Molotov's stands on the north side of Haight Street between Steiner and Fillmore in the Lower Haight of San Francisco, pictured May 11, 2022.

There’s a photo in a shoebox somewhere of myself and Tia, my girlfriend from my early 20s, hanging out at Molotov’s. We looked impossibly young — Tia had a fake ID — but our age was also given away by the fact that we’re drinking bright green cocktails in pint glasses, which must be Tokyo iced teas, something only people in their 20s can stomach.

It's kinda crazy how nearly all the photos I have of that relationship are physical photos in a shoebox somewhere, before all of the records of our nights out ended up in hard drives or on Instagram. And what I love about Molotov’s is that despite it being 2022, it still feels like it exists in that pre-digital world. 

Stuart Schuffman and his former girlfriend Tia at Molotov's in the mid-aughts.

I mean sure, their jukebox doesn’t play vinyl, but internet-connected stereo systems in bars have existed since before the iPhone. And yeah, the people who work and hang out at Molotov’s own smartphones, but other than that, not much has really changed since those halcyon days of the early 2000s. The drinks are still strong and cheap, the clientele is still mostly neighborhood folks, the bar still only takes cash, and the bathrooms would give a germaphobe a panic attack. 

Maybe Molotov’s just feels like the pre-digital age to me because it’s exactly how all the bars I hung out at were back then; full of dogs and punks and metalheads. Teeming with stickers on most of the surfaces and people talking s—t while they play pinball or pool and revel in the little victories of the day.

Or maybe it’s just because I still get terrible reception in the Lower Haight.

Either way, it’s absolutely perfect.

But how does a bar like this weather the tempestuousness of the tech boom and the uncertainty of the pandemic? How did it not get turned into a Pilates studio or a bar that emulates Molotov’s vibe but has $14 drinks and Edison bulbs … or worse yet, an empty storefront?

“We've been able to keep it the way it is because of the neighborhood,” Laura Callahan tells me as we have a drink in Molotov’s parklet. Callahan and her business partner Martin Kraenkel celebrated the 12-year anniversary of buying the bar on April 9, but they changed so little about Molotov’s when they bought it in 2010 that I didn’t even know they weren’t the original owners. And the reason they bought it was because it was already ideal just as it was.

Callahan owns Mission Bar, and at the time, Kraenkel was working at Lucky 13, so Molotov’s was an extension of the same kind of ethos that both of them were already cultivating: cheap drinks, loud music and good people.

Which is exactly what Callahan means when she says that Molotov’s continued existence and success is because of the neighborhood. Talking about the clientele she says, “It's really mostly neighborhood folks, like people who've lived here for a very long time to people who have moved here in the last six months.” Thinking about it a couple moments more, she follows up saying, “This neighborhood is really, really sweet.”

I first moved to San Francisco in 2002, and the thing about living in a place for 20 years is that you can have long-running relationships with people without ever actually getting to know them. And Callahan is just one of those folks. We’ve been saying hello to each other around town for ages, but that day in the parklet was the first time we’d ever sat down and talked. Learning about her and her love for the Lower Haight made me glad we finally had a long conversation.

The way she describes the neighborhood makes it seem like a tight-knit family. All the business owners know each other and look after one another. They patronize each other’s spots and keep one another informed on what kind of weirdos or creeps might be lurking around.

“Yeah, it's real,” she smiles and tells me. “It has that old San Francisco feel in a way that I don't see very frequently anymore.”

Molotov’s has a family vibe in a more literal sense, too. Callahan practically delivered her daughter while working behind the bar. “I bartended straight until I gave birth,” she laughs. “Really though, I bartended until I was two weeks away.”

I’ve been in the service industry for most of my adult life, including bartending for a decade, so I mention how being behind the stick must be similar to parenting and Callahan laughs and vociferously agrees: “Bartending is very similar to parenting, actually. Like, don't touch that person. Don’t pee over there … be kind. Let's play music and just chill out.”

There’s another important reason Molotov’s is still with us and able to maintain dreamy prices like $6 well drinks and a PBR and shot of whiskey for $8: Callahan and Kraenkel were able to buy the building a few years back. And unfortunately, in San Francisco, that’s what can make or break a business. According to Callahan, owning the building “means that we have the security of being here, being able to keep it Molotov’s. We don't have to deal with annual rent increases or the insecurity of our lease coming up in four years and not knowing if the landlord is going to try and push us out.”

But it’s not like owning the building makes them fat cats or anything, they run a dive bar! And on top of that, Callahan has her own tax business where many of her clients are also bar owners, tattoo shops or restaurants. She even gave me some advice on how to write off some of my own drinks. “I started the tax business because people came to me asking questions, because I was already doing all my own taxes myself.”

At their hearts though, bars are community hubs, especially neighborhood bars. As Charles Bukowski once wrote, “If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.”

Reginald Edwards goes in for a corner shot at Molotov's in the Lower Haight in San Francisco on May 11, 2022.

Molotov’s is a shining example of that. As we finished our drinks, there was one last story Callahan told me that completely nailed what a great community hub Molotov’s is:   “I saw this woman come in a couple months ago, which, as a parent, I understand probably a little bit more. She looked haggard. I mean, she still looked adorable but she looked like she had really been through it that day. She was hugging a thing of Pampers that she must have just bought at CVS. And she ordered a double Maker's and I handed it to her. She went and sat at the booth and just stared at the ceiling and slowly drank. That's sort of what a neighborhood bar is for, to sit and have your moment where you're like, ‘I need a f—king break. Or I need to shout at the world that this is a super exciting moment.’”   This is why I love bars and why I love writing about them. And specifically, it’s also why I love Molotov’s.

Stuart Schuffman is the editor-in-chief of BrokeAssStuart.com.

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