Photo by Michael Roberts
Audio By Carbonatix
Regas Christou has opened dozens of venues in Denver over the past forty years. But arguably his most famous is The Church, a nightclub encased within a desanctified house of worship at 1160 Lincoln Street. The space opened to the dance, music and party-loving public in 1994, and remains an icon of the Mile High City’s entertainment scene.
Christou sold The Church in 2024, during a period when he insisted that he was winding down his assorted enterprises. But he’s certainly not acting like someone on the road to retirement. He’s still trying to launch Parea, a spot at 40 East 11th Avenue that he describes as a “listening lounge,” and has loudly shared his concerns about Denver’s plan to revise the way licenses are granted to commercial entities ranging from performance-oriented watering holes to pool halls.
In the meantime, Christou recently bought another church, this one at 701 East 23rd Street in Five Points. The purchase price was incredibly cheap: Christou says he paid only $60,000 for it. But transforming it into the gem of his dreams—he envisions an events center for weddings and other big gatherings that can also offer live jazz on the weekends — will take a helluva lot of work.
“After we bought it,” he says, “the ceiling fell down.”
Photo by Michael Roberts
Did it ever. Water damage caused the overhead beams to rain down on rows of pews, most of which were smashed to bits as a result. And the rest of the facility’s interior is in strikingly poor repair. The church may look gorgeous on the outside, but the interior is a complete shambles.
Not that the challenge bothers Christou. “It’s a lot of work,” he says. “But do you know what I like? A lot of work.”
According to a post on the Construction Reporter website from January 2025, around the time the place went on the market, the structure was completed in 1890 and offers 4,800 square feet of space on a 9,275 square-foot corner lot. For many years, it served as the home of a Church of God in Christ parish, and more recently was used as an office for Comfort Care, a hospice-service provider, as well as the Five Points Business Association. The Construction Reporter item adds that “the building has been granted a historic easement designation by the nonprofit Historic Denver group, which prohibits the demolition of the property or any modifications that will harm its historic character.”
Photo by Michael Roberts
As for how this particular pile wound up in his portfolio, Christou shares a typically colorful account.
“I bought it on a phone call,” he begins. “I looked at it from the outside a year ago, when they were asking $1.2 million. Then it went down to $600,000, and $400,000 after that. Then my realtor calls me and says, ‘Regas, the price went down to $200,000. Are you interested?’
“I said ‘no,’ because I couldn’t even imagine what I would have to go through with the city and the historical society to do the project,” he recalls. “And if it turned into too much bullshit, I’d have to sell it and get my money back and get out.”
Photo by Michael Roberts
But that didn’t turn out to be the final word. “The realtor called me up the next day and said, ‘The lady wants to know what you would pay,'” Christou sayys. “I said, ‘$30,000,’ and he says, ‘I’m not going to tell her that. It’s embarrassing,’ and hangs up the phone.”
Nonetheless, this lowball offer was passed along. Then, he recounts: “The realtor said, ‘They didn’t accept it. But would you pay $60,000?’And I said, ‘Okay.'”
The deal was finalized before Christou had set foot in the place, and after the ceiling crash, he was glad he hadn’t ponied up more. He paid $275,000 for the original Church in the early 1990s, but it was in infinitely better condition than his latest acquisition.
Photo by Michael Roberts
Right now, Christou is in the midst of assessing what needs to be done to make this church safe and accessible, and where to start. Given that he is still in a learning stage about the property, as well as the size and scope about what might be wrong with it beyond the obvious, he has yet to settle on a specific design scheme or a target date for a grand opening. But he hopes to get going on renovations in the next five or six months and has already set some priorities. For instance, he loves the stained-glass windows and has reached out to an expert he hopes can restore them to their original glory. He needs to hurry, though, since someone recently hurled a projectile through one of them, leaving a sizable hole.
The idea of presenting jazz artists on occasion seems firmer, for personal reasons. Christou admits that it’s hard for him to visit the dance clubs he continues to own, including Milk Bar, at 1037 Broadway, because the thunderous bass is too much for him these days.
In the meantime, he must navigate the vagaries of bureaucracy. Christou says that a representative from one city agency ordered him to remove a chain-link fence around the church only to have a staffer from a different agency tell him to put it back up. He punctuates this anecdote with a mirthless laugh.
Whatever he eventually decides to do with the placed, he stresses that he won’t get going until after he holds a community meeting where he will explain his concept in detail to those who live nearby. He maintains that the neighbors he’s spoken with are excited about the event=center concept, and he thinks the finished product will significantly raise their property values. But if the residents ultimately decide that they don’t want him to push forward, he says he’ll sell it and move on.
This timeline means Christou won’t be able to drift into a life of leisure for quite a while. “I feel like — what’s his name, Al Pacino?” he wonders, in reference to the most famous line from The Godfather Part III. “Just when I’m trying to get out, you pull me right back in.” But he believes he’ll never get another chance to reimagine an old building like this second church again, and he sees it as his last big project.
If the whole thing doesn’t collapse before he can save it, that is.
