
By Kevin Wilkerson, PubClub.com
The idea had been floating around in my head ever since I first saw some kind of vintage – or was it a hippie? – community out the window of the Pacific Surfliner train during its stop in San Juan Capistrano in Southern California. So when Amtrak was offering $10 fares to go anywhere between San Diego and San Luis Obispo, I decided to take a day trip there from San Diego.
My thought was to check out that little village, walk through the town and then have some beers in the one place I knew of, a legendary honky tonk. Upon stepping from the train I went immediately to those old buildings. A sign proclaimed it as Los Rios Historic District which is on the National Register of Historic Places.


The wood structures were cool to look at and with a couple guys playing banjos for tips, my first thought was that of being back in my hometown area of East Tennessee. The area dates back two centuries and the one-story structures now serve as vintage shops, a tea house and a few other purposes. A new area, still under development and called River Street Marketplace, featured modern structures designed to resemble a barn and other countryside buildings. Several people were sitting around a few of those places nibbling on food and sipping wine while music filled the air.
I would have joined them but there were too many people whose height only came up to my knees for my tastes so I made my way to the other side of the tracks to hang out with adults and explore the town.
San Juan Capistrano is a nice, quaint walkable town and I intended to explore all of it from one end to the other. As a journalist, I am naturally curious and wanted to see what all was in this place.



Well, that thought went straight out the window when I heard a cover band playing the Rolling Stones. The sound was coming out of a dive called the Swallow’s Inn. Now hang on there cowboys; the name comes from birds called swallows that used to return to their birthplace here each year, tho I have no doubt that the name has provided some moments that live up to another definition.
I have along-standing rule where to find the fun, and that is to follow the music. So without thought, I stepped inside. What greeted me, other than a guy with a big cowboy hat at the door, was one of the great dive bars in this country. Not a single inch of space on any wall was open and even the ceiling was full. From it hung cowboys boots and bras. Lots of bras. According to a bartender who has been there for 20-something years, the bras originally got there when girls wanted something, like a free drink or shot. A gal would offer to take off her bra and when she got what she wanted she left it there. It was Swallow’s Inn tradmark, like girls do at Mardi Gras parades to get beads.
“Now,” the bartender (a woman) lamented, obviously bummed to see a sacred tradition turned into something that is better suited to a tacky theme bar, “people just bring them in without doing anything.”
I took a seat at a place which had a plaque on the bar stating the spot was reserved for one Tom Norton. Not wanting to take over the space of an obviously revered regular, I asked the bartender if Tom was sitting there. Then I noticed a plaque to him on a support beam stating he passed away 19 years earlier. So I took his seat at the bar.
Like any good dive bar, the beer menu is not printed but scribbled behind the bar. It had typical basic American dive bar selections – Bud, Miller, PBR – but I opted for a better tasting Sierra Nevada ($7). I settled in to listen to the band. Not long afterward, a fun group came in we had a laugh-filled good time.

Eventually, the band’s gig ended – another one was coming on in a few hours – so I went tou seeking food. I went to another historic place in San Juan Capistrano, El Adobe de Capistrano, where Richard Nixon often ate. He ate there quite a bit after he resigned because he had a mansion in nearby San Clemente and had plenty of free time on his hands.
I had The President’s Choice, a huge plate with a large taco, two enchiladas, rice and beans. It was filling and fairly tasty, tho not so much that I’ll be rushing back there for it. At $23 it’s the best food deal on the menu. The guy on the barstool next to me, who I quickly could tell was a regular, suggested the Cadillac Margarita and one sip demonstrated this guy knows his margis.
With a belly full of food and a mind altered a bit by two of those margaritas, I headed back to the Swallow’s Inn. I had a little more than an hour before my train left and got there just before the evening band started to play. The place was filling up, too, with a mix of locals,. and at the Swallow’s Inn, that means anyone within a 25-mile distance. There weren’t a lot of young, single poeple but of course young and single people don’t go out at 8:30 on Saturday nights. They wait until later.
The one place I didn’t get to was Trevors At The Tracks, which is so close to the train stop you practically walk into it off the platform. It’s a really neat place with a patio of cocktail-seeking people and dining rooms inside.
Sufficiently buzzed and satisfied with my day trip to San Juan Capistrano, I boarded the train for my 1 1/2-hour ride back to San Diego. My only misstep was in putting down my Venmo card during my return to Swallow’s Inn. I thought I might have a couple beers so I wanted to run a tab. There, tho, they charge $100 cards for tabs and hold it for three days. So I didn’t have access to $100 in my Venmo account for the rest of the weekend.
Well, a bar like the Swallow’s Inn is more of a cash bar kind of place anyway. Unless you’re a lady who is willing to take off and leave her bra there; then you can maybe get a free round.
Kevin Wilkerson is an award-winning writer whose works have appeared in several magazines, newspapers and blogs. He has been publishing PubClub.com for more than 20 years. This story was written by a human wiht no assistance from AI.
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