From open to close at one of Denver's best dives: The Nob Hill

Walter, or Uncle Wally, as he often refers to himself, is the Nob Hill's patron saint of protection. He smokes his cloves in the back alley when we smoke, to make sure we're safe. He checks the IDs of everyone he hasn't met before, to make sure the bar's safe. When a friend starts commiserating about romantic troubles and other stresses, and it's obvious the whole bar is listening, Walter pipes in from the dartboard. "It's called Nob Hill Therapy. You tell everyone your problems and they go away." When there's a lull in the conversation, he threads a black plastic drinking straw in one nostril and out the other. Just for fun. And when last call's been called, he plays the "greatest song on any jukebox in Denver," which turns out to be David Allan Coe's "Fuckin in the Butt" (though the juke listing calls it "Dedication to the Mickey Mouse Club"). The chorus goes, "I'd like to fuck the shit out of you." Four times. Twice during the song. Walter sings every line.

John, the ringleader of the Greatest Show on Colfax and the gatekeeper to euphoric glee, is everywhere at once. Just after 1:30 a.m., he's standing in the back doorway sucking on the end of a loosely rolled cigar, explaining that John Arthur Love, governor of Colorado from 1963-'73, put himself through law school bartending at the Nob; that Dylan and Motörhead hang out here when they're in town; that the bar's go-to cabbie once held sixteen consecutive power-lifting world championships.

John Plessinger in a booth at the Nob Hill Inn, the bar his father put in his name back in 1969, when he was 21.

Location Info

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Nob Hill Inn

420 E. Colfax Ave.
Denver, CO 80203

Category: Bars/Clubs

Region: Central Denver

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We're talking about the whole "dive" dilemma — not all barkeeps and proprietors appreciate the term, although a banner over the Nob Hill's entrance notes that Westword has named it "Best Dive Bar" — when Laura, the bartendress at the Roslyn, comes up the back steps and, with no knowledge of our current conversation topic, offers, "I don't like this whole 'dive bar' thing, you know. I think 'neighborhood bar' is a lot better."

John and I make eye contact/Decide to leave it alone. Wish Laura a safe trip home. Pick up where we left off.

What's in a name? That which we call a dive, by any other name, is still a damn dive. Long live the Nob Hill Inn. — Drew Bixby