A priest, a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar. This isn’t the setup to a joke — it’s a regular day at Manuel’s Tavern.
The Poncey-Highland institution has offered a reserved “clergy only” parking spot for as long as locals can remember. It’s a small nod to the diverse folk who have passed through its doors over the last 70 years: lawmakers, journalists, political junkies, sports fans, barflies and yes, members of the clergy.
On Aug. 6, the tavern turns 70. Its history reads less like a bar’s resume than a running transcript of Atlanta itself.
Credit: Billy Downs
Credit: Billy Downs
1950s: The bar that already had a past
When Manuel Maloof opened his tavern in 1956, almost nothing about it was new. The building, a 1920s structure fronted in Stone Mountain granite, had once housed Harry’s Delicatessen (coincidentally, an establishment Maloof had served as a beer deliveryman). The deli’s original front door opening became a window to the parking lot from the Eagle’s Nest room. The bar itself was salvaged from an old billiard hall owned by Maloof’s father, Gibran, on Pryor Street. The wood paneling in the main bar was reclaimed from an old church about to be demolished; it was a nod to the cozy English pubs Maloof came to love while serving in World War II.
Credit: JOHN SPINK / AJC
Credit: JOHN SPINK / AJC
1960s: Boundary lines and sacred walls
The location in Fulton County proved useful. Just two blocks from the (then dry) DeKalb County line, Manuel’s offered the closest legal pour for Emory students, fueling its popularity among young adults and professionals alike. Maloof hung John F. Kennedy’s portrait above the bar following his 1960 victory, then shuttered the bar and draped the painting in black when Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. In 1968, Curtis McBride stepped behind the bar, kicking off a 42-year career serving Atlanta history by the pint. His photo would one day join the growing collection of pennants, steins and framed relics.
Credit: Apple Photos Clean Up
Credit: Apple Photos Clean Up
1970s: A launchpad for Atlanta politics
This was the decade Manuel’s became a civic institution. In 1970, Jimmy Carter chose the tavern to announce his run for governor of Georgia. That same year, Manuel’s hosted its first election night watch party, a tradition that continues today. Maloof was deeply involved in public life himself, serving as DeKalb County’s first CEO and later as chairman of the Atlanta Regional Commission. The tavern became an unofficial annex of the local government as Maloof pursued projects such as the creation of the “Spaghetti Junction” highway interchange, while his brother, Robert, managed the tavern’s daily affairs. In 1972, a young Bill McCloskey started as a barkeep, beginning the five-decade tenure honored by his name on the bar’s signature flame-broiled cheeseburger.
1980s: The living museum takes shape
By its fourth decade, Manuel’s was as firmly established as an inclusive community center as a watering hole. The walls function as a democratic archive, with photos of Maloof shaking hands with Sen. Sam Nunn and other political figures. Food comes to your table swiftly, but you could spend hours looking at the items adorning the bricks. You can find police department badges and patches, a large APD Homicide Task Force sign, aging school and sports pennants and a DeKalb seed corn sign with wings. A plaque marks 30 years of serving Oscar Mayer hot dogs. There are painted nudes, given by the artist as payment for bar tabs. The bike of Tommy Maloof, one of Manuel’s seven sons who took over the bar in 1985, hangs above the dining room.
1990s: Celebrating the winners
On Aug. 24, 1992, Bill Clinton and Al Gore swept through Manuel’s on their way to the White House. (This reporter was there, arm’s reach from the future president.) 1995 belonged to baseball — when the Braves won the World Series, the crowd was probably shoulder to shoulder, adding a new layer to a tavern already steeped in the city’s baseball memory. An aerial photo of the old Ponce de Leon Park hangs on a wall near a photo of the Atlanta Crackers, who played there until the mid-1960s.
Credit: Bob Andres, bandres@ajc.com
Credit: Bob Andres, bandres@ajc.com
2000s: Passing the torch and preserving the shrine
Manuel Maloof died in 2004. Following his passing, his son, Brian Maloof, purchased the business to carry on the family legacy; the actual bar has seen a Maloof behind it for almost a century. Over the years, the tavern has become a sacred resting place and hallowed ground, housing urns with the ashes of Manuel Maloof, Robert Maloof, McCloskey and Calvin Fluellen, the first African American graduate of the Grady Memorial Hospital School of Radiology. Brass plaques fill the end of the bar, noting the names of fiercely loyal regulars.
Credit: Olivia Bowdoin
Credit: Olivia Bowdoin
2010s: Preservation and modernization
The 2010s brought pivotal modernization to the storied tavern. In 2014, after nearly six decades of politicos wheeling and dealing through thick clouds, Manuel’s officially went smoke-free. President Barack Obama dropped in on March 10, 2015, and played darts with locals. Yet behind the scenes, the bar faced millions in overdue structural, electrical and plumbing repairs. To save the tavern, the Maloof family sold the land and building title for a mixed-use development, with Brian Maloof securing a long-term lease as sole operator. Before closing for the major 2015–2016 overhaul, Georgia State lecturer Ruth Dusseault spearheaded a digital catalog of every wall and relic called Unpacking Manuel’s Tavern. Manuel’s Tavern reopened in August 2016 in time for its 60th anniversary, with the second-story Eagle’s Nest now at ground level for all to access, new retail surrounding it, and the original bar and menu intact — proving the tavern could modernize without losing its soul.
Credit: Brandon McKeown
Credit: Brandon McKeown
2020s to Present: A pandemic and proof the bar is beloved
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit in 2020 and threatened to undo what the historic renovation had saved, bar regular Angelo Fuster launched a GoFundMe asking for $75,000 to keep the doors open. Loyal Atlantans (this writer included) responded instantly, raising over $187,000 to ensure the neighborhood sanctuary endured. (Planters peanuts later contributed an additional $130,000 to the effort.) Manuel’s stands not just as a neighborhood pub, but as an irreplaceable monument to Atlanta, its people and its stories.
Manuel’s Tavern. 602 N. Highland Ave. NE, Atlanta. 404-525-3447, manuelstavern.com
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