Winter 1986

In all of my adventures I make a conscious effort not to name celebrities unless they are key to the story.  Aspen is filled with stories of celebrities and in my humble opinion, they are welcome guests but they have had a very small effect on what makes Aspen, “Aspen.”  This story is different and for that Bert Convy gets top billing along with “Granny!”

The “old” Little Nell bar was in its last year of operations.  The following summer it was scheduled to be torn down to make way for the “new” Little Nell Hotel.  The place was showing its age and few people would miss it when it was gone.  The best thing about this place was that it was at the base of Aspen Mountain, drinks were relatively cheap and it was not fancy enough to attract much attention for the winter guests.

That winter I was part of the crew that operated the new Silver Queen Gondola.  The Little Nell was our favorite place to go unwind after work.  The bar was always dark inside, even with the windows open, and the furnishings showed their age.  This was not the place to go if you were on your first date, but it was a great place to go meet up with your old friends or make new ones.

My evening plans included going out for dinner with my grandmother, known by all locals as “Granny.”  Before meeting up with her, I stopped into the Little Nell for a few drinks with my co-workers.  The place was packed and there were very few places to sit down, although there was one vacant bar stool next to me.  He sat down, ordered himself a scotch.  At first he did not engage anyone in conversation, he just sat there.

After a couple of minutes I leaned over and said, “I know you but I will keep it a secret.”  He smiled, extended his hand to introduce himself with his famous grin, “Bert Convy, and who do I have the pleasure?”  I introduced myself and said, “Bert! I thought you were Monty Hall!”  I was of course kidding as I knew exactly who he was.  We visited, just small talk, for about 30 minutes before I had to excuse myself as I was off to my dinner date.

Granny always loved eating at the Charlemagne Restaurant.  The Maître ‘D, Michael, was one of her favorite people as he knew to treat her like royalty.  The Charlemagne Restaurant was located in the Floradora Building on Main and Third Streets and it quickly became a local favorite for fine dining.  The restaurant even played host to the Lutheran Church on Sunday mornings for a time.

Not long after Granny and I sat down the table next to us was seated by a rather large family.  Much to my surprise it was Bert, his girlfriend, his mother and four or five children.  As soon as they were seated Bert walked over to say “Hello” and proceeded to introduce himself to Granny.  “Who might this lovely lady be?” he asked.  “Granny and who might you be, cookie?” she replied.   I quickly interrupted to let Granny know who he was and what he did for a living.  But in Granny’s typical flair, almost as if he were no longer standing there, “Well, I have never heard of him!  Who is he and what does he do?”  With that, Bert sheepishly excused himself and returned to his table.  I, on the other hand sat there, embarrassed and without a single word left to say.  As we left that evening I quietly apologized to Bert and headed out the door.  

Sadly, Bert died a few years later due to brain cancer, at the age of 57.