Only history changes at Chumley's

There is no music so that conversation is possible. The room is square, absolutely simple, with little tables set against walls that are decorated with old book jackets.

A fire is burning in the fireplace on cool days and conversation is muted. It all began many years ago.

The space is about 175 years old, but Chumley’s is best known for its glory days as a speakeasy during Prohibition. Nowadays cops aren't trying to shut the place down, but it still retains an element of drama: There’s no sign outside, you have to walk through a curtain to enter, photos of famous writers of the past adorn the walls, and the "secret back exit" that patrons would run through when the coppers used to bust the joint, is still there.

Multileveled (four different levels to be exact) with booths in the middle, and more booths hidden in the back, you can eat center-stage (portobello burger, $9.50; roast duck, $17); mill about in the bar area’s open space and sample the impressive beer selection ($6 pints); or cozy up in a back booth for some romantic time. Better go on a weekday for the latter, though. Weekends are loud.

Did you know: To “86” someone traditionally means to eject them from a bar or restaurant. Given Chumley’s address of 86 Barrow St., along with its fame as a speakeasy, some etymologists believe the phrase originated here during Prohibition, as a code to customers warning that cops were snooping around.