A friend suggested the name Velvet Elvis for the Patagonia restaurant, another donated the iconic painting of Elvis on black velvet, and it was hung to honor the velvet paintings so popular along the Mexican border towns during the 1970s.

 Jon Kammerman

In tiny Patagonia sits a most unusual space, perhaps better suited to a more cosmopolitan location but thriving here.

Itโ€™s a fantasy mix beyond eclectic of Elvis, Frida Kahlo, Mexican and South American art, religious references, gourmet pizza, and drinks. Large Mexican metal chandeliers light the dining room. Circling the ceiling is a painted Anaconda snake, stretching many feet long. As you walk toward the long polished bar in the back, you see the snake merge into a large mural of a South American jungle, bursting with colorful wildlife piercing through lush green foliage. Paintings of Elvis and Frida hang behind the bar, and nearly life-size papier-mache statues of the Three Wise Men gaze across the room. Here crystal chandeliers have replaced Mexican lighting.

Who came up with all of this? Well, every dream requires a dreamer. Meet Cecilia San Miguel, born in Quito, Ecuador. After her wanderlust years, San Miguel arrived in Patagonia on April Foolsโ€™ Day in 1997 via a series of serendipitous happenings. (She will tell you that serendipity continues to follow her.)

Cecilia San Miguel

As a widow, San Miguel was looking for a fresh start in this unlikely town of maybe 800 at the time. She became friends with a handful of like-minded folks, and the small group decided to open an organic bakery. After buying a small building (across town from the one described above) San Miguel launched a major renovation there, then saw her cohorts drop out one by one. Left with a disheveled structure and absolutely no food industry experience, she moved forward on blind faith.

A friend suggested the name Velvet Elvis, another donated the iconic painting of Elvis on black velvet, and it was hung to honor the velvet paintings so popular along the Mexican border towns during the 1970s. Her son came to help. A man showed up who said heโ€™d be in Patagonia a few months and specialized in opening restaurants. When San Miguel admitted she had no idea how to make pizza, he gave her recipes packed in his suitcase โ€” recipes for dough, sauce and all the necessary goodies from Eliโ€™s Pizza Parlour in Brooklyn, New York.

Renovations, appliances and, most especially, permits seemed to take forever. Money was going out, and none coming in. When a local woman asked if she could use the space for a potluck feast for Our Lady of Guadalupe in December 1998, San Miguel said yes. After a parade through town, the feast began. San Miguel served free pizza to the celebrants until 2 that afternoon. Three hours later, the Velvet Elvis officially opened for dinner. This original version of the Velvet Elvis thrived on Naugle Avenue in Patagonia for two decades and in 2005 was designated by then-Gov. Janet Napolitano as an Arizona Treasure.

The journey from there to the current fantasy happened in steps during those decades. The historic building that eventually morphed into todayโ€™s Velvet Elvis sits on McKeown Avenue in Patagonia and has known many lives since it was built in 1915 as a private residence. In those days, when copper and cattle dominated Arizona and life was much rougher, the building sported a small space that served as a bath house for miners laboring in the area.

Years later, it housed the Big Steer Bar, and a true cowboy saloon came to life, rocking with live music and dancing by the 1970s. Bullets found in the ceiling during a later remodel proved its rough character at that time.

When the owner died around 2000, business declined. Heirs living in another state had no interest, defaulted on the loan, and the old building went on the auction block. No one bid.

A year later, the mortgage holderโ€™s family approached San Miguel to assess her interest in the place. After first wondering โ€œwhy would I do that,โ€ San Miguel bought the building and went to work. Crumbling in places, with one wall tipping outward and pulling the roof with it, the old adobe underwent a complete restoration. When the old roof was removed, San Miguel thought, โ€œWhat have I done? All I have is three walls and a liquor license.โ€

She made a crucial decision to raze the buildingโ€™s front faรงade, creating the look of an old Spanish colonial mission, which she christened โ€œLa Mision de San Miguel.โ€ When a worker went to Guadalajara for the exotic parota wood to build the bar, he returned with a larger-than-life wooden statue of the Archangel Michael that became the heart and soul of the project.

Cecilia San Miguel, the owner of Velvet Elvis, made a crucial decision to raze the buildingโ€™s front faรงade, creating the look of an old Spanish colonial mission.

Though San Miguel wanted to retain as much of the history of the place as possible, much was simply too deteriorated. Soon, high ceilings replaced the old flat roof, then the stunning 30โ€“foot bar, a stage for live music and a dance floor were added. Though lively for several years as a venue for music and dancing, the financial downturn of 2008 took it down. For several years the grand old building saw different attempts at business in the small town, but none survived.

From 2008 to 2022, La Mision was on and off the market. No one knew what to do with it. In 2016, San Miguel sold her home and downsized to a small apartment she created in the space of the old bath house while the rest of the building sat empty. She continued to operate the original Velvet Elvis, but problems there plagued her. In 2022, her workers paid a visit to the old building on McKeown, looked around at the larger space and pushed San Miguel to move to that location. Reluctant at first, she decided to take the risk. Because the remodel had to be so extensive, she ultimately closed the old Velvet Elvis and devoted herself full-time to creating her new space.

With the help of many, from contractors to artisans to friends, the fairytale began to take shape. Old adobe walls remain visible, topped by that amazing snake. A new, fully modern and gleaming kitchen was installed. Art reflecting local heritage fills the walls. Most recently, the old bath house has been converted to a gallery adjoining the restaurant. Here you can find Mexican art and artifacts, Native American jewelry, unusual pieces by current artists, and more fantasy.

When a worker went to Guadalajara for the exotic parota wood to build the bar, he came back with a larger than life wooden statue of the Archangel Michael that became the heart and soul of the project.

On the menu, youโ€™ll find soups, fresh organic salads, gourmet pizza, calzones and stromboli, plus weekly special dishes with an international flair. Desserts include Persian ice cream and chocolate obsession cake. Drink options include beer, spirits and specialty margaritas.

While the menu remains similar to the original Velvet Elvis, the new Velvet Elvis at La Mision is a dream come true for San Miguel and her many patrons.

The restaurant is open Wednesday through Sunday, 11 a.m. to 8:30 p.m., at 335 McKeown Ave. in Patagonia for dine-in or takeout.

Get more information at velvetelvislamision.com.

Legendary performer Elvis Presley sang to a capacity crowd at Tucson Convention Center on Nov. 9, 1972.

Elvis has previously performed at the Tucson Rodeo Grounds on June 10, 1956, when he was just 21 years old. Video by Rick Wiley / Arizona Daily Star

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