Dennis Spielman

The real and imaginative adventures of Dennis Spielman

Profile: Daniel Mercer

Photo of Daniel Mercer taken by Dennis Spielman

Written by me for the Oklahoma Venture Forum.


What started with “poor decisions and lots of circumstances,” COOP Ale Works has grown into a company with a $20 million expansion plan at the former 45th Infantry Armory. Despite feeling like an outsider in the brewing community from not being a brewer himself, Daniel Mercer, CEO of Coop Ale Works, sees positives in his business-focused skill set.

“From day one, back in 2006 when Mark and J.D. and I met, one of my kind of tidbits and inputs was that we had the opportunity, in the research phase, to set a foundation for how we wanted to move forward and how diligent we wanted to be and how we wanted to run this thing,” Mercer said. “We were starting a brewery from scratch in a market that didn’t have a production brewery outside of brewpubs, which aren’t packaging breweries.”

One of the first challenges the COOP team faced was Oklahoma’s prohibitive alcohol laws, including 3.2 beer and the lack of availability of beer in grocery and convince stores. They collected data and feedback about what people in Oklahoma were drinking back in 2006. They knew Oklahomans had different tastes than what people were drinking on the coast or what people were drinking internationally. They did beer tastings in the back room of Cheever’s.

“We were interested in whether there was a receptive audience to craft beer that didn’t exist at the time,” Mercer explained.

They worked through the summer of 2006, brewing together. They then spent the next two years putting together plans, which included going to dozens of breweries around the United States. They visited with engineers, brewers, and financial people to investigate their methods of success, their histories and then built a strategy to launch COOP in the summer of 2008. They raised the initial capital, found their building, and then spent about six months building out “this little 5,000 square foot metal shack” over at 51st and Western, next to the 51st Street Speakeasy bar. They started brewing beer commercially on January 9th in 2009 and selling on March 3rd, 2009.

Now, the Armory project is going to consume Mercer’s time over the next couple of years. He believes it will create a massive economic impact in the city and around the State Capitol Complex. However, with COOP’s proven track record, raising the capital has been a challenge.

“Once you get into the core of it, we’re taking this brewery model, and we’re expanding it and adding other new businesses to our model that put us right back in the same boat that we were in 10, 12 years ago,” Mercer explained. “We’re getting into the hotel business or we’re getting into this culinary business that involves a taproom in a restaurant and a speakeasy and all these event support spaces that have culinary features and a pool club, bar. Banks have been interested but not receptive to the total deal structure and scale. It’s a large deal, and when you take a package to a bank that says you’re going to spend $36 million over 20 months, including the money we’ve already spent over the past couple of years in development, it becomes a scenario where virtually every bank is casting doubt, and then your solution, there, is to try to find alternative methods to finance your deal.”

Where others may have given up with the challenges Mercer has faced over the past two years – including modernizing a building built in 1938 with no functional plumbing, electrical or heat and air – Mercer looks for solutions from a wide assortment of resources.

“Luckily, I’ve got some historical background and tax credit work in historic preservation and, at least, exposure to deals like that and even participation and structuring some of those deals long ago,” Mercer said. “Capital can come from anywhere and it does come from everywhere. For us, in this particular deal, we’re not raising more equity, so that component of the capital stack just doesn’t exist for us. We have cash on the books that we’ve been using for development expenses over the past couple of years, and we have a number of other sources of capital in this deal.”

Mercer is excited about the opportunity in Oklahoma, for both investors to bring money in, and also for entrepreneurs to start to drive a focus around their industries.

“We spend a lot of time talking about diversifying industry in Oklahoma, and a lot of that talk is around, either, high-impact or high-level concept industries,” Mercer said. “Whether it’s biomedical research or autoimmune disease treatment or mechanical devices… things centered around the oil and gas industry that may be new technologies and hardware technologies. But there are also plenty of other industries that just aren’t near as sexy, frankly. And I think, in Oklahoma in particular, we’ve done a great job of focusing on our resources that we have. Particularly around the OU Health Science Center, around the oil and gas base that exists here and all the new technologies that have sprung out of that industry over the past, say, 20 years.”

Daniel Mercer will be speaking at the Oklahoma Venture Forum Power Lunch on Wednesday, April 8th, 2020. He’s been attending OVF since 2001 and encourages others to become a member because of the “direct exposure to a knowledge base and resources that aren’t highly-publicized in Oklahoma… and frankly anywhere.”

The Impossible Exit

All Emma wanted was a relaxing bath after a long week, but her apartment elevator wanted to lead her down an impossible hallway. 


The days and weeks had become a blur. The only reason I knew today was Saturday was because Becky posted a bubble bath selfie while holding a wine glass with the hashtag #SaturdayQuarantineQueen. I was going to copy my friend. As soon as I get inside my apartment, the bra is coming off, and then I’m going to toss my scrubs in the wash and soak in the tub until I’m a prune or catch myself falling asleep. 

My apartment elevator was empty when I stepped inside. Good. I felt too gross to be around people. With all of the non-essential businesses closed, everyone was probably already inside. I pressed the button for my place on the 14th floor, which technically was the 13th floor, but thanks to superstition, my floor was labeled the 14th. Whenever one of my friends came, they would always make snarky jokes about being on an unlucky floor. Sure, the comments annoyed me, but I would welcome the remarks if that meant seeing my friends again.

“I would do anything to get life back to normal,” I muttered.

The elevator arrived. I heard a ding, and the elevator doors opened, but I stood directly facing the door, and they didn’t move. I pressed the door open button, but nothing happened.

A murky breeze tingled my back. The elevator was single-sided, but out of confusion, I turned around to find a dimly lit, curved hallway that was impossible to be there. This room didn’t fit the building’s design at all. The digital floor display read 13, which was impossible. I pushed the close door button.

Nothing.

I pushed again, and a voice whispered down the hall, “Emma.”

“Who’s there?” I yelled back.

“Emma,” the voice called to me, louder this time.

Something about the tone reminded me of my grandmother, but I wasn’t going to leave. Then the elevator dropped a foot like the brakes had lost their grip. Between two awful choices, I choose to hurl myself out. The doors slammed shut behind me faster than they usually would.

The faded red wallpaper of the hallway had seen better days, while the dome light fixtures along the walls seemed oddly modern to me. Not that I had any experience wandering down spooky hallways. The smell reminded me of the older parts of my college library I had explored for historical books. 

I turned around to the elevator, only to find a wall.

“Guess I’m not going that way.”

I followed the curved hallway, looking for doors, but the hall kept spiraling downward. The voice calling my name got louder the further down I went. When I felt like I had traveled below the building, the voice stopped as I arrived in front of a stained glass window of the caduceus staff. I felt protected standing in the light of the two red snakes entwined around the golden-winged staff. Burning candles were placed around, like the Día de Muertos shrines I would set up with my family. 

“Free me,” the voice begged.

“How?” I asked.

“Free me,” the voice repeated, weaker.

I sighed as I took off my shoe. Channeling my softball days, I threw the shoe at the window, shattering the glass.

The voice cried out in glee, “Yes.”

A ghostly woman with a sewage-like glow floated up and out from the window. The bandages wrapped around her were torn and tattered. Her face was brittle and mummified. She smiled, revealing no teeth.

The spirit charged at me, but a staff like the one depicted in the window struck her down. 

“Not today, pestilence creature,” the old man wielding the staff ordered. He turned toward me and pointed at a door behind me that looked like my front door. “Go. Don’t give up the fight.”

The creature rose back up. “One of my sisters is already free. I can feel that you’re weak–it is delicious–and not many believe in you anymore.”

“Others will fight back, even if not in my name.”

The two fought as I ran for the door. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open into my apartment. I slammed the door behind me, and, catching my breath, I collapsed against my barrier between whatever I experienced.

I was so ready for a bath.


The Impossible Exit - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

This week’s short story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “Saturday night after a long week, you’re riding the elevator up to your apartment, it stops on your floor, and the back opens.”

I went back and forth on the ending of this story. I thought about having the scene end with the trapped monster smiling, but I wanted to end on a somewhat hopeful note. I hope you enjoyed this story and wash your hands!

Illuminations with Camille Utterback

Video interview with Bright Golden Haze artist Camille Utterback on writing software, rewarding play and making space for the body in a digital age. I was commissioned by Oklahoma Contemporary to film and edit this interview.

The Stranger in the Dark Suit

The man who has been haunting Tyler’s nightmares for the past several days takes the same bus as him. 


Tyler’s eyes snapped open to a gasp that felt stolen from his own lungs. A clammy sweat slicked his chest, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The nightmare still clung to him, a foul residue of phantom sensations—the slick, cold feel of pavement against his cheek, the jarring crack of bone, the sight of a pair of polished black shoes walking away. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the recurring images.

“Fucking stranger again,” Tyler whispered into the darkness, the words barely a puff of air.

He kept his voice low, careful not to wake his partner sleeping beside him. Rolling onto his side, Tyler wrapped an arm around his partner’s warm body, seeking an anchor in the real world. The steady rhythm of their breathing helped ease the frantic pounding in his own chest.

The dreams were always the same in their structure. Tyler would be running, his legs leaden, through some distorted version of a place he knew. And always, the tall man in the dark suit would be there. The locations and the methods of death varied with a chilling creativity, but the outcome was constant.

The stranger would catch him.

His partner had dismissed the nightmares as a side effect of too many late-night video games, but Tyler knew this feeling was different. This dread was a cold, smooth stone in his gut, a premonition that felt too real to be just a dream. He told himself the anxiety was a product of his new job and the unnerving quiet that had fallen over the world.

The following morning, Tyler stood on the street outside his apartment building, the air thick with a damp March chill. The world felt muted, as though a layer of gray gauze had been draped over everything. During the pandemic, the city had developed an eerie, watchful silence that put his nerves on edge. Still, he was grateful his job at the downtown luxury hotel was deemed “essential,” providing a small island of routine in a sea of uncertainty.

As the bus hissed to a stop, Tyler pulled his homemade face mask over his nose and mouth and climbed aboard. Every other seat was blocked off with a yellow sign warning, “FACEMASK REQUIRED.” The only other passenger was a man standing near the back. He was tall and wore a black, impeccably tailored suit and a matching fedora, a style that seemed plucked from a bygone era.

Tyler froze in the aisle. The air in his lungs turned to ice. Every muscle in his body screamed, a primal recognition that bypassed thought. Even with the distance and the mask covering his own face, Tyler’s gut knew.

This was the stranger from his nightmares.

“Take a seat,” the bus driver ordered, his voice muffled and impatient.

Tyler snapped back to the present. “Sorry.”

He slid into the nearest available seat, his gaze fixed on the floor. He risked a glance up. As he did, he could have sworn the man winked at him from the back of the bus—a slow, deliberate gesture that said, Yes, it’s me.

Tyler’s hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, desperate for a distraction. He forced his eyes to focus on the screen, scrolling through social media feeds filled with the usual cocktail of doom, gloom, and blame.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, so he switched to his phone’s camera, angling the device to catch the reflection from the window. Using his screen as a periscope to spy on the man in the back, the stranger stood unnervingly still, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed soullessly ahead.

The automated voice announced Tyler’s stop. He was a few blocks from the hotel, but the bus had stopped in front of his favorite coffee shop. A hot drink felt like a necessary shield against the morning’s chill. As Tyler stepped off the bus, he heard a second set of footsteps hit the pavement behind him.

“Be cool,” Tyler told himself, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. “He’s not following you.”

He pushed open the door to Clarity Coffee and risked a look over his shoulder. The stranger walked past the shop without a glance. A wave of relief washed over Tyler, so potent his knees felt weak. Inside, he kept his distance from the other patrons, ordered his coffee to-go, and began the final walk to work.

Downtown was a ghost town, the towering glass and steel buildings reflecting an empty sky. A low, mournful hum had replaced the usual roar of traffic. As he crossed a deserted street, the feeling of being watched returned, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

He looked behind him.

Half a block away, the stranger in the dark suit stood, watching him.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Tyler whispered, the words tasting like a lie. “But to be sure…”

Tyler turned the corner down a narrow alleyway, the smell of trash filling his nose. He pressed himself against the cold wall and peeked back around the corner.

The street was empty.

Tyler let out a shaky breath and turned forward. The stranger stood in the center of the alley, arms crossed, his eyes—dark and depthless—fixed on him.

Panic seized Tyler. He spun around to run, but a solid form blocked his path. He had slammed right into the stranger’s chest. An unnaturally large hand shot out and clamped around Tyler’s throat, lifting him off his feet. Tyler clawed at the fingers, his own hands feeling small and useless. He tried to scream, but the sound was choked off, a pathetic, strangled gasp.

No one would hear him.

The world was hiding from a different kind of monster.

“I’m only going to warn you once,” the stranger spoke, his voice a low, firm rumble that vibrated through Tyler’s skull. “Tell anyone that the hotel you work at is haunted—especially journalists—and I will make your nightmares of me a reality.”

The stranger dropped him.

Tyler collapsed to the pavement, a heap of terror and choked breaths. When he managed to look up, the man had vanished, leaving only the cold, damp air of the alley behind.

This short story was inspired by current events and the following writing prompt: “You have a recurring dream of being chased by a mysterious man in a dark suit almost every other night. This morning when getting on the bus to work, you see him sitting in the back and make eye contact. He winks at you.”

Thank you to Keith Zarraga at Design Pickle for creating this artwork to help bring the story to life!

If you want me to keep writing more stories, join me on Patreon!

Wood Willow Art Moves Performance

In collaboration with Humankind Hospitality and the Oklahoma City Arts Council, I recorded a live-performance of Wood Willow outside OSO Paseo in Oklahoma City for Art Moves. Art Moves is an Arts Council OKC initiative that provides free arts events in downtown OKC each workday from Noon-1:00, however, during the COVID-19 pandemic, the format has changed to streaming for social distancing and to let people stay inside.

If you like live-streamed concerts, be sure to check out the awesome people at Ponyboy and Factory Obscura for more shows. Want to know more about OSO Paseo? Here’s my story I did on them shortly after they opened.

Learn more about Art Moves and support them at https://www.artscouncilokc.com/art-moves/

Thank you for watching and thanks to my supporters on Patreon for helping to make Uncovering Oklahoma possible, especially during this time! This video is going to be last with Art Moves for the time being as they’ve shifted to having the artists stream at their own homes.

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