A few video games gobbled tokens.
That shouldn't happen. But if that's the biggest problem of Monkey Business Eatertainment's opening night, owner David McGuire can live with it.
"I'm real happy with the way things worked out," he says as Quincy Harmon of Downtown Tucson and about 20 of his buddies dig into steaming pepperoni pizzas at Quincy's seventh birthday party.
On one end of the 12,000-square-foot dining room, the arcade buzzes with the laughter of children dropping coins into bowling machines, a game that simulates jumping rope, a basketball shootout and the very popular "Guitar Hero."
On the other end nearest the kitchen, David's mother and business partner, Jay, wears a smile that swallows her face.
"I'm so happy I could cry," she says, then lets out a deep breath she's been waiting for more than three years to exhale.
"It was worth the wait," David says. "And I couldn't throw in the towel; this is our baby."
What the McGuires went through to open Monkey Business March 20 is extraordinary in ordinary times; in today's economy, it's a story that can inspire us all to pursue our dreams.
A father's dream
The day David McGuire becomes a daddy — Aug. 1, 2001 — is practically the day he knows he has to get out of the bar business. For a dozen years, he and his mom ran a Famous Sam's restaurant and bar on North Silverbell and West Grant roads, not far from the neighborhood where McGuire spent his childhood and still lives. It was a fine-enough business, with nice-enough regulars and a staff that was more like family than employees.
Even the occasional rowdy customer didn't sour the experience.
But fatherhood changes McGuire's priorities. He doesn't want to miss his son's childhood because he is working until 3 in the morning.
"He's too important," he says. "I'm not going to miss out on a moment of his life."
So the McGuires sell their business in January 2005 and, six months later, buy land on North Silverbell Road in Marana's growing Continental Ranch area. They sketch out plans to build a family-themed "eatertainment" destination — think Chuck E. Cheese's or Peter Piper Pizza, where kids earn tickets from arcade games and redeem them for prizes. They'll have a monkey for a mascot. They hire a local contractor with a seemingly spotless reputation, secure financing, file building plans with the town of Marana and set about creating a business where David, 37, can bring his sandy-haired little boy, Mark. They hope to be open and running by late 2006.
It will take four years.
The best-laid plans
Construction is supposed to begin in July 2006 but is pushed back until the following February. The McGuires say now the contractor presented them with one excuse after another, from permit snags to problems with the initial plans.
The McGuires take out a nearly $700,000 loan, which the bank pays out to the contractor through so-called lien draws to pay subcontractors. In all, the McGuires anticipate the project will cost almost $2 million, which includes building a left-turn lane on North Silverbell Road into the business and buying more than 30 arcade games, kitchen equipment and furniture. The final price tag will be nearly double that.
Work progresses slowly over the first few months. The cement slab is poured; the steel frame goes up; and the building begins to take shape.
But in mid-December 2007, everything stops. On Christmas, the McGuires learn the contractor has abandoned the project. They are told to refer questions to his lawyer.
And the $700,000?
Gone.
McGuire's lawyer advises him that it would be a waste of time and money to sue. They would be in a long line of people who already have filed complaints and lawsuits.
Rebuilding a dream
Struggling to move forward with their dream, the McGuires regroup.
They fence off the now- dormant property and hire a security guard for a short while. When they run out of money to pay him, they park an old van in the front of the building to make it appear the security guard is still there.
Meanwhile, construction projects along North Silverbell Road progress. A retail plaza next door to Monkey Business takes shape within months; a multistory building springs out of a dirt lot.
Down the street next to the iconic Lil Abner's Steakhouse, the Silverbell Office Plaza goes up. Every now and again, the plaza's construction supervisor, Marlon Harmon, wonders what's going on at Monkey Business.
"It was desolate," he recalls. "There was a gate around it for so long. I was like, 'What is going on?'"
Neighbors also wonder if Monkey Business's owners have fallen on bad times and abandoned their plans.
"We just figured they pulled out because of the economy," says Mark Eisenhour, who lives across the street. "I didn't think it would ever open."
While the neighbors speculate on the business's fate, the McGuires renegotiate another loan. They sell their White Mountains family vacation home and take out second mortgages on their Tucson homes to pay off the subcontractors. Jay even sells her exotic animals — she's raised them for years — including giant tortoises and miniature donkeys.
Finally, last summer, they hire Chestnut Construction Corp. to finish the job. The fence comes down in late July, and workers arrive. Chestnut says it will take 10 weeks to finish the job. The McGuires figure they will be open for business by October.
November at the latest.
But nothing in this story is that easy.
Happy birthday, Mark.
It's brutally hot on Aug. 1, 2008, the day Mark McGuire turns 7.
The wide-eyed boy romps around the cavernous, steamy hull of his father's half-finished restaurant, now with graffiti on the walls; McGuire suspects neighborhood kids snuck in through the open doorways.
Mark sips icy water from a cone-shaped paper cup he filled from a construction crew's cooler. For the better part of two years, he has listened to his father dream aloud in a voice that seemed too gentle and comforting to be coming from a 6-foot-5-inch linebacker-sized man. His father tells him about the video games — dozens of them — and David's eyes get wide enough to match his excited son's.
There will be a jungle theme, with thatched bamboo over the windows and a mural of a monkey swinging on a vine that snakes throughout the restaurant. In the kitchen, Dad and Grandma will make one of Mark's favorite foods: pizza.
But on this August day, all Mark has is his imagination of what it will look like.
McGuire looks out into the dusty parking lot and watches workers put together the framework for what will become the sidewalks. Another crew searches for a water leak. Until it is found, they can't pave the parking lot.
There are other problems: The roof isn't finished; the building plans have to be modified because the first contractor miscalculated in some areas; some electrical wiring is out of spec; and the plumbing has been roughed out but not completed.
For the McGuires, it's a matter of boxes needing to be checked off, now that they have workers bustling about.
"I have to say," Jay says, "this is the most people we've seen working at one time."
Standing in the doorway as dust swirls from a construction truck rumbling along the rutted dirt parking lot, David seems lost in thought.
"As long as we see activity like this, I don't need a schedule," he says, almost to himself. "It's so exciting to see this going on. It's unbelievable."
Opening soon
Construction in the months that follow is a lot like dental work — slow-going, and sometimes painful.
The cheery optimism of August has waned a bit by mid-October. More problems with the architectural and electrical plans are discovered, and the town of Marana is insisting that the McGuires pay for and install the Silverbell Road turnout before they open; they had hoped to delay it and the $100,000-plus bill until after they open. Work on the pullout pushes the opening back another couple of weeks.
"I'm definitely frustrated," McGuire says one day as construction at the business once again is stalled. "I guess it is what it is, and it's only two weeks. I've got to look at it that way."
Two weeks turns into two months, then drags on another two months after construction crews wrap up and the McGuires turn their attention to the interior.
They hire a muralist to paint the jungle theme; she squeezes the work in at night after her day job. Tables and chairs still in their boxes need to be assembled; the McGuires hoped to save a few bucks by doing it themselves.
Kitchen equipment is installed, and David makes five trips to Phoenix to pick up the 35 arcade games, which he installs a couple at a time. Mark and his cousins and friends test them out.
A couple of nights, in late December and early January, David and the boys camp out in sleeping bags on the restaurant's carpeted floor.
When the boys go to sleep, McGuire goes to work, chipping away at the enormous task of putting the final pieces together before he can open.
Every few days while the McGuires work, someone from the neighborhood wanders in and asks when they will open. The answer is always the same: soon.
In early March, the "Now Hiring" sign goes up, and they are flooded with applicants. They hire nearly 30 people and bring in an executive chef, Steve Delgado, who clocked kitchen time at Old Tucson Studios and the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. He and McGuire tweak the menu beyond the ubiquitous pizza served at the competition; Delgado comes up with the idea to make their own mozzarella cheese.
In a flurry of a couple of weeks, they test pies and fashion the menu to include pastas, steak and ribs, and salads. They train employees on customer service and come up with a plan for hosting parties with a couple of kids or a couple of dozen.
Finally, on March 20, just after 5 p.m., they quietly open the doors.
"Look at all the people here"
On this Friday evening, Mark holds open the door for Quincy Harmon and his family — the first to hold a party at Monkey Business.
Young Mark introduces himself as games manager — a self-appointed position. He's responsible for testing the games to make sure they work and to make sure they're fun. He sits tall and straight in the booth nearest the kitchen and speaks with a seriousness far beyond his seven years.
" 'Guitar Hero' is probably the funnest game," he says, tucking into a plate of macaroni and cheese his father wants him to taste-test. " 'Jumping Jackpot' is my real favorite."
The long road to this moment is not lost on the St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Catholic School second-grader, still wearing his green school uniform shirt and tan khakis. He smiles when asked if he thought this day would ever come.
"Yeah, but I didn't know it would be this big of a success," he says, then excitedly gestures to the arcade across the room. "Look at all the people here. It's pretty cool. We got the monkey — our very own mascot. We've got everything. It's going to be a big success."
By the time the last of Quincy's family and friends stroll in just past 7 p.m., Monkey Business is hopping with about 70 people. Quincy's party gathers at several long tables with benches. There's a large birthday cake on one end, and several pizzas waiting to be devoured.
"This is cool," Quincy exclaims after a taking a bite of pizza. "I like everything around here."
Cheryl Lutes gets the award for coming the farthest distance for the party. She drove in from Sahuarita.
"This is great," she says as her 6-year-old daughter, Colleen, fairly dances over with hand outstretched for more quarters. "I like it because it's kind of like Chuck E. Cheese's, but it has a lot more space. And usually this kind of place has bad pizza, but this was great pizza."
"It's a cool place"
In the arcade, year-old Gavin Eisenhour is captivated by the bells clanking and bright red, blue, green and white lights flashing from the games. He tries to wiggle out from dad Mark's arms as his 7-year-old sister, Mariah, bounces over to show off a fistful of tickets.
"It's a cool place," says Mark Eisenhour, who was here on opening night after his wife drove by and noticed cars in the parking lot. "I prefer it to Peter Piper's because it's not just pizza and wings."
Across the room, Mark McGuire is finishing up the mac-n-cheese when David walks up and gently squeezes his son's shoulder.
"How is it?" David asks, pointing to the nearly empty plate.
The answer? Thumbs up.
Monkey Business Eatertainment
8581 N. Silverbell Road, Marana; 744-7676.
• What: Family restaurant and arcade.
• Hours: 9 a.m.- 9 p.m. Mondays-Thursdays, 9 a.m.-11 p.m. Fridays, 10 a.m.-11 p.m. Saturdays, 7:30 a.m.- 9 p.m. Sundays.
• To book a kids party: Contact Jay McGuire at 744-7676.
