The fire-ravaged Golden West and neighboring Launchpad shared a wall, but the owners differ in how they’re picking up the pieces
It's a strange scene, "like something you'd see in a movie," Kathy Zimmer says.
Blackened rubble slopes up and over where the lip of the stage used to be. No roof means tilting your head up and confronting open blue sky, brutal sun lighting the place in a way the glory days of the dim Golden West never knew. The wooden floors are fine. An untouched blue can of linseed oil sits atop a blackened circular bar table. A rag soaked in that oil was blamed for the fire.