12 Sept 18th-Sept 24th, 2025 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | Starting in 2000 with Jax Thai Bar, Wright has helmed 10 bars or restaurants along Mill. These include a pizza joint, a tequila bar, cocktail lounges, a good ol’ American rock ‘n’ roll party bar and Pedal Haus Brewery, his most successful and famous brand. This fall, Wright will debut Carmen, a Mexican restaurant with Asian- fusion tacos. Wright’s history with downtown Tempe began in 1991 as an ASU student. He graduated from Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication when it was still at the Tempe campus. He recalls the grimy years when Mill Avenue was still seedy enough that the idea of a high-rise hotel would’ve been met with gut-busting laughter. Paul Marquardt remembers those days, too. A Tempe resident since he was 8 years old, Marquardt lists downtown businesses he was raised around: a car dealership, a sporting goods store where he bought his school P.E. uniforms, and the Q and Brew pool hall where Fat Tuesday sits today. There was also the Tempe Daily News and Rundle’s Market, where you could buy booze and used porno mags. While attending Tempe High School in 1973, Marquardt started working for a new burger joint called The Chuckbox on University Drive about a half-mile east of Mill. He never left. The burger spot hasn’t changed much over the decades. The sign is made out of wood planks, straight out of an old western. A steady wisp of smoke escapes through the chimney attached to the distinct A-frame roof. The aroma of beef cooked over coals greets pedestrians and drivers alike, in the shadow of gleaming new skyscrapers. Marquardt is often asked how the cash- only Chuckbox survives. He credits genera- tions of customers who keep coming back. “We’re here for the long haul,” Marquardt says. “We’re not going anywhere.” Marquardt lives in a condo on Tempe Town Lake. He walks Mill Avenue a few times a week, passing new and old busi- nesses, like Italian restaurant Caffe Boa, which opened in 1994, as well as vacant storefronts. The empty shells of the Mellow Mushroom, Fuzzy’s Taco Shop, Illegal Pete’s and even seemingly ironclad Pita Jungle testify to the churn. Over the years, shuttered outposts of Gordon Biersch, Starbucks, Islands, Hooters and McDonald’s — yes, even the Golden Arches closed in the mid-’90s after a short stint — have shown that huge national chains also come and go. Yet the empty storefronts along Mill obscure the fact that while a dozen venues have closed during the past 12 months, another 11 have opened, says Downtown Tempe Authority CEO Lori Foster. And since 2014, the number of hotels down- town has doubled to eight. Lakeside condos, high-rise apartment complexes and the Mirabella at ASU retirement community point to a durable shift in the character of the strip. “Change is hard,” says Foster, whose office is in the Hayden House, formerly Monti’s La Casa Vieja. “But we are evolving, and if we didn’t change, then perhaps we wouldn’t be as competitive.” The need to compete against Old Town Scottsdale and downtown Gilbert also drives change, says Josh Rutherford, an economic development special project administrator for the city of Tempe. Until a few years ago, Tempe relied on student spending and went into hiberna- tion when classes let out for the summer. Sun Devil Nation is still a power player, no doubt — downtown businesses’ revenue balloons by 30 to 70% during football season, according to Downtown Tempe Authority. But Mill Avenue is no longer just for students. “If you are not evolving with that, you’re failing,” Rutherford says. “We have a college town. But you’re going to see a different but grown-up version of Mill Avenue that will set us apart from other downtowns.” MALL MENTALITY, ‘COOPERTITION’ AND COVID Downtown Tempe has long been a bell- wether of the economy and the tastes of the moment. For a decade or so, it went through a distinctive outdoor-mall phase. In the early ‘90s, Mill Avenue’s concen- tration of bars and party spots made it the only real entertainment district in the Valley. This was when Old Town Scottsdale was sleepy, downtown Phoenix went home at sunset, and downtown Gilbert was known for haymaking rather than hipness. The steady buzz of free-spending young customers led developers to see dollar signs. Boxy national heavyweights popped up along Mill Avenue: Abercrombie & Fitch, Bath & Body Works and Z Gallerie. A Borders bookstore was a massive presence for a decade, starting in 2001. The mall vibe enticed chains like Hooters, Islands and Gordon Biersch to open up shop as well. Colorado- headquartered Illegal Pete’s and Fuzzy’s Taco Shop, which is based in Texas, followed suit. Around 2000, though, Old Town Scottsdale started to pick up. The DJ scene exploded, liquor flowed, the clubs grew and the music got louder. Scottsdale became a magnet — even for students in Tempe. Then, in 2002, Tempe voters approved a smoking ban that scared bar owners. By the mid-2000s, Mill Avenue hit a dry spell. New food and drink spots were few. Those that did open didn’t have the traffic of their flashier counterparts six miles north, where cigarettes were still welcome. Gradually, the nightclub scene on Mill adjusted. Bars and restaurants stepped up their game. Other Valley cities emulated the smoking ban. And tastes shifted away from the mall mentality as shoppers and diners sought out unique experiences. The corporate presence gradually yielded. The big boxes folded. “There was a time where Tempe tried too hard to attract corporate tenants, but that’s not what is wanted down there,” Monti says. “Cookie-cutter, repetitive (businesses) is not what downtown Tempe needs.” By 2010, smaller downtown restaurants and bars were back and thriving with what Wright calls “coopertition” — competing, but in a cooperative way. They’d collabo- rate on events or send patrons to nearby spots. Wright’s former watering holes The Handlebar and Canteen Modern Tequila Bar had partnerships with Fat Tuesday, which was sandwiched between them. Revelers flowed easily among the patios. Around 2013, hospitality groups started to hone in and capitalize on the changing tides. They brought the second or third locations of concepts that had a presence in Old Town or other parts of the Valley. Once again, downtown Tempe struggled to define itself. “They operated with good intentions but had zero connection to Tempe,” Wright says. “How is that benefiting Tempe when they can get those experi- ences in other places?” The coopertition faded. It was every man for himself. Then, in 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic culled any business hanging on by a thread, chain or not. Independent spots like Pedal Haus, C.A.S.A. and Shady Park worked to keep people coming to the area. But as the world emerged to a new normal, rents skyrock- eted. Current asking rates in downtown are about $35 per square foot. The rates on Mill Avenue’s major corners range from $55 to $70 per square foot. As mom-and-pops got priced out, devel- opers swooped in to purchase property once occupied by longtime favorites. Mill Ave Moves On from p 11 Since 2000, Fork & Dagger Hospitality CEO and restaurateur Julian Wright has helmed 10 restaurants and bars in downtown Tempe. (Fork & Dagger Hospitality) >> p 14 The Chuckbox stands out against its modern neighbors, sticking to an old-school cash-only mentality. (Hector Arellano)
