Manci's Antique Club

During Prohibition, it was rumored, cars weren’t the only things getting lubricated at Italian immigrant Buster Manci’s filling station. By 1936, the pretense was gone, or maybe just morphed: Soon manci’s antique club was the shingle that welcomed customers to his dark-wood dive. Pack rat Manci filled every inch with junk—oh, I mean antiques—including one of the world’s largest collections of Jim Beam decorative decanters. There’s plenty to explore, but beware, female first-timers who enter the ladies’. That cutout of Adam may have lift here on the fig leaf shielding his genitals, but peeking triggers a bar-wide alarm. The offender’s walk of shame back to her barstool runs through the gantlet of applauding locals. Or so I, uh, heard from a friend.