Newcomers to the "Mile-High City" of Denver, whether arriving during the 19th, 20th, or 21st centuries, have often remarked on how new the city seems, and how proud its citizens are of it. Heady boom times at various intervals have inspired successive waves of city builders eager to make their mark by building grand, new edifices. Often, these new wonders replaced older structures that earlier Denverites had once seen as great accomplishments. As Denver has grown to become the hub of a major American metropolis, remnants of its earlier heritage have vanished into history, leaving newcomers to ponder, "What makes Denver Denver?" and longtime residents to ask, "Where has my Denver gone?" Lost Denver celebrates what the city once built and has since lost, along with what has made it unique, exploring where and how Denverites once worked, shopped, and played.

Sample the hearty helpings at the Hungry Dutchman and the dainty morsels at the Denver Dry Goods Tearoom to get a taste of a tradition rich with innovation, hard work, and crazy ideas. Waitresses, chefs, owners, and suppliers bring back the restaurants of yesteryear by sharing success stories and signature recipes. Just don't be surprised by sudden cravings for savory cannolis from Carbones, rich Mija Pie from Baur's, egg rolls at the Lotus Room, or chile rellenos at Casa Mayan.

Astonishing images of vanished Denver, from old hotels and movie houses to streetcars to sports stadiumsThere has been much change in Denver since the first settlers built a small town on the south side of Cherry Creek and named it Auraria. Streetcar suburbs emerged and were annexed into the city of Denver; skyscrapers rose and were replaced by even bigger skyscrapers. The streetcars disappeared. Denver's baseball team, the Bears, played out of Broadway Park, then Bears Stadium, which became Mile High Stadium and then a parking lot for Sports Authority Field. The city has lost many of its grand Victorian buildings. The grand Richardsonian Romanesque Denver Club is gone, along with the Tabor Block and Tabor Opera House. The theater district on Curtis Street has been transformed, while the Denver Urban Renewal Authority (DURA) has targeted whole districts for wholesale change. Lost Denver looks at the many aspects of the city that have disappeared over the last 150 years—the old hotels and movie houses, the civic buildings no longer fit for purpose, the old bridges, cemeteries, and parks that have been changed out of all recognition, and the city districts that didn't fit in with the Skyline Renewal Project.

Denverites once enjoyed a retail landscape rich with personal touches. Revisit May-D&F's animated holiday windows or the ice skating rink in front of the store. Reminisce about the Christmas chandeliers that stretched for four hundred feet on the main floor of the Denver Dry Goods or the elegance of Neusteters, with its fashion shows and exclusive merchandise. Recall finding that perfect outfit at Fashion Bar and going back-to-school shopping at Joslins. Celebrate salespeople who remembered your name and the comforting feeling of shopping locally where your parents and grandparents shopped. Through decades of research and interviews with former staff, Denver's unofficial "department store historian" Mark Barnhouse assembles the ultimate mosaic of the Mile High City's fabulous retail past.

The gold rush of the 1850s turned Colorado's treeless prairie into platted towns with thriving centers of commerce. Lafayette's early Main Street on East Simpson Street was once bustling with blacksmiths, jewelers, retailers and grocers. It included the Lafayette Bank, the Goodhue Building and a movie theater. The epicenter of organized labor's struggle for fair wages and a safe workplace, Lafayette expanded to include Japanese and Latino laborers in the 1920s. For fifteen years, the Ku Klux Klan dominated local politics, spreading fear and hate. From 1888 until 1956, the coal mining industry sustained the town. But dangerous work conditions in the fourteen coal mines took a toll. Flour mills, brick factories and electrical generating stations faded quickly. Author Doug Conarroe recounts inspiring tales of a diverse, austere and doggedly self-sufficient townspeople who challenged the status quo and survived trying and tumultuous times.

Over the course of eleven decades, the Denver Dry Goods and its predecessor, McNamara Dry Goods, proudly served Coloradoans, who knew they could 'shop with confidence' for the best quality at the fairest prices. Much more than the goods it sold, the store was a major institution that touched the lives of nearly every Denverite. Festive chandeliers adorned the four-hundred-foot-long main aisle during the holidays, and longtime salesclerks knew customers by name. The doors closed in 1987 and this fascinating history explores the cherished memories of Denver's most beloved department store.

Sloth's phone rings and rings. He races across the room to answer the call, but he's a sloth, so it takes a while. The phone says he's won an afternoon shopping spree! Can the sloth get to the store in time to claim his prize? Yes, but it's going to take an impromptu zipline, a missed bus, a parkful of trees, an oblivious ice-cream vendor, a rainbow hang glider, and an out-of-control shopping cart to make it happen. As soon as the spree begins, the sloth crashes into a pillow display and falls asleep, exhausted from excitement. When he awakes, he finds himself the proud and happy owner of several fine new pillows. Mission accomplished.

From its 1858 birth, the Mile High City has undergone continuous change, with each successive generation putting its stamp on Denver's architectural character. Along the way, landmarks initially considered first class were later deemed disposable by those who had different visions of what Denver should be. Beloved buildings like the Tabor Grand Opera House, the Windsor Hotel and the Republic Building vanished. Historian Mark A. Barnhouse revisits these lost treasures along with the lesser known and rarely explored, including an apartment building dubbed "Denver's Bohemia," the humble abode of one of the early twentieth century's most successful novelists and the opulent mansion of a man who gave Denver three consecutive baseball championships.