Sign or no sign, from the remoteness of the location to the neighborhood that surrounds it, the magic is still there. The buzzer is still required to get in, but just walking by the front door is often enough to gain entry these days. And that can be a real benefit as even today, with the sign, knowing exactly where to knock or buzz on a first visit is still a daunting task.
With all of that intrigue outside, the layout inside has a lot to live up to and it very much does. The bar feels like one long living room, which is perhaps exactly what the room was once used as, a rectangular space that contains a bar, some chairs and not a whole lot else. However, the densely-packed space does fit in a few more gems, like a classic jukebox that plays, gasp, actual CDs and still allows for a hugely satisfying flipping through of the albums (not always the case on some classic machines).
A tiled floor sits underneath an ornate, ancient ceiling that sports a hole here and there. Low tables under stained glass beer lamps give way to a few video poker machines in one corner of the space. But the real beauty is the combination of wood paneling that creeps up the walls with the aged and fading decorations throughout. Old beer steins line the top of the bar structure, itself supporting a pair of glass cases containing all manner of randomness, both old and new. Trophies, clocks, framed photos complete the look, a look that includes a pizza maker paired with a Red Baron sign that feels strangely at home along the bar.