If it weren't for the exemplary service and smoking permissibility, Ref's would be another garden variety watering hole. But when glasses are consistently refilled at the second-to-last-gulp and you can light up like it's 1955, one's opinion improves.
The location is excellent if you're not one who enjoys being mired down in downtown Pittsburgh. Don't misread: Station Square can get busy, but not hustle and bustle hectic.
Now I won't lie, in terms of ambiance, Ref's is about as grungy and grubby as it gets. Were it not for the ubiquitous flat screens with ceaseless spools of sports commentary, had I been stricken with amnesia while there, I'd have concluded that the year was 1975 and I had woken in a Hell's Angels hideout.
Because the walls are of the tackiest wood panel variety, the carpeting is dirty and the place smells atrocious. Beer and stale smoke: Mmm mmm. And the bathroom is filthy to the point of parody; I almost laughed out loud when I pushed the door open.
It's a must see.
But as I've already mentioned, the service is first class. The bartender was polite, friendly and eager to boost my bill. And as a New Englander, I found the Iron City Beer tasty. Between a few excursions to the "bathroom" and hand in hand with a cigarette, I enjoyed many.
The music was on the hipper side. It was loud, but not scream-into-the-ear-of-your-neighbor because-you-can-barely-hear-your-own-voice-loud. And as many patrons brought in food from elsewhere, one can reasonably assume that it's probably not too good at Ref's.
So it seems that the things which make Ref's worthwhile are the ones that are tough to competitively reproduce. But yank their smoking license and top-notch employees and you're left with little more than a forgettable dive bar.