Plymouth’s pub history is a mix of the brilliant, the bizarre, and the utterly bulldozed. There were once hundreds more dotted across the city. Pubs on corners, near shipyards, in cellars, up hills, and probably inside a few sheds. Some survived wars, and others couldn’t survive being turned into flats with daft names. This isn’t a full archive (yet), but it’s my attempt to document the ones worth remembering.
Tucked just off Union Street in the Octagan, The Tradesmans is one of the last pubs standing on a stretch that’s been absolutely gutted over the years. It’s unpretentious and proud of it. No cocktails, no playlists, no nonsense, just regulars, real pints, and an open door. Originally a licensed premises in the early 20th century (with a now-defunct namesake elsewhere on the same street), it continues the tradition of Union Street being a place for drinkers who aren’t trying to be seen, they’re just trying to drink.
Sippers had a certain reputation for late nights, sticky floors, and a crowd that was rarely quiet. But after its closure, the building got a serious glow-up. Now reborn as Salumi Bar & Eatery, it’s stylish without being smug. You’ll still find proper beer on tap and a relaxed pub feel beneath the new look. It’s one of those rare reinventions that didn’t kill the soul, it just gave it better lighting and a wine list.
Run as a community pub by the people, for the people, The Walrus manages that rare feat of being friendly without being forced. Named after a WWII reconnaissance aircraft, it mixes old-school charm with a no-frills, all-welcome attitude. The beer’s cold, the vibe’s warm, and the music is usually decent. It’s quietly doing what a lot of louder pubs wish they could pull off.
Once known as The Red Lion, now reimagined as The Lord High Admiral, this Stonehouse pub is a standout. It’s all exposed stone, vintage furniture and laid-back charm, but underneath the hipster-friendly surface it’s still a local boozer at heart. You’ll find real ale, real people, and a small but fiercely loyal following. It didn’t reinvent itself to be trendy, it just remembered what made pubs good in the first place.
The Bread and Roses is one of Plymouth’s rare community-owned pubs, and it wears that badge with pride. Once known as The Trafalgar, and later Reds, it was reborn in 2012 with a focus on social value, the arts, and strong beer. Named after the famous slogan of the 1912 textile strike, it offers both sustenance and soul, a place where live music meets local politics and you’re as likely to find a band playing as you are a poetry night.
With roots going back to 1690, this Barbican landmark has seen centuries of seafarers, drinkers, and possibly the odd ghost. Once known as Pilgrims, the pub was renamed The Crown and Anchor and reopened in 2011 after a major refurb. It’s now known for decent food, a solid pint beer, and a warm welcome right by the harbour. Historic, honest, and still going strong.
The Nowhere Inn is exactly where you want to be if you like real beer, loud music, and not having to shout over a blender. Tucked away near the university, it’s a bit of a dive and that’s entirely the point. It’s proudly independent, unpolished in the right ways, and listed in CAMRA’s Good Beer Guide for a reason. You don’t stumble in by accident. But if you know, you know.
Sweaty, loud, and deeply missed, The Hub was Plymouth’s live music heartbeat from 2005 to 2019. It hosted everyone from the Buzzcocks to Newton Faulkner and saw more tinnitus-inducing nights than most of Union Street put together. It wasn’t a pub, but it was a rite of passage and for a generation of locals and touring bands, it was one of the last venues that felt truly alive. Demolished with nothing decent put in its place. Criminal, really.
Jack Cham’s was loud, chaotic, and absolutely unavoidable in its day. A multi-floor bar with late hours, cheap drinks, and a crowd that was mostly students and weekend warriors. It wasn’t trying to be clever, it was trying to be fun, and it often was. Now known as The Pit & Pendulum, it’s had a name change but still keeps the energy going. Less gloss, more go. And that’s exactly what people liked about it.
This page will grow over time, pint by pint, story by story. If you’ve got an old photo, a mad memory, or you remember what pub used to be where the new Costa drive-thru is, I want to hear it. I’m not a historian, I’m just stubborn about keeping Plymouth’s drinking past alive before it gets paved over.
Plymouth on Tap wouldn’t be what it is without the sponsors who get behind it and back the bigger ideas, so a huge thank you to every business that’s already supported the project and helped keep it moving. Your support helps cover the real costs of running it properly, and it means I can keep shining a light on Plymouth’s pubs, telling their stories, and giving the local hospitality scene the attention it deserves.
If you fancy putting your name behind something people actually care about, I’m always up for chatting about sponsorship for events like a pub crawl or the annual Plymouth’s Favourite Pub competition, which reached 6.9 million views on the Facebook page in 2025. Drop me a message and I’ll send over the options.
