Lo-Fidelity: Carl’s Pharmacy

The sudden news of Carl’s impending sale swept through Aspen like the bellow of a haunted steam whistle on a chilly autumn wind. My initial reaction was that of a gut punch — how could Aspen possibly survive without Carl’s?

From what I’ve read, though, there’s really nothing to be worried about. According to recent local articles, the sellers are pleased with the buyers, and taken for their word, the buyers are looking forward to running Carl’s into the future — not the ground.

Wait … where have I heard that before? 

There’s just one small hitch: The deal hasn’t closed yet, and the buyers are waiting on a pharmacy license from the DEA — not exactly an agency that Aspen and drugs have a cozy relationship with. What could possibly go wrong there?

The pending sale of Carl’s Pharmacy reminds me of the old situation where, one day, out of the blue, grandpa falls and breaks his hip. The accident has an irreversible snowball effect of more injuries that lead to his inevitable decline. The ensuing chain-reaction of family drama and consternation ends up with him dying. 

I bet the new owners paid something in between $150 and $200 million for the whole shebang. If my estimation is anywhere near correct — give or take $50 mil, the return on investment quotient strikes me as an inherently long-term proposition. Just for the record, I don’t begrudge the owners of Carl’s for selling. That’s quite the exit strategy and much deserved. 

A funny thing happened on the day the news broke of Carl’s sale; I ran into not one or two but three people who worked at Carl’s and, the next day, one more. We had lengthy conversations about the impending sale. If there were any feelings of resentment, dismay or incredulity, I couldn’t detect them. 

Town was buzzing about Carl’s, so I did the only logical thing I could think of — I went there. I spent over an hour walking every aisle from top to bottom, back to front, left to right. The store was packed and vibrant. Questions about the sale could be heard around every aisle and checkout stand. I suddenly realized I have two products for sale at Carl’s: a book called “Growing Up Aspen” and an “ASE” patch. It felt to me like a fair share of mercy-buys were taking place out of fear the store would be closing soon. Me? I walked out of Carl’s with a potholder I’ve had my eye on for a while. 

The new owners mentioned they intend to keep Carl’s much the same with a few tweaks here and there. My suggestions? Re-activate the fishpond, and bring the scale that tells both your weight and fortune to a more prominent space in the store where it gets used. How about an ambassador program for the wonderland that is Carl’s upstairs to help people find things? Maybe put down some new carpet. As for the Miner’s Building (also included in the sale), I’d suggest getting a liquor license for the upstairs kitchen department and have cooking demos and tastings up there. I heard some dude say the basement goes down like four stories deep. Talk about secrets of Aspen … Perhaps that’s why they call it the “Miner’s” Building.

I’d even go as far as to do a small wooden plaque commemorating the time Fritz Stammberger chained himself to a tree outside to thwart construction of the Miner’s Building itself. You know what’s really wrong with Aspen these days? No one chains themselves to anything in protest anymore — they’re too “busy.”

It’s funny to think that there used to be four drug stores in Aspen. Now we’re down to two, with one’s future hanging in some semblance of doubt. What does your Aspen crystal ball say? I don’t necessarily foresee Carl’s turning into a run of the mill CVS or a Walgreens anytime soon, but nothing here surprises me anymore. Time will tell, and I’m not going anywhere, so I plan on having a front row seat when it does.

Carl’s can’t go away. It just can’t. It’s too big to fail.

Contact Lorenzo via suityourself@sopris.net.