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Every October, local watering holes roll out fall’s finest gimmicks: pumpkin-spice cocktails, an obligatory scattering of plastic skulls, and maybe even a fake spider web or two to prove they’ve got the spirit. But none of them hold a candle to what goes down at Silver Stamp.
You’ll need a moment for your eyes to adjust to the electric storm of crimson reds, ghostly purples, and jagged, shifting spider webs projected across the walls. Behind the bar, a maniacal figure hangs upside down, nailed to the ceiling in some sick re-enactment of a human spider. A drunken skeleton sloshes out toxic green ooze into a bucket beside the beer taps. Around the corner, you spot a bound clown grimacing in eternal horror. A bit further in, a chandelier of skeletal remains hangs over a table, cobbled together by webs. And that’s just the tip of the horror house iceberg.
“We said if we ever had our own bar, that we’d go over the top for all holidays,” says co-owner Andrew Signor. “Fourth of July we have the hot dog eating contest. December, it's a winter wonderland. But Halloween is definitely our favorite to decorate, for sure.”
Andrew’s partner in business and life, Rose, explains that while her husband loves the holiday itself, her inspiration comes from her love of design and pranking people.
Six to eight months before opening in 2021, the couple had already begun collecting Halloween decor, and since then their lineup of life-size animatronics and small-scale ornaments has only grown. While living in the Huntridge neighborhood, just down the road from the bar, they hit the Halloween jackpot.
“We had a neighbor who went all out every year—he’d close off the street and build a haunted house,” says Rose. “He ended up retiring from it and held a big sale. We showed up, checked out some props, and bought a few. That’s where we got Sparky.”
Sparky, is the one of a kind life-size animatronic positioned at the back of the bar. Sandbagged and tied limb by limb to an electric chair, he violently shakes, trembles and screeches at the push of a button. Exhilarating to say the least.
Other recesses of the bar rely on story-building. By the bathroom, a decomposing and distraught couple is propped in a living room setting next to a few TV dinners and Cokes. An original poem by Andrew explains the scene: “TV dinners and endless decay/Martha and Bill just wasted away.”
And at the other corner of the bar you’ll find Dead Chicken, a fortune-telling game that’ll spin a skeletal chicken until it hatches a witty line of the day. This is a delightfully spooky creation by daytime bartender Bruce Smiley Woodbury.
The $40,000 Halloween transformation happened over four nights.
“We calculated it—we put in about 60 decorating hours … four graves,” says Rose.
Now, let’s get into the real boo-ze (pun absolutely intended). The Graveyard Beers menu is as carefully curated as the decor, offering a collection of brews so potent they might just send you to the afterlife.
You’ve got 3 Floyds’ Turbo Reaper, a West Coast IPA that’s more aggressive than a chainsaw-wielding maniac. There’s Pumpkin Chai Me A River by Newtopia—cider meets pumpkin, chai, and spice, like a warming, boozy hug. Dead n’ Dead by Rogue is a Maibock aged on oak whiskey barrel chips, because, why not? And then there’s Forbidden Pumpkin by Abomination: an imperial milkshake IPA with pumpkin, spices, vanilla, and milk sugar, a sweet yet sinister concoction that's both dessert and danger.
But if the booze doesn’t do the trick, the soundtrack sure as hell will. Curated by the owners the playlist is a tightrope walk through ‘80s, new wave, goth, punk and Halloween novelty rock. It's the soundtrack for late-night misadventures.
SILVER STAMP 222 E Imperial Ave, (702) 970-6457, silverstamplv.com, open daily, 1pm-1am.
English (US) ·