Arvada Library reopens to public, meth contamination remediated

Remembering Moses Walker, a musician and friend beyond compare

The Clam Daddies band leader passed away in March after one last big show at the O

BY RYLEE DUNN RDUNN@COLORADOCOMMUNITYMEDIA.COM

Curbside lane reopened last week, library opened March 27

BY RYLEE DUNN RDUNN@COLORADOCOMMUNITYMEDIA.COM

Arvadans can now return to the library. e Olde Town Arvada branch of the Je erson County Public Library was closed on Jan. 28 following testing which showed methamphetamine contamination at the library, and reopened on March 27 following remediation of the contamination.

Earlier this month, JCPL led a variance with the Colorado Department of Public Health requesting that the library be allowed to begin cleaning a ected spaces and allow sta to return in a limited capacity. Cleaning crews began decontamination work on March 13, according to JCPL Promotions and Marketing Manager Harry Todd. As of March 22, cleaning was mostly done, Todd said, and sta was allowed in all areas of the library.

“Once we’ve completed (cleaning) we will submit clearance samples to a contractor and industrial hygienist,” Todd said. “Once those have been cleared and decontamination is remediated, we will be able to proceed with our reopening procedures.”

By March 22, the library was mostly cleaned and samples had been sent to the Colorado Department of

Moses Walker never told anyone the key. He’d begin a song — steady — but before long, his left hand would begin racing up and down the guitar neck, nding chords in unique voicings, all while anchored by his gravelly, inviting baritone. If you were lucky enough to play with Moses, you’d best get with it — he’d punctuate a good run of a tune with a smile and a warm “Mighty ne.” If you struggled to keep up — well, he wouldn’t say much of anything. Mo, by all accounts, didn’t have a negative bone in his body.

When Mo was diagnosed with Stage 4 brain and lung cancer in November, he knew his time was up. Friends say he wasn’t sad about his condition but accepted his prognosis with grace and levity.

Before his passing on March 3, Mo played one last big show on Feb. 5; a celebration of his music and life at his favorite venue, the Oriental eater, accompanied by over two dozen musicians who played with him at various points in his career.

“ anks for coming to my funeral,” Walker remarked at one point during the four-hour set. e remark might have come across as morbid if uttered by anyone else, but it was folksily on brand for Walker.

Walker’s musical career is the stu of legend — spanning at least ve decades, the impressions Walkers left were many, while the speci cs of his life are harder to come by.

One old friend, John Furphy, recounts Walker living in Allentown, Pennsylvania, in the 1990s and forming a local group called Moses and the Lost Sheep around that time. e band went through a few iterations, namely as Nosmo King (no smoking) and No Dogs Allowed.

Around this time, Walker got married and moved to a horse farm outside of Coopersburg. Shortly thereafter, Walker’s wife died. Around 1997, he decided to follow his harmonica player, om, out to Colorado.

Furphy recalled the rowdy nature of Walker’s early shows.

“I booked them to appear at an outdoor gathering for the community sta at WMUH-FM, from the campus of Muhlenberg College,” Furphy said. “Before his performance, he cut his left hand, badly. Still, he wrapped it up and performed a full set, as the blood trickled onto his guitar.

“I went with the band to a per- formance at a dive bar, since torn down, next to the railroad tracks in South Bethlehem,” Furphy continued. “ ey were barely into the rst set when someone at the bar threw what was believed to be an M-80 at them. Without missing a beat Moses leaned into the microphone and said, ‘ at’s all right. People often shoot at me when I’m out.’”

In Colorado, Walker established himself as a singular presence in the state’s music scene, rst with his seminal band e Clam Daddies, and later with a variety of collaborations including Moses Walker and Friends, Walker Whalen and Walker Shellist, among others.

Besides being a prodigally talented musician — Walker’s repertoire included hundreds of songs, ranging from standards to originals to contemporary tunes — Walker is remembered by those who knew him as a compassionate, caring friend and an exceedingly positive presence.

“Moses was the most encouraging and positive musical person I knew, always with a kind word and quick to smile,” Michael Whalen, who played with Walker often, said. “Just about every musician that played with him came away richer for the experience. He had this amazingly unique voice, we used to say he was like the long-lost brother of Leon Redbone and Tom Waits.”

“Moses was upbeat and always offered to help me out with anything I needed,” Ronnie Shellist said. “He was there for me when I was at some of the lowest points in my life. I’m not sure how I could have gotten through some of it without his friendship. Moses also had the uncanny ability to make me laugh even when I was feeling way down. Hell, he made everyone laugh.”

“I can say that he was more than generous with his time, knowledge & resources to new musicians & singers,” acclaimed soul singer Hazel Miller said. “He was always optimistic & supportive!”

Andy Bercaw, who played bass with Walker at over 150 shows between 1997 and 2004 — and scores more over the years — said that Walker strived to mentor young musicians with his genre-spanning talents, which ranged from tin pan alley staples to American Songbook standards and just about anything else under the sun.

“He really liked to play with younger musicians that weren’t jaded,” Bercaw said. “With it, were still kind of open minded about music. And Mo’s big deal was kind of just teaching about, you know, all di erent styles of music and music that maybe younger people have never heard before introducing new genres to young players.

“He’s the most like unconventional bandleader you that you would ever meet,” Bercaw continued. “Because he didn’t have a setlist and he would never tell you what key you’re playing in, because he wanted you to gure it out. And, you know, Mo said he knew nearly 500 songs. And so, you could play with Mo three or seven gigs and not repeat the same song.”

Ryan Chrys, who fronts popular Colorado country band Ryan Chrys and the Rough Cuts, said Walker took Chrys under his wing musically, advising him on tricks for soloing and di erent ways to play. Before then, the pair bonded over Walker’s signature beard.

“I rst met him around 15 years ago,” Chrys said. “I had no beard myself then but some years later I started growing it and through the years we always laughed cause each time it was longer, and he had more approval. ‘It’s nally started to come in there, youngling,’ he’d say each time and even after it had gotten really long.

“He spoke always in truth and wonder,” Chrys continued. “He was a truly unique man with a truly unique style. I have never seen anyone with a music sense like his — the swagger in his low vocals or the swing in his guitar playing, he never ceased to amaze me, and I was enthralled every time I saw him play and sing. He taught me a lot about music and I learned to be freer in my exploration of sounds in playing and soloing. He was a great inspiration to me.”

Melanie Owen was a fan of e Clam Daddies who nervously attended one of Walker’s jams, where Walker made her immediately comfortable and forged a lasting friendship.

“When I got to sit in and fangirl at his jam at the D Note, he was really encouraging,” Owen said. “Moses had this way of talking to you that made you believe you could do it — whatever it was. He was generous with his music and his time and his encouragement and made such