Semiquincentennial is so uncommon a word that as I wrote this, spellcheck flagged it. Even if you’ve heard the term before, I’ll bet that you haven’t had an opportunity to casually drop it into conversation. But you’ll be hearing it a lot in 2026. For the uninitiated, semiquincentennial is the 250th anniversary of an event, and this year marks the semiquincentennial of the United States of America. In 1776, the Founding Fathers signed the Declaration of Independence and you know the rest.
In the context of world history and millennia-old civilisations, the US is barely a zygote. In the context of whisky, the US is a newborn. Consider, after all, that Glenturret started making whisky the year before Thomas Jefferson established that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights. More than 20 years before that, Kilbeggan was turning out uisge beatha just west, in Ireland. The Declaration and, subsequently, the Constitution were created as cornerstones of American democracy — and remain so, despite today’s political chaos, turmoil, havoc, upheaval, etc. But it should not go un-noted that America would not be the America we know — warts and all — if not for the institution where people dependably gather, chitchat, and debate: the tavern. Benjamin Franklin summed up why taverns are great spaces for exchanging ideas when he wrote, “Much study and experience, and a little liquor, are of absolute necessity for some tempers in order to make them accomplished orators.” Taverns were so integral to Colonial life that as early as 1668, every town was obliged by law to maintain a tavern for the relief and entertainment of strangers.
Taverns — and pubs and bars and dives and locals and saloons or whatever you want to call them — are great equalisers. There’s no first-class section at a tavern and there’s no premium service. Perhaps the ultimate exemplar is McSorley’s Old Ale House, the sepia-toned mid-19th-century saloon in Manhattan’s East Village that lays claim to being the oldest continuously operating bar in New York City. Everyone who visits — and many do, as it’s a major tourist destination — has a choice of two drinks: light (house ale) or dark (porter). You are only as special as the college kid or CEO at the next table. You are, in other words, all endowed with the same unalienable Rights.
During the pandemic, there was much lamentation about and analysis of the lockdown-spurred loneliness epidemic. We all lost our bar, our local, our so-called “third space”, a term coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in the 1980s that refers to somewhere people spend their time that isn’t home, work, or school. It applies to any public or community spaces, like cafes, libraries, parks, and, of course, bars. They’re places for small talk that can lead to meaningful connections. Until they’re not.
All is not well in our beloved third spaces these days. American libraries are being forced to impose book bans. I have seen charming coffee shops that impose time limits on tables. And bars are openly taking stances or making statements that are a little… well, polarising. Yes, of course bar fights are a disappointing part of bar culture, as anyone who’s ever seen Road House knows. But any space that lends itself to making connections can easily sow divisions, too. But usually that’s not prompted by the ownership. I’m speaking of Alibi, the bar in Altrincham, England, that imposed a no-solo-drinkers rule to “mitigate risk” the companionless have been known to bring. As if people who come in pairs or with a posse never cause any trouble. Ever. One man called the “No Single Entry. After 9 p.m.” sign discrimination, prompting the owner to call him “woke”. Online backlash was not pretty, predictably. And then there’s the case of Old State Saloon in Idaho, that dubs itself the “Birthplace of Heterosexual Awesomeness Month”. Ugh.
Everyone is worthy of a seat at a bar, whether you’re alone or with mates. And for the love of all that’s holy, let’s not make hate an incentive for patronage. That’s no way to cultivate a third space.
