People & Places

Deep thoughts paid off big this year for Holmes Rolston III, a philosophy professor at Colorado State University since 1968, who won the million-dollar Templeton Prize for his research advancing the understanding of spiritual realities.

Before he died, Bill Daniels, the cable entrepreneur, poured much of his considerable fortune into the Daniels Fund, which subsidizes numerous good works. But perhaps its most impressive accomplishment is the Daniels College Prep Program, which has helped hundreds of students attend college — despite their “non-traditional” high-school profiles. The intensive pro-

gram includes college-prep workshops, summer seminars on a local campus, and volunteer coaches in the senior year of high school to help students prepare for college — and, perhaps, apply for a Daniels Scholarship.

Think you’ve got it bad today? Times were much tougher during the Silver Panic, when families were large and “orphan trains”

brought more than 1,500 abandoned children to Denver from the overcrowded East. Some of the children handed over to the Denver Orphans’ Home for safekeeping didn’t survive bouts with pneumonia and diphtheria; 22 children who died at the home between 1890 and 1910 were buried in tiny, unmarked graves at Riverside. But those graves are unmarked no longer: Cliff Dougal, Riverside’s office sales manager, was inspired by Lola Russell of the Northglenn Senior Center to raise $2,500 to pay for a granite memorial at the cemetery. That memorial, inscribed with the names of the orphans who died in Denver, was dedicated this past October.

Fifteen-year-old Caitlyn Craig, a Chatfield High School student, died in a car accident this year — one of a half-dozen teens from the southern suburbs who’ve been killed in crashes recently. To help ensure that the tragic count diminishes in future years, Craig’s family has set up a memorial fund in her name, with the money going toward re-establishing a driver’s education course at Chatfield — one of many educational programs that have been eliminated because of budget cuts.

Colorado’s courts are in a world of hurt financially, as is every other governmental institution these days, and court employees will be missing out on several days’ pay this year. To help ease the pain for 120 Denver District Court workers, the district’s twenty judges each contributed $600 to an employees’ fund, just in time for the holidays. “We’re all in this together,” said Judge John Coughlin, who proposed the do-good idea. Not quite: The judges earn $104,000 a year, far more than most of their employees — but they’re still among the lowest-paid district-court judges in the country.

We’ve missed Paul Weissmann, a Louisville bartender in his real life, who enlivened many a session as a senator at the Statehouse. Now the Democrat is back as a state representative, and he’s not wasting any time proposing improvements. While several of his suggestions have run up against the Republican wall, he’s managed to push a few through on his own. For example, Weissmann wanted the Capitol dome reopened to visitors (it had been shut first out of safety concerns, then budgetary cutbacks), so he volunteered to staff the visitors’ desk at the base of the Capitol stairs at lunchtime.

As Governor Roy Romer’s insurance commissioner in the mid-’90s, Jack Ehnes was a local consumers’ hero, always fighting for the little guy. Although most of his innovative reforms have since been undone, he’s still in there pitching for Colorado consumers — albeit indirectly. As chief executive officer of the California State Teachers Retirement System, the third-largest public pension fund in the nation, Ehnes is part of the group’s lawsuit against Qwest Communications, its founder Phil Anschutz, former chief executive Joseph Nacchio and several investment-banking companies. The suit, filed in December, accuses them of engaging in fraudulent schemes that cost California teachers $150 million from investments in Qwest stocks and bonds. The defendants deny the claims. Welcome back, Jack.

When the sheer ingenuity of the complex financial shenanigans arranged for Enron by no-accountants Arthur Andersen was revealed, the call went out from Washington to Professor Lynn Turner at sleepy old Colorado State University. A seemingly mild-mannered professor of accounting, in a previous life Turner served as chief accountant of the Securities and Exchange Commission, making him the go-to guy to help congressional investigators, reporters and suffering investors find the money. His specialties are financial reporting and disclosure by public companies in the U.S. capital markets, as well as related corporate governance matters — in short, everything Enron and Andersen conspired to manipulate. Turner left the SEC to head up his alma mater’s Center for Quality Financial Reporting in August 2001, just four months before Enron declared bankruptcy. Since then, he’s been an expert witness and reliable source for not only government hearings, but for all the major news outlets, and he’s refreshingly candid in indicting the inadequacy of current accounting practices.

Come Cinco de Mayo, check out the award-winning, tricked-out lowrider on Federal Boulevard — the one with the red, white and blue lights on the top. That guy in uniform standing next to it isn’t writing out a ticket; the lowered 1998 Ford Crown Victoria with hydraulic shocks and a trunkload of speakers is his squad car. Nash Gurule knows all about cruising, having perfected the art during his younger days on West 38th Avenue, before he joined the Denver Police Department. Now he uses that knowledge, and his custom-painted car, to bond with the cruising community.

Instead of requiring that minor criminal offenses be reported in person, the Denver Police Department now allows you to do it electronically, expanding on an earlier program that let residents report minor traffic accidents over the Web. To report a theft (not by force or burglary), car break-in (not auto theft), lost or stolen property, or vandalism of property or vehicle, simply fill out an online form and submit it to the DPD over the Internet. That gives officers more time to respond to true emergencies — and it definitely removes a headache for the victim.

As bad news about the St. Vrain Valley School District budget spilled out last fall, a group of Silver Creek High School students decided to help save their school district — and also stem the flow of erroneous information. They set up the Web site www.poorschool.com, to “provide a medium through which accurate information is available and which can be used to preserve and broadcast the free speech of the people affected by the St. Vrain Valley School District budget crisis.” That free speech includes jokes, rumor-busting and the sale of T-shirts — complete with a poorschool.com logo and a red arrow — to help replenish the student-activities fund. Give students Eric McIntyre, Mark Kelsic and Mitch Lubbers an A for effort.

Denver Public Library reference librarians are on call 24/7 to answer your questions over the Internet. You can chat online with a SmartyPants reference librarian or e-mail your question through the DPL’s Web site. You’ll soon get an answer, along with an e-mail tracing the steps the librarian took to find it. And even if the question can’t be readily answered, your helpful researcher will point you in the right direction.

Ken Carpenter, curator of paleontology at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science, was rooting through a cabinet drawer at Yale University’s Peabody Museum when he came across a fossilized tooth. And not just any tooth: The three-and-a-half-inch-long specimen, first found in Golden in 1874, then stashed at the Peabody, turned out to be a 67-million-year-old tooth from a Tyrannosaurex rex — giving the Yale museum a nice display piece, and giving Colorado bragging rights for having made the earliest T. rex find.

On the one hand, big nasty piles of illegally dumped tires, just waiting to spontaneously combust. On the other, thousands of pre-teen soccer players and their parents, banned from parched playing fields. Can one be used to remedy the other? Yes! And the state wants to help play matchmaker. The Poudre School District required artificial turf-maker Sprinturf to use rubber recycled from discarded tires as in-fill when a field at Rocky Mountain High School was resurfaced last summer; the Colorado Waste Tire Program covered about 10 percent of the cost, or $52,000, as thanks for removing thousands of used tires from the Colorado landscape, and the rest will pay for itself in seven years through reduced maintenance costs. The field never needs watering, and the high school has been flooded with requests to use it by other area teams whose parched fields have been placed off limts for spring practices.

The bad news about Colorado’s drought was still trickling out last summer when Denver Water decided to alert the public — gently — to a potentially dire situation. The agency’s $75,000 “It’s a Drought. Do Something” campaign — designed by Sukle Advertising and Design in Lakewood– debuted in the heat of July, with people standing on street corners wearing old-fashioned sandwich boards and T-shirts, urging people to “Brush every other tooth,” “Instead of a dishwasher, get a dog” and “Shower in groups.” The campaign spilled over into bars, too, where special coasters told consumers to “Save Water. Drink Beer.” The popular and populist approach was a hit, but Sukle took one, too; Even though the campaign won eight awards in Denver Advertising Federation show, Denver Water awarded its 2003 conservation contract to O’Brien Advertising.

In January, the Rocky Mountain News ran this correction on page two: “The cover photo of today’s Spotlight section shows a snowshoer rather than a cross-country skier.” Bet they know the difference now.

Two days after the new leaders of the Colorado General Assembly were sworn in this session, a correction appeared in the Denver Post: “Because of a reporter’s error, Diane Carman’s column on the Denver and the West cover Thursday incorrectly stated that Colorado House Speaker Lola Spradley’s mother was among the family members at the Capitol on Wednesday to witness her swearing in. Spradley’s mother is deceased.” Easy mistake, though: In her speech, Spradley had referred to her mother, who passed away three decades earlier, looking “down from above.” Guess Carman thought she wound up in the cheap seats.

We’ll admit it: At first the Rocky Mountain News‘s new design hurt our eyes, and we couldn’t imagine how the paper would continue to fill its “channels” — those left-hand columns earmarked for chatty tidbits, quotes and “by the numbers” trivia. But the News adjusted some type, we adjusted our expectations — and the channels just kept getting better and better. The most successful of all: The Stump, with notes, odd news and observations from the campaign trail.

Greg Moore, a former managing editor with the Boston Globe who was cherry-picked by owner Dean Singleton for the position of Denver Post editor, has been on the job for less than a year, but he’s already done what many observers thought would be impossible: He’s got people talking about a paper previously regarded as stodgy and deadly dull. The Post isn’t yet the great American newspaper that Moore and Singleton envision; there’s still a long way to go. But Moore’s energy and drive have helped make this goal seem like an actual possibility rather than the haziest of pipe dreams. The rest is up to him.

Chemistry is hard to define but easy to recognize — and Channel 9’s Gary Shapiro, Kyle Dyer, Kathy Sabine, Gregg Moss and Drew Soicher have it. They take the prize again this year for their ability to balance news updates of actual significance with lighthearted shenanigans that should be irritating during the a.m. hours, but aren’t. For the most part.

Molly Hughes has proven to be a strong addition to Channel 4’s late broadcast, and she’ll get strong support when Jim Benemann’s non-compete with Channel 9 expires and he’s able to join her at the anchor desk sometime this fall. The real key to the ten o’clock newcast’s success, though, isn’t its on-air personnel or flashy graphics, but its newsiness. The station’s investigative unit, spearheaded by Brian Maass (who’s more adept at pissing off the authorities than any of his peers), is consistently strong — and not just during sweeps season, either. This dedication to substance gives Channel 4’s late-night entry a vitality and heft sadly lacking in its competition.

During most sportscasts, the focus is on boys, boys, boys; it’s as if Title IX never went into effect. But Colorado Sportswomen, a semi-regular program hosted by Channel 4 longtimer Marcia Neville, puts the focus on the other gender, demonstrating along the way that ath-

letes aren’t defined by their jockstraps. The Foundation of American Women in Radio and Television recently named Neville best program host for her Colorado Sportswomen work — a well-deserved honor for a broadcaster who’s toiled for years in dudes’ shadows.

Mark McIntosh’s delivery is fiery and pugnacious; when taking viewers through highlights of a sporting event, he often seems ready, willing and able to jump into the action himself. He’s also a good writer and reporter who knows when to shut up and let the pictures do the talking and when to step up and swing for the fences.

When Jim Benemann recently floated the possibility in the press that he might move from Channel 9 to its closest competitor, Channel 4, many industry observers viewed it as a negotiating strategy. But he was serious: On March 21, Channel 4 announced that Benemann, who’d once been a weekend anchor at that station, would be returning to the fold. This move — and the pride with which Channel 4 announced it — testifies to Benemann’s growing stature in the market. Over a few short years, he’s gone from playing second fiddle alongside Channel 9 co-anchor Adele Arakawa to earning a reputation as one of the area’s most solid and reliable personalities. Denver — and Benemann — can now bank on those qualities.

When most weather forecasters predict storms or systems that either fail to materialize or blow up to much larger proportions than they anticipated, they seldom acknowledge it. Bob Goosmann, on the other hand, is the rare weatherman who’ll admit to screwups and explain where things went wrong. He’s not afraid to take chances, as he did when positing that the scope of our March blizzard could be “historic.” (Hit that one on the nose, didn’t he?) But Goosmann makes it clear — by, among other things, calculating likely temperature ranges instead of pinpointing exact numbers — that he’s in the business of educated guesses, not telling the future. To put it another way, he’s the most honest weatherman in the market, and we’re the better for it.

In a radio world marked by conformity, Radio 1190, a signal affiliated with the University of Colorado at Boulder, provides a refreshing blast of individuality. The DJs at the outlet, whether they’re working standard shifts or specialized shows, are distinguished from their professional counterparts by a love of fresh, outside-the-mainstream sounds, and their unpolished exuberance is infectious. As a result, Radio 1190 is wonderfully old-fashioned and exceedingly contemporary at exactly the same time.

As Joni Mitchell sang, you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. In recent years, Clough has co-hosted The Fan‘s morning-drive program, and while he could be cranky and curmudgeonly, he also brought rare perspective and intelligence to a medium that’s frequently lacking in both. Clough was replaced on the show by Lou From Littleton, an inveterate homer whose shtick is wearing thinner with each passing day. Fortunately, Clough has been moved to an evening slot that, though a little harder to find, still allows him to present the spicy views and incisive opinions that set him apart from other sports-talk yakkers.

KNRC, which debuted last summer, hasn’t yet challenged the hegemony of the assorted Clear Channel outlets that dominate the local news-talk market. But Greg Dobbs, a former ABC-TV correspondent who manned a talk-show for KOA during the ’90s, is certainly doing his part. His morning-drive offerings are consistently intelligent and wide-ranging, providing substantive discussions about topics obvious and obscure. In addition, Dobbs serves as the host of State of Colorado, a Friday morning KNRC discussion show derived from a longtime Channel 6 staple. The program works far better on radio than it ever did on TV — and Dobbs has made the transition just as well.

Most of us realize that a hefty percentage of the shows on Denver radio stations are repetitive, creativity-free and capable of insulting the intelligence of the average house plant, yet we don’t do anything about it but complain. So kudos to Jon-Michael DeShazer, who refuses to take the mediocrity of local radio lying down. DenverRadioSucks.com, the Internet site he oversees, is a forum for all listeners who are mad as hell about what’s happening on the airwaves and don’t want to take it anymore.

John Hickenlooper isn’t your usual candidate for mayor of Denver, and so it was no surprise when he came up with an unusual TV ad. Still, when so many Colorado political ads are either heavy-handed or ham-handed in delivering their message, “Suit,” which shows Hickenlooper trying on an assortment of vintage outfits, was a breath of fresh air in what promises to be a very windy campaign.

The fall 2002 campaign season was among the noisiest, and dirtiest, on record. So it came as a blessed relief when Bighorn Ballot produced a spot in which a peaceful nature scene was supplemented at its conclusion with a graphic reading “This moment of political silence brought to you by Bighorn Ballot, sponsor of Issues 28 and 29.” Since both of those measures were rejected by voters, though, don’t expect the experiment to be repeated again by anyone other than the folks at Rocky’s Autos, who’ve used a similar concept the past two holiday seasons. But the tranquility was nice while it lasted.

Although conservative commentators have long held that news programming on television has a liberal slant, the media as a whole is generally more interested in maintaining the status quo than in fighting the powers that be. Not so Free Speech TV, a channel out of Boulder that’s viewable by subscribers to the DISH Network system. This grassroots operation is unabashedly progressive — a haven for those who want television that states its opinions clearly instead of pretending that it doesn’t have any.

For a few glorious weeks last year, Skyjack Radio, a thoroughly illegal radio station, knocked the Denver hip-hop community on its collective ass with uncut rap delivered with sheer exuberance and plenty of profanities. When representatives of the FCC caught wind of the signal, they promptly shut it down, but not before it reminded listeners of how fun and exciting the radio medium can be when it’s under the control of music lovers instead of corporate suits more interested in profits than beats.

Chronologically, the baby-faced Alex Stone, who’s in his early twenties, may be the youngest full-time radio reporter in the city. But he’s also the most versatile, with a proven ability to anchor broadcasts, deliver newscasts or work in the field — and he handles breaking news, background pieces and light fodder with equal skill. Considering his talent, and his recent graduation from the University of Colorado, he may not remain in Denver for long. So enjoy his work while you can.

For years, self-proclaimed “troubleshooter” Tom Martino has had trouble directly under his nose: a thick mustache that made it seem as if he had something to hide (like, perhaps, a secret fondness for Geraldo Rivera?). By relegating this accoutrement to his bathroom trash can, he instantly cleaned up his image. On the face of things, anyway.

Then again, there’s much to be said for no-nonsense hair — a style that doesn’t look as if it needs the equivalent of an Indianapolis 500 pit crew to assemble. So here’s to veteran broadcaster Tamara Banks, who, in a profession dominated by salon junkies, prefers a look that’s simple, elegant, and not in any way reminiscent of plastic by-products.

An entire generation of Denver television viewers grew up admiring the coiffure of onetime Channel 9 icon Mike Landess, and why not? His ‘do was so perfectly geometrical during his ’70s and ’80s heyday that it seemed to have been fashioned in a Mattel factory. As seen today on Channel 7, the distinctive helmet is grayer, but just as flawless. Making sure every follicle was in place would be a full-time job for most of us, so Landess is to be applauded for also having time to deliver the news.

TV station Web sites regularly feature biographical material about their featured personalities, and the vast majority of it is about as spicy as a brick of Velveeta. But the bio of Dan Daru, Channel 2’s wild card, is a notably cheesy exception. His tale, accessible at WB2.trb.com, claims that he was born with “an extra pair of lips on his left cheek”; insists that he won a be-a-reporter-for-a-day contest several years ago but still keeps showing up; and states that he’s “imbalanced,” “very dangerous” and “thinks he is a goat.” His turn-ons include “dog toys, milk, blue toilet water and the smell of paint,” and his turn-offs are “Fig Newtons, luggage and the letter Q.” There’s such a thing as too much information, Dan.

Most television news types would do anything to avoid making spectacles of themselves, including having their eyes lasered so that they don’t have to wear glasses. But Stacey Donaldson, a second-string weather forecaster on the local Fox affiliate, rejects this theory, opting to wear a pair of dark-framed, oval-rimmed glasses that make her stand out from local news’s look-alike pack. People with impaired vision, unite! You have nothing to lose but your squint.

For years, the Aurora Sentinel has published photos of men convicted of soliciting ladies, and gents, of the night. But this past July, Denver and its television station, Channel 8, upped the ante on anti-prostitution efforts with the launch of Johns TV, a televised marathon of mug shots that aired six nights a week; “As Seen on Johns TV,” a Web version of the program, could also be accessed at www.denvergov.org/johnstv/. The show quickly became a huge success, talked about nationally and aped by Detroit — but with its success came the seeds of its own destruction: Johns TV had to go on winter hiatus because it was running out of johns. (Some reports credit the show with a 40 percent decrease in soliciting in Denver.) Whatever its social value, Johns TV has opened up a whole new world of entertainment in local cable access, without the hassle of confusing plot lines, scripted dialogue — or actors going on a Tony Soprano-like strike for more pay. We got your reality TV right here.

Winter in Colorado is no time to be sporting a swimsuit, but that didn’t stop the intrepid folks at Sports Illustrated from their quest to show almost-naked women in the most exotic spots around the globe — Vietnam, Barbados, Kenya, Meeker. Meeker? For this year’s swimsuit edition, SI headed out to Seven Lakes Lodge, an exclusive (rooms go for $1,230 a night, double occupancy), eleven-room lodge outside the town of Meeker. In a spread titled “Hunting, Fishing and Wishing in Colorado,” Old Navy model Molly Sims was shown fly-fishing — topless, of course — in hip waders, and also straddling a log fence wearing nothing more than a black bikini and rubber boots. Ah, the great outdoors! She looked silly, but the place looked gorgeous.

Gary Magness and Sarah Siegel, both children of Colorado celebs (he’s the son of late cable magnate Bob Magness; she’s the daughter of Celestial Seasonings founder Mo Siegel), are not only jet-setting, they’re trend-setting: The pair’s nuptials were featured in the spring 2003 edition of In Style Weddings. The casino owner and underwear designer, respectively, got married at the Mexican resort of Costa Careyes, where they flew in fifty guests by chartered jet. Eleven months later, Hollywood stars Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar wed there. Maybe the Phipps Mansion was booked?

The sitcom Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter doesn’t bear a close resemblance to the book of the same title by W. Bruce Cameron, who honed his humor while raising a family in Evergreen and started his writing career by syndicating a column over the Web that was picked up by the Rocky Mountain News. True, John Ritter plays a writer. And true, he does have a nubile teenage daughter on the show — two nubile teenage daughters, in fact, as well as the obligatory wisecracking son and a practical wife, played by Katey Segal. But that’s where the similarity ends: Cameron’s much funnier than the ABC show. Still, Eight Simple Rules is one of the few hits of the TV season and has opened new doors for the writer, who’s currently working on a screenplay in Hollywood.

Is it possible? Can nice guys finish first? Week after week, much of America pondered that question as bachelor after bachelor fell by the wayside on ABC’s The Bachelorette. Meanwhile, hunky former football player and current Vail firefighter Ryan Sutter kept on keeping on, looking like a lovable lug, talking about how much he loves his dog and occasionally reciting poetry to bachelorette Trista Rehn, runner-up on last season’s The Bachelor. When Ryan took Trista on a dream date to his adopted home town, for example, he wooed her with this:

Imagine a place fit for angels

Where laughter fills the air.

The whole place fresh and clean

Smells like it just washed its hair.

Apparently Trista’s a Breck girl, because she picked Ryan. They’re even talking marriage, and so far, theirs appears to be the only reality-TV romance that has a shot at surviving in the real world.

Like just about everything else in Vail, the town’s new manhole covers were pretty classy — and after a few were stolen right out of the ground, town officials decided to change the way visitors procured their souvenirs. Now you can buy your own cast-iron Vail manhole cover, emblazoned with the original Vail logo, the resort’s 1962 founding date and its elevation. The covers come in two sizes: a 52-pound, two-foot-diameter version that costs $295 (and definitely qualifies as extra baggage when you’re flying home after a ski vacation), and a six-pound, eight-inch-diameter miniature that runs only $65.

Down in Pueblo, the Word of Jesus Christ Church needed money for a new building. And pastor Albert Struck thought he knew exactly where to get it: by auctioning off a 1986 Honda Accord that had been donated to the church. Normally, a 1986 Accord won’t bring that much cash on eBay — but this car had a critical extra. It had been driven, and donated, by the murderous Texas Seven while they hid out in Colorado two years ago. With the car came a note: “May God bless you the way he has blessed us.”

From the darkness of his troubled adolescence in Arkansas, Doyle Robinson found the light: He would draw upon his own pain to help troubled teens. From his early days handing out tube socks to homeless kids on the 16th Street Mall, Robinson’s vision has grown to include Sox Place, a converted downtown auto shop that’s now Denver’s only daytime drop-in youth center, where kids can find a warm bowl of soup, a quiet place to crash, easy camaraderie and the occasional punk concert. And if they’re seeking spiritual guidance, Robinson — an ordained minister with the Assembly of God — can offer that, too. But he prefers action to words, showing the power of faith rather than preaching it.

Sure, we miss having the airport close to the city — but at least Denver got something out of the deal. Last year, the Stapleton redevelopment project received the James C. Howland Urban Enrichment Silver Award from the National League of Cities for its contributions to the urban environment. The old airport is being redeveloped into a combination of housing, shops, office buildings and parks, incorporating such elements of traditional neighborhood design as tree-lined streets, parks, front porches and old-time architecture, with 21st-century technology and sensibilities (including drought-resistant landscaping). And 21st-century capitalism: There was never a Wal-Mart on Main Street.

“If you build it, they will come” is a hackneyed Hollywood phrase that’s sunk deep into the American lexicon; apparently it served as the mantra of the optimistic developers behind Coyote Ridge at Strasburg. For all you agoraphobics and urban dwellers, Strasburg is a sleepy little hamlet 35 miles east of Denver on I-70, where Coyote Ridge boasts single-family homes starting in the $170s. The four sunny models — the Sunset, the Twilight, the Daybreak and the Sunrise — would fit right into the happy suburban confines of Highlands Ranch, Aurora or Broomfield. Except, of course, that these are in Strasburg (hit Limon and you’ve gone too far). If you’re sick of T-Rex traffic, the brown cloud and 24-hour grocery stores, you may have a home in Coyote Ridge, Colorado’s best far-out example of urban sprawl. Or is it just far out?

They shoot horses, don’t they? The mechanical ponies that grazed for pennies near grocery-store entrances may well be moving from threatened animals to full-blown endangered-species status. For decades, the brightly colored “equus plasticus” has been sufficiently attractive to compel tots to hop aboard for a slow rocking and their first real taste of sheer boredom. Now, as shopping has become our national obsession, most retailers have found that they need to get kids out of the foyer and into the aisles, where they can badger their parents to make purchases. And so many mechanical penny ponies have been put out to pasture. Just north of downtown, the creatures are corraled, nuzzle to hock, in a chain-link enclosed yard to wait out that awkward time between obsolescence and valuable Antiques Roadshow treasure. Bring a camera: They’re just waiting to be shot.

The morel the merrier! This year, the U.S. Forest Service is anticipating an influx of nomadic hunter/gatherers to the Western Slope, all in search of the prized morel mushroom. The fabulous fungi thrive in soils where lodgepole and ponderosa pines have burned, and depending on the amount of moisture they receive in late spring, they could be popping up in enormous numbers by May. At retail prices ranging from $120 to $200 per pound, the bounty of the earth is sure to attract professional morel mavens. But before you pack up your digging sticks and sniffing hound, know that the area of the Hayman fire is not likely to produce much of a crop: It’s too high and lacks the right kind of trees.

If looking sharp helps you be sharp, the U.S. Mint Police are the cutting edge. In October, the 450-officer force received the Best Dressed Police Department Award in the specialized-agency category from the National Association of Uniform Manufacturers and Distributors. The uniforms, designed by Galls Inc. of Lexington, Kentucky, come in LAPD Blue, with long- and short-sleeved versions that can be worn with a tie or a turtleneck. Check out the Denver Mint contingent — serving, protecting and styling while the newest statehood quarters clank off the presses.

You’ve got three tons of urban assault vehicle strapped to your back, but it won’t get you to your remote mountain sanctuary unless you know how to use it. In fact, it won’t get you out of a snowy King Soopers parking lot, either, unless you learn how to handle it on slick roads. Enter Medved Autoplex, which sponsors an ice-driving academy for its new Hummer owners. This winter, thirty gasoline-powered H2s took laps around Georgetown Lake as their drivers dodged cones and practiced emergency braking maneuvers, learning that any four-wheel drive turns into four-wheel slide on ice, even if you did pay sixty grand for the beast.

Orange alerts have you a little rattled? Did you get all caught up in the duct-tape-and-plastic-sheeting frenzy, and now your garage looks like the supply shed for Possum Lodge? Take a deep breath and take heart in what others have done with the handyman’s secret weapon. David and Joy Pippenger and Wade Morrison took a long look at duct tape and decided to turn it into purses and wallets — the Ducti products that the rest of the country’s rapidly getting stuck on. Ducti’s four styles (messenger bags are coming soon) are selling out at Denver’s Imi Jimi, as well as surf shops and boutiques across the country. They also make excellent free shwag, as seen on TV with Danny Bonaduce and at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, and they were recently featured on the front page of the fashion-forward Wall Street Journal. Orange fashion alert: The edges of regular duct tape tend to fray, the glue leaks, seams lift up, and the whole thing can melt and smell bad, so choose your apparel applications wisely.

Watching CNN’s war coverage can be overwhelming, with all those talking heads spewing out acronyms and nicknames in some incomprehensible military jargon. There are so many references to Raptors, Falcons and Eagles, Blackhawks and Apaches, F-14s, 15s, 16s, 18s and 22s that you can’t tell what the heck they’re talking about — football scores, maybe? But boning up on aviation history is easy at Wings Over the Rockies Museum, located on the former Lowry air base. The museum is a remnant of yesterday’s glory, tucked in amid the nascent office parks and unsettlingly serene housing developments that are Lowry’s present and future. As you approach the museum, the first thing you see is a massive B-52 bomber, part of an impressive collection of vintage aircraft that will give any aviation buff a lift. You’ll find few World War II-era planes here, but the museum’s assortment of jet aircraft is quite impressive. Highlights include an F-14 Tomcat, just like the one used in Top Gun, and the sleek B-1 bomber, with its payload of (inactive) cruise missiles. Be sure to check out the gift shop, where you can purchase a model B-52, made in Vietnam. Ah, the ironies of global power.

When it comes to people-watching, RTD passengers are spoiled. Every route offers the amateur sociologist a wide array of snooping opportunities, but Route 52 is particularly choice. This is one of the routes subcontracted out to Laidlaw, a private firm that hires non-union drivers to drive smaller-than-usual buses, and the cramped quarters are especially conducive to unfettered eavesdropping. Route 52 serves four schools — Regis University, the University of Denver, South High School and P.S. 1 — which gives passengers a chance to catch up on all the latest student gossip. (The P.S. 1 riders are especially loud in sharing the most graphic details of their peers’ private lives.) In stark contrast to those lively youth are the moribund riders who use the bus to access care at Denver Health; it’s a testament to the human spirit to see them at their worst, yet holding their own against the attitudes of impatient youth. The bickering/gossiping is the perfect soundtrack for a route that zigs and zags nonsensically from an outer-city suburb to an inner-city strip mall, and the confusion is only amplified when the driver makes a wrong turn (it happens!) and has to be shouted back on course by a bus full of anxious backseat drivers. With Route 52, RTD is more than just “the Ride”; it’s a thrill-a-minute amusement-park ride.

Norma Anderson may have been chosen as Senate Majority Leader this session, but she doesn’t have a stuffy decorating sense to go along with her title. Instead, she brought to her office the same artistic masterpiece that used to grace her place in the Colorado House: a 13-by-19-inch velvet Elvis, complete with a single tear rolling down his cheek.

The little town of Lone Tree just south of Denver is “the city that’s growing. Carefully,” according to its own slogan. But that doesn’t mean it lacks humor — as is vividly displayed in Timberlines, the town’s newsletter. To add to the fun, Lone Tree delivered a 2003 calendar to every home and business in the city, decorated with the winners of a residents’ photography contest and filled with notable anniversaries and birthdays, as well as a few holidays planned just for locals: Enjoy a New Restaurant in Lone Tree Day, for example. Next year’s calendar promises to be even bigger; after all, 2004 will have 366 days.

In February, the Colorado Supreme Court adopted new rules that allow jurors to submit written questions in both criminal and civil trials. Although the trial court still has jurisdiction over whether those questions are appropriate, the move should help make justice more understandable — and accessible. Power to the people!

Koleen Brooks’s life this past year was a train wreck — and as with any gruesome accident scene, you couldn’t help but look. And look again. And again. Brooks’s over-the-top — and lift-up-the-top — attempts to gain sympathy and support during her recall vote as Georgetown mayor, as well as to gain hits for her Web site, shall forever serve as a textbook example of how to alienate friends and distance others. Whether or not Brooks actually tried to arrange a hit on an adversary or faked an attack on herself can now fade into Colorado mountain-town folklore; although she was spared a jail sentence on evidence-tampering and false-reporting charges, Brooks was scolded by a Clear Creek County judge for wasting the court’s — and our — time. And then, of course, there was her arrest in late March on theft charges. Koleen Brooks provided a valuable service by showing us what happens when the drive for glory spins out of control.

If anyone in Denver has had her picture in the paper more often than John Elway, that person has to be Holly Kylberg. It’s not just because she has a pretty face (she does), but because of her enormous heart. But this is not a medical story. By all accounts, Holly’s Huge Heart is the direct result of her life’s goal to make the world a better place for all to thrive. And so Holly is pictured in the society pages every week, raising piles of money for countless good causes, impeccably dressed and never breaking a sweat. Perhaps that’s why the camera loves her so. In every photo, Holly actually looks glad to be sharing her good fortune with the more and less fortunate alike. And as long as she’s happy, we’re happy.

There are a lot of kids on the 16th Street Mall who want your spare change, but few who will hammer 5 1/2-inch nails into their noses to get it. Skip and Amy, two kids from Minneapolis, are the exception. Since they arrived in Denver last July, they’ve been shocking squeamish yuppies on their lunch breaks with their pointed performance art. Skip learned the trick five years ago from circus performers who’d camped in his back yard. Typically, the nails come out clean — free of blood, brains and boogers — but that’s not always the case. “I’ve had more bloody noses than I can count,” Skip says. If you catch their act, be sure to leave a buck or two to help pay for the nasal surgery these two may need in the future.

A small redstone-and-granite chessboard now stands as a monument to the peaceful co-existence of the old and the new. Attorney Walter Gerash, whose law firm occupies 1439 Court Place — known in Denver landmark circles as the Curry/Chucovich House — persuaded workers constructing his twelve-story neighbor, the Wellington E. Webb Municipal Office Building, to spend their spare time and spare stone building the chessboard that now stands in the front yard of the restored two-story Victorian.

The Wellington E. Webb building in the Denver Civic Center complex is so lavish, it’s been dubbed the “Webb Mahal” and, in honor of its prow-like shape, the “good ship Welly-pop.” But the building has undeniable appeal, a large part of it due to public art — especially Larry Kirkland’s untitled sculpture, which has its own nickname: “Big Giant Head.” The marble sculpture in the form of a two-faced Janus has generated national attention, even showing up on CNN — not because it’s good (which it is), but because its two noses created a hazard for the blind. It’s not easy for a new sculpture to match the best the Civic Center already has to offer, but Kirkland’s stands a head above the rest of the city’s new public art.

Some love ’em, some hate ’em, but nobody can miss them — the ubiquitous Klimaszewski sisters, Diane and Elaine, who watch over the Denver skyline from Coors Light billboards, their mountainous assets a match for the peaks to the West. And the twins have done their bit for more than just the scenery: The advertising campaign in which they play such a prominent role has elevated sales of Coors Light, a brew that red-blooded males were once too embarrassed to order.

With a good measure of artistic skill and an even bigger helping of panache, Steve Chucovich’s ArchitectureDenver whipped up a brand-new pedestrian bridge that’s already a landmark in every sense of the word. The Millennium Bridge dramatically spans the railroad tracks that separate the Platte Valley from LoDo at Riverfront Park, connecting old Denver with new. Suspended from a soaring diagonal mast, steel cables descend to the deck of the walkway, holding it up with theatrical flourish. Painted a brilliant silvery white, the bridge looks like a ship’s mast from certain vantage points — it’s particularly nice when seen from the hills of Highland — pointing the way for Denver’s next voyage of discovery.

In the middle of the blizzard of the century — depending on where you start counting — a savvy reader snapped this natural phenomenon in the 1500 block of Stout Street. Meet Frosty, the Snow Man-o-Man.

The dad’s the bleeping prince of darkness, his wife’s a bleeping bleep, and the kids are so bleeping out of their bleeping heads, talking such crazy bleep about who’s bleeping who in the bleeping bleep…. This kind of high drama, relentless passion and utter clarity deserves the high-minded poetry and incisive sentiment of moonstruck Arapahoe County Clerk Tracy Baker, whose bleeping electronic messages to his bleeping deputy are currently the subject of a court battle.

To further protect the Webb legacy along the Platte, Her First Ladiness needs to come to the aid of the one big clunker in her hubby’s redevelopment scheme: the failed Ocean Journey, soon to become a theme park where relatives of your entree swim while you eat. As a gracious greeter, handing out menus and urging patrons to consider the shark du jour, Wilma Webb could help the hungry forget the aquarium’s murky history.

After selling the city on redevelopment of the Platte Valley, just think how soon-to-be-ex-Denver mayor Wellington E. Webb could excel at unloading all of those unsold lofts now cluttering up the riverfront. When showing prospects the properties, WEW could demonstrate how those high ceilings accommodate even his big shoulders. Closet space for oversized tennis shoes? No problem. Act now, and he’ll throw in a Rolodex full of valuable crony contacts with each signed contract.

You’ll learn things reading Steve Owings’s new book, Colorado: A Silly Guide to the Centennial State, that you never imagined. For example, “The city’s night life is best viewed from LoDo (lower downtown). Once teeming with vagrants, panhandlers, prostitutes, and abandoned warehouses the area has been rejuvenated with the addition of Coors Field, Starbucks, Planet Hollywood and numerous other attractions designed to separate you from your money just like the panhandlers and prostitutes used to especially since one mocha latte at Starbucks now costs a little more than a night with a hooker.” C’mon — that can’t be true! After all, LoDo doesn’t have a Planet Hollywood. But Owings’s book — published by Cabin Lake Publishing out of Colorado Springs — offers dead-on satire on the Centennial State, if no useful information. At all.

Smile and say “Cheese.” In 1935, Louis Ballas, owner of the Humpty-Dumpty drive-in in northwest Denver, put a slice of cheese on a hot burger, and the rest is history. The world’s first “cheeseburger” – a term patented by Ballas — is honored with a small memorial at 2776 Speer Boulevard, now the parking lot of Key Bank.

Forget the snowpack. Colorado is awash in less ambiguous liquid assets, a fact noted by the American Association for the Advancement of Science when it welcomed 6,000 members to Denver for a convention this year. True, the brainiacs acknowledged, Denver is the most educated city in the U.S., also the “thinnest” city in the “thinnest” state. But what’s the most important stat for convention-goers? Colorado produces more beer than any other state.

Welcome to the city of conditional love. You know about Denver’s 300 days of sunshine a year, right? But nobody ever talks about the other 65 days, which are consumed by blizzards, tornadoes, wildfires, drought and calamity. The temperature here is mild, except when it isn’t. Average precipitation is moderate, all of it coming in a single dump of snow that paralyzes the city for several weeks. We are the City of Trees, but in the post-blizzard weeks we become the City of Busted Trees (also the City of 10,000 Lakes). In the summer we bake in the cruel sun, except when we’re pelted by guinea pig-sized hail. Our airport is terrific, except when it sucks. And did we mention the ever-evolving convention center, the wonderful freeway improvements known fondly as “T-Rex,” and our very own Colorado Rockies? No, no, the pleasure is all ours. Well, mostly.

Deep thoughts paid off big this year for Holmes Rolston III, a philosophy professor at Colorado State University since 1968, who won the million-dollar Templeton Prize for his research advancing the understanding of spiritual realities.

Before he died, Bill Daniels, the cable entrepreneur, poured much of his considerable fortune into the Daniels Fund, which subsidizes numerous good works. But perhaps its most impressive accomplishment is the Daniels College Prep Program, which has helped hundreds of students attend college — despite their “non-traditional” high-school profiles. The intensive pro-

gram includes college-prep workshops, summer seminars on a local campus, and volunteer coaches in the senior year of high school to help students prepare for college — and, perhaps, apply for a Daniels Scholarship.

Think you’ve got it bad today? Times were much tougher during the Silver Panic, when families were large and “orphan trains”

brought more than 1,500 abandoned children to Denver from the overcrowded East. Some of the children handed over to the Denver Orphans’ Home for safekeeping didn’t survive bouts with pneumonia and diphtheria; 22 children who died at the home between 1890 and 1910 were buried in tiny, unmarked graves at Riverside. But those graves are unmarked no longer: Cliff Dougal, Riverside’s office sales manager, was inspired by Lola Russell of the Northglenn Senior Center to raise $2,500 to pay for a granite memorial at the cemetery. That memorial, inscribed with the names of the orphans who died in Denver, was dedicated this past October.

Fifteen-year-old Caitlyn Craig, a Chatfield High School student, died in a car accident this year — one of a half-dozen teens from the southern suburbs who’ve been killed in crashes recently. To help ensure that the tragic count diminishes in future years, Craig’s family has set up a memorial fund in her name, with the money going toward re-establishing a driver’s education course at Chatfield — one of many educational programs that have been eliminated because of budget cuts.

Colorado’s courts are in a world of hurt financially, as is every other governmental institution these days, and court employees will be missing out on several days’ pay this year. To help ease the pain for 120 Denver District Court workers, the district’s twenty judges each contributed $600 to an employees’ fund, just in time for the holidays. “We’re all in this together,” said Judge John Coughlin, who proposed the do-good idea. Not quite: The judges earn $104,000 a year, far more than most of their employees — but they’re still among the lowest-paid district-court judges in the country.

We’ve missed Paul Weissmann, a Louisville bartender in his real life, who enlivened many a session as a senator at the Statehouse. Now the Democrat is back as a state representative, and he’s not wasting any time proposing improvements. While several of his suggestions have run up against the Republican wall, he’s managed to push a few through on his own. For example, Weissmann wanted the Capitol dome reopened to visitors (it had been shut first out of safety concerns, then budgetary cutbacks), so he volunteered to staff the visitors’ desk at the base of the Capitol stairs at lunchtime.

As Governor Roy Romer’s insurance commissioner in the mid-’90s, Jack Ehnes was a local consumers’ hero, always fighting for the little guy. Although most of his innovative reforms have since been undone, he’s still in there pitching for Colorado consumers — albeit indirectly. As chief executive officer of the California State Teachers Retirement System, the third-largest public pension fund in the nation, Ehnes is part of the group’s lawsuit against Qwest Communications, its founder Phil Anschutz, former chief executive Joseph Nacchio and several investment-banking companies. The suit, filed in December, accuses them of engaging in fraudulent schemes that cost California teachers $150 million from investments in Qwest stocks and bonds. The defendants deny the claims. Welcome back, Jack.

When the sheer ingenuity of the complex financial shenanigans arranged for Enron by no-accountants Arthur Andersen was revealed, the call went out from Washington to Professor Lynn Turner at sleepy old Colorado State University. A seemingly mild-mannered professor of accounting, in a previous life Turner served as chief accountant of the Securities and Exchange Commission, making him the go-to guy to help congressional investigators, reporters and suffering investors find the money. His specialties are financial reporting and disclosure by public companies in the U.S. capital markets, as well as related corporate governance matters — in short, everything Enron and Andersen conspired to manipulate. Turner left the SEC to head up his alma mater’s Center for Quality Financial Reporting in August 2001, just four months before Enron declared bankruptcy. Since then, he’s been an expert witness and reliable source for not only government hearings, but for all the major news outlets, and he’s refreshingly candid in indicting the inadequacy of current accounting practices.

Come Cinco de Mayo, check out the award-winning, tricked-out lowrider on Federal Boulevard — the one with the red, white and blue lights on the top. That guy in uniform standing next to it isn’t writing out a ticket; the lowered 1998 Ford Crown Victoria with hydraulic shocks and a trunkload of speakers is his squad car. Nash Gurule knows all about cruising, having perfected the art during his younger days on West 38th Avenue, before he joined the Denver Police Department. Now he uses that knowledge, and his custom-painted car, to bond with the cruising community.

Instead of requiring that minor criminal offenses be reported in person, the Denver Police Department now allows you to do it electronically, expanding on an earlier program that let residents report minor traffic accidents over the Web. To report a theft (not by force or burglary), car break-in (not auto theft), lost or stolen property, or vandalism of property or vehicle, simply fill out an online form and submit it to the DPD over the Internet. That gives officers more time to respond to true emergencies — and it definitely removes a headache for the victim.

As bad news about the St. Vrain Valley School District budget spilled out last fall, a group of Silver Creek High School students decided to help save their school district — and also stem the flow of erroneous information. They set up the Web site www.poorschool.com, to “provide a medium through which accurate information is available and which can be used to preserve and broadcast the free speech of the people affected by the St. Vrain Valley School District budget crisis.” That free speech includes jokes, rumor-busting and the sale of T-shirts — complete with a poorschool.com logo and a red arrow — to help replenish the student-activities fund. Give students Eric McIntyre, Mark Kelsic and Mitch Lubbers an A for effort.

Denver Public Library reference librarians are on call 24/7 to answer your questions over the Internet. You can chat online with a SmartyPants reference librarian or e-mail your question through the DPL’s Web site. You’ll soon get an answer, along with an e-mail tracing the steps the librarian took to find it. And even if the question can’t be readily answered, your helpful researcher will point you in the right direction.

Ken Carpenter, curator of paleontology at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science, was rooting through a cabinet drawer at Yale University’s Peabody Museum when he came across a fossilized tooth. And not just any tooth: The three-and-a-half-inch-long specimen, first found in Golden in 1874, then stashed at the Peabody, turned out to be a 67-million-year-old tooth from a Tyrannosaurex rex — giving the Yale museum a nice display piece, and giving Colorado bragging rights for having made the earliest T. rex find.

On the one hand, big nasty piles of illegally dumped tires, just waiting to spontaneously combust. On the other, thousands of pre-teen soccer players and their parents, banned from parched playing fields. Can one be used to remedy the other? Yes! And the state wants to help play matchmaker. The Poudre School District required artificial turf-maker Sprinturf to use rubber recycled from discarded tires as in-fill when a field at Rocky Mountain High School was resurfaced last summer; the Colorado Waste Tire Program covered about 10 percent of the cost, or $52,000, as thanks for removing thousands of used tires from the Colorado landscape, and the rest will pay for itself in seven years through reduced maintenance costs. The field never needs watering, and the high school has been flooded with requests to use it by other area teams whose parched fields have been placed off limts for spring practices.

The bad news about Colorado’s drought was still trickling out last summer when Denver Water decided to alert the public — gently — to a potentially dire situation. The agency’s $75,000 “It’s a Drought. Do Something” campaign — designed by Sukle Advertising and Design in Lakewood– debuted in the heat of July, with people standing on street corners wearing old-fashioned sandwich boards and T-shirts, urging people to “Brush every other tooth,” “Instead of a dishwasher, get a dog” and “Shower in groups.” The campaign spilled over into bars, too, where special coasters told consumers to “Save Water. Drink Beer.” The popular and populist approach was a hit, but Sukle took one, too; Even though the campaign won eight awards in Denver Advertising Federation show, Denver Water awarded its 2003 conservation contract to O’Brien Advertising.

In January, the Rocky Mountain News ran this correction on page two: “The cover photo of today’s Spotlight section shows a snowshoer rather than a cross-country skier.” Bet they know the difference now.

Two days after the new leaders of the Colorado General Assembly were sworn in this session, a correction appeared in the Denver Post: “Because of a reporter’s error, Diane Carman’s column on the Denver and the West cover Thursday incorrectly stated that Colorado House Speaker Lola Spradley’s mother was among the family members at the Capitol on Wednesday to witness her swearing in. Spradley’s mother is deceased.” Easy mistake, though: In her speech, Spradley had referred to her mother, who passed away three decades earlier, looking “down from above.” Guess Carman thought she wound up in the cheap seats.

We’ll admit it: At first the Rocky Mountain News‘s new design hurt our eyes, and we couldn’t imagine how the paper would continue to fill its “channels” — those left-hand columns earmarked for chatty tidbits, quotes and “by the numbers” trivia. But the News adjusted some type, we adjusted our expectations — and the channels just kept getting better and better. The most successful of all: The Stump, with notes, odd news and observations from the campaign trail.

Greg Moore, a former managing editor with the Boston Globe who was cherry-picked by owner Dean Singleton for the position of Denver Post editor, has been on the job for less than a year, but he’s already done what many observers thought would be impossible: He’s got people talking about a paper previously regarded as stodgy and deadly dull. The Post isn’t yet the great American newspaper that Moore and Singleton envision; there’s still a long way to go. But Moore’s energy and drive have helped make this goal seem like an actual possibility rather than the haziest of pipe dreams. The rest is up to him.

Chemistry is hard to define but easy to recognize — and Channel 9’s Gary Shapiro, Kyle Dyer, Kathy Sabine, Gregg Moss and Drew Soicher have it. They take the prize again this year for their ability to balance news updates of actual significance with lighthearted shenanigans that should be irritating during the a.m. hours, but aren’t. For the most part.

Molly Hughes has proven to be a strong addition to Channel 4’s late broadcast, and she’ll get strong support when Jim Benemann’s non-compete with Channel 9 expires and he’s able to join her at the anchor desk sometime this fall. The real key to the ten o’clock newcast’s success, though, isn’t its on-air personnel or flashy graphics, but its newsiness. The station’s investigative unit, spearheaded by Brian Maass (who’s more adept at pissing off the authorities than any of his peers), is consistently strong — and not just during sweeps season, either. This dedication to substance gives Channel 4’s late-night entry a vitality and heft sadly lacking in its competition.

During most sportscasts, the focus is on boys, boys, boys; it’s as if Title IX never went into effect. But Colorado Sportswomen, a semi-regular program hosted by Channel 4 longtimer Marcia Neville, puts the focus on the other gender, demonstrating along the way that ath-

letes aren’t defined by their jockstraps. The Foundation of American Women in Radio and Television recently named Neville best program host for her Colorado Sportswomen work — a well-deserved honor for a broadcaster who’s toiled for years in dudes’ shadows.

Mark McIntosh’s delivery is fiery and pugnacious; when taking viewers through highlights of a sporting event, he often seems ready, willing and able to jump into the action himself. He’s also a good writer and reporter who knows when to shut up and let the pictures do the talking and when to step up and swing for the fences.

When Jim Benemann recently floated the possibility in the press that he might move from Channel 9 to its closest competitor, Channel 4, many industry observers viewed it as a negotiating strategy. But he was serious: On March 21, Channel 4 announced that Benemann, who’d once been a weekend anchor at that station, would be returning to the fold. This move — and the pride with which Channel 4 announced it — testifies to Benemann’s growing stature in the market. Over a few short years, he’s gone from playing second fiddle alongside Channel 9 co-anchor Adele Arakawa to earning a reputation as one of the area’s most solid and reliable personalities. Denver — and Benemann — can now bank on those qualities.

When most weather forecasters predict storms or systems that either fail to materialize or blow up to much larger proportions than they anticipated, they seldom acknowledge it. Bob Goosmann, on the other hand, is the rare weatherman who’ll admit to screwups and explain where things went wrong. He’s not afraid to take chances, as he did when positing that the scope of our March blizzard could be “historic.” (Hit that one on the nose, didn’t he?) But Goosmann makes it clear — by, among other things, calculating likely temperature ranges instead of pinpointing exact numbers — that he’s in the business of educated guesses, not telling the future. To put it another way, he’s the most honest weatherman in the market, and we’re the better for it.

In a radio world marked by conformity, Radio 1190, a signal affiliated with the University of Colorado at Boulder, provides a refreshing blast of individuality. The DJs at the outlet, whether they’re working standard shifts or specialized shows, are distinguished from their professional counterparts by a love of fresh, outside-the-mainstream sounds, and their unpolished exuberance is infectious. As a result, Radio 1190 is wonderfully old-fashioned and exceedingly contemporary at exactly the same time.

As Joni Mitchell sang, you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. In recent years, Clough has co-hosted The Fan‘s morning-drive program, and while he could be cranky and curmudgeonly, he also brought rare perspective and intelligence to a medium that’s frequently lacking in both. Clough was replaced on the show by Lou From Littleton, an inveterate homer whose shtick is wearing thinner with each passing day. Fortunately, Clough has been moved to an evening slot that, though a little harder to find, still allows him to present the spicy views and incisive opinions that set him apart from other sports-talk yakkers.

KNRC, which debuted last summer, hasn’t yet challenged the hegemony of the assorted Clear Channel outlets that dominate the local news-talk market. But Greg Dobbs, a former ABC-TV correspondent who manned a talk-show for KOA during the ’90s, is certainly doing his part. His morning-drive offerings are consistently intelligent and wide-ranging, providing substantive discussions about topics obvious and obscure. In addition, Dobbs serves as the host of State of Colorado, a Friday morning KNRC discussion show derived from a longtime Channel 6 staple. The program works far better on radio than it ever did on TV — and Dobbs has made the transition just as well.

Most of us realize that a hefty percentage of the shows on Denver radio stations are repetitive, creativity-free and capable of insulting the intelligence of the average house plant, yet we don’t do anything about it but complain. So kudos to Jon-Michael DeShazer, who refuses to take the mediocrity of local radio lying down. DenverRadioSucks.com, the Internet site he oversees, is a forum for all listeners who are mad as hell about what’s happening on the airwaves and don’t want to take it anymore.

John Hickenlooper isn’t your usual candidate for mayor of Denver, and so it was no surprise when he came up with an unusual TV ad. Still, when so many Colorado political ads are either heavy-handed or ham-handed in delivering their message, “Suit,” which shows Hickenlooper trying on an assortment of vintage outfits, was a breath of fresh air in what promises to be a very windy campaign.

The fall 2002 campaign season was among the noisiest, and dirtiest, on record. So it came as a blessed relief when Bighorn Ballot produced a spot in which a peaceful nature scene was supplemented at its conclusion with a graphic reading “This moment of political silence brought to you by Bighorn Ballot, sponsor of Issues 28 and 29.” Since both of those measures were rejected by voters, though, don’t expect the experiment to be repeated again by anyone other than the folks at Rocky’s Autos, who’ve used a similar concept the past two holiday seasons. But the tranquility was nice while it lasted.

Although conservative commentators have long held that news programming on television has a liberal slant, the media as a whole is generally more interested in maintaining the status quo than in fighting the powers that be. Not so Free Speech TV, a channel out of Boulder that’s viewable by subscribers to the DISH Network system. This grassroots operation is unabashedly progressive — a haven for those who want television that states its opinions clearly instead of pretending that it doesn’t have any.

For a few glorious weeks last year, Skyjack Radio, a thoroughly illegal radio station, knocked the Denver hip-hop community on its collective ass with uncut rap delivered with sheer exuberance and plenty of profanities. When representatives of the FCC caught wind of the signal, they promptly shut it down, but not before it reminded listeners of how fun and exciting the radio medium can be when it’s under the control of music lovers instead of corporate suits more interested in profits than beats.

Chronologically, the baby-faced Alex Stone, who’s in his early twenties, may be the youngest full-time radio reporter in the city. But he’s also the most versatile, with a proven ability to anchor broadcasts, deliver newscasts or work in the field — and he handles breaking news, background pieces and light fodder with equal skill. Considering his talent, and his recent graduation from the University of Colorado, he may not remain in Denver for long. So enjoy his work while you can.

For years, self-proclaimed “troubleshooter” Tom Martino has had trouble directly under his nose: a thick mustache that made it seem as if he had something to hide (like, perhaps, a secret fondness for Geraldo Rivera?). By relegating this accoutrement to his bathroom trash can, he instantly cleaned up his image. On the face of things, anyway.

Then again, there’s much to be said for no-nonsense hair — a style that doesn’t look as if it needs the equivalent of an Indianapolis 500 pit crew to assemble. So here’s to veteran broadcaster Tamara Banks, who, in a profession dominated by salon junkies, prefers a look that’s simple, elegant, and not in any way reminiscent of plastic by-products.

An entire generation of Denver television viewers grew up admiring the coiffure of onetime Channel 9 icon Mike Landess, and why not? His ‘do was so perfectly geometrical during his ’70s and ’80s heyday that it seemed to have been fashioned in a Mattel factory. As seen today on Channel 7, the distinctive helmet is grayer, but just as flawless. Making sure every follicle was in place would be a full-time job for most of us, so Landess is to be applauded for also having time to deliver the news.

TV station Web sites regularly feature biographical material about their featured personalities, and the vast majority of it is about as spicy as a brick of Velveeta. But the bio of Dan Daru, Channel 2’s wild card, is a notably cheesy exception. His tale, accessible at WB2.trb.com, claims that he was born with “an extra pair of lips on his left cheek”; insists that he won a be-a-reporter-for-a-day contest several years ago but still keeps showing up; and states that he’s “imbalanced,” “very dangerous” and “thinks he is a goat.” His turn-ons include “dog toys, milk, blue toilet water and the smell of paint,” and his turn-offs are “Fig Newtons, luggage and the letter Q.” There’s such a thing as too much information, Dan.

Most television news types would do anything to avoid making spectacles of themselves, including having their eyes lasered so that they don’t have to wear glasses. But Stacey Donaldson, a second-string weather forecaster on the local Fox affiliate, rejects this theory, opting to wear a pair of dark-framed, oval-rimmed glasses that make her stand out from local news’s look-alike pack. People with impaired vision, unite! You have nothing to lose but your squint.

For years, the Aurora Sentinel has published photos of men convicted of soliciting ladies, and gents, of the night. But this past July, Denver and its television station, Channel 8, upped the ante on anti-prostitution efforts with the launch of Johns TV, a televised marathon of mug shots that aired six nights a week; “As Seen on Johns TV,” a Web version of the program, could also be accessed at www.denvergov.org/johnstv/. The show quickly became a huge success, talked about nationally and aped by Detroit — but with its success came the seeds of its own destruction: Johns TV had to go on winter hiatus because it was running out of johns. (Some reports credit the show with a 40 percent decrease in soliciting in Denver.) Whatever its social value, Johns TV has opened up a whole new world of entertainment in local cable access, without the hassle of confusing plot lines, scripted dialogue — or actors going on a Tony Soprano-like strike for more pay. We got your reality TV right here.

Winter in Colorado is no time to be sporting a swimsuit, but that didn’t stop the intrepid folks at Sports Illustrated from their quest to show almost-naked women in the most exotic spots around the globe — Vietnam, Barbados, Kenya, Meeker. Meeker? For this year’s swimsuit edition, SI headed out to Seven Lakes Lodge, an exclusive (rooms go for $1,230 a night, double occupancy), eleven-room lodge outside the town of Meeker. In a spread titled “Hunting, Fishing and Wishing in Colorado,” Old Navy model Molly Sims was shown fly-fishing — topless, of course — in hip waders, and also straddling a log fence wearing nothing more than a black bikini and rubber boots. Ah, the great outdoors! She looked silly, but the place looked gorgeous.

Gary Magness and Sarah Siegel, both children of Colorado celebs (he’s the son of late cable magnate Bob Magness; she’s the daughter of Celestial Seasonings founder Mo Siegel), are not only jet-setting, they’re trend-setting: The pair’s nuptials were featured in the spring 2003 edition of In Style Weddings. The casino owner and underwear designer, respectively, got married at the Mexican resort of Costa Careyes, where they flew in fifty guests by chartered jet. Eleven months later, Hollywood stars Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar wed there. Maybe the Phipps Mansion was booked?

The sitcom Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter doesn’t bear a close resemblance to the book of the same title by W. Bruce Cameron, who honed his humor while raising a family in Evergreen and started his writing career by syndicating a column over the Web that was picked up by the Rocky Mountain News. True, John Ritter plays a writer. And true, he does have a nubile teenage daughter on the show — two nubile teenage daughters, in fact, as well as the obligatory wisecracking son and a practical wife, played by Katey Segal. But that’s where the similarity ends: Cameron’s much funnier than the ABC show. Still, Eight Simple Rules is one of the few hits of the TV season and has opened new doors for the writer, who’s currently working on a screenplay in Hollywood.

Is it possible? Can nice guys finish first? Week after week, much of America pondered that question as bachelor after bachelor fell by the wayside on ABC’s The Bachelorette. Meanwhile, hunky former football player and current Vail firefighter Ryan Sutter kept on keeping on, looking like a lovable lug, talking about how much he loves his dog and occasionally reciting poetry to bachelorette Trista Rehn, runner-up on last season’s The Bachelor. When Ryan took Trista on a dream date to his adopted home town, for example, he wooed her with this:

Imagine a place fit for angels

Where laughter fills the air.

The whole place fresh and clean

Smells like it just washed its hair.

Apparently Trista’s a Breck girl, because she picked Ryan. They’re even talking marriage, and so far, theirs appears to be the only reality-TV romance that has a shot at surviving in the real world.

Like just about everything else in Vail, the town’s new manhole covers were pretty classy — and after a few were stolen right out of the ground, town officials decided to change the way visitors procured their souvenirs. Now you can buy your own cast-iron Vail manhole cover, emblazoned with the original Vail logo, the resort’s 1962 founding date and its elevation. The covers come in two sizes: a 52-pound, two-foot-diameter version that costs $295 (and definitely qualifies as extra baggage when you’re flying home after a ski vacation), and a six-pound, eight-inch-diameter miniature that runs only $65.

Down in Pueblo, the Word of Jesus Christ Church needed money for a new building. And pastor Albert Struck thought he knew exactly where to get it: by auctioning off a 1986 Honda Accord that had been donated to the church. Normally, a 1986 Accord won’t bring that much cash on eBay — but this car had a critical extra. It had been driven, and donated, by the murderous Texas Seven while they hid out in Colorado two years ago. With the car came a note: “May God bless you the way he has blessed us.”

From the darkness of his troubled adolescence in Arkansas, Doyle Robinson found the light: He would draw upon his own pain to help troubled teens. From his early days handing out tube socks to homeless kids on the 16th Street Mall, Robinson’s vision has grown to include Sox Place, a converted downtown auto shop that’s now Denver’s only daytime drop-in youth center, where kids can find a warm bowl of soup, a quiet place to crash, easy camaraderie and the occasional punk concert. And if they’re seeking spiritual guidance, Robinson — an ordained minister with the Assembly of God — can offer that, too. But he prefers action to words, showing the power of faith rather than preaching it.

Sure, we miss having the airport close to the city — but at least Denver got something out of the deal. Last year, the Stapleton redevelopment project received the James C. Howland Urban Enrichment Silver Award from the National League of Cities for its contributions to the urban environment. The old airport is being redeveloped into a combination of housing, shops, office buildings and parks, incorporating such elements of traditional neighborhood design as tree-lined streets, parks, front porches and old-time architecture, with 21st-century technology and sensibilities (including drought-resistant landscaping). And 21st-century capitalism: There was never a Wal-Mart on Main Street.

“If you build it, they will come” is a hackneyed Hollywood phrase that’s sunk deep into the American lexicon; apparently it served as the mantra of the optimistic developers behind Coyote Ridge at Strasburg. For all you agoraphobics and urban dwellers, Strasburg is a sleepy little hamlet 35 miles east of Denver on I-70, where Coyote Ridge boasts single-family homes starting in the $170s. The four sunny models — the Sunset, the Twilight, the Daybreak and the Sunrise — would fit right into the happy suburban confines of Highlands Ranch, Aurora or Broomfield. Except, of course, that these are in Strasburg (hit Limon and you’ve gone too far). If you’re sick of T-Rex traffic, the brown cloud and 24-hour grocery stores, you may have a home in Coyote Ridge, Colorado’s best far-out example of urban sprawl. Or is it just far out?

They shoot horses, don’t they? The mechanical ponies that grazed for pennies near grocery-store entrances may well be moving from threatened animals to full-blown endangered-species status. For decades, the brightly colored “equus plasticus” has been sufficiently attractive to compel tots to hop aboard for a slow rocking and their first real taste of sheer boredom. Now, as shopping has become our national obsession, most retailers have found that they need to get kids out of the foyer and into the aisles, where they can badger their parents to make purchases. And so many mechanical penny ponies have been put out to pasture. Just north of downtown, the creatures are corraled, nuzzle to hock, in a chain-link enclosed yard to wait out that awkward time between obsolescence and valuable Antiques Roadshow treasure. Bring a camera: They’re just waiting to be shot.

The morel the merrier! This year, the U.S. Forest Service is anticipating an influx of nomadic hunter/gatherers to the Western Slope, all in search of the prized morel mushroom. The fabulous fungi thrive in soils where lodgepole and ponderosa pines have burned, and depending on the amount of moisture they receive in late spring, they could be popping up in enormous numbers by May. At retail prices ranging from $120 to $200 per pound, the bounty of the earth is sure to attract professional morel mavens. But before you pack up your digging sticks and sniffing hound, know that the area of the Hayman fire is not likely to produce much of a crop: It’s too high and lacks the right kind of trees.

If looking sharp helps you be sharp, the U.S. Mint Police are the cutting edge. In October, the 450-officer force received the Best Dressed Police Department Award in the specialized-agency category from the National Association of Uniform Manufacturers and Distributors. The uniforms, designed by Galls Inc. of Lexington, Kentucky, come in LAPD Blue, with long- and short-sleeved versions that can be worn with a tie or a turtleneck. Check out the Denver Mint contingent — serving, protecting and styling while the newest statehood quarters clank off the presses.

You’ve got three tons of urban assault vehicle strapped to your back, but it won’t get you to your remote mountain sanctuary unless you know how to use it. In fact, it won’t get you out of a snowy King Soopers parking lot, either, unless you learn how to handle it on slick roads. Enter Medved Autoplex, which sponsors an ice-driving academy for its new Hummer owners. This winter, thirty gasoline-powered H2s took laps around Georgetown Lake as their drivers dodged cones and practiced emergency braking maneuvers, learning that any four-wheel drive turns into four-wheel slide on ice, even if you did pay sixty grand for the beast.

Orange alerts have you a little rattled? Did you get all caught up in the duct-tape-and-plastic-sheeting frenzy, and now your garage looks like the supply shed for Possum Lodge? Take a deep breath and take heart in what others have done with the handyman’s secret weapon. David and Joy Pippenger and Wade Morrison took a long look at duct tape and decided to turn it into purses and wallets — the Ducti products that the rest of the country’s rapidly getting stuck on. Ducti’s four styles (messenger bags are coming soon) are selling out at Denver’s Imi Jimi, as well as surf shops and boutiques across the country. They also make excellent free shwag, as seen on TV with Danny Bonaduce and at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, and they were recently featured on the front page of the fashion-forward Wall Street Journal. Orange fashion alert: The edges of regular duct tape tend to fray, the glue leaks, seams lift up, and the whole thing can melt and smell bad, so choose your apparel applications wisely.

Watching CNN’s war coverage can be overwhelming, with all those talking heads spewing out acronyms and nicknames in some incomprehensible military jargon. There are so many references to Raptors, Falcons and Eagles, Blackhawks and Apaches, F-14s, 15s, 16s, 18s and 22s that you can’t tell what the heck they’re talking about — football scores, maybe? But boning up on aviation history is easy at Wings Over the Rockies Museum, located on the former Lowry air base. The museum is a remnant of yesterday’s glory, tucked in amid the nascent office parks and unsettlingly serene housing developments that are Lowry’s present and future. As you approach the museum, the first thing you see is a massive B-52 bomber, part of an impressive collection of vintage aircraft that will give any aviation buff a lift. You’ll find few World War II-era planes here, but the museum’s assortment of jet aircraft is quite impressive. Highlights include an F-14 Tomcat, just like the one used in Top Gun, and the sleek B-1 bomber, with its payload of (inactive) cruise missiles. Be sure to check out the gift shop, where you can purchase a model B-52, made in Vietnam. Ah, the ironies of global power.

When it comes to people-watching, RTD passengers are spoiled. Every route offers the amateur sociologist a wide array of snooping opportunities, but Route 52 is particularly choice. This is one of the routes subcontracted out to Laidlaw, a private firm that hires non-union drivers to drive smaller-than-usual buses, and the cramped quarters are especially conducive to unfettered eavesdropping. Route 52 serves four schools — Regis University, the University of Denver, South High School and P.S. 1 — which gives passengers a chance to catch up on all the latest student gossip. (The P.S. 1 riders are especially loud in sharing the most graphic details of their peers’ private lives.) In stark contrast to those lively youth are the moribund riders who use the bus to access care at Denver Health; it’s a testament to the human spirit to see them at their worst, yet holding their own against the attitudes of impatient youth. The bickering/gossiping is the perfect soundtrack for a route that zigs and zags nonsensically from an outer-city suburb to an inner-city strip mall, and the confusion is only amplified when the driver makes a wrong turn (it happens!) and has to be shouted back on course by a bus full of anxious backseat drivers. With Route 52, RTD is more than just “the Ride”; it’s a thrill-a-minute amusement-park ride.

Norma Anderson may have been chosen as Senate Majority Leader this session, but she doesn’t have a stuffy decorating sense to go along with her title. Instead, she brought to her office the same artistic masterpiece that used to grace her place in the Colorado House: a 13-by-19-inch velvet Elvis, complete with a single tear rolling down his cheek.

The little town of Lone Tree just south of Denver is “the city that’s growing. Carefully,” according to its own slogan. But that doesn’t mean it lacks humor — as is vividly displayed in Timberlines, the town’s newsletter. To add to the fun, Lone Tree delivered a 2003 calendar to every home and business in the city, decorated with the winners of a residents’ photography contest and filled with notable anniversaries and birthdays, as well as a few holidays planned just for locals: Enjoy a New Restaurant in Lone Tree Day, for example. Next year’s calendar promises to be even bigger; after all, 2004 will have 366 days.

In February, the Colorado Supreme Court adopted new rules that allow jurors to submit written questions in both criminal and civil trials. Although the trial court still has jurisdiction over whether those questions are appropriate, the move should help make justice more understandable — and accessible. Power to the people!

Koleen Brooks’s life this past year was a train wreck — and as with any gruesome accident scene, you couldn’t help but look. And look again. And again. Brooks’s over-the-top — and lift-up-the-top — attempts to gain sympathy and support during her recall vote as Georgetown mayor, as well as to gain hits for her Web site, shall forever serve as a textbook example of how to alienate friends and distance others. Whether or not Brooks actually tried to arrange a hit on an adversary or faked an attack on herself can now fade into Colorado mountain-town folklore; although she was spared a jail sentence on evidence-tampering and false-reporting charges, Brooks was scolded by a Clear Creek County judge for wasting the court’s — and our — time. And then, of course, there was her arrest in late March on theft charges. Koleen Brooks provided a valuable service by showing us what happens when the drive for glory spins out of control.

If anyone in Denver has had her picture in the paper more often than John Elway, that person has to be Holly Kylberg. It’s not just because she has a pretty face (she does), but because of her enormous heart. But this is not a medical story. By all accounts, Holly’s Huge Heart is the direct result of her life’s goal to make the world a better place for all to thrive. And so Holly is pictured in the society pages every week, raising piles of money for countless good causes, impeccably dressed and never breaking a sweat. Perhaps that’s why the camera loves her so. In every photo, Holly actually looks glad to be sharing her good fortune with the more and less fortunate alike. And as long as she’s happy, we’re happy.

There are a lot of kids on the 16th Street Mall who want your spare change, but few who will hammer 5 1/2-inch nails into their noses to get it. Skip and Amy, two kids from Minneapolis, are the exception. Since they arrived in Denver last July, they’ve been shocking squeamish yuppies on their lunch breaks with their pointed performance art. Skip learned the trick five years ago from circus performers who’d camped in his back yard. Typically, the nails come out clean — free of blood, brains and boogers — but that’s not always the case. “I’ve had more bloody noses than I can count,” Skip says. If you catch their act, be sure to leave a buck or two to help pay for the nasal surgery these two may need in the future.

A small redstone-and-granite chessboard now stands as a monument to the peaceful co-existence of the old and the new. Attorney Walter Gerash, whose law firm occupies 1439 Court Place — known in Denver landmark circles as the Curry/Chucovich House — persuaded workers constructing his twelve-story neighbor, the Wellington E. Webb Municipal Office Building, to spend their spare time and spare stone building the chessboard that now stands in the front yard of the restored two-story Victorian.

The Wellington E. Webb building in the Denver Civic Center complex is so lavish, it’s been dubbed the “Webb Mahal” and, in honor of its prow-like shape, the “good ship Welly-pop.” But the building has undeniable appeal, a large part of it due to public art — especially Larry Kirkland’s untitled sculpture, which has its own nickname: “Big Giant Head.” The marble sculpture in the form of a two-faced Janus has generated national attention, even showing up on CNN — not because it’s good (which it is), but because its two noses created a hazard for the blind. It’s not easy for a new sculpture to match the best the Civic Center already has to offer, but Kirkland’s stands a head above the rest of the city’s new public art.

Some love ’em, some hate ’em, but nobody can miss them — the ubiquitous Klimaszewski sisters, Diane and Elaine, who watch over the Denver skyline from Coors Light billboards, their mountainous assets a match for the peaks to the West. And the twins have done their bit for more than just the scenery: The advertising campaign in which they play such a prominent role has elevated sales of Coors Light, a brew that red-blooded males were once too embarrassed to order.

With a good measure of artistic skill and an even bigger helping of panache, Steve Chucovich’s ArchitectureDenver whipped up a brand-new pedestrian bridge that’s already a landmark in every sense of the word. The Millennium Bridge dramatically spans the railroad tracks that separate the Platte Valley from LoDo at Riverfront Park, connecting old Denver with new. Suspended from a soaring diagonal mast, steel cables descend to the deck of the walkway, holding it up with theatrical flourish. Painted a brilliant silvery white, the bridge looks like a ship’s mast from certain vantage points — it’s particularly nice when seen from the hills of Highland — pointing the way for Denver’s next voyage of discovery.

In the middle of the blizzard of the century — depending on where you start counting — a savvy reader snapped this natural phenomenon in the 1500 block of Stout Street. Meet Frosty, the Snow Man-o-Man.

Former parking czar John Oglesby left Denver employ in disgrace after his world-class bungle over a new! improved! parking plan. But come this summer, it’s a whole new bawl game, with a new

mayor and lots of new opportunities in the city — where Oglesby could reclaim his hefty Career Service Authority pay level as snowplow czar. He already has the only apparent qualification necessary for the job: Know exactly where every parking meter in the city is located so you can be certain to block access to every last one (except on the meter reader’s side) with a big bank of snow.

The dad’s the bleeping prince of darkness, his wife’s a bleeping bleep, and the kids are so bleeping out of their bleeping heads, talking such crazy bleep about who’s bleeping who in the bleeping bleep…. This kind of high drama, relentless passion and utter clarity deserves the high-minded poetry and incisive sentiment of moonstruck Arapahoe County Clerk Tracy Baker, whose bleeping electronic messages to his bleeping deputy are currently the subject of a court battle.

To further protect the Webb legacy along the Platte, Her First Ladiness needs to come to the aid of the one big clunker in her hubby’s redevelopment scheme: the failed Ocean Journey, soon to become a theme park where relatives of your entree swim while you eat. As a gracious greeter, handing out menus and urging patrons to consider the shark du jour, Wilma Webb could help the hungry forget the aquarium’s murky history.

After selling the city on redevelopment of the Platte Valley, just think how soon-to-be-ex-Denver mayor Wellington E. Webb could excel at unloading all of those unsold lofts now cluttering up the riverfront. When showing prospects the properties, WEW could demonstrate how those high ceilings accommodate even his big shoulders. Closet space for oversized tennis shoes? No problem. Act now, and he’ll throw in a Rolodex full of valuable crony contacts with each signed contract.

You’ll learn things reading Steve Owings’s new book, Colorado: A Silly Guide to the Centennial State, that you never imagined. For example, “The city’s night life is best viewed from LoDo (lower downtown). Once teeming with vagrants, panhandlers, prostitutes, and abandoned warehouses the area has been rejuvenated with the addition of Coors Field, Starbucks, Planet Hollywood and numerous other attractions designed to separate you from your money just like the panhandlers and prostitutes used to especially since one mocha latte at Starbucks now costs a little more than a night with a hooker.” C’mon — that can’t be true! After all, LoDo doesn’t have a Planet Hollywood. But Owings’s book — published by Cabin Lake Publishing out of Colorado Springs — offers dead-on satire on the Centennial State, if no useful information. At all.

Smile and say “Cheese.” In 1935, Louis Ballas, owner of the Humpty-Dumpty drive-in in northwest Denver, put a slice of cheese on a hot burger, and the rest is history. The world’s first “cheeseburger” – a term patented by Ballas — is honored with a small memorial at 2776 Speer Boulevard, now the parking lot of Key Bank.

Forget the snowpack. Colorado is awash in less ambiguous liquid assets, a fact noted by the American Association for the Advancement of Science when it welcomed 6,000 members to Denver for a convention this year. True, the brainiacs acknowledged, Denver is the most educated city in the U.S., also the “thinnest” city in the “thinnest” state. But what’s the most important stat for convention-goers? Colorado produces more beer than any other state.

Welcome to the city of conditional love. You know about Denver’s 300 days of sunshine a year, right? But nobody ever talks about the other 65 days, which are consumed by blizzards, tornadoes, wildfires, drought and calamity. The temperature here is mild, except when it isn’t. Average precipitation is moderate, all of it coming in a single dump of snow that paralyzes the city for several weeks. We are the City of Trees, but in the post-blizzard weeks we become the City of Busted Trees (also the City of 10,000 Lakes). In the summer we bake in the cruel sun, except when we’re pelted by guinea pig-sized hail. Our airport is terrific, except when it sucks. And did we mention the ever-evolving convention center, the wonderful freeway improvements known fondly as “T-Rex,” and our very own Colorado Rockies? No, no, the pleasure is all ours. Well, mostly.