Saddle Sore: Life and times of Boogie

It was a new downtown place, both maligned and accepted in the local rags, and what the hell, said my wife, let’s take a stroll through and see what all the fuss is about. It must have been my hat that enticed the young clerk to readily approach me, all smiles and positive energy.

“Go check out the green sea bass cowboy boots,” she prodded, “You’ll love ’em.”

Yep, good-looking boots — woulda lasted about ten minutes dancing in the Jerome ballroom, less in the horse corral.

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Ah, Anthony, don’t write the place off so quickly, for you will soon find yourself going there for many lunches with your very young daughter on your Aspen Mountain ski days because she likes the place, especially the milkshakes. She’ll work in clothing later during college vacations.

If you haven’t guessed, I’m talking about Boogie’s Diner (and clothier), the upstart place that tore down the building that housed The Shaft restaurant and, before that, the bowling alley and Tenney’s Café. Leonard “Boogie” Weinglass created quite a stir in the Aspen community, a place still (and continually) trying to preserve its identity — whatever that is exactly. 

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Think back to 1987, and the phrase, “the Boogification of Aspen” — coined in honor of Weinglass who, with undeterred intent, was building the Boogie Building on the corner of Cooper and Hunter. To many in our community, the threat of change comes quickly over us, almost as unwelcome as would the faceless, black shroud of death manning a Wintersköl float. There were those who said it would be the death knell of Aspen. Such rumblings have been going on since the 1880s, about this or that in town. 

My long-time friend (and fellow Aspen Mountain ski patroller) Greg Lewis (you know him from his poetical musings in local papers) has written what might be called a biography of Boogie, although both he and Boogie would deny it. It is the story of a kid from Baltimore who, growing up poor in a predominately Jewish neighborhood, learned how to street fight with those making fun or other derisions of him or his family. Over youthful time, he and his friends were the basis for the movie “Diner,” the 1982 movie, starring Mickey Rourke as the irrepressible Boogie. 

Through various jobs and starts, including the military, Boogie got a solid take on the world from his view and with a strong desire to have more than his dad, Sol, had managed. Boogie eventually started Merry Go Round Enterprises (MGRE), the highly-successful contemporary clothing store chain that took over the dress codes of teens and young adults in the 1970s, ’80s and much of the ’90s.

With monetary success comes the collateral success (and danger) with women, parties, travel, gambling, other adventures, especially for a high-energy man who never understood the term, “in moderation.” There are more unusual stories in this book than one might find in a detective or western novel. Peter Pan occasionally crossed my mind as I read, but then, Peter Pan never owned a billion-dollar company.  

Boogie faced resistance when he first came to town — people had an attachment to The Shaft, others didn’t like the idea of a new building going up. What they didn’t realize is that a person of a different sort had put down his marker in that corner building, and like him or not, he was here to stay, to become an important and well-known member of the community.

Boogie’s Buddy Race is named after him, due to his incredible involvement. He was the Aspen High School basketball coach for a few years and is a friend of the volunteer fire department, buying it a new, specialized truck to fight wildfires. Bridging Bionics and Amanda Boxtel, supported financially and personally by Boogie. And there are the little touches of helping people with medical bills, needed surgeries, or job losses, making a great difference in their lives. To list all of his compassionate philanthropy in the Aspen area would take up most of this column space. 

To put it succinctly, in a town known for wealthy men and women, many of them faceless, unknown people because they generally don’t spend their money on making Aspen, or its people, better. Boogie is a definite exception, and without handwringing over labels, he is what so many strive to be: an Aspen local. 

If you want to know where the nickname Boogie came from, you’ll have to get the book, available at Explore Booksellers or Gorsuch Ski Café after Jan. 20: “BOOGIE Afraid of Nothing Except Being Nothing,” by Greg Lewis.  

Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.

Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.