Although ’70s night at a local bar might inspire a few energetic ASU girls to passionately perform their rendition of “YMCA,” nothing compares to the disco-dancing, peace-preaching, free spirited partying our parents did in the real ’70s. It’s hard to imagine what ASU night life must have looked like without its rockin’ Ra Sushi, laid-back Dos Gringos, and the notorious Cherry Lounge.

Back when the baby-boomers were running ASU’s campus, Mill Avenue was a small, rural street, nothing like the busy strip it is today. With the ending of the Vietnam War finally in sight and the sexy ’60s still fresh in their baby booming heads, students and residents partied in an entirely different Tempe.

Henry Gunther*, Fine Arts Alum, and Sarah Hausheer, Liberal Arts Alum, both graduated in the mid ’70s and still remember the bar scene well. One of the most popular bars was called The Cave.

The Cave was located on the north side of Mill Avenue. “The Cave was notorious,” says Gunther, who attended ASU shortly after the Cave closed, but still heard about it frequently. “It had spray insulation that made it look lake a cave” he says. “It was a rough crowd there too. It was bikers and such, back when biking meant something.” All that Hausheer remembers is that, “you couldn’t get across the room without your butt getting pinched four or five times.” Some things never change.

Today, Mill Avenue is home to the Library, where girls in school uniforms serve beer to the sound of ’80s metal bands. In the ’70s, another popular bar was called the “Liberry”, and it wasn’t filled with girls in plaid mini skirts. “It had bands and whatnot,” says Gunther. He also points out that it was more like a roadhouse, a concept that Tempe has passed on to Yuma.

Until only a few months ago, Trax inhabited the building that once belonged to a bar called The Hut. Like Trax, the Hut was more of a dive bar and they both shared the rustic decoration of railroad tracks and the familiar sound of train horns.

Long Wongs, located right on Mill Avenue, was home to the nineties sensation, The Gin Blossoms, who came to fame performing there. “A lot of ’80s alternative music came out of Long Wongs,” Gunther says. Sadly, that is long gone and is now a big field of dirt and weeds. Long Wongs lives on in different locations around the west serving Chinese and American food.

There is one bar that has stood the test of time, but it’s gone through some major changes since the ’70s. Casey Moore’s was a popular spot even back then. However it was known only as “9th and Ash.” Back then, Casey Moore’s was fine dining and the crowd was cleaned up and sophisticated. “It was the very classy place to take your date for a meal that was close to campus,” says Gunther. Now it’s a rugged Irish pub with primarily patio seating.

The first mechanical bull in the valley was found at a bar off Mclintock Drive called Cowboys. Students could ride the mechanical bull while listening to country swing.

Now students can go to ritzy Cadillac Ranch for their chance at riding a mechanical bull.

All these bars existed before Mill Avenue was paved and redone into the swanky strip it is now. “Back then it was very eclectic and old, and we loved it,” Hausheer says. She remembers Coops and head shops instead of boutiques and parking structures. ASU alum Jerry Hernadez says, “The rush towards improving Mill Avenue came along and we lost all that.”

Hausheer explains that, “it was a different time. It’s more upscale now. Everybody who was cool was anti-war and anti-Vietnam. It was a different era.” Hernadez believes “we don’t have that personality anymore with Tempe being distinct.”

It was more than just the bars that were different. The styles were different, the drinks were different, the music was different, and the entire aesthetic of going out was different. Hausheer says, “We didn’t care what a place looked like. If it was a hot place to go, you would go.” Instead of Adios Mother Fucker, a drink similar to a long island except very blue, the Harvey Wallbanger, made with a fancy liquor called Galliano, was the popular cocktail. In fact, anything made with orange juice, like the Tequila Sunrise, was a hot drink.

Hernadez thinks that things are a lot more corporate now. “It’s a lot more sterile to me. There’s not a local feeling, and a lot of local artists aren’t around,” he says. Hernadez remembers a neighborhood on first Avenue where a lot of artists and musicians used to live. “It was a neighborhood with its own little flair, own music scene. Very individualized,” he says. Now Mill Avenue has been taken over by corporate restaurant chains.

As Hausheer points out, the drinking age was 19, so a bigger percentage of ASU students were at the bar than today. Fake IDs were stolen from big sister, rather than bought for 75 bucks from a computer genius.

Gunther remembers playing a drinking game called Bob Newhart, who had a popular TV show back then. Students would watch the show and every time someone said Bob’s name they would chug their beer. (ASU students could try this one out today watching America’s Next Top Model: every time Tyra Banks talks about herself, everyone has to chug.)

So while meandering down Mill Avenue, try to picture a rugged road and a few dark bars in its place. Picture live music and artists chatting with disco queens and hippies. Tempe might still be a college town, but things have definitely changed.

—kahavens@asu.edu