The spot has been a bar since the 1940s, when it was called Loftus'. In 1969, it was bought by two friends and former phone-company employees, Timmy Hodgens and Bobby Booras, who mashed their names together to give the bar its unusual moniker. The two own the building, so the new bar or whatever will be paying them rent.
I lived up the block for several months and stopped into Timboo's the day we signed the lease. Half the people at the bar that afternoon seemed to have roots in Bay Ridge, which was comforting since it was the first time I'd lived anywhere but at the end of the R line—a little bit of home right on the new corner. I didn't stop in as much as I might have liked, but every time I did I was met with chatty bartenders and friendly patrons. Not to sound too curmudgeonly, but Timboo's is one of the last of its kind in that area—the sort of place people go to drink, not just necessarily to hunker down with their friends. And when people drink they start talking to each other. These bars foster the formation of communities both short and long term. I enjoy a drink at a place like Commonwealth down the block as much as the next guy—its dim lights, its selection of draughts, its indie rock jukebox—but no stranger has ever made me feel welcome there, like I was part of a group. Commonwealth is a solid bar; Timboo's is a neighborhood bar, and for that I'll miss it.