8 AUGUST 28-SEPTEMBER 3, 2025 westword.com WESTWORD | MUSIC | CAFE | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | NEWS | LETTERS | CONTENTS | people meandering. Things get a little live- lier at Union Station, where you must leave the bus you arrived on. But there are several other idling FreeRide buses ready to take you back. A second round trip later shows a more revived 16th Street. On the approach to Civic Center Station, a woman talking to herself comes head-on screaming, “I don’t give a fuck!” There are a few more folks kicking it outside the station, and as the bus cruises past the Denver Pavilions, you can see the pulse of downtown has quickened in the noon hour. While some kiosks are closed, like the Denver Doner kebab shack, others, includ- ing a haircut stand inside a sidewalk shanty, are bumping. Lunchers are on the patios on the shady side of the street, and you can spot tourists among the offi ce workers toting their to-go boxes back to their cubicles. On the bus, a girl rolls a single die onto the back of her left hand, playing a secret game. A man with heart-shaped wire-rimmed sunglasses dozes. The bus passes plenty of signs advertis- ing offi ce space and retail square footage for lease, which tell the back story of 16th Street’s diminishment since COVID times. Back at Civic Center Station, a wall of vomitous stench now attacks visitors to the men’s room — a true blast from the past. — Brendan Joel Kelley What’s in Store at Denver Pavilions? Somehow, that gray cylinder labeled “United Artists” is still there, a more impor- tant landmark to me than the Clock Tower down the street. Heading from Broadway down 16th Street, construction fi nally stops at the Denver Pavil- ions. That last line of fencing gives way, and music swells from a spot between the benches and fl owers in front of the Pavilions, or maybe from inside. But the transformation only goes so far. The Pavilions escalators work going up, but they don’t work going down. Many of the stores are empty. Walking through the space, a lot of it looks the same as it did ten or even twenty years ago. The Hard Rock Cafe is gone, but Coyote Ugly is still here. The I Heart Denver store is always a great place to fi nd a present or to take a visiting cousin, and it’s survived in its tucked-away corner on the second fl oor. Lucky Strike is the only public bowling alley downtown, and it’s kept some liveliness. A mother and her teenage daughter come out of H&M with stuffed bags and circle back into the Pavilions, talking in Spanish about what kind of fashion they like. Another mother and her four daughters walk over the yellow-and- red section of Glenarm Place that’s now closed to traffi c and serves as a patio for the Pavilions; the littlest girl jumps and scares a pigeon stroll- ing like a shopper in the other direction. A father and his teenage daughter are sit- ting at 5280 Burger Bar. They’re the only ones in the restaurant on a hot summer afternoon, except for a guy at the bar looking at his phone. Families with kids have the Pavilions to themselves during the day; it was much the same when my mom brought me here in the 2000s, only a few years after the complex opened in 1998. The theater used to list what movies were playing and their showtimes on a board at the entrance; back then, Robo Mike was always out front, too, entertaining a crowd. When the movie was done, we’d cross the 16th Street Mall and eat at Johnny Rockets, and I’d look out at the Pavilion’s colored awnings. I was never here late at night two decades ago, but I return this day. Around midnight, the Pavilions draws a young crowd...with no little kids. Smokers are outside Coyote Ugly, laughing with the bouncer. A double date lingers as the foursome leaves Lucky Strike. After the last movie ends, the Pavilions pretty much closes up for the night. But even as you walk back towards Broad- way through the last construction, you can turn and see that “United Artists” sign still glowing. — Bennito L. Kelty Appaloosa Doesn’t Horse Around Before Denver boosters started wringing their hands over downtown, before COVID, before 16th Street’s renovation began, there was Appaloosa Bar and Grill. Established by now-Senator John Hick- enlooper during his restaurateur days, Ap- paloosa — which is commonly referred to as “The Horse” — was founded 25 years ago in the historic Denver Masonic Building. The restaurant has served up food, drink and live music for decades. It’s a survivor, the last mom- and-pop business on this stretch of 16th Street. Johnny James and Adam Hill, members of the rock band Oakhurst, purchased the restaurant in 2005 and gave employees the opportunity to buy an interest in the busi- ness. From “pretty hard times” to training the next generation of Appaloosa leaders, James says it’s been quite a journey. “We’ve done seven different expansions within the building,” he notes. “Rather than trying to create more Appaloosas, we fi gured we just make a bigger, stronger, faster one.” From the start, when Oakhurst performed in a “little dinky corner” on New Year’s 2001, to live streaming performances during the pandemic, live music has been the backbone of Appaloosa. But there are other undeniable assets that make Appaloosa a “unicorn” on 16th Street, James says: the 1850s bar, team members who educate visitors about local hotspots, the second-fl oor Wright Room that hosts private events, an established bison program with Rock River Ranch, and a kitchen that serves until 12:30 a.m., with a menu that includes some new items in honor of 16th Street’s upgrade. “You can walk into any place on the mall, but I don’t think any of them might feel like our place,” James says. “I don’t think there’s really anything like us, especially on the mall. We hear it all the time from our guests.” General Manager Heather Delaney has been friends with James and Hill for over fi fteen years; she considered Appaloosa her “home bar.” After quitting her cooperate job, she joined the team and helped Appaloosa become stronger during the mall renovation. “There’s life down there again that I haven’t seen in a couple years. We’re just happy that we’re still here,” Delaney says. “I love being in that spot that’s a little different,” she adds. “We’re a hidden gem. Once you fi nd us, you want to keep coming back.” — Alexander Hernandez Gonzalez Mary Jane on the Mall Procuring weed on the 16th Street Mall was never a top-tier experience, whether you were buying it in the bathroom of the now-closed Mc- Donald’s decades ago or at one of the overpriced cannabis dispensaries that began opening just over a decade ago. Today, it’s not much better. There’s currently one dispensary on 16th Street — a basement spot that dubbed itself the “Apple Store of weed” before being sold to an out-of-state company, which has largely kept the same model — as well as two retail pot tourist traps located a block or two off it. And once people get their weed, where are they supposed to smoke it? Denver’s only licensed cannabis consump- tion lounges are located over a mile away in RiNo, on East Colfax and near West Colfax. Because of restrictions on marijuana lounges at the local, state and (as always) federal lev- els, we probably won’t see a 16 Street venue allowing cannabis use any time soon...if ever. Hard to complain much about that, given everything else going on in the world right now. But let’s think about what 16th Street, in the heart of the city, has now to com- memorate Denver’s status as the fi rst major city to decriminalize the plant and allow recreational pot sales: •Plenty of places to get a beer or throw back shots •Tacky T-shirts, shot glasses and knick-knacks for sale with marijuana leaves and “420” on them •The smell of burnt weed wafting around from all rude walks of life •Mediocre restaurants made better thanks to THC-enhanced stomachs •Hours of potential people-watching We’re not trying to be the Kottonmouth Kings in this bitch and force our pot-addled ways of life upon the 16th Street continued from page 7 continued on page 10 Appaloosa Bar and Grill will turn 25 next year. Denver Pavilions holds onto a bit of charm with its enduring and beloved stores. BENNITO L. KELT Y ALEXANDER HERNANDEZ GONZALEZ Cannabis tourism can help downtown recover. BRANDON MARSHALL
