Salida’s New Soundtrack: Dead Silence and Desperation

By High Plains Grifter

Well, howdy, you long-suffering taxpayers and cash-register watchers! Your old pal the High Plains Grifter is back on the porch, and this week I’m madder than a wet hen in a snowbank during a drought.

Back in 1971, the geniuses in Denver passed the Noise Abatement Act, a dusty old law from the bygone bell-bottom era that was never meant to apply in a modern mountain town. Fast forward to last fall when the Colorado Supreme Court dropped the hammer in a 7-0 ruling. Some local attorney named Matthew Hobbs sued the city and High Side Bar & Grill because those summer concerts were drifting across the Arkansas River and offending his delicate ears. He claimed the noise hit 83 decibels. Not exactly Ozzy Osbourne level, but who cares? The Supremes agreed the city had no business issuing amplified sound permits. Boom. Live music permits? Dead. High Side’s patio parties? Now whisper-only.

Word around town is, the minute Hobbs won his big victory for peace and quiet, he slapped a For Sale sign on that very house across the river and started packing. Nice work if you can get it: kill the fun, cash out, and leave the rest of downtown Salida holding the quiet bag.

Downtown sales tax is already down 17 percent year-over-year. Spring Break and summer weekends are supposed to be when the tills actually ring, but instead we’re turning our bars into libraries. While we’re at it, we might as well hire a sign-language interpreter for the deaf to “sing” the non-existent music. That way the only two people who show up won’t hear the band but can at least watch somebody waving their hands at nothing. Charge extra for the premium “ASL for Silence” experience. It’ll probably be the hottest ticket in town.

Since actual music is now illegal, here are eight alternative entertainments we can offer our long-suffering visitors:

1. Cantina Plate Spinning – Watch a Whirling Dervish in a sombrero try to keep vajillas balanced while hand-pitting avocados for guacamole. 
2. Bobbing for Rocky Mountain oysters – Nothing says “mountain fun” like dunking your face in a bucket of bull testicles. Family-friendly and gluten-free!
3. Mime karaoke – Lip-sync to songs nobody can hear. Bonus points for dramatic air-guitar.
4. Slow-motion interpretive dance to the sound of the Arkansas River… which is about as loud as we’re allowed now.
5. Whisper battles – Two poets see who can read their anti-Republican haiku the softest without getting sued.
6. Silent disco – Everybody wears headphones playing… nothing. Just nod and sway in perfect quiet unity.
7. Watching paint dry on the new “Quiet Zone” signs the city will have to put up.
8. Group meditation led by a certified noise-abatement guru chanting “shhhhhhh” for two hours straight.

Now lawmakers in Denver are scrambling to write a new bill (SB26-098) to fix this mess so small towns like Salida can actually have music without getting sued into oblivion. But until that passes, we’re stuck with the 1971 Noise Abatement Act running the show.

This is what “protecting residential peace” looks like while our businesses bleed red ink and the “No Kings” crowd turns busy Saturdays into ghost towns. We survived mining busts, railroad abandonment, floods, and tourists in socks with sandals, but heaven forbid a guitar solo might ruffle somebody’s feathers before he sells his house and skips town.

So here’s my idea, straight from the Grifter’s handbook: Somebody needs to fire up the old Salida brick kiln and make us a fresh batch of earplugs. We’ll call them “Hobbs Specials.” They’ll be made from genuine Salida brick, so they crumble into dust the second any real noise hits them. Perfect symbolism for the Tourist economy in downtown Salida.

Next council meeting, hand Mr. Hobbs a nice pair of those crumbling brick earplugs as a going-away present, courtesy of every restaurant, bar, and shop owner now running on empty thanks in part to one man’s quest for the Sound of Silence.