From transit to sushi to arts funding, Denver reinvents itself

Hop on the sleek light-rail line in suburban Englewood these days, and it whisks you up to Denver's bustling 16th Street pedestrian mall.

A few streets away, the striking angular titanium of Daniel Libeskind's new wing for the Denver Art Museum was just unveiled.

In November, Colorado voters OK'd the country's biggest public-transit expansion, a $4.7 billion project that will eventually mean 120 miles of new rail lines and could play a major role in shaping Denver's growth.

Coloradans have always had an independent streak, but lately, some of their decisions seem more representative of Portland, Ore., than the Rockies. And Denver, in particular, is combining an old pragmatism with an intensifying progressive bent.

Some longtime residents are worried the large flock of newcomers are reshaping Denver to resemble the coastal cities they left behind, while others celebrate the new push toward public transit and a vibrant downtown.

"On one level, Denver has always been the brightest of the Western towns, a step ahead of the rest. But newcomers are also changing it," says Floyd Ciruli, a Colorado pollster. "Denver is still, at least in terms of its flavor and its sentiments, a Western city.

It's still a very big fan of rodeo and Western food. But it has become increasingly a town where you can get great sushi."

Mr. Ciruli cautions against reading too much into some of the recent election results - such as giving both houses of the legislature and a US Senate seat to the Democrats, and approving a ballot initiative mandating more energy from solar and wind power. It's not so much that the Denver area's politics have shifted markedly to the left, he says, as that voters are becoming even more independent - and willing to pay extra taxes for certain issues, like schools and the environment, that they believe in.

"I don't think we've become the California of the Rocky Mountains," he says, noting that new residents seem to have more of a pragmatic streak, and are less invested in any party's ideology. "But I think [politics] will be much more competitive here, and it's becoming slightly more progressive.... We've just come out of the [Gov. Bill] Owens era and are entering the [Mayor John] Hickenlooper era."

Indeed, Denver's mayor, a surprise winner in a crowded 2003 election, seems to personify the town's singular mix of environmental liberalism, libertarian social values, fiscal responsibility, and entrepreneurial spirit. A transplant himself (he came to Colorado in the 1980s from Philadelphia to work as a geologist), he eschews party identification. Before entering politics, he was an entrepreneur, cofounding the Rockies' first brew pub and helping revitalize LoDo, Denver's now flourishing downtown. Instead of an SUV, he drives a Toyota Prius. He's affable, self-deprecating, and his approval ratings are soaring.

"Everyone" - even in the suburbs - "sees him as their mayor," says Tom Clark, vice president of the Metro Denver Economic Development Corporation (EDC). "He represents what most of us are." One of his most impressive feats, in fact, is the political cooperation he's fostered with Denver's normally antagonistic suburbs, on everything from transportation to water rights.

Hickenlooper is an ardent proponent of the city's changing face, from the condos springing up in LoDo to the 12-year "FasTracks" transit system that will eventually connect the airport, city, and suburbs. "It's a city that's reinventing itself," he says, in an office decorated with historic images of Denver. "FasTracks is showing there's a shift in the core values. There's an appreciation of the big city and the benefits in quality of life of having a vibrant downtown." He points to the futuristic architecture of Mr. Libeskind, which will double the size of the art museum. "That's not the traditional way a Western city expresses itself."

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