Patrons bemoan the closing of a tavern

It was not much more than it looked like, a beaten-up storefront of water-stained wood and a grimy sign saying ''ladies welcome." Inside were a half-dozen bar stools and a crooked pool table. There was beer but no tap. The bar opened for business when Rose, the bartender, felt like it. She didn't accept credit cards or, on those occasions when she didn't have change, $20 bills.

The Waltham Tavern was, in one online reviewer's words, ''the shadiest dive I've ever been in."

It was among the last low-rent joints in Boston's gentrifying South End, where a handful of old-timers hung on and occasional urban explorers ventured as a spot to check out. But after more than 30 years, it is closed.

The city's Licensing Board last week ordered it shut down, citing reports by Boston police and federal agents that OxyContin pills were regularly sold there.

''It's pretty obvious to me that this is operating as a drug haven," Daniel Pokaski, chairman of the Boston Licensing Board, said last week. ''We really don't know who's running this place. And we didn't get any assurances that anything would change."

In a neighborhood where quaint antique stores and upscale hot spots such as Stella and Toro have moved in, a small but intensely loyal clientele is grieving.

''They really appreciated the older crowd," said Carol Webster, 62, who for years took the walk from her apartment around the corner to hang out at the Waltham. That crowd went to the Waltham ''when they're lonely. They're older guys in their 60s. They come in for a couple of hours for a couple of beers in the afternoon, rather than watch soap operas."

By night, the Waltham catered to another crowd.

''Inside there's the gangbangers, the drag queens, and the yuppies -- they always get along great," said Alex Rehm, a 31-year-old computer programmer who also lives nearby. His blog, Pasteurized Milk, has extolled the bar's virtues. ''It's bizarre. There is this feeling like if you want to be in this bar you have to be kind of cool."

Rehm and his girlfriend, Kirsten Patzer, a 26-year-old law student, were last at the Waltham on a recent Friday night. For an unknown reason, there was no electricity, Rehm said.

''That was particularly interesting," he said, recalling the candle-lit pool game with the couple's five other friends. ''Half the time the beer is warm and the lights are dim anyway."

The friends have been regulars for the past four months.

Tired of shelling out extraordinary amounts of cash at the chic restaurants around them, Rehm and his male friends scoped out the Waltham, which stands out amid the brownstones and row houses. It seemed safe, the drinks were cheap, so they invited the girls, he said.

''It's certainly terrifying from the outside, but now it's our favorite place," he said, describing the low ceiling, a jukebox that occasionally played decades-old top-40 hits, and bartender Rose Lynch, who made extremely off-color remarks to his girlfriend.

''She's absolutely insane," he said.

Patrons said they've never witnessed anything criminal, such as drug dealing, going on inside. Still, Patzer said, the bar's random hours mystified her.

''They were kind of open at will," she said, chuckling. ''We always wondered, 'How does this place make money?' But I guess we know now. I never saw any of that stuff going on in there. I just think, there's a bunch of law students and some of our lawyer friends going there all the time, and we had no idea."

Despite its charms, the bar appeared to have a troubled history, including drug-related violations, licensing board members said.

And it is a slight mystery to the licensing board that controls the bar. The two people listed as the tavern's owners, Stephen Brown and Josephine Baiona, are deceased, Pokaski said. Baiona was the wife of reputed mobster Philip ''Sonny" Baiona, 82, a convicted bookmaker whose run-ins with the law date to the 1960s. The Walpole resident was last indicted in 2003 on federal drug charges for allegedly selling cocaine and Oxycodone. In the 1980s, Baiona was best known as the nephew of Ilario Maria Antonio Zannino, also known as Larry Baiona, a ruthless mobster who rose to the number two position in the Boston Mafia.

While the tavern's connection to the mob has raised questions before, Pokaski said it was legally owned by Baiona's wife.

''You can't blame the wife for the sins of her husband," he said.

Still, in a city where a glass of wine can cost more than a day at the movies, Patzer said she was mourning the loss of the tavern's $4 gin and tonic, ''with a lot of gin and very little tonic." A glass of pinot grigio was $3.50, and beers started around $2.

''It's one of those really great dive bars in Boston," she said. ''The South End is so full of these high-end yuppie establishments where you always feel pressured to eat. There's not a place to just go hang out and drink."

After the licensing board signaled it would shut the bar down, the door was locked and opened only for select customers. Webster was one of the few regulars allowed in. Managers declined to comment, and Webster said the mood was somber. People were cleaning up inside.

''It's really sad, you know," Webster said, recalling New Year's Eve when the tiny dive was mobbed with neighbors from Shawmut Avenue and Waltham Street. ''This is our neighborhood bar. It's been here for over 30 years."

Last week, other regulars tugged grudgingly at the tavern's locked door, peered through the barred-up windows, and wondered aloud what was going on. It's usually open by 2 p.m., one patron said before storming off.

''The light's on, somebody's in there," said another customer, Carlos DeMello, 64, pacing back and forth. He vowed to come back in an hour.