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.
