Up The Street

A few doors up from The Branding Iron stood The Pioneer Inn. For me, it was a world away. Even though I grew up in those seventies summers rubbing elbows with the freaks and flower children who descended upon Nederland back in those days, I wasn't ready for the level of freakdom or flower power found just up the street. The Branding Iron was our safe space. Our little family established a place there. We were regulars. Like the rest of the folks who hung out at the BI, we shared an outlook and a love of onion rings that was easily negotiated. The currency then was Nixon, and we were all in it together. Three doors down, things were roughly the same. But rougher.
There was a time in my life, when I was ten years old or so, that I was pretty certain that any time I saw more than two motorcyclists in a group that it was a gang. By this reasoning, the Pioneer Inn hosted its share of biker gangs. Lined up in a row, not unlike horses at a hitching post were more than two Harleys, most of which were driven by burly men wearing denim. The neon sign above the Branding Iron shouted to the world "Bar," but the wooden designation hanging in front of the Pioneer Inn declared it a "Saloon." I felt comfortable in a bar, for what it's worth, but threatened by a saloon.
There was a jukebox in the Branding Iron. The Pioneer Inn had live music. I was pretty convinced that meant rampant drug use was taking place just inside the doors.
Not that I would have known, since I never went inside.
Not ever.
But the stories about those who did were legends. Just up the hill from these two establishments sat Caribou Ranch, a recording facility nestled in the heart of the Rocky Mountains where all manner of artists worked on songs and albums away from the furor of New York and Los Angeles. Billy Joel, Chicago, Supertramp, and even Michael Jackson made a home away from home above Nederland, waiting for that muse to strike. And every so often, one of these stars would feel the need to wander into town. And while there were tales of food delivered from the Branding Iron to the Ranch, none of them graced the BI with their presence. John Lennon had a few drinks at the Pioneer Inn. Joe Walsh even tended bar there on breaks from the studio.
I never got to see any of that. Too afraid of the bikers and the drugs. And all that music and excitement. Just a few doors down. The Pioneer Inn is closed now. The Branding Iron burned down in 1978 as a result of faulty wiring in a beer cooler. Recently a "new" version of the BI opened, serving a new generation of freaks. Caribou Ranch's recording studio went up in flames in 1985. The rock and roll memorabilia was sold off over time, and the land was eventually sold to a developer. The Pioneer Inn lasted until this past November, closing its doors to bikers and rock stars for good.
Now I can finally feel safe.