It happened. The neon sign went dark, the door stayed locked, and suddenly a massive hole appeared in the heart of the Tower Grove East neighborhood. When news hit that the Tick Tock Tavern closing wasn't just a rumor but a reality, the reaction wasn't just sadness—it was a weird sort of local grief. You’ve probably seen this play out a dozen times in different cities, but this one hits differently because the Tick Tock wasn't trying to be anything other than a place to sit. It didn't have a "concept." It didn't have a "mixology program." It just had good vibes, cheap drinks, and a stuffed coyote.
St. Louis is a city of neighborhoods, and each neighborhood is defined by its anchor. For years, this spot at the corner of Magnolia and Arkansas served as the living room for a very specific, very loyal crowd. When Steve Smith and his partners revived the space back in 2014, they weren't just opening a bar; they were exhaling into a building that had been dormant for nearly two decades. The original Tick Tock had closed in the 90s. Bringing it back felt like a win for the "old" St. Louis, the one that cares about history and brickwork. Now that it's gone again, it feels like we’ve lost that thread.
✨ Don't miss: Finding What Is a Good Face Cream for Wrinkles Without Falling for the Marketing Hype
The Real Reason Behind the Tick Tock Tavern Closing
People always want a villain. They want to point at rising rents or a shady landlord or some corporate takeover. But honestly? Usually, it's just the math. Running a bar in 2024 and 2025 became a game of inches. The margins on a five-dollar beer are razor-thin when your electricity bill is spiking and your staff needs a living wage. The owners were pretty transparent about the fact that the business model just wasn't clicking the way it used to in a post-pandemic economy.
It's tough.
If you aren't selling high-margin small plates or twenty-dollar cocktails, staying afloat is a grueling marathon. Tick Tock leaned heavily on its partnership with Steve's Hot Dogs next door. It was a symbiotic relationship that defined the "Steve’s and Tick Tock" era. When Steve’s Hot Dogs moved to its larger location on South Grand a couple of years back, the tavern lost its literal partner in crime. That move was great for the hot dog business—they needed the space—but it left the tavern feeling a bit like a solo act in a venue built for a duo.
The Weird Magic of the Decor
Walking into that place felt like walking into your uncle’s finished basement in 1974, but in the best way possible. The wood paneling. The eclectic, borderline-concerning collection of taxidermy. Those red vinyl booths. It wasn't "curated" in the way modern bars are curated by design firms. It felt accidental.
That authenticity is what people are mourning. You can't manufacture the feeling of a bar that has owl lamps and old-school board games tucked into the corner. When a place like this shuts down, you aren't just losing a liquor license; you're losing a specific aesthetic that probably won't be replicated. Most new builds today are all white subway tile and industrial Edison bulbs. Boring. The Tick Tock was the opposite of boring. It was brown, dim, and smelled faintly of nostalgia.
What Happens to Tower Grove East Now?
There's a legitimate concern about "brain drain" but for storefronts. When a cornerstone like the Tick Tock Tavern goes dark, it affects the foot traffic for everything else on that block. It makes the neighborhood feel a little less "lived in."
However, we should probably talk about the "closed but not dead" phenomenon. In St. Louis, buildings with liquor licenses rarely stay empty forever. The infrastructure is there. The bar top is there. The history is soaked into the floorboards. While the Tick Tock Tavern closing marks the end of an era for the current ownership, it usually signals that a new chapter is coming, eventually. But "eventually" is a long time when you just want a place to grab a drink on a Tuesday night.
Community Impact and the "Third Place"
Sociologists talk about the "third place"—not home, not work, but the place where you belong. For the regulars at Tick Tock, this was it. It was a place where you'd see the same three people every time you went in, even if you didn't know their last names. You knew their dog’s name, though.
- Loss of local hangout spots leads to social isolation.
- Neighborhood identity is tied to these "anchor" businesses.
- Small business survival is becoming the primary challenge for urban revitalization.
The bar was a hub for local activism, too. They hosted fundraisers, neighborhood meetings, and literal "meet the candidate" nights. It wasn't just about the booze; it was about the zip code. When these spaces vanish, that civic energy has to find a new home, and that transition isn't always seamless.
Addressing the Rumors and Misconceptions
Whenever a beloved spot closes, the rumor mill goes into overdrive. "I heard the building was sold to developers!" "I heard they’re turning it into condos!"
Slow down.
As of the latest filings and public statements, there isn't some grand conspiracy. The owners simply decided it was time to move on. It’s okay for things to end because they reached their natural conclusion. Not every business is meant to last 100 years. Ten years is actually a pretty incredible run in the hospitality industry. Think about how many bars open and fold within eighteen months. The Tick Tock beat the odds for a decade.
The Evolution of South City Nightlife
The landscape is shifting. We're seeing a move toward more specialized "niche" bars. You have the heavy metal bars, the high-end wine bars, and the "speakeasies." The "everyman" tavern—the place where a construction worker and a PhD student sit next to each other—is becoming a rarer breed.
The Tick Tock Tavern was one of the last true Everyman spots.
- It didn't care what you were wearing.
- It didn't have a loud DJ drowning out conversation.
- It stayed affordable while everything else got expensive.
How to Support Local Spots Before They Disappear
If you're bummed about the Tick Tock Tavern closing, use that energy. It’s easy to post a sad face emoji on Instagram, but it’s harder to actually show up on a rainy Wednesday when you’d rather stay on the couch.
Go to the places that are still open. Go to The Heavy Anchor. Go to Riley’s Pub. Go to the Silver Ballroom. These places only exist as long as people are sitting in the chairs and paying for drinks. If we want our neighborhoods to keep their character, we have to subsidize that character with our presence.
The reality is that "support local" isn't a bumper sticker; it's a financial commitment. It’s choosing the local taproom over the national chain. It's understanding that your five dollars goes a lot further in the hands of a local owner than it does in a corporate hedge fund's pocket.
👉 See also: Erotic Stories for Wives: Why They’re Not What You Think
Practical Steps for Fans of the Tavern
Since the doors are officially shut, here is what you can actually do:
Check out the owners' other projects. Often, when one door closes, the talent moves elsewhere. Follow the bartenders. Many of the staff members who made Tick Tock what it was are now working at other South City staples. Go find them. Tip them well. They are the ones who actually created the atmosphere you’re missing.
Keep an eye on the building. The best way to honor the legacy of a place is to make sure whatever comes next is welcomed. Don't be the person who hates the new thing just because it isn't the old thing. That's a trap. If someone comes in with a fresh idea for that space, give them a fair shake. They’re taking a massive risk in a tough economy.
Final Takeaways
The Tick Tock Tavern closing is a bummer, period. It’s a loss of history, a loss of a "third place," and a loss of a very cool coyote. But St. Louis is resilient. This neighborhood has seen businesses come and go for over a century. The tavern was a beautiful bridge between the past and the present, and while the bridge is closed for now, the community it built still exists.
🔗 Read more: 1993 Kennedy Half Dollar Value: Why Some Are Worth Way More Than Fifty Cents
Don't let the grief of a closing stop you from exploring the next "Tick Tock" that's currently struggling to pay its light bill. Go out. Buy a round. Talk to a stranger. That's the only way to keep the spirit of the tavern alive.
Actionable Next Steps:
- Identify three locally-owned bars or cafes in your immediate neighborhood that you haven't visited in over a month.
- Commit to visiting at least one of them during a "slow" night (Monday-Wednesday) to provide support when they need it most.
- Follow local business association social media pages (like the Tower Grove East Neighborhood Association) to stay informed about future plans for the vacant Tick Tock space.
- Reach out to your favorite local service industry workers to see where they've landed; your patronage at their new spots helps stabilize their transition.