New Mexico's Mythical Moneymaker
Santa Fe’s Dragon Room Exhales Financial Fire
By Jenny Adams
Rosalea Murphy first embarked on her journey as a business owner when
she opened The Pink Adobe Restaurant in the Barrio de Analco area of
Santa Fe, N.M., in 1944. In 1978, the finishing touches were added —
from her own paintbrush — to the walls and tables of the newly
adjoining Dragon Room Bar. Drawing nigh on its 28th birthday, The
Dragon Room still is family owned, operated today by her grandson Joe
Hoback, who continues to add to the story of the 350-year-old adobe
building and a late-night release for the citizens of Santa Fe.
In a city that often opts for Georgia O’Keefe over Gin and Tonic, for
artistic vision instead of the all-night venue, the Dragon Room has
remained a prospering watering hole in this nightlife desert for
generations. Under the shadow of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, it
blends New Mexico’s cultural allure with a superlative staff to induce
bar tabs from a veritable plethora of clientele.
The Artist’s Eye
Walking into the Dragon Room is about as easy a transition from the
outside world as one could hope to create. An avid artist and chef,
Murphy drew inspiration from the nature of her surroundings, and
similarly, the Dragon Room’s design captures inspiration from the
landscape as well. “The most unique feature are the trees through the
bar and the roof,” Owner Joe Hoback says.
The room was built onto the restaurant by enclosing the existing patio
with all of the trees left intact, so that the elegant wooden bar could
be designed around the living material from which it was made. Large
trunks of the Ailanthus trees mimic the actual support beams, rising up
and passing completely through the ceiling, back out into the New
Mexico sun, while plants cast shadows, suspended from the ceiling
beneath giant sky-light styled windows. The resulting sense of harmony
with Santa Fe’s indigenous vegetation and a lush, inspired style lures
patrons in time after time. The building’s eclectic charm is further
accentuated by its history as the city’s first passive solar commercial
building. “The windows are angled facing south to help warm the place,”
Hoback says. “The only extra heat is a fireplace and a few supplemental
heaters.”
Murphy’s hand-painted tables have supported elbows and beers of patrons
from all over the world, including some celebrity names such as Val
Kilmer, who is a friend of both the bar and the restaurant. Paper maché
dragons add splashes of color, swaying from rough-hewn timber ceiling
beams, giving locals and tourists alike a reminder of why Santa Fe is
so magical.
A Scorching Staff
Stepping through a doorway crested by a wooden sign scrawled with red
paint, guests enter, traversing the brick-lined floors to find a small,
recognizable staff. “We are a one man operation,” Hoback says. “We
don’t have a TV, and our clientele likes to come here because they can
get a full meal out of the restaurant, have a drink and smoke a
cigarette.”
A bar staff of 11 total means there are an average of four people on
each shift, and the group is a mix of male and female, with the
struggling artist working alongside a freshly-graduated college
student. While the resume must demonstrate experience in foodservice
and bartending, Hoback’s crucial criteria for hiring is versatility of
personality. His employee, he says, “has to have a good rapport with
the 50-year-old opera-goer and the 21-year-old partier.
“It shouldn’t be overbearing,” Hoback says of the service in the Dragon
Room. “We are casual, friendly. Everybody gets a bowl of popcorn when
they walk in, and there should be some contact with the table in the
first minute and with a smiling face.” The staff here is bringing in
more than some repeat smiling faces, though. With liquor sales totaling
about 40 percent annually, the Dragon Room will see around $18,000 a
week during the summer in liquor and wine sales alone.
The Late-Night Lizards
Tourism is the demiurge of Santa Fe’s economy, yet while tourists
definitely contribute to the till, it is the locals who claim the
Dragon Room as a happy hour home away from home and a late-night best
friend. “Basically,” Hoback says, “early on we have locals, 30 to 40
something’s, after-work crowd. We get the art gallery crowd early, the
opera crowd early. Later at night it totally switches. After 11 p.m.,
no one is over 30. It gets pretty wild. The room is filled with smoke
and loud music. It is no longer your nice quiet place to drink. It is
remarkable how it changes.”
Appealing to both crowds is a challenge the Dragon Room operators meet
without reserve. The music is adjusted, the security staff increased,
and Hoback sticks around these days — not to observe and regulate — but
to make new friends and have a laugh with the regulars. “I didn’t know
the young crowd for a long time,” he says. “But I have been hanging out
lately, and it is pretty neat. Both crowds financially support us quite
a bit, but the two crowds don’t even know each other.”
Serving 80 comfortably inside, though many evenings there is a sturdy
spillover onto the 60-person patio, the Dragon Room is shackled
slightly in its live music lineup due to space. Rather than sacrificing
guest mobility to a full-sized band, Hoback usually opts for a single
Spanish guitarist or satellite radio. The promotional events likewise
are cleverly focused. “I don’t really do a lot of special events like
weddings or big private parties in the bar,” he says, “because my
regulars would just kill me. They are the ones who are here in February
paying my bills.” NCB
Whatever Happens, Happens
Joe Hoback, now the sole owner of a business that has been in his
family for almost three decades, embraces the fact that it is the
connection to family and the community that makes the Dragon Room work.
“It has a history that you can’t duplicate,” Hoback says. “The interior
and exterior are so unique. My grandmother was an artist and a chef and
her paintings are all over the walls.” The character, charm, and
easy-going sense of humor have been an integral part of the
establishment since Rosalea Murphy opened it in 1978. “It got its name
when the doors arrived,” Hoback says. “The contractor ordered sliding
wooden doors, and she didn’t know they would have dragons carved on
them.” According to the story, Murphy looked at the doors and said,
“Well, I am glad they didn’t have frogs on them,” and the Dragon Room
was branded. “That’s just how things are here. They just kind of
happen. We don’t really plan too far ahead. You just see what works,
and you go with that.”