Surviving Suburban Sprawl
How the Coach House Tavern’s Loyal Patrons Battled for Their Beloved Bar

The television show “Cheers” made a nation nostalgic for the old-fashioned corner bar “where everybody knows your name.” In a country riddled with strip-malls and chain restaurants, “Cheers” struck a chord.
    Though a vanishing breed, there are still a few rustic taverns left, believe it or not. Instead of marketing plans and special event promotions, they peddle cocktails and companionship. The Coach House Tavern is one of them.

Almost Gone
    Ironically, it is located in Scottsdale, Ariz., ground zero for untrammeled suburban growth. Back in 1999, the city government sought to get rid of it through imminent domain, claiming they wanted to beautify the area — which one might interpret as code for “hand it over to a developer.”
    As one official put it, the Coach House had to go so Scottsdale could create “a nice feel and texture and character” for the neighborhood. The developer who was to benefit from the take-over claimed the Coach House was no different “than a crack house.”
    But the city and the developer ran into one problem: The Coach House Tavern’s customers.

Loyalty and Affection
    “If I had to say one thing that distinguishes us,” says Manager Scott Bayer, “it would be the people. There is a true cross-section of America in here. All ages, all walks of life. You never know what you’re going to hear. I’ve heard conversations ranging from sports to nuclear physics.”
    It’s the kind of environment that breeds loyalty and deep affection. The Coach House Tavern has been around since 1959, when Bob Brower converted an old dress shop into a bar. Bob’s son, Jim, later took the reigns and has run the place for more than 40 years. The formula of cold beer, good drinks and fine fellowship is pretty simple. The Coach House offers food but doesn’t mind if you have a pizza delivered.
    The hours never vary. The Coach House is open at 6 a.m. every day and closes at 2 a.m. That’s seven days a week, 365 days a year.
    “Yeah, we have people waiting for us to open every morning at 6,” Bayer says with a chuckle.
    Part of the atmosphere, Bayer says, is made possible by a seasoned staff. “We have people who have tended bar here for over 20 years,” Bayer says. “One bartender, Ellie, just turned 70. Everyone really helps each other here. People are passionate about the place.”
    Just how passionate was made clear when city officials tried to demolish The Coach House, and customers sprang to its defense. One conspicuous loyalist was Father Eugene Maguire, a genuine Irish priest who served at Our Lady of Perpetual Help. Father Maguire used to send new arrivals in town to the Coach House to help them find a job or a place to stay. 
    “It may very well be Scottsdale’s last great gathering place,” Maguire wrote in a letter to the City Council. “It would be a shame to allow it to cease to exist.”
    Maguire died in 2006, but not before getting to witness the developer who called the Coach House a crack house stopped in his tracks.
    “A lot of the people who showed up to defend us were not who you would expect. The city was really surprised,” Bayer says. “So we’re still around. We’ve got the cheapest, coldest beer in town. But this is also the kind of place where you can feel comfortable not drinking. We have lots of people who just drop by to hang out with some friends, to have a place to go.”