Under The Moon's Shadow

Under the shadow of the moon lies the Pinnacle Peak Steakhouse.

It sits between the rocks and pinnacle cactus plants that blossom in the desert. The Steakhouse lies just a few miles east of Scottsdale and for years was a favorite dining place for Phoenix's western crowd.

Harvey McElhanon owned and managed the Peak for many years. I met him as a reporter for the Phoenix Gazette. I was covering the federal beat when Harvey had fled a federal lawsuit against his two partners, charging them with corruption, conspiracy, and conniving to beat him out of his money.

That wasn't the actual charge. I just made it up. But since I was a Pulitzer Prize-seeking young reporter on the prowl for great stories that would escalate my career, I wrote a story about McElhanon's lawsuit.

The Peak was a popular western steakhouse. It served cowboy beans, apple pie ala mode, great steaks, and baked potato. A western band played for dancing and the attractive waitresses would cut the tie off any person who showed up wearing one.

Harvey was a straitlaced business owner who was out to make money. He and I got together on a couple of stock deals. They were fun and proved our friendship. I even sold him a painting by Tucson artist Ted DeGrazia. A fiery protest singed one of the paintings DeGrazia made when he burned $1 million worth of his original paintings in the Superstition Mountains.

Pinnacle Peak had a rustic setting beneath the moon. A horse stable where you could rent horses sat a short distance away. Harvey was full of stories about how the Peak grew.

'Roy Rogers, the singing cowboy,' was very fond of our steaks,' he said. 'He was also very conscious of his image. He liked his beer but didn't want his young fans to see him drinking. He would have our waitresses fill his coffee cup with beer to hide his drinking.'

I was single during my early years in Phoenix. That meant I was on the prowl for after dark action and Pinnacle Peak was a great place to meet available women.

My evening would start at the American Legion Post No. 1 poker game. After a couple of hours of playing poker, I would head to Scottsdale and sometimes swing by Pinnacle Peak for a steak and a drink.

Harvey or his midget cowboy would greet me. The little person was a dwarf dressed up in cowboy gear who would greet customers at the doors to the steakhouse.

'How's the game going? Winning any big bucks?"

The dwarf would wink as he asked this question. He was a poker player who sometimes stumbled into our games.

'Since you left, all the pigeons have fled,' I would say, smiling.

Harvey would often pick up the tab for my steak and drinks because of the favorable publicity my newspaper had given him during his trial. I told him it was unnecessary -- that I was simply reporting the truth -- but he was a generous man who liked to show his appreciation.

A couple of regulars at Pinnacle Peak were two wangles who worked for a riding stable just down the road. They loved to drink, chase women and play poker. We became fast friends.

They organized games at each other's houses and we would often meet there for an after midnight all-night poker game. Sometimes a couple of cocktail waitresses would join us after work. There would be poker, intrigue, drinking and romance with the pungent smell of the creosote desert.

One night Bill, one of the wranglers, peeled off his shorts to show me a series of scars on his stomach.

'A fellow emptied a rifle into me one night over a girl,' he said. 'Seven shots all in an area that couldn't cover six inches. Nurses at the hospital thought I was dead when they wheeled me in. But my stars were lucky that night.'

Pinnacle Peak Patio closed its doors some time ago. That's a shame. The cowboy steak house belonged to the desert, the rocks, the sagebrush and the cacti. I am sorry to see its end. I just wonder what Harvey did with those 80,000 half-ties hanging from the ceiling.