19 Bar, rebuilt after a recent fire, is still a cornerstone of Twin Cities Pride

A week before crowds flock to Loring Park for the annual Twin Cities Pride Festival, Grace Seelinger stops in front of a nondescript gray building just a few blocks away: 19 Bar.

“I don’t really feel like there’s another place like it,” Seelinger said. “I couldn’t find any place that really scratched and itched the same.”

Passers-by may not recognize it at first glance. It is a low building with no windows and only one sign on the front with his name. It’s been a gay bar since the 1950s, when discretion was a must.

The more than 70-year-old bar has been on hold since it closed following a fire on March 22 when a garbage truck crashed into a nearby utility pole. Electrical wires hit the building’s gas line and set off a spark in the basement that eventually spread to the upstairs bar.

No one was injured, but bar manager Craig Wilson explained that the interior was charred.

“Everything had to be gutted,” Wilson said. “The bar itself, the top of the bar. It was gutted to the nails.’

The bar is in the process of being remodeled. Wilson said crews are cleaning the interior and repairing the roof, but because of uncertain permit timelines and weather delays, he’s not sure how long that will take. Wilson said insurance is covering the cost.

Meanwhile, the bar’s absence hits hard — especially during Pride weekend, when it’s usually buzzing with people stopping by Loring Park’s Pride festivities.

“I just feel like we’re at a loss with ‘The 19’ 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 to the left, darts and a couple of tables to the right. The atmosphere hasn’t changed much in 70 years. The bar is cash only and does not host drag, karaoke or dancing. The bar is simply a place to meet friends 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 — until she found the bar where she met her best friend.

They became regulars and even got jobs there together.

“I couldn’t come out fully until I met her and started working with her,” Seelinger said. “She was the person who really helped me sit down and say, ‘Okay, okay, how are you going to do your wardrobe for work?’ And that’s what I really needed in a friend.”

Wilson has heard dozens of such stories about friends and partners who met at the bar. He describes 19 Bar as a neighborhood living room. Wilson says people who live nearby often wander in, attracted by the low prices, late hours and central location.

Ryan Patrick Murphy has been a part of this community since the mid-1990s. 19 He found the bar as a college student. After graduation, he moved into a red brick apartment building just down the block.

“I was basically at 19 at least once a week for 20 years,” Murphy said.

Murphy is a professor of history at Earlham College in Indiana, but when he’s not on campus, he calls Minneapolis home. He studied the role of bars in LGBTQ+ movements.

At 19, he met local activists, people older than him, who supported gay rights; it’s also where he heard reports of attacks on strange people in the neighborhood.

“You had this activist fervor, but then you also had intense opposition,” Murphy said. “A lot of that scene revolved around ‘The 19.’

Those years were also the end of the darkest part of the AIDS epidemic in the United States — something Murphy said hung heavily over 19 bars. The regulars died.

He’s seen how 19 Bar has changed along with the LGBTQ+ community over the years. When he started going, the clientele was mostly older white gay men. He says it’s more diverse now, in terms of age, gender and race.

“I feel really excited about the queer community in general,” Murphy says. “People have fought their way from a much wider part of the community that used to be more on the fringes.”

19 The Baru community was quick to respond when word of the fire spread.

Two online fundraisers have raised more than $30,000 for the bar’s eight employees, who Wilson said have been putting together side jobs while out of work.

Several other bars around the Twin Cities — gay bars and otherwise — stepped in to help. Black Hart of St. Paul held a drag night fundraiser; Eagle MPLS invited employees for a night as guest bartender. The proceeds went to the employees.

“Everybody chimed in,” Wilson said. “It was great to see the community come together and show us love and support.”

Wilson wants to bring the bar back with the same vibe it always had. Employees salvaged most of the old posters, neon signs, a jukebox and a stained-glass light fixture that hung above the pool tables — all of which are now being deep-cleaned, Wilson said.

Wilson says he’ll fix the paint, but the no-frills coziness will remain the same.

“I want to reopen the bar and bring everybody back and I want to give everybody a big hug to protect them until we get there,” Wilson said.

He says people will hear about it once 19 Bar is ready to reopen.

“Let it be known: the moment we find out, I’ll be on the roof shouting it.”