Ramshackle does not been to describe dive bar Tom’s Tavern, open since the 1920s: operating hours fluctuate, the floor boards bend, the bar is crooked, much like the standing structure itself. Yet, still the people come, drawn by cheap pints (don’t expect anything craft) in a homey space filled with mismatched chairs and vintage photos. Jukebox tunes play on nights when there’s nobody banging on the piano in the corner of the bar. Tom’s doesn’t have a food license, but take comfort in the fact that a pot of free chili just may be on offer. If setbacks over the years like a building fire and a truck plowing straight into this saloon didn’t stop it, what can?