In the summer of 2007, I got wind of a new brewery under construction in downtown Chandler. So one evening, after dark, I decided to do a quick drive-by to check out the site.
Inside a former Valley National Bank building built in the 1950s, a single light revealed a lone worker in a mask and sweat-stained T-shirt sanding a rustic metal bar top. Temperatures were still in the triple digits outside and even higher inside the building without air conditioning.
‘‘Do you know anything about a brewery opening here?’’ I tentatively asked.
Pulling off his mask, he replied,’’ I know everything about it. I’m Anthony Canecchia and this is my brewery. Let me tell you about it.’’
I ended up interviewing Canecchia a lot in those early years as SanTan Brewing often was in the news – creating new events, revitalizing downtown Chandler, promoting the canning of local beers, extending distribution into neighboring states, and fighting public legal battles.
We became friends, spending hours talking about beer and food and life in general, and although we saw less of each other after SanTan grew into the largest independently owned brewery in the state, I was floored when I learned of his unexpected death last weekend at the far-too-young age of 51.
This week, I reached out to some members of the Valley’s craft beer community to get their thoughts on Canecchia’s considerable impact.
‘Metal, punk, a grinder’
Canecchia was bitten by the brewing bug while attending the University of Arizona. He loved telling stories about fermenting his homemade beer in his apartment closet, where bottles occasionally exploded.
After dropping out of college, he landed a brewing job, first at now-defunct Rio Salado Brewing and later at Four Peaks Brewing. Seven years later, he decided to launch his own brewery, one that reflected his own personality and passions.
‘‘I was Anthony’s very first hire at SanTan Brewing Company,’’ remembers James Swann (pictured above), a former SanTan bartender and manager. ‘‘I watched him take huge risks, putting it all out there to follow his dream – every element carefully and methodically scrutinized, every detail gone over again and again.’’
Swann went on to help launch The Perch Brewery and now co-owns Craft 64 pizza pub. Both have locations in a now-vibrant downtown Chandler.
‘‘I was incredibly fortunate to be along for the ride at a point when almost nobody believed in the project or in downtown Chandler. Anthony’s passion, commitment, and eventual successes made believers of all of us.’’
Jon Lane, owner of OHSO Brewery & Distilling, is another believer.
‘‘Anthony and I worked together at Four Peaks. He taught me how to clean kegs – mostly, I think, so he could get a break,’’ Lane laughs. ‘‘But I remember him telling me when he took over the building that would become SanTan he was excited to brew his beers and to do something he loved.
‘‘Anthony was metal, punk, a grinder. He went for it and he kept reaching, innovating, and climbing that mountain. He did this until Saturday.
‘‘He was tough, and he and his team bootstrapped and backpacked the brewery to what it is: Awesome.’’
‘Loved the art of everything’
While brewers need to be scientists, chemists, plumbers, engineers, and bookkeepers, Peter Sciacca says Canecchia also was an artist.
‘‘He loved music and art – including cartoons and everything Star Wars – but he loved the art of everything,’’ says Sciacca, who owns QuartHaus taproom in downtown Chandler. ‘‘For him, this obviously included the art of craft beer production, branding, marketing, and ultimately the same for his spirits, but he loved the art of being different and unique.’’
Back in 2007, Sciacca operated di Sciacca Glass Gallery and was asked to create hand-blown pint glasses for SanTan.
‘‘Anthony believed every beverage, especially craft beer, deserved a specific glass,’’ he says. ‘‘We agreed and our crafts and arts married, ultimately costing us an unnecessary lawsuit that began on passion but ended on principle.’’
Boston Beer Company, makers of Samuel Adams beer and the fourth-largest brewery in the country, claimed the glass design violated a patent it held and, after months of wrangling, SanTan was forced to change its glasses.
SanTan waged a similar legal battle with ASU over the name of its then-flagship Sun Devil Ale. Canecchia eventually agreed to rename it Devils Ale – but not before milking as much media publicity as he could out of the David-vs.-Goliath fight,
“‘Two blue, one red’ was something Anthony always inserted into our conservations as a reminder that we should take meds for our craziness,’’ Sciacca says.
Proponent of canning beer
Fifteen years ago, a few Arizona breweries were bottling beers, but almost none were canning them. Canecchia was determined to change that.
‘‘There was a saying, ‘Glass is class,’’’ says Ted Golden, who first worked with Canecchia at Rio Salado and later Four Peaks, where Golden would become head of sales. ‘‘But Anthony didn’t have the space needed for a bottling line and storing bottles.’’
Instead, SanTan installed a canning line and Canecchia began a campaign to popularize the packaging. It included launching an annual AmeriCan festival showcasing the best canned beers from across the country.
‘‘Canning has a lot of advantages over bottling,’’ Golden says. ‘‘Remember, sunlight is the enemy of beer. Anthony also introduced the first Arizona craft beer in 24-ounce cans, which I thought would never make it. Now most breweries are doing it.’’
After 22 years at Four Peaks, Golden left Tempe brewery last year when Canecchia offered him the opportunity to launch his own beer company.
‘‘He said, ‘Why don’t you come by and see what I’ve been up to?’’’ Golden recalls. ‘‘So I toured his brewery and was so impressed with how organized and structured it was. He had all the right things – a lab, two canning lines, everything like that.’’
With SanTan contract-brewing his beers, Golden created AZLOC ALE Beer Co. His first beer, Toasty Amber Lager, already is on tap at select bars and restaurants.
‘‘Anthony always wanted to find a way to help people,’’ he says.
‘We all benefit each other if we succeed’
When Derek ‘‘Doc’’ Osborne (pictured above) arrived in the Valley to open BJ’s Brewhouse in Chandler, the brewer met Canecchia almost immediately.
‘‘He welcomed me to the brewing community with open arms as the newcomer in town,’’ he says. ‘‘He was the second person I met in Arizona that I became friends with. He’d come over to the house to play Air Guitar on our Wii.’’
Osborne says the two often batted round ideas, and when SanTan opened its large production brewery about two miles from the brew pub, it started producing some beers for out-of-state BJ’s restaurants.
‘‘This took tremendous pressure off us at BJ’s,’’ says Osborne. He would turn to Canecchia again a few years later.
‘‘When I opened Pedal Haus, there were plenty of startup headaches that he bailed me out of when I needed to borrow some hops, malt, or yeast,’’ Osborne says. ‘‘He even loaned us his backup keg washer for several months.
‘‘And we were not the first. That keg washer was at Huss Brewing on loan while they were getting started up as well.
‘‘Anthony was just that kind of guy who would never question helping other breweries where he could. Anthony was extremely generous and never asked for anything in return. He really wanted to see our local beer industry grow regardless of if it’s him or others. He felt like we all benefit each other if we succeed.’’
‘Always willing to help’
Andrew Bauman remembers the day he got his first brewing job.
‘‘I went to The Perch to meet with the management team ,’’ he says. ‘‘Anthony was leaving and greeted me at the front gate, remarking to me, ‘You’re going to do great, man. Good luck and let me know if you ever need anything.’ It took me by surprise because I hadn’t yet been hired. The meeting that day was the ‘offer meeting.’
‘‘Anthony loaned us SanTan’s forklift to unload our equipment. ‘Loaned’ meaning he drove it through downtown Chandler and helped unload the equipment off the truck. Countless times when I needed advice, ingredients, or simple equipment, Anthony was always willing to help.’’
Bauman now is deputy director of the Arizona Craft Brewers Guild, which was another Canecchia cause.
‘‘His push 11 years ago to hire a full-time staffer at the guild and create an organization that more deeply represented Arizona breweries was a big reason that the guild exists as it is today,’’ Bauman says.
Jon Buford, co-founder of Arizona Wilderness Brewing, says Canecchia also was intregral to his Gilbert-based brewery.
‘‘My business partner Patrick (Ware) cut his teeth brewing with Anthony so it’s fair to assume we have some of his techniques and grit in our company,’’ Buford says ‘‘He would joke with me and razz me a bit when I entered the scene as a punk novice.
‘‘He was akin to a brewery big brother. Us new kids on the block had a lot to learn – and he knew it.
‘‘He’d kindly share insights he felt we needed to learn. Over the years he was very spirited while acknowledging our maturity as we became industry veterans. We were pretty honored that we made him proud.’’
‘Like a kid in a candy store’
One of SanTan’s most recent innovations was the addition of a mash mixer and mash press to SanTan’s production brewery. Breweries require a lot of water – an especially important issue in the Arizona desert – and the new equipment cuts water use nearly in half.
‘‘He was really excited and seemed like a kid in a candy store when he was showing it off,’’ Pedal Haus’ Osborne says. ‘‘When we last spoke a few weeks ago, he was planning on hosting the next guild meeting along with an open brew day collaboration for the members to help raise money for the guild.
‘‘We sat and talked about life in general as my role with Pedal Haus moved me a bit closer to retirement. I was wondering when he was going to cut back on his hours and enjoy life as well. His passion for growing the Arizona beer industry was his calling and he didn’t seem to have any plans to slow down anytime soon.
‘‘He sent me home with some beer and that was the last time I saw him.’’
The final time Golden saw Canecchia was at SanTan’s recent Oktoberfest celebration.
‘‘Anthony always had a big, fat wallet,’’ he says. ‘‘I said, ‘Anthony, you’re gonna hurt your back carrying that around.’’’
So Golden gave him a Chums compact wallet, a seemingly simple gesture, but Canecchia was thrilled.
‘‘Anthony had the biggest smile that day,’’ Golden remembers. ‘‘He was just one of those guys who gave a lot and didn’t expect a lot in return.’’
