Herb’s was originally called Herb’s Hideout, a nod to the Wild West image of Denver and Colorado at the time. And it’s true that the Queen City of the Plains was still largely a cowtown, isolated with the open ranges of the Midwest to the east and the Rocky Mountains to the west. It would be another year after Herb’s opened its doors before the Burlington Zephyr set what was then a record-fast “dawn to dusk” trip between Denver and Chicago: just over thirteen hours. That same trip by stagecoach — the primary mode of extended travel only a decade or two before — was measured in weeks.
Herb's back in the day.
Courtesy of Herb's
In true Herb's fashion, though, the planned festivities will be centered around music and drinks. There will be $4 drink specials that include Gin Rickeys, Manhattans, Salty Dogs, Tom Collins and Old-Fashioneds. The Gabe Mervine Quartet will play from 5:30 to 8:30, and Funkiphino will take the stage from 10 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. “1930s attire is optional,” Newman says. “Recommended, even. Not that I know what I’m wearing yet.”
If clothes make the man, or so the old macho aphorism goes, that’s never really been the case at Herb's, which prides itself on being “low on pretension, high on energy,” according to its website. Its reputation bears that out: Herb's is known for being a no-bullshit bar. It doesn’t try to be more than it is, which is a place to go and drink and listen to some good live music. “You can’t design a dive bar,” Newman insists. “A place has to earn that. You can’t build it.”
She and her wife, Cherie, are only the fifth owners in Herb's history. “The first owner only had it for two years, and that was Herb. And then the man who bought it was named Herbert, so he just kept the name. He had it for decades. Then Larry Wright — he had the Manhattan Cafe here in town — had it for a few years. Michael Bloom had it for just a couple of years, and then I bought it,” Newman recalls.
She says Herbert’s son, who’d helped his father run it for most of the mid-twentieth century, came into Herb’s not that long ago and shared some great old stories of the place. He recounted how rough-and-tumble the neighborhood has really always been, but especially in the latter half of the 1900s. One time, he was working at the bar, standing near the door, when a guy came in to rob the place. The would-be-thief (and murderer, as it turned out) shot point-blank five times. “Missed every shot,” Newman says. “And then way in the back, he hears BOOM. A body falling. Someone had caught a bullet somewhere halfway down the bar. It was a rough place. That would have been the early ’60s.”
A decade before that, Herb's was, as Newman puts it, “a Kerouac bar.” She means that literally: Before she bought it in 2001, the walls were covered in pictures of Jack Kerouac in the bar, drinking and living the life he’d recount in his seminal Beat novel On the Road. “But when Bloom’s last manager got fired, he took all the Kerouac pictures with him," she says. "That was sad. They still exist somewhere." No one’s ever tried to track that former manager down and ask for the photos back. (For the sake of Herb’s history: If that former manager is reading this, get those photos — or at least copies of those photos — back to Herb’s, will you?)
But the past still lingers at Herb's, regardless of pictures. There are stories of a ghost in the men’s room, a ’60s-era murder victim who is said to have haunted the locale for a time. “We don’t experience him as much anymore. We used to see a male image in the mirror. We were creeped out by it, but his presence has diminished over the years," Newman explains. "Or he just left. And now we miss him.”
It’s not just the spirits — alcoholic or otherwise — that populate Herb’s history. Jack Black visited; the Steve Miller Band was there; so were the Moody Blues and tons of other musicians. “People just find it. One of our former governors used to come down here and dance to the music,” Newman recalls with a laugh. “I didn’t even know Republicans could dance. But there he’d be, dancing with his daughter — and doing it pretty well.”
Beyond the celebrities, Herb's is known for its station in the local music scene. Newman is passionate about Herb’s because she’s passionate about music. She’s a member of Alive on Arrival, a soul-funk band with a New Orleans roots-driven rock edge. She also comes from several generations of small-business owners: Her grandfather started some of the first Walgreens stores back in the Chicago area, where Newman grew up. She went to the music conservatory at Indiana University from there, was part of the Yamaha Saxophone Quartet and eventually made her way out to Denver. “I was on my way to California,” she says, “and I ran out of money.” She landed her first gig with legendary Denver singer Ron Henry, and played with him for years after, which led directly to Alive on Arrival. “And then tons and tons and tons of gigs,” she adds.
From left to right: Anna Krantz and her daughter; Jennifer Levine, Mark Diamond, Diana Castro and Laura Newman.
Mel Amen
The neighborhood has certainly changed over the years. What was rough for many different and changing reasons over time has become different. Call it gentrification, call it renovation, call it reuse. But Herb’s has remained the same, and will continue to mark the time measured in strong pours and great music.
“I don’t feel like a bar owner,” Newman says. “I feel like I’m a caretaker. Herb’s isn’t mine; it’s its own place. It is an entity all its own. I still feel the juju down here. It’s ninety years of people in those walls.”
Here’s to ninety more at Herb’s.
Herb's will celebrate its ninetieth birthday on Sunday, May 7, starting at 4 p.m. For more information, see its website.
