The Rainbo Club is an endangered species among the ranks of under-hyped, bona fide neighborhood bars.

Once the watering hole of controversial Chicago writer Nelson Algren, the bar is a haven for Chicago’s hip artists and musicians who are too mellow to frequent the typical high-end, bass-thumping bar scene, but too hip to stay home on a Saturday night.

Located at 1150 N. Damen Ave. in Chicago’s bustling Wicker Park area, the Rainbo Club attracts creative Chicagoans who come not to associate themselves with a historical celebrity, but for an opportunity to embrace the luxury of lax lounging.

In fact, when you walk into the club, one of Chicago’s remaining beatnik establishments, the regulars might tell you to leave behind your falsified ego.

Come as though you’re cultured, but don’t come off as being a pretentious prick from the suburbs, because while the patrons who flock to the Rainbo Club are chill and mild-mannered, they won’t hesitate to speak their minds.

“The bar attracts a certain crowd. It takes me and the person at the door 2.5 seconds to realize whether or not they belong the hell in here,” Mitchell Clark, a bouncer at the bar said.

What impresses patrons is the bar’s ability to remain humble despite being surrounded by competing bars that are high on hype and big on breeding superficiality.

When Algren frequented the Rainbo Club in the 1930s, it was a popular jazz and strip club, attracting sometimes dangerous rough-riding mobsters. A visit to the bar some thirty years later is evidence that bar’s ethos and Wicker Park’s own dispostion have changed with the times.

After the break-up of organized crime, the bar was — in the words of visiting Prof. Bill Savage — “a total bucket of blood,” overrun with gangs from the neighborhood.

“It was a four-guy bar,” Savage said. “You wanted two guys to go into the john, and still have two guys to stay at the bar.”

But as Wicker Park became a haven for artists and yuppies, the Rainbo changed again.

“I’ve seen this neighborhood transform into a trendy hotspot all of a sudden.” James Alquette, a Wicker Park local, said. “This bar has stayed true to its roots regardless.”

As a bar that has been cultivated for ages by spirited intellects like Algren, cultured pseudo-bohemian scenesters and self-proclaimed art-lovers, the Rainbo Club is less about being stimulated by your environment and more about being stirred by your company.

And while many of its patrons are aware of Algren’s famed connection to the establishment, boozing on the same couch where the writer once probably sat while drifting into a drunken stupor isn’t what keeps them coming back.

“Although I’m sure a lot of people have heard about Algren, he isn’t a huge topic of discussion here. People come for the company,” Clark said.

While the crowd does take time to warm up to, you’re not out of luck if you’re looking for a low-key, unconventional establishment where you can share a few drags of a cigarette, sneak a peak at the newest vintage fashion trends or chat about the latest underground electronica bands.

From the casual yet vintage couture on the backs of its patrons to the cheaply priced drinks, the chill environment provides a good opportunity to wind-down after a hard week of work.

With pints of Leinenkugel at $1.75 and imported draft beers at $3.25, the customers who frequent the bar arrive as starving artists and leave with stomachs full of spirits.

“I can come by myself to have a drink or two for real cheap and just sit and gather my thoughts behind the bar,” Portia Marchetti, a frequent visitor said. “The ambience is good for helping me reestablish my personal equilibrium.”

Mellow vibes and the sweet smell of murky smoke blend well with the dim-lit salon that boasts classic black and maroon floor tiles and a red ceiling. And while the bar’s facade is humble, it does have definite character. In fact, the otherwise bare bar walls often showcase the works of local artists.

This month, wall pieces resembling pushpin cushions dubbed as “Kenquilts” are proudly on display.

Right behind the bar rests a white stage that was once used for cabaret shows and red vinyl booths are lined up against the perimeter of the manila-colored walls. While seating is limited to these coveted booths and one very comfy red vinyl couch, standing against the walls improves your chances of rubbing shoulders with a scruffy intellect or spiky-haired fashion student.

Depending on who’s spinning, provocative conversation is amplified by funk, industrial or jazz music, all of which provide the bar’s background music.

“The beauty about this place is that you don’t have to give a shit about what Sally So-and-So is wearing and what Jim-the-Jackass thinks about your body,” a Rainbo Club regular clad in Dr. Seuss stripped stockings, blue plastic-rimmed glasses and a black frock said. “People here are real for the most part.”

Although the bar has become rather popular in recent years, the yuppie customers that flock to this establishment like to keep it as low-profiled as possible.

“The best way to plug this bar is to not plug it,” Mitchell said.

If you’re drunk enough, don’t forget to make a stop at the famous photo-booth located in the far end of the bar. Strike your most melodramatic starving artist look and your photo submission might be good enough to make it in the bar’s annual calendar that is published around New Years every year in order to raise money for local charities.

If you’re willing to lose yourself in the chatter of Chicago’s urbanites or among the chain-smoking coughs of the mysterious dark-eyed woman standing behind you, the Rainbo Club could prove to be the anti-bar for you. nyou