Michael Johnson leaned back in his chair at the front of Presser 104, put his feet up on the desk. For basically three hours straight on Tuesday afternoon, Johnson taught dozens of students at the Boyer College of Music. There were book-smarts rattling around beneath his snowcap-colored curls, for sure: Johnson led the University of the Arts’ music program from 2013 to its shock closure in May 2024. But he also performed at indie-friendly venues across Philadelphia in his formative years.
Spots like MilkBoy on the corner of 11th and Chestnut Streets; Johnson played there in 2013. It was neither tiny nor enormous, big enough to host a band bursting with potential without itself exploding. And its windows retracted like garage doors. When open, golden light streamed through the entire bar and dining area.
In the years after his MilkBoy set, Johnson became a father and lost several family members. That season of his life left him with those grays. His return left him believing Philly indie was a shadow of itself.
“I think we failed you guys,” Johnson said. “Our older brothers made us a really nice independent underground — and then, when the paychecks came calling, we sold it right back to Apple and whatnot.”
That change, the gentrification of culture and experience itself, manifests itself across the city. But in its quarter-century existence, MilkBoy’s presence and influence has crossed locales, clienteles and genres. It’s even swapped out one set of beverages for a different drink menu.
The bar and its siblings defy neat narratives of heritage and change: They’re always changing.
Producer Tommy Joyner first opened Milkboy in 1994 as a second-floor recording studio on Fifth Street near Olney. Then, Joyner spent the early-aughts a far cry from North Philadelphia, moving the studio operation and a coffeeshop to the Main Line cities of Ardmore and Bryn Mawr.
As word of a live music revival pulsated through the heart of the city, Joyner pulled up stakes again. MilkBoy Studios moved back into the city and became a workshop for the likes of Meek Mill and Silk Sonic. Milkboy’s Chestnut Street location, opened in 2011, traded coffee for far stronger fare — beer, whiskey, whatever. And a second bar-slash-venue sits on South Street, squarely within the city limits.
Lauren DeLucca has worked at no fewer than two MilkBoys in a veritable roulette wheel of jobs: A sound engineer for a few years, a receptionist at the studio for a few others. But one moment that stuck out in her mind was the day rapper Lonnie R. Lynn, also known as Common, perused archives held in the Arch Street studio.
“He was like, ‘Man, a lot of this stuff never even got released,’” DeLucca said. “Then he was kind of reminiscing about coming through that same studio a couple of decades ago.”
Even their clientele is ever-shifting: Indie metalheads, to the extent that they still exist, one night. Bisexual former women’s basketball standouts for an acoustic set the next.
Milkboy has even become a spot for local Green Bay Packers fans: Early in its Chestnut Street tenure, a Wisconsinite noticed one of the barbacks put the Packers on every autumn Sunday, Reed said. She brought friends. They brought acquaintances, who in turn drew other local cheeseheads. Before long, the influx had turned the Chestnut Street Milkboy into the East Coast’s premiere Packers bar — all while the Eagles won a pair of Super Bowls.
But, hey: Once the Eagles bounced the Packers from the playoffs in January, Milkboy’s cheeseheads began cheering for a slightly lighter hue of green.
“Green Bay fans are the nicest people,” Chestnut Street general manager Anna Reed, herself an Eagles fan, said. “They’re so nice. They’re so friendly. They just want to share their joy, win or lose.”
One thing has remained consistent for the Milkboy since the Chestnut Street location first opened in 2011. Its hours stretch from 7 a.m. one day to 2 a.m. the next — all but 30 minutes of the time at which Philadelphia restaurants can legally serve alcohol.
Jefferson Hospital sits just across the street, Reed explained. For the overnight team, 7 a.m. might as well be 5 p.m. Dozens of Jefferson doctors, nurses and staff have come to know the Milkboy’s servers and bartenders. And they’ve saved Milkboy customers from medical emergencies more than once.
“We had a customer have, unfortunately, a heart attack,” Reed said. “What was fortunate about that is, there were about 30 nurses and doctors in the building that helped him — knew the correct procedure until the ambulance could get here.”
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