By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
By Michael Roberts
By Melanie Asmar
While the rest of the city celebrated seventy years of post-Prohibition carousing on Monday -- the Pub at Rockies Brewing sold over a hundred 33-cent pints in honor of that great day in 1933 when alcohol again flowed freely -- the Denver-based Prohibition Party was silent on April 7. Rather than staging a rally on the banality of booze or swinging a hatchet, Carry Nation-like, at a set of saloon doors, the party let the anniversary pass in cold, stone-sober silence.
"We don't consider repeal a thing to observe," explains Earl Dodge, the party's seventy-year-old chairman. "We believe that in the long run, we're going to have a form of Prohibition again." But if we do, it won't be because of the teetotaling party's savvy organizing. Dodge, who has held the group's top spot since 1979, can't provide exact membership numbers for his party, since most states only allow voters to register Democrat, Republican or independent. But there were fewer than forty attendees at the Prohibition Party's 1999 convention, and Dodge, the party's perennial candidate for president, captured just 208 votes in the 2000 election. (The only state ballot on which his name appeared was Colorado's.)
Still, Dodge sees the no-smoking campaigns across Colorado as a harbinger of things to come. "When I was growing up, smoking was accepted," he points out, "and if anyone told me that there would be a day when people didn't smoke and there were laws prohibiting it, I would have laughed. That's the direction the country is going -- against booze."
Maybe the devout Christian has missed the whole John Hickenlooper for Mayor campaign. The owner of the Wynkoop Brewing Co. -- in the heart of Denver's wettest neighborhood -- as well as six other neighborhood taverns has placed a close third in recent polls, right behind Don Mares and Ari Zavaras. And Hickenlooper even used bar coasters -- "Vote, baby, vote" -- to urge people of legal age for both voting and drinking to register by the deadline so that they could cast a ballot in the May 6 mayoral election.
That deadline, not coincidentally, was April 7 -- the anniversary of Prohibition's repeal. And we can only imagine the Prohibition Party's reaction if a purveyor of the devil's brew becomes mayor of Colorado's capitol city. It's enough to drive a fellow to drink.
Fortunately, Denver has plenty of good places to do that -- some dating back to Prohibition's repeal, some dating further back still. (That long, dry spell between 1916 and 1933 killed a thousand of the state's saloons, according to author and historian Tom Noel, himself a liquid asset.) Although the Buckhorn Exchange, at 1000 Osage Street, first opened in 1893, its notorious "Liquor License #1" dates not to the restaurant's founding, but to that post-Prohibition day when owner Henry Zietzdecided to do things right and proper, and cozied up to a friend in the city to make it legal. Jerry Krantz has been at El Chapultepec, the legendary jazz club at 1962 Market Street, since 1958 -- but the bar has been there much longer. Since July 4, 1933, to be exact, when Tony Romano, Krantz's grandfather, opened the saloon to mark the end of Denver's real drought.
Angel eyes: Denver's Department of Traffic Engineering Services needs to lighten up.
Last weekend, alert travelers were shocked and bemused to discover an angel on the pedestrian traffic signal at South University Boulevard and Evans Avenue. So shocked, our roving Off Limits reporter had to drive by the light on the southeast corner three times just to be sure it wasn't a trick of the eye. And it wasn't. When walking was forbidden, the usual red hand glowed -- but when it was time to move, a guardian angel guided pedestrians to and fro.
Thinking that the electric seraph might be in honor of the Iliff School of Theology just down the street, we called Robert Kochevar, director of traffic engineering services for the city, to find out more. He found our query far from heaven sent. "That kind of stuff does not meet standards, and we'll take care of it," he said, in his most officious public-official voice. Ninety minutes later, as spokeswoman Patty Weiss was explaining the situation to us -- "The Manual Uniform Traffic Code says it must be a person symbol. That is what is required, and it was not intentional to make it anything other than that" -- a repair crew was already at the intersection, removing the situation.
According to Tim,your friendly neighborhood traffic-signal repair guy (who supplied only his first name), every traffic-signal box contains a thin piece of plastic sheeting that's painted black except for the hand symbol, which is red, and the person symbol, which is white. Two lightbulbs behind that sheeting take turns shining through, creating the universally understood signals. As frequently happens, Tim said, the paint had begun peeling off the sheeting in this particular traffic light -- but the angel image was not intentional.
Unless you chalk it up to divine intervention.