​What comes to mind? Depending on who you are, what you do, and what your “scene” is, you may be thinking of a few different establishments clustered around Bozeman. Rocking R Bar may come to mind, or maybe El Camino, when it was still around. But to me, and to many others, this description accurately depicts one place, and one place only: the Haufbrau.

If you haven’t heard of the Hauf, you probably have either recently moved here or are not a part of the local band/bar scene. That’s okay, no judgment here. But I can tell you that, if you have not been to one of their many local musician spotlights—which is virtually every night—or taken a bite out of one of their surprisingly-tasty burgers, then you are indeed missing out. There’s nothing quite like sitting at their bar, somehow always featuring a clean top, eating a half-pound of meat on a bun, while a local band absolutely rips the quaint atmosphere wide open as you sip your delicious Cold Smoke next to the most Montana-looking man you’ve ever seen in your life.

​If you have heard of the Hauf, you’ve probably heard of it from either: (a) your friend who’s a Bozeman musician, (b) your MSU peer who just turned 21, or (c) the bar itself, as you’ve walked the streets of Bozeman late at night and heard music blaring from two miles away. Some of you may even be musicians yourselves, which means you especially know that it is a rite of passage to burn the Hauf down at least once in your musical journey, bringing all your close friends and loved ones with you to pack in like sardines in the tiny hole-in-the-wall joint. Quickly, you find that this place is pretty darn legendary.

There’s a reason for its status as well. Musicians range from weird-but-charming to needing-a-tinnitus-test on a nightly basis, with a larger band or two featured throughout the year. Over the course of the Hauf’s tenure as the longest running open mic in Bozeman, now-nationally-recognized bands such as The Kitchen Dwellers and Snailmate have graced the iconic stage with their presence—a big deal considering how most people outside of Montana (and probably even some in Montana) have never heard of Bozeman. Yet, night after night, artists from all over the U.S. make sure to stop by the Hauf on their tours to bask in all its divey glory.

​Some of you may be asking, “What if I’m not that into the local music scene?” Well, the Hauf doesn’t just offer night-after-night of pulse-rising tunes from Bozeman’s best. Believe it or not, the Hauf has a sensual side to it as well. Like all proper dive bars, the Hauf’s killer kitchen is open well before the crowds pour in through its solitary (and quaint) entrance, making it a suitable spot for bringing your favorite companion, conducting a lucrative Craigslist deal, or treating your partner to a lovely date atop local artistry. That’s right, even the tables scream “community charm.” Some may choose to see the wooden, ancient dining tables carved up with obscenities, friend-groups’ exclusive jokes, phone numbers offering good times, and what looks like pagan symbolism as tried-and-true vandalism but, along with many others, I choose to view it all as “local art.”

Remember how I mentioned that the Hauf is a great place to bring a date? I was serious; just ask former dates I’ve taken there for a night of food, booze, and music. Did they work out? Of course not! Did they ever want to see me again? Ask my lawyer. But I believe I am the outlier, not the average. In fact, you don’t get rated one of the Top 3 Most Romantic Places in the Bozeman’s Choice reader poll for several years if you don’t facilitate the success of at least one romantic relationship. Heavy pours aside, the Hauf permanently radiates a homey feeling—along with its sense of communal love—that undoubtedly confers upon its patrons an emotional sentiment that wafts through the joint, and soaks into their pores. Think of the Hauf as a cheat code for further advancement towards your future bride saying “yes” to the dress. Or your groom. I’m not here to judge.

What else does the Hauf bring to the ravaged, defaced table? Well, if you listen closely, the walls will tell you; I’ve heard them myself, and they’re quite a treat to listen to. They’ll tell you stories of how Bozeman musicians, beaten down and feeling hopeless after months and months of unfulfilling promises from managers and lackluster crowds from other venues, drag their feet into the Hauf only to experience an explosion of happy, dancing bodies and mouths screaming at them for “one more song,” single-handedly reviving their will to keep on keeping on. The walls will go on to tell you about that one time where, years and years ago, long before you were born, there was an old gentleman who sat at the corner table—a regular—who never spoke a word to anyone, not because he was impolite or unworthy of a stranger’s heartfelt-yet-brief connection, but because he simply wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere around him, which he considered to be the perfect representation of the Bozeman community. And he definitely was not wrong. If you ask politely enough, the walls may even whisper in your ear about how significant the Hauf building’s history is to Bozeman, especially given its ironic roots as a burger joint decades ago (its drive-through window can still be seen on the side of the bar), an even-more-ironic church revival venue decades before that, and the former glory of a Dutch kitchen sandwiched in between. Whether it was through its church days or its neon church nights, the walls have assuredly earned their stories.

​The walls may whisper, but they also talk. Take a gander at any of the talkative walls in the Hauf and you’ll see the stories of past patrons written on them by the Hauf travelers themselves. It might just be one of my favorite parts about the spot. Not only does the Hauf engage its community through endless tasty burgers, defiantly original bands, or even long-running open mic nights, it also begs to be engaged with through the unspoken art of tasteful graffiti. Its walls are littered with drawings—extremely reminiscent of those lovely tables I wrote about earlier—that feature names of regular patrons, names of bands who regularly perform there, and depictions of faces that haunt the bar to this very day. No matter your level of artistry, the walls are practically begging you to play a part in their ever-expanding tapestry of Bozeman community weirdness. To shed some personal insight, one of my most cherished memories is permanently tagged onto the legendary walls. Shortly after moving to Bozeman, a few of my new friends informed me that not only were they in a band, they were performing at the Hauf that night for one of their first headlining shows at the venue. Naturally, I agreed to go, despite not knowing virtually anyone outside of the group, whose members I also barely knew. After the show, the band was hanging out at one of the booths, adding their own personal touch to the historic Hauf wall by humbly sketching their band name, “Hot Milk” in massive foot-width lettering. In an attempt to showcase my confidence in social settings by unleashing my definite wittiness (spoiler: it doesn’t exist), I painted a simple “Got?” above the Hot Milk display. So, “Got Hot Milk?” Get it? The four soft chuckles were enough to stamp it in my memory, filed under the “Highlights of My Life” category.

My point in telling you all of this? The Hauf is a magical place where anyone and everyone in the Bozeman community has the same opportunity to be witty (even if they don’t feel like they are), to be appreciated (even when they don’t feel worthy), or to be loved (even when they don’t love themselves). The bartenders—that clan of true, chatty, blue-collar workers—along with the equally-chatty walls, will both tell you the same message with the same, greasy sentiment: you’re welcome here, and we love you. No matter who you are, where you came from, who your friends are, what your past paints, how you got here, or how thick your wallet is—in here, you’re loved.