A little country, a little glitter, a whole lotta Democrats
 Lannie's Clocktower Cabaret offers burlesque revues. (Larry Laszlo for The Boston Globe) |
Thrill seekers chase storms; bohos follow jam bands. I've taken what you might call a more conventional route. Holed up all of two blocks from the FleetCenter as Democrats overran the North End four years ago, I now live in Denver, 10 minutes from the official sites of the 2008 Democratic National Convention (Aug. 25-28): the Pepsi Center, home to the basketball Nuggets and hockey Avalanche, and Invesco Field at Mile High, where the Broncos play and Barack Obama is expected to deliver his acceptance speech.
Both less than 10 years old, the venues glitter as ultramodern behemoths in the downtown landscape amid the loops and spires of Elitch Gardens, the century-old amusement park. It's a juxtaposition that captures the Mile High City today, a place no less urbane for its willingness to let its colorful cow town roots show.
Not so very long ago, much of downtown - especially its chic hub, LoDo (for Lower Downtown) - was one big Skid Row. (This is, after all, a city that housed its first seat of government in a saloon.) Now swanky and quirky by turns, the area is a treat for sightseers, especially those with a sense of humor.
For instance, even if you can't afford to stay at the legendary Brown Palace Hotel, you can take a free tour guided by Julia Kanellos, on-site historian, who mixes the official tidbits with juicier ones. A supposed underground tunnel, she notes, once allowed "reputable gentlemen" secret passage from the hotel's tavern to the brothel across the street. On a morning in 1996 President Clinton, heading for a jog, cut through ritzy Ellyngton's in gym shorts to shake hands with the shocked power-breakfast crowd.
After the tour, stroll down Curtis toward 15th Street until you hear cows stampeding, brooks burbling, and birds twittering beneath your feet. These sidewalk-grate soundscapes are the work of artist Jim Green (as are the so-called Singing Sinks that play "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" in the Denver Art Museum). Then grab a Severed Goat's Head or Six-Toed Kitten, cocktails at Mario's Double Daughter's Salotto, a bar whose design, marked by hovering doves and handrails lined with axes, was inspired by a tale of conjoined-twin carnival workers.
If you're feeling really cheeky, take in a burlesque revue at Lannie's Clocktower Cabaret in the basement of Denver's first skyscraper, where mosaics and cowboy-boot chandeliers glimmer amid the spangles and pasties. Or take a quick trip on the RTD light rail to the historic Buckhorn Exchange, a veritable Wild West theme park cluttered with hunting trophies of all stripes, and the joint that holds the city's first-issued liquor license.
Of course, there are high-minded options as well. You can lose yourself among the roughly 80,000 volumes lining the Tattered Cover, the nationally celebrated independent bookstore, or sip splits at the aptly named Corridor 44, a gorgeous black-and-white hallway of a champagne bar in posh Larimer Square. Come November after the election, you can catch an indie premiere at the Starz Denver Film Festival (particularly acclaimed for its documentary program).
Still, culture in Denver retains a ragged edge. Take the several-blocks stretch of South Broadway known as Antique Row, as much a hoot for browsers as it is a boon to collectors. Amid the serious finds - relief-carved chandeliers from Black Forest hunting lodges and Edison Victrolas, inlaid Victorian armoires, and Art Deco stained glass - is a wealth of wackiness, from ventriloquists' dummies and wooden rocking horses at Lucky-Jack's to a 1924 fire truck in the window of Baker Auction.
Don't blink or you'll miss Blinky's, a room-sized pile of bric-a-brac overseen by a gregarious octogenarian ex-TV clown, who delights in dropping the names of one-time colleagues and customers like Red Skelton and Liberace. By contrast, you could never miss Flossy McGrew's. The façade of this costume shop extraordinare boasts a tableau of silver-painted catacombs. Inside, plastic rats and crash-test dummies, Bakelite accordions and skull candles decorate the racks filled with buccaneer coats, wizards' robes, vinyl Girl Scout uniforms, and full-sized fairy wings. "We get almost all our stuff from dead people," says employee Jeana Peacock.
Whet your appetite for whimsy further with a five-minute trek (as the bus travels) due north to Beatrice & Woodsley, a Double Daughter's sibling that stormed the dining scene in the spring. Alluding to a 19th-century lovers' hideaway in the Rockies, the decor - crosscut logs, mounted chainsaws, and iron lanterns suspended among aspen trunks - captures the "beauty of the history of this state," says Kevin Delk, co-owner and designer. The equally fanciful small-plates menu abounds in delicacies like sweetbreads on chestnut-honey cakes and crawfish beignets sprinkled with cayenne sugar.
If it's early yet, make a slight northwestward jog over to the ArtDistrict on Santa Fe, where four blocks of galleries and open studios await. Behind the blank façade of what looks like an apartment building bustles a vibrant cooperative, Nine10Arts, whose halls the public is free to roam. To do so is to embark on an aesthetic scavenger hunt: Pop around one corner to discover a life-size papier-mâché ostrich laying her eggs; around another, there's a sparkling mosaic fireplace; above you hangs a Mylar-and-Sharpie mobile like a giant Shrinky Dink.
Down the street, Vertigo always has some eye-popping mixed-media installation on display: Rock salt and human hair encrust a petrified-wood sculpture here, conjoined prom dresses float there. Meanwhile, like many of their neighbors, Core New Art Space and the adjacent Spark Gallery are mounting convention-inspired, politically themed shows this summer but tend toward the provocative year-round.
Born to shop? Forget chichi but featureless Cherry Creek. The lesser-known Highlands Square packs a far funkier punch, its short main drag sparkling with restored gingerbread Victorians sporting names like Kismet and Frolik, Starlet and bang! All the eateries boast brightly colored nooks leading to leafy back patios, while the boutiques burst with indie charm, from The Perfect Petal, juxtaposing luxe housewares with fresh blooms, to Lily's Urbanistic Tea & Bike Shop, where you can get your loose-leaf fix and your loose chain fixed.
Michelle Bontrager, Lily's co-owner, says the Highlands "has always been an interesting mix of small, quirky businesses. It used to be an old Italian neighborhood, but the little markets have fallen by the wayside and now it's a little more modern." And yet it's no less quaint, whether you're sipping a Colorado chardonnay in Cafe Caliente, a turn-of-the-century cottage, or nibbling a Jack Daniel's-flavored cupcake at Happy Cakes.
When it's time to leave the cute behind, head south to the gaudy, gritty, 26-mile-long spectacle of Americana that is Colfax Avenue. Once named (as many a native will gleefully report) the "wickedest street" in the nation by Playboy, it's still lined with some of Denver's most beloved dives.
It's home to the Ogden Theatre, where Houdini once graced the stage and the likes of alt-legend Nick Cave still do. At the Satire Lounge, an as-yet-unknown Bob Dylan performed, the Smothers Brothers honed their chops, and counterculture vultures still hover. To the west, Casa Bonita is the Mexican restaurant-cum-wacky entertainment complex immortalized by the cult TV cartoon series "South Park" for its cliff divers and flame jugglers. (But if you're craving Mexican that will set your soul afire, head down 38th Avenue instead. It's sprawling with burriterias, taquerías, and mom-and-pop spots like Los Carboncitos, home of the foot-long "huarache," a sort of Mexican pizza.)
White-hot and sleek here, rickety and down-home there, Denver's the very picture of the frontier in the 21st century. On the eve of the 2008 convention, it's about to become the gateway to a whole new era.
Ruth Tobias can be reached at ruthtobias@earthlink.net.
