Folks across the world immediately equate L.A. -- and specifically the Hollywood area -- with glamorous velvet-rope nightlife, featuring glistening bars and clubs catering to socialites falling out of limos directly into posh, elegant settings. And that exists, for sure. But that’s not the only face of L.A. nightlife – there’s also a homier side. Enter the White Horse, a dive bar that’s in many ways the anti-L.A. – where the real locals hang out.

It’s impossible to talk about this gem of a Hollywood dive, without first mentioning its proprietor, Vicky, a Hungarian lady in her 50s who presides over each night’s festivities with dictatorial reign. She’s a no-nonsense bartendrix who will gladly lay out food and serve you drinks, but if you step out of line, she’ll toss you out into the street without warning. Sure, she’s an acquired taste, but you’ll instantly know upon entering whether you like her flavor or not.

Walking in on most nights, you’ll notice the main attraction of the White Horse: its utter emptiness -- not in a creepy alley downtown manner, but in a way that means your tuckus will always have a nice cushiony fabric keeping it comfortable. The lack of crowd also has the added benefit of allowing you to actually talk without shouting! This, as LA readers will know, is about as easy as finding a bar with a parking lot. (Note: The White Horse does not have parking, but the surrounding streets always seem to have spots.)

The atmosphere is reminiscent of your friend’s parents’ basement, only if they had the coolest basement in the world. A tube of red neon encircles the room, basking the bar in a great red ring of mirth. The ceiling and floor looks like what filmmakers in the ‘70s thought the future would look like. Two sets of couches book-end the room, but be warned, if there’s a “Reserved!” sign on them, don’t sit down unless you want to feel the bartendrix’s wrath. A pool table lies in the middle, usually open. And best of all, there’s a chess board available upon request for those who want to avoid actual conversation with strangers.

The walls are lined with old Polaroids, showcasing the various décors the bar has adopted over its 20-plus years. Over time it was a biker bar, a punk club, and a rocker bar with a stage for live music, until it ultimately settled into what it is now, whatever that is. The jukebox tells the winding tale of the establishment, housing an eclectic mix from Morrissey to Johnny Cash to your favorite band from the 90s to slow waltzes by Tom Waits. Basically, your quarters will revive your favorite radio station from high school, as long as you went through puberty in the 90s and didn’t have horrible taste.

And with that sales pitch out of the way, it’s time to bring up the seedy underside of the White Horse. Namely, the prices. While the atmosphere is divey, the rent’s not fooled by the decoration, meaning prices are what you’d pay in an average Hollywood bar: $5 a beer and $8 for mixed drinks – certainly not expensive, but definitely more than you expect at a local dive. The beer choice is average; they number in the single digits with no drafts on tap. Luckily, by my friend’s account at least, the bartendrix makes a stiff drink. Unfortunately, my friend is a known liar. That said, to compensate for that possibility, there are a number amount of free snacks scattered throughout the place – chips, pretzels, popcorn, candy, etc. – which brings us back to the bartendrix, Our Lady of the Bourbon.

Towards the end of the night, if you’re good enough and the crowds are of mediocre size, you’ll witness the spectacle that makes the White Horse great: a batch of microwaved frankfurters! If you hear the proclamation “Hot dogs are ready!”, head for the bar as quickly as possible.

Oh, and as an aside, the bar is conveniently attached to a Super 8 Motel, in case you meet a lovely person of the opposite, or same, sex you want to participate in dirty activities with. Just be forewarned, you won’t. I wasn’t kidding about the place being mostly empty.

~Rick Paulas


The White Horse Inn, 1532 N Western Ave. (323) 462-8088