Hildy’s Tavern: Goldfish, College Kids, and Lancaster Legend

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1 month ago

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Some places are polished. Some are trendy. Some spend a fortune trying to manufacture “atmosphere.” And then there are places like Hildy’s Tavern, which seem to have absorbed theirs the old-fashioned way, through decades of cigarette smoke, neighborhood loyalty, jukebox songs, college mischief, and stories that only get better with age.

Hildy’s has long occupied that peculiar and wonderful middle ground between neighborhood bar and unofficial campus annex. For generations, it was the sort of place where Franklin & Marshall students and Lancaster regulars could end up shoulder to shoulder, each group wondering a little about the other and both returning anyway. According to a 1983 College Reporter article, the bar took its name from Carl Hildebrand, an F&M student whose parents reportedly bought the tavern for him as a graduation gift before World War II. That same account traced the business through several owners before Jim Riordan took over in 1970 and became one of the most important stewards of its modern legend.

By the late 1930s, Hildy’s was already advertising itself with a wink. A March 3, 1939 ad invited readers to meet their friends “where Lemon Street meets Mary” at “Hildy’s Nuthouse Tavern,” which promised “the most unique atmosphere in the city.” You do not call yourself the Nuthouse Tavern unless you already know what sort of reputation you are building.

*March 3, 1939 issue of the Lancaster New Era*

And Hildy’s built one.

If the tavern has a claim to fame beyond Lancaster, it is the old story that Hildy’s helped launch the goldfish-swallowing craze that swept college campuses in the late 1930s and 1940s. The 1983 article recounted that goldfish once swam in bowls behind the bar until students began daring one another to swallow them whole. By 1998, the Intelligencer Journal was still repeating the story, noting that the fishbowls remained behind the bar as relics of the madness long after the Lancaster Board of Health had banned the practice when several people became ill.

The photograph survives, too, and it is hard to imagine a better visual summary of old Hildy’s. In a March 29, 1939 image, Franklin & Marshall student Frank Pope leans back in a crowded room, preparing to gulp down three goldfish as a ring of sharply dressed young men watches with delight. It is part fraternity stunt, part American absurdity, and part perfect time capsule. The handwritten caption identifies the scene plainly: “3 goldfish … F&M Frank Pope … 3/29/39 … Hildy’s Tavern.” It captures the bar at the exact intersection of youthful foolishness and local legend.

*Frank Pope, a Franklin & Marshall College student, is preparing to swallow a goldfish at Hildy’s Tavern on March 29, 1939.* 📸: *LancasterHistory*

The early newspaper trail also shows that Hildy’s was not always rooted to a single spot. In 1939, ads tied it to the corner of Lemon and Mary Streets. By May 1946, however, classified notices announced that “Hildy’s Tavern, forced to move, will rent or buy city location now.”

*May 10, 1946 issue of the Intelligencer Journal*

Less than a year later, ads were promoting “Hildy’s New Tavern” at Frederick and Mary Streets, urging patrons to “follow the crowd” and touting everything from good television to tasty food. One 1947 ad even branded it the “Aqua Marine Bar.” Hildy’s may have changed corners, but it did not lose its sense of self.

Ownership changed over the years as well. After Carl Hildebrand, the 1983 article says the bar passed to a bartender known simply as Dewey, then to the LaGamba family, and finally to Jim Riordan in 1970. Riordan had roots in the tavern trade. His family once owned the historic Green Tree Inn in Quarryville, and he later said he ended up buying Hildy’s after promising to do so if he could not sell it. What might have begun as a practical decision became a lasting chapter in Lancaster bar history.

Riordan remembered the place not merely as a business, but as a social world. He spoke fondly of the Phi Sigma Kappa fraternity brothers of the early 1970s, especially on St. Patrick’s Day, when the bar filled with students in Irish regalia. He also described the ongoing balancing act of running a tavern that served two very different constituencies. Students wanted a lively place near campus. Neighborhood patrons wanted somewhere to relax after work. One group tended toward jukebox noise and packed weekends. The other often preferred a quieter beer and familiar company. The trick, as Riordan understood, was keeping both groups coming back.

That tension may have been part of Hildy’s appeal. It was not just a college bar, and it was not just a neighborhood tavern. It was both. That identity still shaped how the place was described in 1998, when the Intelligencer Journal and Lancaster New Era reported that David and Susan Fulton had purchased the bar in December 1997 for $300,000. The reports noted that the property included an apartment and office, that Leo Reardon had owned Hildy’s from 1970 until his death in December 1996, and that the tavern remained widely known for its St. Patrick’s Day and Homecoming crowds.

Those later articles also add something more personal to the story. Ruth Reardon, who sold the bar after Leo’s death, spoke of the attachment that grew between the owners and the young people who passed through its doors. “It’s like a big happy family,” she said in 1998, a line that explains more about Hildy’s than any official description ever could. Her 2019 obituary rounds out that impression. It noted that Ruth and Leo also owned and operated the Historic GreenTree Inn and the Fivepointville Hotel, and remembered Ruth as a woman who “never met a stranger and was a friend to all.” That sounds like exactly the sort of spirit that could keep a place like Hildy’s alive for decades.

And maybe that is the real story here. Not just the goldfish. Not just the student antics. Not even just the fact that Hildy’s became one of Lancaster’s enduring dive-bar legends. The deeper story is that it endured because it mattered to people. It was the kind of place alumni remembered, locals defended, owners cared for, and newspaper reporters kept returning to because everyone understood it was more than just another bar.

Today, when people talk about Hildy’s, they still tend to describe it in the language reserved for genuine institutions: smoky, crowded, unpredictable, beloved, a little rough around the edges, and impossible to mistake for anywhere else. That feels right. Places with real character are seldom tidy. They gather memories the way old tavern walls gather nicotine and framed photographs.

In a city that has changed dramatically over the decades, Hildy’s has remained one of those stubbornly human places where Lancaster’s different worlds have long met. Students. Townies. Old regulars. First-timers. Homecoming returnees. St. Patrick’s Day revelers. People looking for one beer and people hoping for a story. Hildy’s has offered all of them the same thing for generations: a seat, a drink, a place to smoke, and admission into one of the city’s longest-running little legends.

Planning Your Visit

Hildy’s Tavern is located at 448 W. Frederick St., Lancaster, PA 17603, just off College Avenue in Lancaster’s Chestnut Hill neighborhood. It remains one of the city’s classic old-school dive bars, known for its jukebox, darts, outdoor seating, and no-frills atmosphere.

Here’s when to stop by:
Monday – Thursday: 2:00 pm – 2:00 am
Friday – Sunday: 12:00 pm – 2:00 am

For more information, visit their Instagram page before heading over.

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