The hoopla yesterday over President Barack Obama's appearance in Denver, when he used the signing of a $787 billion economic-stimulus bill to hype solar energy, spurred memories in one reader, who recalled another chief executive, Jimmy Carter, promoting solar in Denver three decades ago. However, that visit may have been even more surreal than Obama's. Among Carter's stops while in the city was Rick's Cafe, a swingin'-singles joint. The reason? Rick's used solar power to heat its dishwasher.
The odd series of events are outlined in Carter's presidential diary for May 3, 1978, accessible here. (There's also an image from the document on view after the jump.) However, the tale is told much more vividly in "A Peanut Colada, Mr. President?," an account by late Westword co-founder Sandy Widener that appears online below for the very first time.
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"A Peanut Colada, Mr. President?"
A Secret Service agent checking out the chosen dinner spot for Jimmy Carter's Colorado visit to hype solar energy on Sunday, May 3, stopped in astonishment at the entrance to Rick's Cafe. "Is it always like this?" he asked the manager, eyeing the crush of swaying singles. The agent had stopped by on Friday night, commonly known as "Zoo Night," when Denver's young social set meets at the restaurant, jamming the place to capacity.
The White House decision to eat at Rick's was based on the restaurant's status as one of the few in the area to use solar power, although at Rick's it's used primarily to heat up the dishwasher and to heat one dining room.
The people at Rick's found out about one week before the president was planning a visit, but they got used to the idea in a hurry after the Secret Service started moving in. "It's real Dick Tracy to me," sighed manager Paul Hutchens.
The agents came in every day for the week previous to the presidential visit, "and you'd know they were there because of their beepers," according to Kathy Kuperman, who waited on the President. "Once I had this guy sit at my table -- hog my table -- for four hours, just staring at the rafters. He didn't move."
Another waitress reportedly was asked by a Secret Service agent to sit down and have a drink. "I've got to work," she said. As the story goes, the Secret Serviceman told her, "Listen, honey, if that's what you're worried about, we could clear out this place in five minutes."
For the fateful meal, the restaurant closed at 4. At 5:45, Rick's 90 guests -- mostly employees and friends of the restaurant -- crowded into a level several feet above the main floor designed for about 75, and began drinking.
Outside, protestors protesting everything from Panama treaties to proposed sales of fighter planes to the Saudis to the American Agriculture movement chanted on the street across from Rick's. On the next corner the folks at the Perry Butler building were having a little barbecue to welcome the Preisdent. And those on the upper level at Rick's were waving in glee at the disgruntled news photographers who were not allowed in. (National press corps and selected local news media were allowed in during the salad course for a few minutes.)
"A lot of girls really got off on the press taking their pictures from outside on the street," said bartender Sam Towne.
Although some of the guests got "wasted" early in the evening, according to Ron Stone, who helped bus the presidential table, when Carter came in about an hour later the guests quieted down and applauded. "They didn't gawk as much as I expected," Kuperman said. The president made a hit when he shook hands with those in the upper level and told them he'd rather stay up there with them.
The only hitch occurred when those on the upper level learned they couldn't descend to the lower -- where the restrooms were located. With Secret Service escort, however, several -- including an owner -- crossed no-man's land to safety.
Once settled downstairs, the president dined on a hot crab and avocado sandwich ("We're proud of our food. We're not serving him caviar because we don't serve caviar," Hutchens said defiantly) and discussed solar energy, although Kuperman said she witnessed a major exchange between Carter and energy czar James Schlesinger on the subject of bean sprouts. "They're very good for you," Kuperman said Schlesinger told Carter.
Busboy Stephen Bottomly, a member of the Divine Light Mission, who waited on the presidential party, said of Carter, "He was a real person, like you or me. He needs love. As a matter of fact, he looked like he needs a lot more love," he said.
Although Carter's meal was decided in advance, Kuperman was determined to serve him the restaurant's pumpkin cheesecake. "They said, 'For dessert, the president is going to have...' and I said, 'Can I pick it?'" she said. "'I want him to go back to Washington and tell everybody what good pumpkin cheesecake he had.'" Kuperman's own dessert came soon after Carter's departure, when to celebrate her 25th birthday that day, the restaurant gave her -- and the co-owner who also had a birthday -- a cake inscribed "Love from Jimmy and the gang."
After the President left, "the place just came unglued," Bottomly said. When the restaurant reopened at 9 that night, some employees were still eating the cake.
Towne said a Secret Service agent who stayed to have a drink at the bar asked why the employees didn't want to shove a piece of cake in Carter's face. When Towne said he didn't know why he'd want to, the agent said as long as Towne wasn't interested in killing Carter, he could do anything to him and Carter wouldn't care.
Since the presidential visit, Kuperman said, the curious have been coming into the restaurant asking what the president had to eat, so they could eat it too. But there are no plans as yet to rename the hot crab and avocado sandwich. -- S. Widener