Stepping into the Rock Rest Lodge is like entering a time capsule of oddities. Patrons often find themselves surrounded by peculiar artifacts, from hunting dog paintings to a beer-dispensing rhinoceros head. Recently, a group of men were captivated by something even stranger, something beyond the typical Rock Rest Lodge glitz and the boisterous college crowd. They were peering intently at a wall, seemingly oblivious to the chicken wings and beer. My friend and I, drawn by their focused attention, soon realized they were onto something unique, a secret whispered within the walls of this Golden, Colorado establishment.
One of the men, possibly sporting a Giants jersey, approached us to share their discovery. He claimed to have stumbled upon a peculiar secret hidden within the Rock Rest Lodge – a human foot encased behind a window pane in the wall. Spoiler alert: this claim, initially intriguing, has only deepened into a more perplexing mystery as my investigation unfolded. The man explained that a friend working at the bar had revealed this bizarre exhibit to them. The foot, he alleged, was stolen from Harvard Medical School, a macabre trophy in some unknown person’s attempt to join a secret society. The story seemed outlandish, yet the men’s earnestness piqued our curiosity about this Rock Rest Lodge enigma.
Intrigued and admittedly fueled by bar-induced curiosity, I pressed my face against the glass, mimicking a scene from a late-night morgue visit. Using my phone’s flashlight, I peered into the dimly lit space. And there it was: undeniably foot-shaped, displaying five curled toes and a section resembling a fibula. It certainly looked like a real, deceased human foot, an unsettling discovery within the quirky confines of the Rock Rest Lodge.
We finished our surprisingly limb-like chicken wings, mirroring the foot in its unexpected anatomical completeness, and I took the W Line back to Denver. However, the image of the foot remained with me. For weeks, I pondered its presence at the Rock Rest Lodge. What was a human foot doing in a bar wall? The question was too bizarre to ignore. I pitched the story to my editor, contacted Harvard, and even reached out to the sheriff’s office, inquiring about any reports of missing feet – a series of calls that felt increasingly absurd. My email, titled “Wondering about the foot — reporter,” eventually received a reply from Doug McClure, the general manager of the Rock Rest Lodge.
“We believe the story is a fabrication from other people that have been drunk also,” McClure wrote, dismissing the Harvard theft narrative. “Always makes for good discussion, but no story here.” Ironically, his denial only amplified my interest. “No story here” became a challenge. I pressed further, asking if he knew the origin of the foot-like object. “I believe it is made of wax. Not sure from where,” he responded, still downplaying the mystery surrounding the Rock Rest Lodge’s unusual décor. Driven by journalistic curiosity and my editor’s encouragement, I requested permission to examine the object more closely, perhaps even touch it. Communication abruptly ceased.
Despite the manager’s insistence on wax, a nagging doubt remained. Could the Rock Rest Lodge truly house a real human foot? The establishment is undeniably steeped in folklore and crammed with bizarre artifacts. Its walls whisper tales of a long and colorful history, having hosted luminaries from Louis Armstrong to Keith Richards. Evidence of its rich past is everywhere, from Murray, the beer-dispensing rhino head (authentically real, according to the bar), to the antique cannons stationed outside.
The Rock Rest Lodge itself boasts a history dating back to 1885, shortly after the founding of Golden. Initially a trading post, it evolved to include a lodge, ballroom, and reportedly, a brothel by 1907. After a period of decline, the Rock Rest Lodge was resurrected to its former glory by legendary jazz orchestra leader George Morrison, only to face threats from the Ku Klux Klan, who allegedly attempted to dynamite the place, driving Morrison away. Local lore even recounts the disappearance of the last owner, Max Heeley, who supposedly vanished into a cavern beneath the bar while following his terrier. While verifiable newspaper accounts are scarce, the tales contribute to the Rock Rest Lodge’s enigmatic charm. Yet, amidst all this storied past, there is no mention of a human body part becoming part of the bar’s peculiar collection.
The mystery surrounding the foot at Rock Rest Lodge deepened. My inquiry to Harvard Medical School eventually received a response from spokeswoman Ekaterina Pesheva. “Looking into this but to be honest I have never heard of this. Let me pick a few brains around here,” she wrote. No further information followed.
Undeterred, I began contacting medical examiners’ offices, hoping to consult a corpse specialist. The process was slow, but persistent calls eventually connected me with Dr. Diane France, a leading expert in human remains identification in Colorado and author of “Human and Nonhuman Bone Identification: A Color Atlas,” a highly-regarded text in her field. Dr. France, a forensic anthropologist with a PhD, agreed to examine the photos I had taken at the Rock Rest Lodge.
Her initial assessment was far from dismissive. “That’s more than just a foot! That’s also at least a lower leg! It doesn’t look like wax to me — the skin looks as dried skin looks, and part of the lower fibula is showing,” she wrote back. She couldn’t determine its age from the photos alone, but she lent credence to the Harvard story’s plausibility. She explained that medical schools don’t meticulously track every specimen used in dissection classes. Adding a personal anecdote, she mentioned her own father once brought home part of a leg from the University of Chicago for study purposes, which her grandmother subsequently buried in the backyard. “Anyway,” she concluded, “I think this is worth investigating to figure out if it is real. I very much suspect that it is.” Dr. France’s expert opinion solidified the need for an in-person examination at the Rock Rest Lodge.
We arranged to meet at the Rock Rest Lodge for a closer inspection. Following Dr. France’s suggestion, I emailed ahead, requesting permission to open the window and examine the object directly. I reassured the manager, citing Dr. France’s expertise, that possessing human body parts isn’t necessarily illegal. There was no reply. Nevertheless, I drove to Golden to meet Dr. France. En route, I received a text from her: “I’m here and it’s gone.”
A wave of disbelief washed over me. By the time I arrived at the Rock Rest Lodge, Dr. France was waiting on the porch. She explained that upon searching for the foot, a manager, Doug McClure, approached her. McClure informed us that the foot had been removed from its display case just a day or two prior. He claimed ignorance regarding its current location and doubted it was related to my inquiries. “We have people ask about everything in this place — where that’s from, where’s that from?” he said, indicating the foot wasn’t particularly unique in attracting questions within the Rock Rest Lodge’s collection of curiosities.
Dr. France attempted to ease any concerns, explaining, “In most situations, it’s not illegal for a private citizen to have a body part,” and shared her family’s leg-burial story for context. I pressed McClure about the foot’s origin stories. He mentioned the Harvard tale and another local legend: “There’s supposedly a ghost around here, which, if you work here long enough, you believe. Supposedly it’s the foot of the ghost.”
A ghost with a missing foot became the latest layer of intrigue at the Rock Rest Lodge. Dr. France was particularly interested in smelling the object, as the presence of embalming fluid would provide crucial clues about its preservation and authenticity. She also cautiously mentioned potential legal ramifications if the foot turned out to be from a Peruvian mummy or claimed by any indigenous community, while downplaying the likelihood of Harvard reclaiming it.
McClure remained remarkably good-natured about my bringing a human-remains expert to his bar, a rather unconventional request. He promised to contact Charlie Eirngher, the Rock Rest Lodge’s owner of 21 years, and have him call me. Eirngher, a pilot, was frequently traveling, so a call might take a few days. McClure also offered another explanation: Eirngher’s father had owned numerous bars, including a former movie lot on the West Coast. Much of the Rock Rest Lodge’s memorabilia originated from that property – could the foot be a movie prop? That night, however, answers remained elusive.
Dr. France departed, and McClure, surprisingly, didn’t ban me from the Rock Rest Lodge. I ordered another round of chicken wings and waited for my friend, the original foot discoverer. While waiting, I chatted with an older gentleman nearby who was oblivious to the secret room or its former occupant. “I’ve never set foot in it,” he remarked, agreeing it was “pretty odd,” perhaps as odd as the peanut butter pizza on the menu.
When my friend arrived, I recounted the day’s events. “Had I ruined it?” I asked, half-jokingly. “Ruined what?” he questioned. “I ruined it in the sense that you can no longer get drunk and look at a foot,” I clarified. “But was I justified in asking about this foot?” “Yes,” he affirmed, “because it’s a pretty insane story.”
And the story remains unresolved. Where is the foot? Why was it removed? Who currently possesses it? And is it, in fact, real? I haven’t yet heard back from the Rock Rest Lodge owner. This story will be updated if new information emerges. If you have any insights, or simply want to express your fondness for the foot, feel free to email me.
Dr. France cautioned that further investigation could lead to law enforcement confiscation and analysis by the county coroner. “I doubt that the bar owner would be in trouble, he would probably just lose the leg,” she wrote. “I have great respect for the coroner in Jefferson County, but I doubt that he would give the leg/foot back to the bar owner. The coroner might call me, in which case I would analyze it and then ask what I should do with it. Knowing the coroner, he would probably ask to have it back so that he could dispose of it properly (probably cremation).” Her expert opinion leaned towards it being either a highly realistic prop or an embalmed leg. If embalmed, DNA analysis would be nearly impossible, leaving the foot’s origins permanently shrouded in mystery.
In the meantime, there is at least one tangible takeaway from this bizarre tale: pints are only $2 after 8 p.m. on Tuesdays at the Rock Rest Lodge. Perhaps it’s the perfect time to visit this Golden landmark and ponder the ongoing mystery of the missing foot.
