Voices from June 1944: The Wartime Sing-Along Program Hidden in Mom's treasure chest

Holding a piece of a loved one’s past in your hands is a uniquely touching experience. Recently, among my mother’s keepsakes, I noticed a set of yellowed, typewriter-printed pages. Since Mum was born in 1924 (and almost 40 when she had me), I realized with a sudden thrill that she was just a 19-year-old girl when she went to these wartime sing-alongs.

It wasn't a formal document or a fancy souvenir, but a simple paper leaflet from the OK Bazaars Tea Lounge in Johannesburg, dated June 20, 1944.

At first glance, it’s a charming artifact of everyday life: an advertisement on the cover for "Kenna Coffee" alongside a hand-drawn teacup, proudly declaring that the venue serves only Kenna Coffee. But turning the pages reveals something much more special—a window into the human spirit during the dark days of the Second World War.

Music as a Medicine for the Soul

The leaflet contains lyrics for a "Sing Song Community Program"—a weekly sing-along event hosted at the OK Bazaars tearoom. Down in the bottom corner of the cover, a small instruction reads: “Collect these programmes & compile your own album.”

Imagine the scene in June 1944: just two weeks after the D-Day landings in Europe, servicemen on leave and local families gathered around tearoom tables in Johannesburg, clutching these mimeographed sheets. Over cups of coffee, they sang together to keep their spirits high.

The program was divided into "Old Songs" and "New Songs":

• The Old Favorites: Nostalgic tunes like "The Honeysuckle and the Bee" (1901) and British music hall classics like "Ship A-Hoy!" (All the Nice Girls Love a Sailor). They also sang "Lambeth Walk" from the 1937 musical Me and My Girl—a lively song and dance craze that became an iconic morale booster across the Commonwealth during the war years.

• The New Hits: Sentimental standards of the 1940s like "Yours" (popularized by Vera Lynn, the beloved "Forces' Sweetheart"), Irving Berlin’s "Always", and Bing Crosby's "Mexicali Rose". Songs about devotion, distant shores, and coming home—lyrics that must have hit very close to home for anyone with a sweetheart, son, or brother serving overseas.

A Precious Paper Bridge

It’s easy to read about World War II in history books, focusing on dates and military strategies. But holding this frail little program brings the lived experience down to a wonderfully human level. It reminds us that even during global turmoil, people still sought out warmth, community, music, and a good cup of coffee.

Finding this tucked away in Mum’s keepsakes felt like a bridge straight back to a Johannesburg tearoom in 1944. It’s a gentle reminder of the resilience of that generation—and how something as simple as a community sing-along could light up a wartime afternoon.

Echoes of Eloff Street

By the time we were visiting the OK Bazaars in Eloff Street, the war was long over, and that era felt world's away. I doubt whether they continued those sing-alongs, but I still have vague memories of the tea room and that grand old lift. You could never forget the lift man in his sharp uniform, manually stopping at each floor and announcing what awaited you: "Third floor... Ladies' undergarments..."

To hold this leaflet now is to realize that long before I was riding those lifts, my mother was sitting right there in 1944, a teenager with her whole life ahead of her, singing along to the hits of the day.

Celebrating Friends & Big Milestones: The Holistic Anxiety Cure by Stuart King

 There is something truly special about watching the people you care about succeed. Life moves quickly, but whenever a close friend reaches a major milestone, it deserves to be shouted from the rooftops. Celebrating each other’s achievements is one of the greatest joys in life!

I’m so thrilled to share a very special milestone today. My dear friend, Stuart King, has just published his very first book: The Holistic Anxiety Cure.

Stuart and I have known each other since we were five years old. Having had him as a wonderful friend for practically my entire life, I know firsthand just how dedicated, caring, and determined he is to help others thrive. He is someone who has always brought a deep level of compassion and curiosity to everything he turns his mind to—from founding companies in software and medicine to independent research (and yes, being a member of MENSA in both South Africa and the UK!).

Stuart and I were at both Primary and High School together, for most of it, same years, sometimes same class. 

What makes Stuart’s new book so special is that it doesn’t just come from an academic perspective—it comes from a place of real personal experience and genuine empathy.

In The Holistic Anxiety Cure, Stuart addresses anxiety for what it truly is: a complex condition with many contributing factors, rather than something easily explained away by a single cause. He offers a practical, compassionate roadmap with easy-to-follow techniques designed to help lessen and navigate anxiety.

Here’s a quick snapshot of what Stuart explores in the book:

• Nutrition & Mindset: How diet and food choices impact brain function and anxiety, backed by science, along with practical ways to take control of your mind and reframe negative programming.

• Movement & Connection: The specific types of exercise that best support anxiety relief, and why community connection plays such a powerful role across generations.

• Faith & Resilience: How faith and a sense of connection impact our ability to navigate difficult emotions and build long-term strength.

If you or someone you love is looking for practical, holistic approaches to managing anxiety from someone who truly understands the journey, I couldn’t recommend it more highly.

I couldn't be prouder of you, Stuart! Congratulations on this fantastic achievement and on creating something that will help so many people.

📖 Check out The Holistic Anxiety Cure by Stuart King on Amazon here:

The Holistic Anxiety Cure on Amazon

Bunking for American Gigolo: Memoirs of a 1980s College Girl

 I was at college in 1981—Modern Methods Business College in the African Life Building on Eloff Street. Weirdly enough, my boss years later when I worked at Premier Milling had gone to the same college, but that is not what this story is about!

Back in 1980, I really had not been interested in any of the subjects I was doing at school. My main subjects were Biology, History, Biblical Studies, and Maths, alongside mandatory English and Afrikaans, and I did not want to return for Standard 9. So, my mother decided I needed some kind of final practical education to help me figure out what I wanted to do. She pulled me out of Hill and sent me to "Secretarial College"—probably something that does not even exist anymore.

Because I hadn't done a lot of these commercial subjects before, I had to do a catch-up course, essentially compressing five years of learning into one. Typing, Accountancy, Pitman’s Shorthand, and Business Economics were the main ones. I excelled in the first term, so my parents knew they had done the right thing—except for Shorthand! My teacher gave me an "N" on my report. When I asked her what "N" meant, since most subjects were graded A through H, she said, "N is for Nil, Nought, Nada!"

The best part of getting on the bus every morning was being surrounded by all the other varsity and college students—and, of course, getting to wear civvies every single day! As I mentioned in my last post, the banter on the bus was always great.

I didn't know many people in my class at first. I ran into Heather, who had gone to school with me, but she had been at the college for a few years and was in a different stream. However, her friend Nicole was in my class. Nicole’s mom had passed away from cancer, and her father was very wealthy, so she was never short of money. She caught the same bus to and from college as I did because her dad would drop her off at her gran’s flat near my house.

Nicole had ended up in Sec B with me because she had failed Sec A; instead of repeating the full year, she decided to finish her college education by moving across to Sec B. She turned out to be a bit of a bad influence on both Heather and me. Whenever she didn't feel like going to college, she’d propose that we go to the movies at the Kine Centre instead, and she would treat us.

Instead of getting off at our normal stop, we would get off down near Old Vanderbijl Square and head toward the cinema. We always had about an hour and a half to kill since college started at 8:30 AM and the movies didn't start until 10:00 AM, so window shopping in the Carlton Centre was the order of the morning.

I distinctly remember going to see American Gigolo. It had just arrived in South Africa and was rated 2–18. Naturally, the usher asked for our age and knew full well we were lying, but let us in anyway. It was probably the first truly provocative movie I had ever seen in my life.

When my first report arrived, it listed four days absent. Cue internal panic! Thank goodness for Tipp-Ex. I did a pretty terrible job changing the 4 to a 0, but I managed it—and I didn't bunk many days after that! If I hadn't done so well in my other subjects, I wouldn't have shown the report to my parents at all, but I wanted them to see I wasn't wasting their money.

College really was the greatest time. It was an all-girls environment and we had so much fun. A lot of the girls smoked, and because some of the teachers smoked as well, they didn't always notice the smell when walking into the classroom. If anyone was still smoking when a teacher approached, someone would shout a warning, and cigarettes would be tossed straight out the window. Mind you, we were on the 10th floor, so you can just imagine this rain of lit cigarettes falling down Eloff Street! Fortunately, I never took up smoking at college.

My main friend at college was Pauline. Her parents lived in Simunye in Swaziland, so she stayed at a boarding house on Claim Street in the centre of town. Because she was in a boarding house, she would often come stay at our home for the weekend, and we would spend our time doing normal teenage things.

Pauline and I remained firm friends throughout the year. At the end of term, after our final exams, we went down to Cape Town together. Her sister was staying in the residences at UCT, so we had free accommodation. It was my first-ever trip to Cape Town, as well as my first experience taking a sleeper train.

After returning, I went to spend a couple of weeks at her parents' home in Swaziland—but I'll save all of that for my next post!

Life on the Upper Deck: Memories of Growing Up and Working in Jozi

 

How many of you can say you lived and worked in the heart of Johannesburg during its golden era?

Growing up just 8 kilometers south of the city center—with the iconic Carlton Centre anchoring the skyline—Johannesburg was the backdrop of my youth. From a very young age, taking the bus into the city was an event, though back then, it was a special treat rather than a daily routine.

My early memories involve catching the Route 46 trolleybus from The Hill, near South Rand Road and Verona Street. Route 46 was a vibrant, bustling lifeline connecting Rosettenville to the city center via Von Wielligh and Jeppe Streets. The bus always terminated at the energetic Van der Bijl Square bus station, where we would disembark and explore the city on foot.

As the years passed, my route shifted to the Route 45, which stopped just a block from our home in Linmeyer. By 1981, when I started college, this route ran from the Linmeyer Post Office all the way to Braamfontein to service students heading to Wits University. Since my college was located on Eloff Street, I usually got off near the bustling OK Bazaars.

Taking the bus into the city every day created memories I still cherish. The atmosphere was always lively—filled with what we in Ireland call great craic and banter. We were noisy kids, always heading straight for the back of the top deck. In those days, smoking was still permitted on the upper deck, while non-smokers preferred the lower level.

During the apartheid era, municipal public transit operated under strict racial segregation laws. City buses were color-coded and assigned to separate routes: non-white commuters were served by single-decker green buses, while white commuters traveled on the distinctive double-decker red buses.

Weekends brought a different kind of excitement. Saturdays were spent meeting friends in the city to catch movies, ice-skate at the Carlton Sky-Rink, dance at the afternoon discos at Plum Crazy or Club Chicago, or meet up for blind dates. Occasionally, we took the bus into town for evening events, but we always had to keep one eye on the clock—the last bus back to the suburbs left at midnight sharp, and missing it was simply not an option.

Working in the city during that era was an incredible experience. I loved walking among the beautiful classical and Georgian-style architecture, stopping by local pubs, shopping, and soaking in the vibrant energy of the streetscapes.

My daily bus journeys into town came to an end in the late 1980s. By then, I had moved to Randburg and commuted into the city via the Ferndale route. After leaving my position at Barclays / FNB at the end of 1987, I transitioned to jobs located in the suburbs, swapping the bus ride for a daily drive.

Johannesburg has a rich history, evolving rapidly from its origins in 1886 as a tented gold-mining camp into a dynamic metropolis. While I’ve shared my own memories and photos of those double-decker bus rides and city center days, I’d love to hear yours.

Did you live or work in Johannesburg during this era? What are your favorite memories of the city center? Share your stories in the comments below!

Forgive my AI piture I will eventually get it right ... Elizabeth street, really??

Stepping into the Next Chapter

 Retirement is steadily approaching, and I find myself frequently reflecting on what life will look like once I finally step away from the daily grind. Returning to the corporate world isn't in my plans, which leaves me with an exciting question: what do I truly love doing outside of work?

My absolute dream would be settling into a quiet, unspoiled corner of Sardinia or somewhere peaceful in the African bush. But wherever life takes me, I already have a few passions I want to pursue. I love writing this blog whenever I get the chance, and I’m thinking about taking it a step further by launching a podcast.

I often see people on Facebook sharing nostalgic memories of the good old days in Jo'burg. I’d love to host a live, call-in podcast focused on those stories and local history. Naturally, that means figuring out sponsorship and the technical side of live broadcasting, but the idea of connecting people through shared memories is incredibly exciting.

Beyond that, I want to spend my time doing what brings me joy—socializing, traveling, walking, and reading. Of course, with the cost of living continuously rising, staying practical is key, but I'm eager to build something meaningful for this next chapter.

To mark this new direction, I’ve updated my profile picture to reflect the name for both the podcast and the blog!

What do you think of the new look and the podcast idea? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

Roziefromjozie

 

A Quarter Century on the Emerald Isle: 25 Years of Sunsets, Support, and "Paying it Forward"

 What a beautiful, sunny Summer Solstice and Father’s Day it is today. But for me, today marks a massive, milestone anniversary. Exactly 25 years ago today, I packed up my life and arrived here in Ireland. Derrick had already been here for just over a month, leaving me with the daunting task of tying up all the loose ends back home before finally making the journey over.

Looking at the calendar, it hits me: I have now spent almost half my life here! 🤣

Wow, what an adventure it has been. Of course, a piece of my heart will always miss home, but I don’t think I ever would have traveled the world or seen half the countries I’ve been blessed to visit had we stayed in South Africa. I’m just hoping I’ll be able to keep exploring for many years still—you’ve got to make the most of it!

But looking back on a quarter of a century, the biggest thing on my mind today isn't the places I've traveled. It's the people who made this journey possible.

Finding My Village (And After-Work Pub Times)

If I'm being completely honest, there were multiple times in those first few months when I was ready to pack my bags and head straight back home. Finding a job was a struggle, and the loneliness of being in a new country can be heavy.

Eventually, after months of searching, I landed a job in the HR department of a building society. That was the turning point.

The people already working there became an instant, amazing support group. The majority of them were a few years younger than me and single, but age didn’t make a bit of difference. We clicked instantly. And just like my old days back home, after-work meant pub time! 🍻

That wasn't just a temporary workplace phase, either. Unbelievably, I am still in touch with 90% of that original group today.

Surviving the Daunting Days

When I first arrived, one of the girls, Kate, was pregnant, so I was tasked with stepping in to help with her workload while she was away. Fast forward to the very next year, and I was the one who was pregnant.

Having a baby away from home with no family or built-in support network can be incredibly overwhelming and daunting. But my colleagues stepped right into that gap. They became my village. Kate was an absolute lifesaver with her advice, lending me baby gear, and offering a level of support that I will never forget.

To the Next 25 Years

I could go on and on about all the different jobs I’ve had since then. I could write a book about how my colleagues over the last 25 years have always been there for me (and still are today!), but if I started typing all those stories, I’d be sitting here until next year's solstice.

So, I just want to take today to say how good Ireland has been to us. I am deeply grateful for all the people who helped me plant roots here, and it has been an honor to pay that kindness forward to other foreigners navigating their own big moves over the years.

I’m not entirely sure what the next 25 years will hold for me, but I sure hope the wonderful people I have met along the way are still around to share it with me.

Thank you, Ireland, for giving us the opportunity. 🥂🍀💖

 

Neon Lights, Cold Castles, and Residual Smoke: A Love Letter to the South of Joburg (1982–1992)

If you grew up, worked, or drank in the South of Johannesburg between the early 1980s and the dawn of the 90s, you knew you belonged to a distinct tribe. It was a world bounded by the ridges, heavily infused with Portuguese culture, working-class pride, and a fiercely loyal social scene. Before the massive commercial shifts of the mid-90s rolled in, the weekend ritual across suburbs like Rosettenville, Forest Hill, Ridgeway, and Robertsham was nothing short of legendary.

Pour yourself a cold one, put some classic rock on the stereo, and let’s take a ten-year walk down memory lane.

The Weekend Spectacle: Rosie O’Grady’s at Gold Reef City

In the early-to-mid 80s, our weekends often kicked off with the vibrant, theatrical energy of Gold Reef City. The mining-town replica wasn’t just for family day trips; by night, its old-school saloon pubs were a massive drawcard for local crowds looking for real entertainment.

The crown jewel of them all was Rosie O’Grady’s. Stepping through those doors on a Friday or Saturday night felt like walking straight into a high-energy time capsule. The atmosphere was loud, festive, and unapologetically fun. The absolute highlight of the night was the famous Can-Can dancing. Dancers in flamboyant, ruffled skirts kicked to roaring live music, getting the entire crowd cheering, stomping, and singing along. It was the ultimate way to set the tone for a wild night out in the South. Barney's and the Consolidated were always a hit. 

The Anchor of Ridgeway: Tobies

As the years rolled on toward the late 80s and early 90s, our local universe revolved tightly around Tobies (or Toby’s, depending on who you ask) in Ridgeway. It was the quintessential neighborhood action bar—low lighting, thick cigarette smoke, the sharp clink of pool balls, and neon Amstel and Castle signs casting a warm glow over a crowd where everyone eventually knew your name.

But what truly gave Tobies its soul was the music. For so many of us, the definitive soundtrack of those years belonged to a local musician named Sean Liebenberg. Standing in the corner with his guitar and a microphone, Sean had the uncanny ability to capture the entire room. Whether he was playing classic rock anthems or acoustic covers, his voice was the background track to our youth, our heartbreaks, and our best weekend plans. You didn’t just go to Tobies for a drink; you went to see Sean play.

Down the Road: The Locomotive and The Smelly Rose

When the crowd at Tobies decided it was time to move on, the night was always young. Just down the road sat The Locomotive (fondly remembered as The Loco). True to its name, it had that rugged, rhythmic energy where the drinks flowed fast, the jukebox was always loud, and you were guaranteed to run into someone you went to high school with.

And then, of course, there was that brilliantly named dive bar that everyone frequented earlier in the decade, whether you lovingly called it The Smelly Rose or The Stinking Rose. It was raw, completely unpretentious, and had character in spades—the kind of place that didn't care about frills, just good company and ice-cold beer.

A Rite of Passage: Gino’s Pizza in Robertsham

You couldn't survive a decade of nights out in the South without proper fuel, and for that, all roads eventually led to Gino’s in Robertsham. Having opened in the late 70s, Gino's was already a culinary institution by the time 1982 rolled around.

Stepping into Gino’s after hours was a sensory overload: the rich smell of garlic, bubbling mozzarella, and wood-fired crusts. Sliding into a booth to share a massive, authentic pizza or a prego roll with friends was the ultimate midnight recovery ritual. It wasn't just a restaurant; it was the late-night social hub where the entire evening's stories were recapped, gossiped about, and laughed over until the early hours of the morning.

An Era Kept Alive in Memory

By 1992, the world was changing rapidly, and the tightly knit suburban pub culture of the South began to shift. The venues we frequented might have changed hands, closed down, or evolved, but the memories remain completely untouched by time.

To the bouncers who kept the peace, the bartenders who knew our orders, musicians like Sean who gave us a soundtrack, and the "Southern Boys and Girls" who made those ten years unforgettable—here’s to the best era of our lives.

"What was your regular order at Gino's, and do you remember Sean's favorite song to cover at Tobies? Mine was definitley "Kiss from a Rose - a Seal cover" I always believed he was singing it for me! 
 Drop your memories in the comments below!"  

True ...

 

Barclays Bank Head Office - Johannesburg

 

Echoes of 1980s Johannesburg: From Vetkoek to Banking Palaces

Working in the heart of Johannesburg during the 1980s was an unforgettable experience. For the youth of that era, the city was alive with energy, packed with pubs and clubs that came alive every evening—often soundtracked by nothing more than a musician, a guitar, and a crowd of friends. While the names of many of those old favorite haunts have faded with time, the memories of that vibrant atmosphere remain vivid.

Back then, I was based at the Barclays Head Office, a massive and genuinely beautiful building that stretched between Commissioner Street and Market Street. Lunch breaks were an adventure in themselves; a popular favorite was grabbing a legendary curry mince vetkoek from the "Vetkoek Den" on Loveday Street.

In the early '80s, life felt largely carefree, and we had no trouble spending our hard-earned wages enjoying everything the city center had to offer. But the decade soon took a turbulent turn. The reality of the era hit incredibly close to home around 1984 or 1985, when a bomb exploded at the Wimpy Bar just off Rissik Street. My colleagues and I had been sitting in that very spot having lunch a mere thirty minutes before the blast.

By the end of 1987, I moved on from city center life, taking a job with Metro Cash & Carry in Ormonde. Yet, the charm and elegance of that old Barclays building always stayed with me. Curious about the history of the place I used to walk through every day, I recently did some digging, and what I discovered is fascinating.

The History Behind the Grandeur

As it turns out, the building was a masterclass in architectural evolution, seamlessly blending fifty years of design into a single, unified block:

• The Original Corner (1903–1904): Designed by famous architects Leck and Emley at the corner of Commissioner and Simmonds Streets, this late Victorian Neo-Classical structure rose 11 storeys, making it Johannesburg’s tallest office block until the 1920s. It featured a striking external copper dome and a spectacular internal glass dome that flooded the massive banking hall with natural light.

• The Market Street Extension (1953): This is the piece of history I remember so well. Designed by the legendary South African architect Gordon Leith, this extension stretched through to Market Street. Leith meticulously matched the original Neo-Classical styling and scale so perfectly that it blended seamlessly into a single "banking palace."

A Peek Inside the Fortress

The interior was built to project immense wealth and absolute security, featuring craftsmanship that is incredibly rare today. The executive spaces boasted rich mahogany counters, heavy bronze screens, intricate wood paneling, and pristine parquet flooring. Beneath it all lay massive subterranean vaults designed to handle gold bullion straight from the Witwatersrand mines.

Where It Is Today

Happily, this beautiful piece of Johannesburg's history has survived the decades intact and is now a protected provincial heritage site. Following a major urban rejuvenation project in the early 2000s, the lower banking halls were meticulously refurbished, while the upper levels were transformed into luxury inner-city residential lofts and penthouses (85 and 87 Commissioner Street). It remains a stunning monument to the Beaux-Arts era—a reminder of a time when banks were built like fortresses of art.

Johannesburg pubs

Pints, Pastries, and Pop Hits: A Nostalgic Crawl Through Johannesburg’s 1980s Pub Scene

There was a time when central Johannesburg didn’t just close up at 5:00 PM—it ignited. During the early-to-mid 1980s, the square mile around the city's financial district was absolutely packed with character. Checking out of the bank head offices or stock exchange floor on a Friday afternoon to hit the local watering holes wasn’t just a casual choice; it was practically a Johannesburg ritual.

The energy of the CBD during those peak years was unmatched. The sheer noise of trading floors and bustling corporate hubs spilled out onto the pavements and went straight into a diverse, vibrant grid of wood-paneled taverns, neon basement bars, and high-end hotel lounges.

If you walked the city streets back then, these are the legendary spots that defined an unforgettable era of Joburg nightlife.

The Historic Staples of the Financial District

For the corporate and banking crowds looking for a classic pint and a hearty lunch, a few foundational pubs offered a deep sense of history and a refuge from the high-stakes financial world.

1. The Guildhall Pub (Corner of Harrison & Market Streets)

Widely tied for the title of Johannesburg’s very oldest surviving pub, the Guildhall first opened its doors in 1888 during the chaotic days of the gold rush.

• The Vibe: Stepping inside felt like walking into an old Edwardian time capsule. It featured a gorgeous, comfortably worn antique wooden bar downstairs and a historic second-story balcony perfect for people-watching.

• 
  The Story: In its earliest mining days, it was a raucous spot where prospectors literally traded gold dust for liquor. By the 1980s, it had evolved into a beloved lunchtime haven, famous among bank and stock exchange workers for its ice-cold beer, excellent steaks, and Portuguese-style peri-peri chicken.
  
  
  
  

2. The Library (Commissioner Street)

Situated further down Commissioner Street, "The Library" was a classic, heavily frequented institution that offered a brilliant bit of cover for cheeky patrons.

• The Vibe: Dark, intimate, and deliberately styled to mimic an old-school gentleman's smoking room or an academic sanctuary, it was complete with rich wood accents and faux bookshelves lining the walls.

• The Story: Because of its academic name, it became the subject of a running joke among the city's corporate crowd. Professionals would famously call home to tell their partners, "I’m going to spend the evening studying at the library." It was technically true—they just happened to be studying the bottom of a pint glass!

3. Jameson’s (Commissioner Street)

Further down Commissioner Street lay Jameson’s, a venue that held an incredibly unique, rebellious, and progressive place in the city's cultural tapestry.

• The Vibe: Reached by a narrow staircase leading downward, it was a gritty, high-energy basement pub known for a packed house and legendary live music.

• The Story: Jameson's possessed an incredibly rare, historic liquor license granted in the late 1800s by Paul Kruger, President of the old Transvaal Republic. Because of the unique legal phrasing of that ancient license, Jameson's managed to operate as a completely integrated, mixed-race bar right through the height of the 1980s. It became a legendary oasis where journalists, musicians, and bank workers of all backgrounds drank and listened to live rock and blues together.

4. Kitchener’s Carvery Bar (De Korte Street, Braamfontein)

While located slightly north of the immediate banking center, anyone who truly loved the city’s classic pub culture eventually ended up at Kitchener's, located inside the Milner Park Hotel.

• The Vibe: Strikingly old-fashioned, it featured original ornate wallpapers, dark wood paneling, and deep velvet booths dating all the way back to 1906.

• The Story: Named after Lord Kitchener, it spent decades operating as a traditional, straight-laced carvery where businessmen grabbed a roast lunch and a midday drink. It beautifully survived the city's later transitions by seamlessly shifting from a quiet daytime pub into a vibrant, creative nightspot.

5. The Radium Beerhall (Louis Botha Avenue)

Though a bit of a trek up Louis Botha Avenue, the Radium is a mandatory mention because its very heart belongs to the city center.

• The Story: The massive, beautiful wooden bar counter inside the Radium was actually salvaged from the historic Ferreirasdorp Hotel in the old city center when it was demolished to make way for the Magistrates Court.

Going Underground: The 80s Neon Grid

As the 1980s boomed, street-front real estate on retail spines like Eloff, Rissik, Joubert, and Loveday streets became premium gold. This sparked a massive architectural trend: the basement pub.

Leaving the bustling pavements meant walking down a set of stairs into a completely different, dimly lit world.

The Subway & Cellar Pubs

Scattered along Rissik and Loveday, these basement venues leaned hard into a "cozy British pub" or "subway transit" aesthetic. They featured faux-exposed brick, glowing neon beer signs, heavy wooden tables, and those distinct 1980s copper bar pumps. They were notoriously thick with cigarette smoke and constantly alive with the sound of top-40 pop hits or rock anthems blasting from a cassette system behind the bar.

The Theater & Plaza Watering Holes

Joubert Street and the areas cutting across multi-level shopping hubs—like the Sanlam Centre and various arcade walkways—offered a completely different energy.

• The Plaza Bars: These spots were a stark contrast to the dark, historic banking taverns. They were bright, trendy, and modern, sporting mirrors, chrome finishes, and hanging plants—the absolute height of 1980s design. They were famous for serving rapid-fire "pub lunches" (basket snacks like steak strips and chips or toasted sandwiches) to office workers rushing through on a tight one-hour break.

• The Cinema Crowds: Because massive movie houses like the Metro on Eloff Street were in full swing, the pubs closest to them on weekend nights would seamlessly transition from corporate office workers to young couples grabbing a drink before or after a big film premiere.

What made the early-to-mid 80s so unique was this sheer density of choice. You could walk out of the serious, quiet atmosphere of a head office on Simmonds Street, stroll two blocks east, and find yourself navigating a vibrant neon grid where every single block had at least two or three lively options competing for your attention.

High Luxury at the Carlton Hotel

If you wanted to completely escape the chaotic energy of the bustling CBD streets, you headed to the absolute pinnacle of inner-city luxury and style: The Carlton Hotel.

While the surrounding complex boasted spots like the sky-high Piano Bar, it was Charley’s Bar—nestled right inside the plush, gleaming, 30-story luxury hotel—that defined 80s sophistication.

Charley’s Bar

Charley's was the quintessential 1980s hotel "ladies' bar" and cocktail lounge.

• The Decor: It was beautifully carpeted, intimate, dimly lit, and incredibly comfortable, featuring deep, plush seating designed for unwinding in style.

• The Crowd: Because the Carlton operated under an "international" hotel status, Charley’s was a cosmopolitan melting pot. On Friday afternoons and paydays, it was the premier destination for a stylish crowd. Corporate professionals, software quality assurance managers, and banking executives rubbed shoulders with international business travelers, airline pilots, and theatergoers.

The Ultimate Carlton "Bar Hop"

In the 80s, the Carlton Hotel was practically a self-contained evening out. A classic night out would often revolve around a few key spots right next to each other:

• The Three Ships: The hotel’s legendary, world-renowned fine dining restaurant. Patrons would famously meet at Charley's Bar for a pre-dinner cocktail before heading through for an exquisite silver-service meal.

• The Koffiehuis Café: Located just off the main lobby, this was a charming, slightly more casual alternative where waitresses dressed in traditional Dutch aprons and mob caps. If you wanted a break from the premium prices of Charley's, the Koffiehuis was the go-to spot for a legendary Welsh Rarebit, fresh waffles, and bottomless coffee.

Stepping into that gleaming Carlton lobby and heading into Charley's truly felt like entering another world. It was a golden era for Johannesburg's nightlife—a vibrant, bustling time in the heart of the city before the great corporate shift to the northern suburbs began later in the decade.

"There are so many more places flickering in my mind’s eye—atmospheres I can still feel, even if their names have faded with time. For us, that golden era of inner-city pub crawls quietly wound down in the early 1990s, caught in the wave as companies began migrating away from the CBD toward Randburg and Sandton. As the corporate landscape shifted, the old-world charm of the city center began to fade. Sadly, the historic streets we once knew entered a sharp decline, leaving much of that grand architecture derelict today. Yet, in memory, the neon signs still glow, the bars are still packed, and the city remains fully alive."

There are so many more pubs that spring to mind now, The Jolly Roger on Eloff street can you name any others?