Volume 4, Issue 3
February 7 - February 20, 2002
by Alex Neth
3242 E. Colfax
303-399-9703
It's true. I have, in the past, betrayed a certain amount of negative bias when it comes to the Wynkoop Brewing Company and its ancillary enterprises. This opinion I have formed over years of careful swilling; I didn't just wake up one morning cursing the place. Nay, friends, these eyes were not always so jaundiced.
So then it comes as a surprise to me, in my sclerotic funk, that I enjoyed something Wynkoop-related. What could that possibly be, you ask? It could possibly be The Goosetown Tavern.
Ah, yes. Leaving aside the issue of the name--is Denver known in some secret circle as Goosetown? Do we have a surplus of geese of which I am unaware?--this is a fine establishment, one I am proud to trumpet. This is a place to drink a beer or four in the afternoon, a place with a jukebox brimming with quality old punk rock, a place where the bartender will rap fearlessly with whatever scuzzball wanders in from the grime of Colfax. This is, in this here writer's unstudied opinion, one of Denver's better drinking establish-ments.
There's no attitude here. No fashionable crowd of feebs in designer clothing giggling about who wore what where. Just bar patrons, coming in to do bar things like play pool or have sandwiches--no burgers here, by the way, but the personal pizzas are spank-me-with-a-bent-clotheshanger delicious--or drink liquor. Hell, nothing wrong there. That is, unless I am grossly mistaken, why bar patrons are bar patrons to begin with.
That's the problem with so many quasi-bars in this mile-high hamlet of ours. They don't have the focus right. They spend money on Italian marble, plush chairs, swanky lighting and neon. They waste energy trying to look like San Francisco's latest spot-of-the-moment when all Denver wants is a tarpaper shack and Coors in a can. They court the beautiful people. Who, exactly, are they? Do they spend more money on booze than my sodden ilk? I, along with a concerned legion of local doctors, doubt that highly.
Nope, the beauteous folk who theoretically make up the bulk of Denver's bar-going population are a hoax. They are, in truth, only 6 in number and they dash from place to place in search of photo-ops and Bill Husted. Most of us aren't beautiful; we won't find ourselves counted among Denver's Hottest Singles, we won't appear in those look-how-much-fun-everyone-is-having-here ads in Westword and we don't drink anything made with Midori. We may not get much press-- and we may not deserve it--but we are the I-beams, the superstructure, the concrete pads keeping our local taverns from disappearing.
So it is refreshing, and indeed a bit unnerving, to find such a friendly, attractive, affordable joint. It's like finding a turkey dinner beneath the Christmas tree, like owning a chimpanzee that can sing and dance. It's a relief. I was beginning to think that there are only about four bars in this city that I actually enjoy/am welcome in. Now, there are five. Happy day!
Afternoon, evening, late at night, having a drink with the hipsters down at The Goosetown is never a bad idea. Order a Pabst--which, on Sundays and Mondays, will only cost you a $1--and put the whole Repo Man soundtrack on the juke. Stare out at Colfax, stare in at yourself, play some pool, hunker down in a booth, look at the work of local artists adorning the walls, wallow in your favorite addiction. Have a giggle and a pizza.
The Goosetown Tavern may be inscrutably named and the parent company may think my opinion of less worth than shoes on a beetle, but make no bones about it--this is a bar for serious bar people. And, I guess, for you beautiful ones too. Just try to avoid blinding us shut-ins with your dazzling smiles.
All Rights Reserved © 2002 Go Go Media, LLC, Denver, Colorado