15 MAY 1-7, 2025 westword.com WESTWORD | CONTENTS | LETTERS | NIGHT+DAY | CULTURE | CAFE | MUSIC | FIND MORE MUSIC COVERAGE AT WESTWORD.COM/MUSIC The Club King REGAS CHRISTOU REFLECTS ON DECADES OF BUILDING NIGHTCLUBS. BY MIC HAEL ROBERT S Regas Christou has been the undisputed king of Denver nightclubs for decades. But while he isn’t offi cially retiring — at least, not yet — he recently sold two of his most popular and iconic venues, Club Vinyl and the Church, and is in the process of wind- ing down an entertainment career that’s as singular as any in the city’s history. One factor behind Christou’s decision is simple wear and tear. When asked his age, he avoids offering a number, declaring with a guffaw, “I’m an old fucking guy, man!” (In a 2021 article commemorating the Church’s 25th anniversary, he told Westword he was 69.) “But it’s not just that,” he adds. “I think at this stage of my life, I want to spend time with my kids.” He has two sons: Nico, who’s graduating from St. Andrew’s University in Scotland in July, and Roman, who is fi nishing high school with plans to attend Southern Methodist University in the fall. “Don’t forget,” he continues, in an accent still deeply fl avored by his Mediterranean upbringing, “for 38 years, I used to get up at seven o’clock in the morning and didn’t stop until three the next morning. I used to sleep two or three hours a night — and I didn’t have a New Year’s Eve off for 35 years.” What he saw during this span could fi ll a book — and indeed, Christou says he’s planning to write one. Based on the always colorful, de- fi antly blunt, gleefully profane way he tells his story, the results should be well worth reading. “I was born in Cyprus,” Christou says of the island nation typically as- sociated with Greece, although it’s actually closer to Turkey and Lebanon. His father was a car- penter who died when he was four years old, and his mother stayed at home to tend her large brood, which included Regas and fi ve siblings: George, Andy, Chris, Eva and Maria, whom he calls “my biggest supporter.” Many of his future businesses would succeed in part from the strength of these blood ties. Skip forward to Christou’s adolescence. “I got into a little bit of trouble,” he acknowledges, “so my mother, in order to save me and the sanity of the family, sent me to the U.S. at the age of fourteen on a 747 Pan Am. I didn’t speak any English, but I was happy to get off the island.” His initial destination was Connecticut. “I went to Immaculate Heart, a Catholic high school in Danbury, and learned how to kick fi eld goals for the football team,” he recalls. “Then I went to Western Connecticut State College and, upon graduating, I took two years off to start a construction company with my brother Andy. Then I decided to go to grad school at Long Island University; I majored in international relations and got my master’s degree. But I also got a fellowship to go to the University of Denver, around the time Condi Rice was there. I graduated from DU in 1982.” In the meantime, “I had a job at this place called the Olympic Flame on Colorado Bou- levard. I worked for Pete Contos,” he says, referencing a legendary Denver restaurateur of Greek heritage who died in 2019. “I was probably the fi rst 26-to-27-year-old busboy in history at that time. I went from waiter to bartender, and I realized I enjoyed that part. So by the time I got out of DU, I was already kind of in the hospitality business.” The next step for Christou was opening a place of his own, but raising the cash for such an enterprise wasn’t easy. “I tried to get a loan from Bank One. But the president of the bank — I remember that son of a bitch to this day — wouldn’t see me. I used to sit in his offi ce, wait day and night, and he’d walk right past me and close the door,” Christou says. “But one day, I walked into his offi ce and said, ‘You’re ignoring me. I need $5,000 to open my restaurant across the street.’ He told me, ‘What am I going to do with you when you can’t pay?’ I looked at his little eyes and said, ‘You’re not going to have to deal with me, because I’ll be under the rubble.’” When his pitch didn’t sway the bank manager, Christou decided to sell his precious 1978 MGB. “I put it on sale for $6,000,” he recalls, “and a guy came in and said, ‘I’ll give you $4,000.’ I said, ‘It’s a brand—new car. I can’t let it go for that.’ But then a lady came in with her son and said, ‘I’d love your car for my son, but I only have $3,000.’ I told her, ‘Sold.’ That fi rst guy looked at me like, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you? How the hell are you going to make it in business doing something like that?’ But at the end of the day, it was never about the money. It was about accomplishing something, beating the odds, never compromising and just moving like the water. That’s been my whole philosophy.” After the MGB sale, Christou says, “My family and I pooled all our money together, which came to about $12,500, and I opened a place called the Regas Cafe. At that time, I was doing Greek music, belly dancing and great Greek food.” This combination didn’t spell success, however. “We were losing our ass,” he ad- mits. “For years, we just made the sales tax, which is all I wanted to do. But it grinds on you, and after a while, there was a lot of ten- sion with my family. I’m very stubborn some- times — what do they call it, hardheaded? It was my word, and that’s it.” From there, Christou launched “the KHIH Cafe, after KHIH radio,” he says, “and we went from Greek music to jazz. But it was the biggest mistake I ever made. I got this jazz guy, Rob Mullins, who was playing the Bay Wolf in Cherry Creek, and the food was great; my sister Eva, who worked with her husband, Jimmy, was a tremendous chef. But again, we were basically working for the bank. I’d pay Rob and his band on Saturday, and on Monday, it was like starting all over again.” His next venture, dubbed Cristos, wasn’t a smash, either. “It was the late ‘80s and Denver had a recession from the oil bust and all that,” Christous says. It was time to pivot, and in the early 1990s, he made a big one with the Dead Beat Club, a nightspot at 4040 East Evans Avenue where he paired a restaurant with a space focusing on good times and dancing to contemporary sounds. As Christou frankly concedes, the concept was foreign to him: “It was my fi rst time moving away from jazz and Greek music. I knew I wanted to go in a different direc- tion, but I basically had zero knowledge at all. I knew the music I wanted to play, but I didn’t know what it was. So I relied on the DJs I was able to fi nd, who knew a lot more about it than I did. Even today, I don’t know anything about EDM or rap music or house music. I just know what I like to listen to.” Breaking into the club scene wasn’t easy, and the big kahuna at the time of the Dead Beat Club’s launch was Aqua Lounge. “It would be, like, a Tuesday night, and they’d have a thousand people and I had fi ve,” Chris- tou grumbles. But then he learned that Aqua Lounge would be closed for a week because its owners were taking MUSIC continued on page 16 Regas Christo, fl anked by sons Roman and Nico, is winding down his entertainment career. COURTESY OF REGAS CHRISTOU A young Regas Christou with his beloved sister Maria. COURTESY OF REGAS CHRISTOU
