Walking into the Irish Snug 13 years ago changed the course of Erin Brenden’s life. 

She was young and a bit uneasy about going to a bar by herself, but walking across East Colfax and through the door of the Snug she found connection. Week-after-week she returned, ordered a Bud Light and sat on the patio or at the bar. 

With each visit, faces grew more familiar until she found herself with new acquaintances. Gradually, over a plate of corned-beef egg rolls, complaints about work, or while cheering for the Broncos, those acquaintances grew into friends. 

When bartenders saw her crossing the street they’d place an open beer on the bar, ready for her when she arrived. Eventually the bonds of those friendships grew so strong that those people became a chosen family. 

Brenden’s biological family blossomed at the Snug too. She and her son’s dad met at the Snug. Bar regulars went from seeing her pregnant to passing the baby boy around the bar. Bobby was deemed the OG Snug Baby and the owners made him the first, and only, Snug Baby t-shirt. Today Bobby is nearly 12 years old.

OG Snug Baby, Bobby – then and now.

Family

While the details of Brenden’s story are unique to her, the power of the Snug was universal. A place for comfort, good times, and transformative experiences. Throughout the past two years it’s become abundantly clear how much we need each other. Human connection, energy, routines and people who know you and what you’ve been through. 

But the pandemic hits just keep coming, and Frank McLoughlin, owner of Irish Snug, announced late last month that the bar was closing down. “It is with the deepest consideration and the heaviest of hearts that we announce the permanent closure of our beloved Irish Snug,” he wrote on the Snug’s Facebook page. 

“Our go-to is gone. It’s been a weird week trying to process that our staple is not there anymore,” Brenden said. “It was a community, a safe space, a place of refuge for many of us. I cherish the relationships in my life that formed because of The Snug.”

Nearly 350 Irish Snug patrons like Brenden shared their tributes to the bar on its Facebook page. The messages are of love, celebration, and belonging.

Connection

“Thank you for providing the perfect safe little hiding place for two scared hermit crabs who landed in the big city. I’m sure that our souls were not the only ones that were saved over the years. May the road rise to meet you on the next adventure….” Kate Cary wrote to the Snug.

Cary and her friend moved to Denver from Grand Junction. She came for a job opportunity and her friend was fleeing a bad break up.

Once here for a bit, they both nose-dived into depression. The job transfer did not open the pathways that Cary had hoped for, and her best friend struggled with undiagnosed mental health problems.

On one especially dreary winter day they ended up at the Snug. They walked in and spotted the glowing wall of whiskey behind the bar. The rest is history.

“We celebrated Halloween, birthdays, and Christmas there. We never branched out enough to make friends there, but the bartenders always remembered us. It was lively without being noisy. People were friendly but never pushy. We were never EVER sexually harassed or intimidated. It was…….safe,” she said.

Kate Cary and Aubrey Holloway aka the hermit crabs

Once a month or so, they would have sudden bursts of energy and FOMO. They would ride the train in from the suburbs and spend a couple hours in the city before getting overwhelmed. 

“Then we’d run back to our little holes to recover for another four weeks,” Cary said. “We nicknamed ourselves ‘hermit crabs’ because of this dart-out-HAVE-FUN-retreat-and-recover pattern. Also, because hermit crabs have no permanent home. Grand Junction was no longer home, but Denver wasn’t ‘home’ yet, either,” she said.

If it weren’t for the Snug, Cary said their mental health journeys may have taken a much longer course than they did.

 “People underestimate the need for a community space to just exist in outside of their homes,” she said.

Inspiration

The Snug didn’t only transform the lives of its patrons.

“The Irish Snug is where I began my career as a chef, I will forever be grateful to the cooks, servers and management for everything you guys taught me,” Angel Acosta wrote on the Snug’s Facebook page.

Angel Acosta gained the skills and confidence to become a chef at the Irish Snug

Originally from Chihuahua, Mexico, Acosta was 19 years old when he started his new job as a dishwasher at the Snug. It took him a few days to feel comfortable, but soon the crew noticed his work ethic and eagerness to learn.

He worked his way to line cook, then they pulled him into brunch, and eventually he was opening the restaurant each morning with the main chef. 

“The chef told me, ‘Hey man, you should start practicing because you have a lot of good taste buds,’” Acosta said. 

He created a variety of French onion soup recipes at home. “I was doing work at home without realizing it,” he said. “At the Irish Snug people told me, ‘this is really good.’”

The support from Frank and all of the chefs gave Acosta the confidence to pursue his passion.

“I thought, ‘You know what, I got what it takes to be a chef,’” he said.

A year ago, during the pandemic, Acosta launched his catering business, Eva’s Kitchen, named after his grandmother. And his signature dish is, of course, soup.

Acceptance

Eric Blamey was another regular at the Snug. His first visit was during a snowstorm in 2004.  He and a friend planned to drive to work together and got a call that work was canceled. So they spent the day sitting around a Christmas tree in the bar drinking beer.

“It became a regular spot, a home base. It was a safe safe zone for LGBTQ community. It was just really accepting, really cozy and welcoming,” he said. “Little by little I became a regular.”

Larry Shirkey and Eric Blamey raise a glass at the Snug.

Blamey especially loved bringing his friend, Fred Schnieder, of the B-52’s, into the Snug when the band stopped here in Colorado. 

“Every time he’d tour Fred would say, ‘Eric, we got to go back to that place,’” Blamey said. “He was safe there. No one would recognize him. He did some Speed Date announcing in the basement and people would have no idea it was him.”

Though the times with Schneider were fun, there were also countless deep conversations, baby showers, weddings, white elephant gift exchanges, and fun celebrations at the Snug. Blamey asked if they could do a pumpkin carving at the Snug, and the next thing he knew, McLoughlin was promoting it. 

“I think it boils down to the owner, Frank, and what he envisioned and it actually worked,” Blamey said. McLoughlin shared his bar. It wasn’t just his, he allowed his patrons and staff to be a part of it too.

Blamey said the Snug’s closing was like mourning the loss of a loved one, but he approaches the news with a sense of gratitude.

“I’m just really glad I was there when the Snug was there. It was a long ride,” he said. “I like how they handled the closure. They didn’t announce it. It just kind of happened. That way we couldn’t have a sad time in there.”