Working-class locals and Reed College students frequent the bar, which is known for popularizing the beer Pabst Blue Ribbon.

[1] Lilias Barisich, who shared ownership with her brothers after their parents handed it over to them, said of the bar and her mother's operating style: "It's always been a homey place because my mom would kick people out if they acted different.

[1] The Portland Mercury said the bar served "cheap swill to blue-collar folks and Reed kids that didn't mind walking those extra few blocks.

"[1] Willamette Week called Lutz a "true dive, but one with outsize influence among bike messengers and other curators of cool".

[1] In 1999, Lutz reportedly served BridgePort IPA, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and Widmer Hop Jack and Hefeweizen for $2.60 per pint, but still offered Blitz and Pabst Blue Ribbon for $1 per can.

[7]Matt Slessler, the field marketing manager for Pabst's Pacific region, weighed in on the debate as well, saying: We've always thought Lutz was the first one to sell it.

[5] In September 2010, after operating Lutz for 56 years, the owners held a "farewell bash" and closed its doors after deciding that they could no longer borrow money to stay open.

[2][4][8] Willamette Week reported that Lutz began serving liquor, eight taps of "good Northwest micros, and a real kitchen that makes a kick-ass burger" as the result of new management.

RACC published an image of artist Mike Lawrence's proposed mural and said the goal of the project was to "highlight the best of the neighborhood and instill a sense of community pride".

[10] Efforts stalled, but WNA later proposed a mural with a different design for the east side of the nearby Red Fox Vintage building.

[11][12] In 2014, The Oregonian reported that Robert Kowalski was the owner of Lutz and several other local establishments, including Crow Bar and Clinton Street Pub.

"[4] In Willamette Week's 2014 "Bar Guide", Matthew Korfhage described Lutz as an "old-school, diner-countered, deep-boothed drinking hole" serving "Reedies, old rockers and rank-and-file preservers of the AFL-CIO to equal satisfaction".

But if you hang around past 11 pm on a Friday, the wild union boys of Woodstock again arrive to reclaim the place, smokin', hootin', hollerin', who cares?

"[14] In 2016, Thrillist contributor Dan Schlegel wrote, "The lived-in charm of this Woodstock haunt feels a lot like something out of a Paul Thomas Anderson movie, like the place where you'd meet up at 2 in the afternoon for a drink or six with an estranged half-brother who's involved in some weird pyramid scheme.