bars. This is a great one and you will have a great time as long as you behave yourself. By the way, they serve generous but simple drinks. Its the clientele and the craic that is so much fun. Give it a try!
Tricky D.

Want to get DRUNK the Recession-​Friendly way??? Come to O’Keeffe’s Bar!
O’Keefe’s is a small Irish dive bar discreetly located in the Inner Richmond, one block away from Namu, Sushi Bistro, and Balboa Sushi House. It’s dark and a bit dingy but the owner, Annie will welcome you with open arms.
An 8 oz. Tanqueray Tonic made with 90% gin and a splash of tonic and a glass of wine for $ 9??? Need I say more?
P. S. — The glass of wine was not for me. I’m only a semi-​alcoholic. *wink*

No truer definition of Dive Bar exists.
It wasn’t too difficult for us to find parking around this joint. When we walked in we immediately noticed the faint smell of cigarettes that permeated the walls, and of course, a rare site these days — the ash trays on the bar. None of us smoke so we counted ourselves lucky that no one there was smoking while we hung out here.
I asked what was on tap and the reply came «Nothing». Apparently everything is bottled or canned. I will drink Guinness out of the can, but not a bottle and canned is what they had. All three of us were poured a Guinness in a slim balloon style Magner’s glass. 5.50 a pop.
The woman working the counter was simply a doll and wonderful to chat with. She mentioned she was from County Leitrim and we all had a lovely chat. I think she mentioned her name as Annie.
If I were a local this would definitely be high on the list of hang out spots. We went on a Monday afternoon, so it was quiet and mellow, much how we tend to prefer it.
Don’t get me wrong we love live music and the lot, but after a full day of traveling it was nice to relax. I’d love to make it back and see what all the other Unilocalers are commenting about regarding the night life at this spot.
I loved that this place appeared the epitome of a dive bar but had the warm and friendliness to counter the usual negative stigmas that surround dive bar type settings.
I will definitely go back when in the city.

You know it’s time to go home on St. Patrick’s Day when you’re at a smoky 95% authentic Irish bar, the live drum and recorder band of Irish children has just finished playing (out on a school night, mind you… belligerents-​in-​training!!), and the «Irish Car Bomb» is mistakenly referred to as the «Carrish Ier… wait…»
Since O’Keeffe’s is on the corner opposite end of my block, I’ve always been curious about it but had never gone in. So I’m glad that tonight, on our way home to my house, Ruchi P. and I took the time to stop by, since I’d heard it was a legit Irish bar and it was March 17^th. The abovementioned events occured, in addition to Ruchi and I being the only non-​White people in the room… that NEVER happens in San Francisco… I was quite tickled (not literally, thank goodness). After spilling most of my Carrish Ier Bomb on the counter and the guy being totally cool with it, we waved goodbye and called it a night.
If it weren’t for the smoke and I weren’t so scared of European men following me home, I’d definitely come here more often!