Certain prim civic-booster types do a lot of braying about shedding Denver’s cowtown image.
Bull to that, I say.
When the first great public event of the Mile High year is watching longhorn steers mosey through the heart of the financial district, you have a tradition that should be embraced, not bucked.
So it played out Tuesday, when the National Western Stock Show’s annual parade made its way up 17th Street.
The first wave of riders on horseback passed Champa Street just after high noon. Granted, they were police, and with their helmets and semiautomatic pistols, they didn’t quite have the look of an Old West posse, but still.
“I always tell newcomers that there are two things you have to do when you move to Denver,” said John Griffin, who arrived here from Ohio 30 years ago. “You have to watch the stock show parade, and two weeks later, you have to go to the Brown Palace to see the grand champion steer.
“People always have the same reaction: ‘You mean they march steers through the city and then bring one into the nicest hotel in town?’ ”
Yup. They always do it in bracing weather too, just like Tuesday.
The concept takes some getting used to for newcomers of any age.
A girl at curbside held her nose. A passing cowboy laughed and said, “Now, little lady, it doesn’t smell that bad.” The cowboy, of course, was inhaling the sweet aroma of cash on the hoof.
But every time I pick up the newspaper and some slickster is complaining that the city should be promoting its nightclubs and art museums and downplaying its roots, I’m left wondering whether that person views Denver’s rich history with the same upturned nose as that kid.
The reality is this city’s past includes horses and cattle and the sort of byproducts that don’t require paper shredders but the trio of mechanized street sweepers that trail the stock show parade.
That’s worth remembering.
Many of us come from somewhere else, bringing our own traditions with us. That’s why Philly cheesesteaks are sold on the 16th Street Mall, Ethiopian restaurants spring up on East Colfax Avenue and Vietnamese pho houses dot Federal Boulevard.
But I’d like to think everyone could take an interest, at least once, in some aspect of the stock show. It’s part of what makes us Denverites, even if you feel you look like an idiot in a cowboy hat.
“This parade brings out the cowboy in all of us,” said Katy Charles, dressed decidedly un-cowboylike in a lime- green sock cap. The guy she came with, first-time parade- goer Jim Green, wore a black beret.
A shout went up from a cowboy: “Everyone yell, ‘Yee- haw.’ ” Everyone did.
But my favorite moment of the parade? The salesmanship of a female rider who waved to some pint-sized buckaroos. “Hey kids,” she yelled. “Tell your mom and dad to buy you a pony!”
The parents looked as if they had been crowned by a branding iron. The woman was just trying to stake a claim for the future.
She might already have one in Henry Von Thun, 4, who sported a tan Carhartt work jacket and an ivory cowboy hat nearly as big as he was.
“We’ve brought him every year,” his dad told me. “We’re from Denver, and this is just part of our Denver life. We want our son to see this.”
Hats off to that.
William Porter’s column runs Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at 303-954-1877 or wporter@denverpost.com.
