at
the St. Cloud Hotel across the street.The Owl Cigar Shop, 626 Main, Cañon City
“This Magic Moment” by the Drifters plays in the background. The bar tender, Martha Naab, greets an elderly man by name as he comes in and sits at the bar behind the counter jukeboxes.
“There are so many different people that come in here,” says Steve
Mitchell, part owner of the Owl Cigar Shop, “from judges, doctors, lawyers,
grandpas with their grandsons to street people.” The Owl Cigar Shop
gained its popularity when Cañon City was a favored locale for making
Western movies, and many actors and actresses stayed at
the St. Cloud Hotel across the street.
“The Owl” is a family-owned business. Steve Mitchell and his cousin Peter now own the bar. They bought it from their uncles Pete (Peter’s father), Jimmy, and Elmer Santilli in 1989. Elmer ran the bar from 1943 to 1945; then Pete and Jimmy came home from the Army and got in on the deal. At that time, it was a very lively bar where men would come after work to enjoy a beer. “There wasn’t a bar stool empty back when my uncles ran it,” Steve says.
The first owner, Mr. Sartor, who opened it in 1902, named the Owl Cigar Shop. It originally only sold cigars. When Elmer, Jimmy, and Pete took over the shop they only sold cigars as well until Prohibition, when they started selling beer and food. Now, The Owl only has two boxes of cigars for sale. However, the Owl is not famous anymore for its cigars or its alcohol. Now, it is a place to grab an old-fashioned shake or a cold beer and one of Mitchell’s famous burgers that he brags are, “made with care.”
Steve Mitchell
knows that times change and he has tried to turn the bar into a family place.
He is planning on turning the business over to his two young sons, Alex and
Blake, when they are old enough. He wants something that he can be proud
to give to his children. “I don’t want to baby-sit a bunch of drunks,”
he tells me.
After talking with Jimmy and Pete for a little while, they decide it is time for them to leave. As they walk out into the sunshine of Main Street, I turn to Steve and ask him if his uncles come in here a lot. “They said it would be hard for them to leave this place,” he says, watching them go. He turns to me, laughs, and says, “They never left. They still come by ten times a day. This was their place; they did well here. They could have gone anywhere to make their living, but this is where they always wanted to be.”