If you’re walking down Oak Street in the Uptown neighborhood of New Orleans at 3:00 AM, you might think you’ve accidentally stumbled onto the set of a low-budget horror movie. Or maybe just a very confused garage. There’s this lean-to shack, half-hidden by overgrown foliage, with a corrugated metal roof that looks like it’s peeling back like the lid of a sardine can. A single, dusty Christmas wreath hangs over a door that doesn't look like it should lead to anything legal.
This is Snake and Jakes New Orleans.
Honestly, calling it a "bar" feels a bit formal. It’s more of a living room for the displaced, the night owls, and the people who realize that the best parts of New Orleans happen after the rest of the world has gone to sleep.
What Really Happens Inside the Red Mist
When you pull open that door, the first thing that hits you isn't the smell of stale Schlitz (though that’s definitely there). It’s the light. Or rather, the lack of it. The only thing illuminating the place is a tangled mess of red Christmas lights strung across the ceiling. It gives everything a hazy, crimson glow that makes it impossible to tell if the person sitting next to you is a Tulane professor or a fugitive.
Actually, it’s usually both.
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The bar is tiny. It’s a narrow, horseshoe-shaped setup where you’re basically forced to acknowledge the existence of your neighbor. There’s a sagging couch that has probably seen things no piece of furniture should ever have to witness.
One of the most legendary stories involves a literal possum. As the local lore goes, a ceiling tile once gave way and a live possum landed directly on a patron's head. Instead of suing or screaming, the bar did what any self-respecting New Orleans institution would do: they named a drink after it.
The Drinks You Didn't Know You Needed
Don't come here looking for a craft cocktail with elderflower foam. You will be laughed at, or worse, ignored. Snake and Jakes New Orleans is a beer-and-a-shot kind of place.
- The Possum Drop: A shot of Jägermeister dropped into a pint of Schlitz. It is exactly as aggressive as it sounds.
- Schlitz in a Can: The unofficial sponsor of the establishment. It’s cheap, it’s cold, and it fits the aesthetic of a bar that’s slowly sinking into the Louisiana mud.
- The Fish Water: A potent, murky mix of Jägermeister and orange juice. It sounds like something a college freshman would invent in a dorm room, but at 4:30 AM in the red light, it starts to make a weird kind of sense.
A History Born From a Whim
The owner, Dave Clements, didn't exactly have a 20-page business plan when he took over in 1994. He was a musician and a carpenter who saw a "For Sale" sign on a dilapidated building across from where he lived. He bought it on a hunch and a prayer.
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The name itself is a relic. The building used to be "The Christmas Lounge" back in the 50s. Then it was the "S&J Lounge," owned by a guy named Richard “Snake” Brown and his partner Jake. When Dave took over, he just mashed the names together. Why throw away a perfectly good sign?
The "Christmas" part stuck because, well, they liked the red lights. They keep the decorations up 365 days a year because taking them down would require effort, and because at Snake’s, it’s always that weird, blurry time between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning when time doesn't really exist.
Why the Famous People Hide Here
You might see some familiar faces in the shadows. Anthony Bourdain was a vocal fan, once calling it his favorite dive bar in the city. George Clooney has been spotted there. Jennifer Lawrence reportedly hung out in the back once, enjoying the fact that in a room this dark, nobody can see your Oscar.
But the celebrities aren't the point. The point is the "Santanista" vibe—a term coined by long-time bar manager Elaine. It’s a culture of radical acceptance.
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You’ll see service industry workers who just finished a grueling shift at a high-end French Quarter restaurant sitting next to a guy who hasn't changed his shirt since the Bush administration. They’re all just there to escape the humidity and the "real" world.
Survival Tips for Your First Visit
If you're planning to make the trek to Oak Street, there are a few unspoken rules.
- Don't arrive before midnight. Sure, they open at 7:00 PM, but the "soul" of the place doesn't wake up until the clock strikes twelve.
- Cash is king. While they’ve modernized a bit, having small bills makes your life (and the bartender's) much easier.
- Watch out for the mascot. There’s often a dog—or sometimes a cat—hanging around. The late, legendary bar cat Jake was known for being a bit of a grouch who liked to sip on unattended scotch. Respect the animals; they live there, you’re just visiting.
- Embrace the backyard. There’s a patio out back with mismatched metal furniture and lush, tropical plants. It’s the only place you’ll get a breeze, and it’s where the best conversations usually happen.
The End of the Night (Or the Start of the Morning)
Most bars have a "last call." At Snake and Jakes New Orleans, last call is more of a suggestion that usually happens around 7:00 AM. Walking out of that red-lit womb and into the blinding New Orleans sunlight is a sensory assault. It’s a reminder that the world is still turning, even if it felt like it stopped for a few hours inside that shack.
This place shouldn't exist. In any other city, the health department would have shuttered it decades ago. Real estate developers would have turned it into a "luxury" condo with a CrossFit gym in the basement.
But New Orleans protects its weirdness. Snake and Jakes stays standing—slightly tilted, smelling of Schlitz, and glowing red—because we need places where the polished edges of modern life are allowed to stay rough.
Actionable Next Steps:
- Check the Friday Schedule: If you want to ease in, show up for "Juan’s Happy Hour" at 5:00 PM on Fridays. It’s one of the few times you can see the floor.
- Map it Out: It’s located at 7612 Oak St. Don't look for a neon sign; look for the rusted tin roof and the Christmas wreath.
- Dress Down: This is not the place for your Sunday best. Wear something you don't mind getting a little "dive bar" on.