Rebuilding from a recent fire, 19 Bar is still a cornerstone of Twin Cities Pride
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A week before crowds flock to Loring Park for the annual Twin Cities Pride Festival, Grace Seelinger stopped outside a nondescript gray building just a couple blocks away: 19 Bar.
“I don’t really feel like there’s any other place like it,” Seelinger said. “I haven’t found any place that really scratches that itch the same way.”
Passersby might not spot it at first glance. It’s a low building with no windows and just one sign on the front with its name. It’s been a gay bar since the 1950s when discretion was a necessity.
The bar’s more than 70-year run has been on pause since it closed after a fire on March 22, when a garbage truck hit a nearby utility pole. Electrical wires hit the building’s gas supply and started a spark in the basement, which eventually spread to the bar upstairs.
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No one was injured, but bar manager Craig Wilson explained the inside was charred.
“Everything had to be gutted out,” Wilson said. “The bar itself, the bar top. It’s been gutted down to the studs.”
The bar is in the process of rebuilding. Wilson said crews are cleaning the inside and repairing the roof, but due to uncertain timelines of permitting and weather delays, he is not sure how long it will take. Wilson said insurance is covering the costs.
In the meantime, the bar’s absence hits hard — especially during Pride weekend, when it would usually be buzzing with people stopping in from the Pride festivities in Loring Park.
“It just feels like we’re at a loss with ‘The 19’ being gone,” Wilson said. “It’s like the whole community is at a loss.”
Before the fire, the inside was a classic dive: bar in the middle, pool tables on the left, darts and a few tables on the right. In 70 years, the vibe hasn’t changed much. The bar is cash-only and doesn’t host drag, karaoke or dancing. The bar is simply a place for friends to meet and chat.
Seelinger found 19 Bar after moving to Minneapolis in 2022. She was just starting to come out as trans and didn’t have much of a community here — until she found the bar, where she met her best friend.
They became regulars and even got jobs there together.
“I wasn’t able to come out fully until I met her and started working with her,” Seelinger said. “She was the person who really helped sit me down and be like, ‘Okay, well, how are you going to do your wardrobe for work?’ And I really needed that in a friend.”
Wilson has heard dozens of stories like this of friends and partners meeting at the bar. He describes 19 Bar as the neighborhood living room. Wilson says people who live nearby often wander in, drawn by low prices, late hours and its central location.
Ryan Patrick Murphy has been part of that community since the mid-90s. He found 19 Bar as a college student. After he graduated, he moved into the red-brick apartment building just down the block.
“I basically have been at the 19 at least once a week for 20 years,” Murphy said.
Murphy is a professor of history at Earlham College in Indiana but calls Minneapolis home when he isn’t on campus. He has studied the role of bars in LGBTQ+ movements.
The 19 was where he met local activists, people older than him who had furthered gay rights; it’s also where he heard accounts of attacks on queer people in the neighborhood.
“You had this kind of activist fervor, but then you also had intense backlash,” Murphy said. “A lot of that scene was revolving around ‘The 19.’”
Those years were the tail end of the darkest part of the AIDS epidemic in the United States, too — something Murphy said hung heavy over 19 Bar. Regulars had passed away.
He’s seen 19 Bar change over the years, alongside the LGBTQ+ community. Back when he started going, the clientele was mostly older white gay men. He says it’s more diverse now, in age, gender and race.
“I just feel really excited about the queer community in general,” Murphy says. “People have fought their way in from a much wider part of the community that used to be more on the margin.”
19 Bar’s community responded fast when word of the fire spread.
Two online fundraisers have raised more than $30,000 for the bar’s eight employees, who Wilson said are cobbling together side jobs while they’re out of work.
Several other bars around the Twin Cities — gay bars and others — stepped in to help. Black Hart of St. Paul hosted a drag night fundraiser; Eagle MPLS invited the staff to guest-bartend for a night. Proceeds went to the employees.
“Everybody has reached out,” Wilson said. “It was great to see the community come together and show the love and support for us.”
Wilson wants to bring the bar back with the same vibe it’s always had. Staff salvaged most of the old posters, neon signs, the jukebox and a stained-glass light fixture that hung over the pool tables — it’s all getting deep-cleaned now, Wilson said.
Wilson says they will touch up the paint but the no-frills coziness will stay the same.
“I want to get the bar open again and bring everybody back, and I want to give everybody a big hug to protect them until we get there,” Wilson said.
He says that people will hear about it once 19 Bar is ready to open again.
“Let it be known: The minute we find out, I’ll be on top of the roof shouting it out.”