We write a lot about restaurant and bar closings around Texas. Some of them hit harder than others. Dean’s Downtown in Houston is one of them, but it’s not all bad. The bar will rise again, and possibly under the same name.
Dean’s announced Wednesday on social media its last day in business would be April 26. The bar at 316 Main St. lived roughly 13 years. The bar said there’ll be one last throwback party on the 26th, starting at 8 p.m.
Dean’s owner Bobby Stark told Chron the bar technically still has two years left in its 15-year lease, but it opted to get out early. The owner of Notsuoh, the bar right next door, is also the owner of the Kiam Building that’s home to Dean’s. And they have plans for the space.
“That allows our partners at Dean’s to get out, and I’ve been working on some projects for the past year or so, so I’m going to go forward on that,” Stark said.
Stark said the new tenants in the Dean’s space are likely going to keep the name or some variation of it considering the historic neon in the front. The new Dean’s will also be a little more lowkey. “It’s not a big remodel. They’re going to do a few things,” Stark said. “They’re only going to close for a few days and reopen it up on Wednesday.”
The history of Dean’s is intertwined with its homebase, the Kiam, which was built in 1893. The five-story building was the first in Houston to utilize an electric elevator (more on that later), and was originally the home of a haberdashery, or a men’s clothing store.
The now-defunct Houston department store chain Sakowitz had operated out of the building in the early 1900s. Dean’s Credit Clothing took over during the ’30s and was historic for being one of the first clothing stores in the area to let women shop around without needing a man to accompany them.
Dean’s is also known to be one of Houston’s famous haunted places, as per my 2022 Houston Chronicle report. According to urban legend, there used to be a speakeasy that operated above the first floor. To get it, you had to give the electric elevator operator a secret password. Today, some folks have reported seeing a mysterious man in photographs of the elevator, plus have heard occasional growls and even suffered scratch marks upon exiting the elevator.
Less haunted was my history with the bar, which I frequented in the 2010s when the Chronicle still had its offices at 801 Texas Ave. It was an era when bars were less fussy and people actually went out for a drink. On any given night, you might find one Chronicle or Chron employee drowning their woes before driving home (journalism has always been hard).
“It (Sunday) should be fun,” Stark said. “It’s got a lot of history. It survived it all.”