Manuel’s isn’t a “brass and fern” bar. Neither is it a place of anonymous bartenders and nameless, faceless customers. One can find, at any given time, a broad cross-section of American culture rubbing elbows at the bar, discussing the news item of the day, arguing the merits of a sports team, or espousing the idea of the century. Here a doctor, a plumber, a lawyer, an electrician, a student, a journalist, a salesman, a politician, or a construction worker can feel comfortable–accepted for who they are, known by their name or what they drink. They are “regulars,” the life-blood of the Tavern. Manuel’s Tavern has an essence like no other place in Atlanta.