In the "U Rudnickiego" café, in the clouds of cigarette smoke, writers, professors of Stefan Batory University and representatives of the local arts and bohemia, regardless of nationality, discussed. Among the guests were the artist-photographer Father Piotr Śledziewski, the famous Vilnius lawyer Maciej Jamontt, the journalist and theatre critic Napoleon Rouba, the editor-in-chief of the Vilnius "Słowo" [The Word] Stanisław Cat-Mackiewicz, as well as his brother, the writer Józef, and the poet, publisher and literary critic Witold Hulewicz. Members of the Żagary poetic group, including Czesław Miłosz, Teodor Bujnicki and Jerzy Putrament, used to meet at the little black.

The pub was located on Mickiewicza Street, on the corner with Arsenal Street, on the ground floor of tenement house number 1. This number was once recorded as property number 649. A building probably stood here in the 16th and 17th centuries, but was demolished and replaced by a large inn with stables at the turn of the 17th and 18th centuries. During the construction of the nearby St George's Church, some of the buildings were demolished. In 1877, Dr Burhardt, known only by name, took over the property. Six years later, the construction of a three-storey dwelling house with a tavern on the ground floor was completed. In 1901, the first floor of the building housed the beer hall of a certain Wojewódzki. Later, the "Bear" restaurant was located here. In September 1920 the first Lithuanian cafe "Birutė" was opened, and the following year it was purchased by Sebastian Rudnicki and renamed "U Rudnickiego" cafe. At that time he also owned another, but already less well-known, establishment, which was located on the ground floor of a house on the corner of Trocka and Vilnius Streets.

Behind the counter of "U Rudnickiego" always stood the slightly overweight and often silent owner. The interior of the café was tastefully decorated. In his book "Iš kavinės į kavinę" ("From Café to Café"), Lithuanian journalist Rapolas Mackonis, a frequent visitor to Vilnius cafés, described this once-famous place in the following way: "After entering through the modest and already heavily damaged door, we walk to the right. Standing for a moment, we looked around for a free table or at least a chair. Luck was not always smiling. The U-shaped room was humming like a beehive and there was so much smoke under the ceiling, like steam in a Russian bathhouse. All around you could just hear: < >, < >. The two waiters just dived between the tightly set tables."

September 1939 came and the Second World War broke out. The place was still much loved by the intellectual cream of Vilnius. Czesław Miłosz, the future Nobel Prize winner, remembered Rudnicki's café. It was 15 June 1940, he saw Soviet tanks driving past the cathedral through its window, when he was in "Rudnicki's café opposite the cathedral and suddenly there was a loud rattle of iron, the entry of Soviet tanks. To this day, this is for me one of the saddest events of my life, because I was aware of the irrevocable and sickening feeling that I was witnessing the trampling of the defenceless, without regard for any law of nations. This is what experiencing misery looks like."

That rattle of iron... Porcelain cups and saucers fell from the tables. The Sovietisation of the country was progressing. In July of that year, Miłosz left again for Warsaw. Why didn't he stay in Vilnius? They knew me too much there,' he said later. After the war, he would write Song of Porcelain about those events, in which the fragility of porcelain became a reflection of the fragility of the fate of people and entire countries.

Every day, journalists and editors of the inter-war newspapers would gather here around noon. They would drop by the café to discuss the latest news. That same year, the house was nationalised.

In 1960, the premises were renamed the 'Literary Café'. The tradition continued - the place bustled with life as a forum for writers, artists, intellectuals. Recitation competitions for young people were also held here. Today, the interiors stand empty.