Hidden Haunts: Phoenix welcomes a new era of outspoken speakeasies

At North Scottsdale Italian steakhouse The Americano, very little tips off diners to the Gatsby-themed cocktail lounge that lies below. The restaurant is sleek and moody, awash in a dark navy-gray. The hosts, adorned in all-black attire, move in and out of the dining room with guests.

But not all who enter plan to sit in one of The Americano’s leather-bound booths to linger over Wagyu pappardelle and a glass of Sangiovese. Instead, they’ll zig past the main bar, zag through the dining room and walk toward the kitchen until the host pushes open a paneled wall to reveal a hidden staircase.

Following the steps down, an arched doorway appears, the walls surrounding it encased in floral wallpaper. Above it glows a red neon light shaped like two martini glasses that signal one’s arrival. A second host guides guests through another brief rabbit hole, a red-lit mirrored hallway that gives way to the maximalist art deco dreamland of the underground cocktail lounge and music venue Tell Your Friends.

There’s a lot to take in. The exuberant pop of Champagne bottles can be heard over the gentle hum of music and chatter. A glistening gold ceiling stretches from the stage to the expansive black stone bar. Arched walls punctuate the room with white tubed lighting.

“We wanted it to be an eye-popper,” says Kevin Ferguson, the director of operations for the bar’s parent company, Creation Hospitality.

Tell Your Friends' glitz comes not only from its decor but also from the backing of celebrity chef Beau MacMillan and outstanding cocktails created by mixology pro Keifer Gilbert and beverage director Ashley Cibor. Speakeasies and hidden bars have cropped up across the Valley since the genre first took hold in the 2000s. But a decade ago, a bar like Tell Your Friends would have been a rarity.

Now, these luxe hideaways are opening up in every corner of metro Phoenix. Barley & Smoke, Idle Hands, Poppy’s Office, Tell Your Friends, The Goose, The Madam and Wander have all opened their doors since last fall.

“I feel like that kind of concept is having a moment,” says Kyla Hein, operating owner and beverage director for TWP Hospitality Group, the team behind Phoenix speakeasies Pigtails Cocktail Bar and the underground restaurant Rough Rider. “People are really getting away from just regular dining experiences. They’re looking for real, elevated immersive experiences.”

Should we call it a speakeasy?

To call any of these modern bars “speakeasies” is a misnomer, and their proprietors are the first to concede that.

“Let’s be real, Prohibition is over, cops aren’t coming, we don’t have to stay quiet,” says Melinda’s Alley bar manager PJ Baron.

Baron is referencing the moniker derived from “speaking easy,” or quietly, to avoid tipping anyone off to the illicit drinking that happened in secret unlicensed watering holes. Speakeasies are most readily associated with America’s Prohibition era from 1920 to 1933, but they originated before the U.S. went dry.

While there’s no threat of G-men kicking down the doors of today's neo-speakeasies, there’s an air of nostalgia and appreciation for a bygone time when bartenders had to get creative to mask the taste of bootleg hooch. Their work marked the start of cocktail culture in America.

These elements – of unmarked locations and serious mixology – were the base of speakeasies that began opening on the coasts, notably in New York City, in the 1990s and early 2000s.

Even those spots weren’t exactly taking cues from the Prohibition era. Angel’s Share, which opened in New York in 1993, was inspired by Japan’s rich bartending history. Milk & Honey — often credited for its impact on today’s cocktail culture — followed in 1999, heavily influenced by Angel’s Share. No matter, the speakeasy moniker stuck.

In the 2000s, bars such as New York’s Please Don’t Tell and San Francisco’s Bourbon & Branch cemented the trend. More and more versions of these hidden bars emerged, leaning into what we now regard as tropes of the genre: hidden doors, passwords, house rules, Edison bulb-lit rooms, suspendered barkeeps and all.

Speakeasies spread to the Valley

When Michael Merendino signed the lease for his restaurant Crust Simply Italian in Chandler, the historic San Marcos Hotel space had a basement — a Valley rarity. He intended to open a wine bar there but quickly changed his mind after a visit to New York where he experienced the thriving cocktail scene.

“I saw these two or three (bars). They were just serving cocktails,” Merendino recalls. “That was the first time I ever saw that, and it was really authentic in New York. I said to myself, ‘This is it, this is what I’m going to do,’ and it grew into what we are today.”

He opened The Ostrich in 2015 with a commitment to making refined classic cocktails. Initially, the concept required a bit of education for guests.

“The term mixologist and craft cocktail is so common today. Ten years ago, it (needed) explaining to people,” Merendino recalls.

Since then, cocktail culture has exploded across the Valley, including at Merendino's restaurants. Each of his East Coast-style eateries now has a hidden avian-themed bar. Other speakeasies joined the mix, including Melinda's Alley, which opened downtown in 2016, The White Rabbit in downtown Gilbert in 2018, and Pigtails and Stardust Pinbar in 2019, among others.

But it wasn't always cocktails and success. Some of the very things that define these bars are the same elements that can garner reactions ranging from confusion to eye-rolling and disdain: lines, waits to get drinks, exclusivity, a less raucous atmosphere that put a focus on the drinks.

After the initial resurgence of popularity, the aesthetics of the speakeasy became linked to hipster pretension or were dismissed as gimmicks. Epitaphs for the genre have been written time and again.


Use of the term informs customers of that elevation and exclusivity.

“I think when we say speakeasy, it's because we’re trying to curate an understanding within our guests’ image that they’re not just going to any old bar,” Baron says.

‘More than just a place to eat and drink’

What does it take to be a modern speakeasy? While there are no set rules or guidelines, many proprietors agree that maintaining the allure of mystery, exclusivity and elevated mixology are today’s hallmarks.

Cibor worked at speakeasies such as The Ostrich and tiki-inspired UnderTow before helming the bar team at Tell Your Friends. She's seen elements that were key to the first wave of Valley speakeasies, such as passwords and the scavenger hunt-esque journey to find the entry, give way to different formats.

“The places that are opening up are a little higher-end, and there’s dress codes, nice dinners and all of that,” she says.

Ferguson, of Creation Hospitality, says he doesn’t care for the term “vibe-dining,” but notes it’s the best way to explain the proliferation of experiential restaurants and bars that millennials, in particular, are seeking out.

“It’s more than just a place to eat and drink,” he explains, noting that live music in Tell Your Friends' lounge is an important aspect of the experience.

How bars cultivate their version of a speakeasy vibe can vary. Melinda’s Alley leans into its history as Phoenix’s original speakeasy that is “carved into the foundation of what was the Adams Hotel,” its bar manager Baron says.

Named for madam Malinda Curtis, who ran the brothel across the street from the Adams Hotel, the bar opened in 2016. 
In the alleyway behind the Renaissance Phoenix Downtown Hotel, there's a mural with a stoic-faced woman inspired by Curtis and the hotel that burned down in 1910. The colorful, ethereal work defines an otherwise unmarked entry into Melinda’s. If the lantern casts a red glow above the door, the speakeasy is open.

The basement space has no plumbing, so the team sets up a bar from scratch on Friday and Saturday nights, Baron explains.

“It’s a really authentic space, and with that comes a responsibility to history, or to the community or to Malinda herself,” he says.

That history, and the chance to escape into it for a brief moment, is part of Melinda’s – and other speakeasies – appeal.

“(Customers) want a connection to that time. They want a connection to something a little bit more fantastical. They want to go on that journey of the imagination to an era or a style,” Baron adds. “When we get to connect our guests to the past like that, I think that’s something that everybody finds really exciting.”

Across the Valley, new speakeasies are joining the mix at a fast pace. Barley & Smoke, a posh 30-seat chef’s table and cocktail bar, opened inside Peoria Artisan Brewery in April. In Tempe, restaurateur Julian Wright opened a two-bars-in-one concept in March, the casual Old World-inspired Devil's Hideaway and the charmingly enchanted cocktail garden Idle Hands.

“It really is transportive,” Wright says. “When you’re in Idle Hands, you don't know what’s the year, what country you’re in. It doesn’t really matter, it’s just all about the experience.”

While the ambiance is key to priming the senses, the cocktails and food are also essential components of the modern speakeasy.

“Because of the experience it’s creating, you almost have to have a lot of elevation to your cocktail menu,” Hein, of Pigtails, says. “It has to be approachable but nerdy and exciting, just like the space and the journey to get there.”

Hard-to-find or top-shelf ingredients are often on display, left in the hands of engaging, welcoming bar teams that can build trust quickly with guests to encourage them to try new things.

“I think it’s super important to have classics that are executed super well,” Cibor says. “Signature cocktails should be beautiful and Instagram-worthy.”

Technology, from social media posts to the availability of online reservations, has permeated the realm of speakeasies, too. The ability to preview how to find the hidden bars and reserve a seat all lies at a customer's fingertips.

"The convenience factor is one of the biggest things that’s changed for the speakeasy vibe,” Hein says.

Both Hein and Barley & Smoke co-owner Matt Frosch concede that when food is part of the visit, being able to make a reservation matters because people want to plan around it.

"I think it's an evolution of the experience expectations when people are going out," Frosch says, noting the marked difference between a casual spontaneous meal out and a splurgier mapped-out evening.

While bars such as Melinda’s Alley continue to eschew an online presence and instead rely on word of mouth, others are less shy about stating their whereabouts. That’s part of the wink of a hidden bar with the name Tell Your Friends, Ferguson says.

He notes, “We don’t want it to be a secret, we want everyone to know about it.”