Historic Boulder Business Could Go Up in Smoke

56550392 150x150 Historic Boulder Business Could Go Up in SmokeMany, many years ago I moved to Boulder with my mother so that she could finish college.  I was five, so I only have 2 memories; we lived next to a park, and on the weekends, my Uncle Michael would take me to Eads so that we could get comic books.  Eventually, my family settled in South Metro Denver, and I began to patronize a comic book store that was closer to Uncle’s Mikie’s house.

But every so often, the old man and I would sneak up to Boulder, maybe to go to the Creek Festival, or to a CU Basketball game.  We fell into a routine.  Anytime we found ourselves in the People’s Republic, my father and I would find time for hotdogs at Mustards Last Stand, linger over sodas and read The Onion, then make our way Eads for some serious browsing.

When I was about 16, what can nicely be called my comic book phase came to an abrupt halt.  That summer, I drove my dad to Boulder for the first time, and after our customary tubesteak luncheon, he suggested that we visit our favorite news shop.  If my memory serves me correctly, I threw a teenage temper tantrum; probably something to the tune of, “dad I told you that I DON’T LIKE COMIC BOOKS ANYMORE.”

My patient, master negotiator father talked me into one last pilgrimage.  Inside, Daddy led me away from the magazines, and into the muggy, sweet smelling humidor.  This was a (perhaps the,) defining moment in my transition to manhood.

Two years later, I chose to attend CU Boulder (GO BUFFS!) for my undergraduate studies.  First semester, I started a ridiculous; I-think-I’m-so-clever-because-I’m-a-freshman-in-college, club called The Torries.  If you’re not up on your history, Torries were a group of American’s who remained loyal to England during the revolutionary war.  My Torries were 5 like-minded individuals who smoked tobacco out of corncob pipes, and made unfunny jokes.

All of The Torries got their smoking tobacco and Eads.  Were it not for a gruesome long-board accident while my friend Kelly and I were en-route, (smoking is BAD for your health,) I am sure the now disbanded Torries would still be patronizing the print store.

In 2012 Eads is facing some harsh realities.  The Torries dissolved, I graduated and moved to Denver, and according the Boulder Daily Camera, no one smokes tobacco, or reads magazines.  The company’s Yelp profile states that the exterior of Eads is in disrepair, and that the Boulder mainstay has been neglecting the stock in its sizeable, (and very expensive,) humidor.  Today, the Denver Business Journal reported that the century old smoke shop and readary is for sale.

To me, this is unacceptable.  And I know that I’m not the only person with fond memories of Eads.  I know the store is not in its heyday, and I know that real-estate at the bustling corner of 28th Canyon must cost a fortune.  None of that matters, because Eads IS Boulder.  Isn’t there a historical society that can get involved?  Anyone?

If I had the capital to buy Eads, I would spruce up the outside, and tear down the magazine racks that currently occupy the store’s middle.

To start, I would invest in 5 big, comfy leather chairs, 5 I-Pads loaded with every periodical imaginable, and a giant TV.  I would still stock magazines, but only the ones that sold, then I would shift my attentions from the periodicals to the humidor.

Ultimately, I would like to explore options for converting Eads into a private club.  I would build a tiny, New York style outdoor news stand and smoke shop that fronted a speakeasy style lounge area in the actual building.

Potential investors should note that they are buying a building with a century of history, and a $15,000 humidor.  The potential is literally limitless.

I don’t think that it would be wise to turn Eads into a Best Western.

But I’m just a guy with a keyboard.  What would you do with Eads?  Tell us on Facebook.

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About Zaq Tull

A recent graduate of The University of Colorado, (GO BUFFS,) Zaq Tull is a racquet sport enthusiast, and an avid golfer. When he's not boisterously trumpeting the rights of consumers, you can find him experimenting in the kitchen, or with his nose buried in a thick, (and undoubtedly pretentious,) book.