Jonathan P.
Yelp
There are plenty of dives in Chicago: good, bad; clean or sterile, dirty or disgusting--these states sometimes cultivated, even affected, and sometimes present through decades of casual, comfortable weather and wear--while some cater to specific crowds, geographic or demographic, and some posit a dive status quite obviously and entirely curated for maximum hipness.
Max's is not like most dives in Chicago. Max's is like the hole-in-larger-hole Irish-styled pub off the main square in Indianola, Iowa, where a "dive" is just "the bar" and has none of the special cachet often attached to such establishments in our city.*
None of this is, by any means, meant to disparage the Place: Max's is cool, and different, and seemingly of an endangered species in the ecology of Chicago dive-bars.
It's also an eminently supportable venture: it's been owned and operated by the same family for more than thirty-five years, and the family boasts--with no pretensions, but with an eye towards civic mythology-- that they purchased their beautiful oaken bar from some haunt once owned and frequented by Al Capone. They'll tell you about the lean years, the temporal cross-sections of the neighborhood, the "family" (whether kith or kin) that has attached itself to the place over time, and they'll even tell you that you should just fork-over the additional fifty-cents for the shot of Knob Creek (100 proof), since their well-whiskey is Jack Daniels (80 proof) for $4.00 and they know they shouldn't be selling Knob for that cheap but their mother just doesn't want to change her prices.
And if you're real nice, and it's real cold, you might even find yourself drinking a shot--care of the gracious and garrulous proprietress--on the house.
* [Note: Here, and throughout, I intend as little colonial-esque fetishization of alterity as possible (which naturally doesn't mean I can escape it). Max's Place is a bit difficult to localize in pat and easy terms; it defies quick description even despite--and perhaps because of--the commonalities it has with a lot of places across the country (but not with a lot of places in this, or similar, cities). I hesitate to deploy the term "authenticity"--fraught and appropriated as it has become: a new-ish badge, belying a certain sort of benightedness, and nowadays so very threadbare--so I simply won't: as I said, Max's is cool and different and in the best sense makes one feel a bit like they've stepped through the wardrobe.]