July 25, 2002
Guido Meyer was my father’s best friend in Aspen and was one of perhaps a couple-dozen genuine characters who made Aspen into a desirable place to live and work and play.
The early Aspen ski town years are unimaginable without Guido’s Swiss Inn. I thought some of the older locals would like to remember all the fun Guido brought us.
Every Saturday night for many years our family would sit at the Stammtisch outside the kitchen in Guido’s, and he would come out to talk with us, commiserate over the state of local and national politics, and complain about how hard it was to get good help.
Over beef stroganoff and strawberry sundaes we kids would get an earful and have lots of laughs.
He used to spook the new second-home owners on Red Mountain with his bear costume, scratching on their windows and scaring them feces-less – that is, until he got shot at.
Or riding his mini-bike up in the mountains to collect the best mushrooms at his secret stashes, and being saved by a pair of binoculars my father had given him. His pistol fell out of the holster and discharged, and the bullet struck the field glasses hanging over his heart.
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Or the time we all ran up to try to save Bob Stephens’ house, the first built in Knollwood. But the fire could not be contained and we could only push the scorched Jeep but of the garage and prevent the fire from spreading to the surrounding woods.
Guido was the prime example of the Europeans who came here to ski, to work hard, and to try to create a ski town something like the beautiful little resorts they left in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.
I know everyone who was in Aspen in the 1950s can tell a Guido story or two. Let’s remember him with respect and love at his memorial, and celebrate the uniqueness that was his and is ours in this great little town.