By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
By Michael Roberts
By Melanie Asmar
Libation-seekers with out-of-state IDs might not want to deposit themselves at the Bank Bar and Grill, 2239 East Colfax Avenue, on a Sunday night. Because while the Bank does offer $2 you-call-its to officially mark the end of the Sabbath, the deal is locals-only. In fact, signs on the walls advise patrons that the Bank "reserves the right to refuse service to anyone without a valid Colorado State ID."
What -- no shirts, no hiking boots, no service?
"Many nights we get some rough people in here," notes Robbie Secrist, the bar's general manager. "And we've found that most of the time the people that come in and want to cause problems are from out of state. I honestly don't even know the reason why."
Could it be rowdy groups of Cornhuskers looking to get shucked? A bunch of sassy Kansans with something to prove? Ben and Jerry, in from Vermont and talking shit? Even in native-conscious Colorado, such a policy seems pretty provincial.
"Two summers ago, we had a lot of gang activity," Secrist says. "At that time, we had a Denver police officer on the door, and he suggested the policy; he explained that when there's a lot of gang activity, a lot of it often comes from out of state. So we tried it, and it really worked for us."
That trouble was an owner ago: Last year, the Bank became part of the mighty Pete Contos empire (think Pete's Kitchen, the Satire, Pete's Greek Town Cafe, etc., etc.). With the change in ownership, the $2 you-call-it Sunday special disappeared for a while -- but now it's back, and so is the locals-only policy. Still, while the always-sell-Colorado rule is a standing one, the Bank usually enforces it only on the $2-special night.
This past Sunday, the bar was packed to the gills with Colorado drink-swillers -- and there wasn't a transplant to be found in the mix. At least eight angry out-of-staters were turned away, Secrist reports. "A lot of it is really attitude when you come up to the door," he adds. "If you're cool and there's plenty of room inside, we'll probably let you in. It's unfortunate that we have to do something like this, but we just want everyone to have a fun, safe time."
Everyone from Colorado, that is.
Chairman of the bored:On June 1, KHOW talk-show host Peter Boyles promises to unveil the first in a series of billboards (this one at 21st and California streets) funded by his Rebel Alliance and targeting politicians who haven't taken a tough stance on illegal immigration. In the meantime, get the picture at www.khow.com, where Tom Tancredo is starring as Yoda, with President George Bush playing a mean Darth Vader.
Even before the billboard's debut, there's been some light-saber rattling in opposition, including an alternative billboard proposal (http://img55.imageshack.us/img55/9315/rebelaliance21eb.jpg) coming from the self-styled Chief Morningwood. "What is more interesting?" he asks. "The abomination of the Ramsey investigation, the outrage of Dangling Dildos, the grave threat of Alien Hordes crossing the border? No, the most fascinating thing is the populist rabble-rouser with a 50,000 watt transmitter and advertising revenue pumped by sustained moral outrage! Peter Boyles, Denver's own mad prophet of the airwaves, the patriot on a Harley, the nativist leader of the Rebel Alliance -- is a target absolutely begging for parody. The medium really is the message."
May the farce be with you!
Scene and herd:Back in 1998, when he wrote the essay "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter," syndicated columnist (in the Rocky Mountain News) W. Bruce Cameronstill had a teenage daughter -- but didn't yet have a big book deal (that came three years later) or a big TV sitcom named after his breakthrough column (that came in 2002) or a speakers' bureau booking his big public appearances (that's ongoing). But last month, long after Cameron hit the very big time, there he was on the lowly football field of the Colorado School of Mines, delivering the keynote at the Conifer High School graduation, as his third and last child accepted a diploma. Rather than sing the theme from the Cameron-inspired show that died soon after John Ritterpassed away, the CHS senior choir opted for the theme of a longer-lived sitcom that spanned half of their formative years: "I'll Be There for You."
And then the rain really did start to fall.