From 1963 to 2014, The Westbury held its post on 13th Street like a faithful anchor of the Philadelphia Gayborhood — a no-nonsense tavern where the drinks were strong, the lights were forgiving, and the regulars knew exactly which stool was theirs. Long before rainbow crosswalks and cocktail menus, The Westbury was already doing the quiet work: giving queer Philadelphians a place to sit, breathe, flirt, celebrate, and survive.
It was the bar you wandered into before you knew where you belonged — and the one you returned to once you figured it out. Decades of stories passed through that room: first dates, last calls, friendships forged in cigarette haze, and a sense of community that outlasted trends, name changes, and real-estate makeovers.
