Letter: No one like him
Michael Solheim’s office, the J-Bar, was right next to the old Aspen Times building. There was a well-worn path between the back doors. Solheim welcomed young writers, artists and ne’er-do-wells into his bar. A Paris salon, not quite — more of a rogue’s gallery.
Hunter, Monk, Tuck, Wynn, Cleverly, Cohen, Carter, Braudis, Benton, Kienest, Noonan, Tex, Wishart, Curley, Oliver, Wayno, Stroup, Charles, Vetter, Jack, Doughboys, Dibble, Duke, Mooneys, Gerry, Semmes, Nancy, Hanson, Wheels, Gaylord, Beats, Uncle Don, musicians, waiters, bartenders and a gang of beautiful, smart women who lit up the place while keeping us drunk.
The J-Bar was our touchstone, and Mike ran the show. He welcomed us with a smile, keen wit and a cackling laugh. He put us all on scholarship upon arrival and threw us out when we got too rowdy-rare. The bathrooms were always open. There were rules, best teacher I ever had.
His intelligence, friendship and sense of brotherhood were huge. What a guy — lots of love. He is dearly missed.
Thanks for the open arms, Michael.
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