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The Montview Bar & Grill: So much promise, so very little delivery. Located on a dark and cranky section of east Montview, its location has the makings of a great one. Unfortunately judging dive bars by their exteriors is as fickle a business as judging beers by their fancy labels. The night I pulled in, the place had the atmosphere of a senior center. A bunch of kids were playing slow games of pool in a large, well lit room off to one side. Most of the patrons in the main bar sat around watching with disinterest as a DJ tried in vain to drum up support for his karaoke session. We hardly lasted a beer.
The Montview Bar & Grill is located at 11680 Montview in west Aurora, up near Fitzsimons.
I had a good feeling about The Sports Station Bar & Grill before going in the door, just based on the homemade sign out front, that was leaning curiously. And it did not disappoint. The Sports Station Bar & Grill earned high marks as a dive bar. It had Busch on tap, a lousy beer if there ever was one, unless you are drinking in St. Louis (I've done that, and even in St. Louis I'd call it marginal). There was a bar know-it-all, a guy in overalls looking like he just rolled in from a Dexy's Midnight Runners tryout, who insisted to anyone listening that the brunette in Just Shoot Me was the same brunette that wowed us in Full House. Nothing like intelligent conversation over a pitcher of Busch to set young minds along the path of enlightenment. It's not the same brunette, by the way. The Station also provided questionable entertainment: One of the TVs over the bar was playing a rousing episode of How Stuff Works, where we learned how to put together an engine, no doubt to further the atmosphere of the Station as a place of learning. I've never been to a bar before where educational programs were considered to be a good choice for the barroom TVs, though I did catch some cartoons at The Silver Fox one morning, an interesting choice. If you tired of learning, you could turn your eyes to the other TV, which was broadcasting closed circuit video shots of the parking lot. Not much of a confidence booster in the neighborhood, though it beats going outside every half hour to make sure your car has not been stolen. Finally, the coup-de-grace could be found in the restroom, though I assume only in the men's restroom (sorry ladies). Trough urinals - a little touch of class that makes the bar patrons feel like family.
I am a firm believer that running a dive bar takes leadership. Matt and I saw a first hand example when we ran into the owner of The Station toward the end of the night. He had actually been there as long as we had, but was doing his best impression of the guy getting plowed by himself in the corner of the bar (a character you'll find in most dive bars). 'As long as there's people here drinkin, I'll keep the bar open,' the bar owner Brett told Matt and I when we asked when the bar closed. It was not until later that I realized that he had imparted on us a dive bar pearl of wisdom: Concentrate on the drink, let everything else go to pot, and a dive bar is born.
I don't think the arrow actually points to the front door.The Sports Station Bar & Grill is located at 850 Dayton on the west side of Aurora. It is open 24 hours a day, as long as you're drinkin.
Zooming down 6th in my car, all I saw was a sign with the glowing words 'Don's Mixed Drinks'. What could be more intriguing than a place with 'Mixed Drinks' in the name (other than perhaps one with 'Beer' in the name)? And I still remember my first time through the doors, 3-years or so ago. Since then it has had a somewhat revered aura in my head, between the crappy wood paneling, the closet sized bathroom, the shuffleboard table, the ceiling tiles that looked like they were held together by brown stains, and that name... Don's Mixed Drinks. It didn't hurt that on that first trip the whole place was enshrouded in smoke. Regardless, I was excited to make a trip back.That trip back came last weekend. I found it to still be lovably shabby, aside from the glare of neon that now highlighted the back bar. The name had changed to Don's Club Tavern, though to my dismay I found out that may have been the name all along. The smoke had also lifted, and the clarity opened my eyes to the true identity of Don's... a grade A faux dive bar. A fro-dive, if you will. To be certain, a crappy interior does not a dive bar make. The crowd was young, smartly dressed, and enjoying plenty of Pabst Blue Ribbons. I was also unaware that the mixed drinks were mainly of the Red Bull variety. Foul. Matt and I sat anonymously at a booth in the corner, enjoying a nice pairing of a High Life bottle and a mixed drink (had to). The drinks set us back $12 (solid for four bevs), and we watched the meat market scene, one that was more LoDo than East Colfax, unfold. About the time we were finishing up our beverages and deciding whether or not we wanted seconds, I noticed a sign on the far west wall of the bar which read 'After 80 years, Don's Club Tavern is finally expanding. Track the progress at myspace.com/donsclubtavern.' Apparently even the shab was not cool enough for Don's anymore. Thoroughly defeated, we left, hanging our heads in silence and mourning the passing of a classic.
Don's Club Tavern serves mixed drinks on 723 E. 6th in Denver, right around the corner from LoDo.
Add another name to the list of hard rockers that died young: Bruno's Saloon. (Here's a link to the post about my earlier visit) I can only speculate as to the reason Bruno's would have shut down. Perhaps the fact that one could drive by on any given night and easily come to the conclusion that it was abandoned? Or, the fact that you could sit in the parking lot on any given night and still question whether or not it was abandoned? Bruno's was a solid enough dive bar, but one thing about dive bars is that they tend to scrape by on some unknown means - they can be oppressively yet pleasantly seedy and still generate enough patronage to keep the doors open, but not enough to replace the light bulbs in the sign out in the parking lot. Bruno's apparently did not quite get this equation figured out. You can't say they didn't try, though. It is apparent from the pictures of their sign that they tried to cram their entire monthly list of specials onto seven lines - an attempt at efficiency that I enjoyed, but can confidently qualify as a failure. I think they chopped the M for Monday in half to fit more on the sign. Outstanding. One thing is certain: In the run-down forest that is the Denver dive bar community, I heard Brunos fall.
Maybe someone got shocked out in the parking lot. Did somebody say High Voltage?
PS. Postscript. Defined as an afterward or an afterthought, something you forgot the first time around. That's a good descriptor of a dive bar, that forgotten spot that deserves to be come back to.
I first heard about The PS Lounge from my neighbor Bryan who works at National Jewish. He described it as a dirty little place where people he worked with like to go after work for cheap beverages and recommended that I check it out. Bryan understands my preferences in a tavern, as he has accompanied me on maiden voyages to Charlie's Silver Fox and to The Mozart Lounge, so I regarded his recommendation highly and made plans.
My little brother Nick joined me on my first time. We settled into a booth and ordered up a couple beers. The decor in the PS made it look kind of like someone's basement, circa 1982. Pictures plastered the walls, some of recent patrons and their antics, others that looked like shots of the cast of a European soap opera. A nice touch. Promptly, our beers arrived, along with juice glasses of what looked kind of like Tang. We had to ask our waitress. 'Free house shots from Pete, the owner,' she said nodding in the direction of an older surly looking gentleman standing by the bar. 'Everyone gets one with their first drink. It's an Alabama Slamma'. Free house shots, a very nice touch.
Pete turned out to be not so surly after all. He worked the room all night, commiserating with his happy patrons. Not only did he give out a free shot to everyone coming in the door, but he also gave out roses to each of the ladies. Meeting Pete also dispelled any thoughts of mine that the PS was owned by an english major with a minor in booze. Just some guy's initials.
Nick and I were starting to get comfortable when I noticed a plaque on the wall next to our booth. 'Best Dive Bar', awarded to The PS Lounge by some local publication. Pedigree. I groaned and sunk down in the booth. I felt like Sir Edmund Hillary summiting Everest and finding a sign posted there saying 'Future Home of Starbucks'.
I ceased pouting when a girl sat down next to me in the booth. She said that she was looking for somewhere to sit while waiting for a friend who was in the bathroom. Fair enough. The friend arrived and instead of proceeding to leave, he joined us as well. Normally I wouldn't be ok with this. These two were either going to ask us for money or they were super drunk and looking for someone to vomit on. I was wary. It turned out to be the complete opposite. They ended up being just two kids out having a good time and making plans to meet up with some other people for a birthday party. We had a few drinks, had fun chatting for awhile, until eventually they left. It was a totally random deal, but looking around I couldn't help but get the feeling that having an enjoyable chat with a couple of perfect strangers was par for the course at The PS.
The PS Lounge is not the best dive bar in Denver, as some would have you to believe. It's got the right location, a solidly shabby decor, but it lacks that special ambiance that prompts a 'Did that just happen?' It's more like the comfort food of dive bars - not the grade A fillet mignon, but the mash potatoes and gravy that are good enough that you have no trouble coming back time and time again. To that end, calling itself The PS Lounge is a misnomer. It's hardly an afterthought.
The PS Lounge is located at 3416 East Colfax. The first shot is on the house.
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