Big Ed Dennehy, Owner of the First Saloon in Gold Creek

(from In the Colorado Gold Fever Mountains)

What do thirsty men need?

Not God, Who just sends cave-ins

to test their faith, when faith demands

a little miracle now and then.

Nor do they need a bed under a flimsy roof

when ten feet of snow’ll crush everything

inside, like flies in a boy’s fist;

nor a nagging wife he’d sooner punch

when supper’s not to his liking;

and surely not brats, shrieking banshees

with snotty, outstretched palms.

 

No, what a man really craves is a good,

head-clearing drink at a fair price.

Is it any wonder the first public building

to rise under these glittering peaks

and beside these streams crammed

with the biggest nuggets this side

of the Almighty’s treasure chests

is my saloon, a fortress against despair?

 

When the freight-wagons carrying the barrels

stopped in front of the lot that’d house

my Palace of the Restoration of the Spirit,

men clamored for drinks as if cheering on

General Sherman giving Rebs no quarter.

 

Makes me proud to be an American.