Uncle Ollie’s Penthouse, the new maximalist downtown L.A. bar that opened in April between Little Tokyo and Skid Row (a region some have dubbed “Skid Rokyo”), captures the visceral, dopamine-driven alchemy of the best kind of house party every Wednesday to Sunday night. It has wild, color-saturated decor, potent cocktails served in red Solo cups and a killer soundtrack that inspires stomping the floor with pals or singing along with strangers.
But can this multisensory home away from home help revive L.A.’s fading nightlife landscape?
Beckoning from the second floor of owner Brian Traynam’s downstairs restaurant and club, the Escondite — known for its crispy wings, punk-rock bands and DJs — the immersive “penthouse” was a decade in the making.
“I have an uncle named Ollie and this is his penthouse,” says Traynam of the narrative he conceived for his eye-popping space. “He had to leave town so he gave me the keys and said three things: I know you’re going to have a party here so if anything gets stolen or broken, I break you; if you tell your mother about any of this, we’re both finished. Have a good time, kid!”
Traynam, whose first dive, Bar 107, closed in 2015, says he always wanted to open what he calls “Bar 107 2.0” in the vacant space above the Escondite. But nightlife has changed a lot since then and people don’t hang out in one downtown bar all night the way they used to.
The concept of a neighborhood dive, where the same people come in nightly, build a tab and stay for hours, is practically a pre-pandemic thing of the past. But Traynam hopes to change that and entice a new generation by filling a void with more experiential elements than any other bar in L.A.
“Customer acquisition is more challenging now because we used to get a lot of people walking to the Arts District from the Old Bank District or Little Tokyo,” notes the bar owner. “No one walks anymore. So we are now a destination.”
‘It’s a total vibe’
Walk up an austere flight of white stairs and a hostess greets you at the (keyhole-shaped) entry with party cups, nametag stickers and Sharpie pens to label them with, encouraging intros and interaction with others even before you enter. Once inside, there’s a dizzying array of amusements to absorb.
“It’s the best of both worlds,” says local musician Taleen Kali, who just celebrated her birthday at Uncle Ollie’s, as she had done at Bar 107 a decade earlier. “You can grab a bite and catch a DIY show at the Escondite downstairs and now, come up to the afterparty…. I’ve seen so many familiar faces and met cool new people here.”
At the crimson-hued, ’70s-living-room-style main bar surrounded by kitschy collectibles, vintage nude paintings and neon, Kali snaps photos with a giant lion sculpture before she and her friends take over the retro arcade full of rare ’70s and ’80s consoles, pinball machines and clown art. Later, she’ll dance in another room to DJs under a shimmering disco ball and freshen up in the cartoony Hello Kitty-themed bathroom.
”I can’t remember the last time I felt so connected to my hometown as an L.A. native,” Kali says. “I also love that you get to keep your own party cup all night — it’s a total vibe, plus it’s less wasteful and more sustainable.”
Traynam says that “every time I’ve had fun, I’ve had a red cup in my hand.” Here they’re filled with cheap and cheeky drinks like the Shaft (Gordon’s vodka, Bailey’s Irish Cream and cold brew, served on the rocks with a straw), Grandpa’s Ol’ Cough Medicine (Woodinville bourbon and root beer) and You’re My Boy Blue (Ketel One vodka, Sprite, blueberry syrup), all running $9 to $13.
An interactive shot called the Influencer offers a swig of Herradura tequila “and a selfie with the bartender,” but this funhouse full of knickknacks and playground-like structures begs for photos and videos, regardless. It’ll also feel familiar to Angelenos who frequented 107 in its heyday.
Known for its chaotic interior and wild energy, Bar 107 closed when Traynam and his former partner, Vee Delgadillo, failed to reach a lease agreement with the building’s landlord.
The Spirit of Bar 107
Traynam and Delgadillo made local news when they decided not to leave without a fight, promoting the hashtag #Occupy107 on social media and announcing plans to defy eviction. They protested against what they saw as a soulless “swankification” of the area at the time. Fancy hotspots also brought higher rents and bars like 107 couldn’t keep up, nor did they want to.
“I knew what downtown was going to become — super-expensive and not inclusive, just like Baltimore, New York and Chicago, where the rich displace the artists and the students,” Traynam says.
Though the “occupation” didn’t last long, it solidified the bar owner’s vision for unpretentious and budget-friendly hospitality. Before he was a businessman he was a hard-partying comedian who threw legendary DIY shindigs at his Hollywood apartment and, later, a house in Echo Park.
The full circle house-party vibes live on at Uncle Ollie’s via the oddball entertainment that became legendary at 107, including its popular “Gong Show Karaoke” on Wednesdays, which attracts a wacky group of singers and “D-list celebrities” to judge them. Other nights offer retro dancing and live bands.
Irreverent new burlesque nights feature renowned dancers from venues like Jumbo’s Clown Room and El Cid. Performer and promoter Vanessa Burgundy has been tasked with putting a new spin on the art of striptease here, and so far her monthly residency, called That Time of the Month, has more than delivered.
“Brian’s original idea for my night was kind of like a Beacher’s Madhouse style setup, you know, just kind of mayhem,” Burgundy recalls. “But ultimately his only guidance for me has been, ‘make it weird.’”
Burgundy’s unstructured gatherings, featuring original Bar 107 DJ Morgan Higby Knight, have boasted plenty of rock ‘n’ roll-fueled debauchery — from an eclectic Easter show featuring male and female dancers disrobing bunny suits and nun garb, respectively, to a spectacle dedicated to the music and mayhem of recently departed icon Ozzy Osbourne and his band Black Sabbath (the venue was dubbed “Uncle Ozzy’s Penthouse” for the night).
There’s no shortage of promoters who want the figurative “keys” to the penthouse, but getting patrons in has had some hurdles Traynam didn’t expect. The bar was open for just two months when Mayor Karen Bass implemented curfews downtown because of ICE raids and protests, which he says hurt its momentum. He also notes that businesses are still navigating nightlife shifts post-pandemic as well.
“Everyone has curtailed their spending habits after COVID,” he says. “Also FOMO [fear of missing out] no longer exists. Now people are used to being at home, watching Netflix, ordering GrubHub and just chilling out. They don’t care as much about going out.
“L.A. really needs to have fun again,” Traynam said. “So we’re banking on a reset. We’re banking that in these times, people need to get out of their own heads and get out of their apartments. That’s why we’re offering cheap drinks, a photo booth, dance floor and no cover most nights…. Uncle Ollie’s is a blast from the past, but it’s also about the future, where the party is about you and your friends, not the people behind the bar.”
Lina Lecaro is the author of “Los Angeles’ Best Dive Bars- Drinking & Diving in the City Of Angels.”
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