After 64 Years, Saying Goodbye To Joe's Liquor And Bar In Rock Springs

ROCK SPRINGS — Kristy Tellefson-Rowland pulled into the empty parking lot of Joe’s Liquor and Bar and stopped in her usual spot Thursday, the space that owner Angela Gaensslen had painted long ago just for her.

But Joe’s was dark.

The neon sign, which had glowed for decades, was off. The door she had walked through more times than she could count stayed shut.

“I sat there and just thought, ‘This is real,’” she said. “’Joe’s is really gone.’”

Now 66 years old, Tellefson-Rowland had been trying to get into Joe’s even before she was old enough to drink.

“I used to try to sneak in when I was 18,” she said.

At the time, the legal drinking age in Wyoming was 19. But shortly after she hit that milestone, she got pregnant. By the time she was ready to celebrate, the law had changed to 21.

“They changed the law on me, so after I had my baby, I still couldn’t get in. I was so mad,” she said.

Eventually, though, she made it to that magical age. And when she did, Joe’s became “her place.”

For her and many others, Joe’s was more than just a bar. It was a true Wyoming dive, not fancy, but filled with blue-collar customers who’d give the shirts off their backs for their neighbors.

It was a second home.

Bartenders became family. Lifelong friendships were built over cold beers and off-key karaoke.

And as Tellefson-Rowland put it, “if you didn’t show up, people thought you were dead.”

But after 64 years of being part of the Rock Springs’ landscape and the go-to spot for generations of locals, Joe’s had its last call Wednesday night.

And for the regulars who had spent years tucked inside its familiar walls, the closing felt less like the end of a business and more like losing a piece of themselves.

A Place That Felt Like Home

Gaensslen bought Joe’s in 2005 from longtime owner Larry Dernovich, who had run it for 32 years before her.

It changed owners only a few times in its six-plus decades, making it one of Rock Springs’ most enduring bars.

“I ran that place on my own as a single woman for 20 years,” Gaensslen said.

Owning Joe’s was never just about owning a business for Gaensslen. It was about keeping a legacy alive, and it wasn’t always easy.

It came with long nights, tough decisions and an unshakable dedication to the people who walked through its doors.

“Nine months after I bought the bar, I was diagnosed with breast cancer,” she said. “So, I mean, there have been a lot of amazing things that have happened through the years, and there have also been some really serious struggles too.”

But through it all, she kept Joe’s going.

Just 14 Seats

It wasn’t just a bar — it was a world of its own, tucked into 600 square feet of local history and drinking.

Since 1961, it has remained Rock Springs’ smallest bar, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in personality.

A narrow space with just 14 seats, Joe’s carried the weight of decades within its walls. The dark wood paneling had absorbed years of stories, the scuffed floors bore the imprint of countless late-night shuffles, and the air still held the lingering traces of whiskey and laughter.

When you stepped inside, it felt like time slowed down.

The bar was never just a stop for a drink; it was a place where you were known, where your usual was poured before you asked, and where a new face quickly became an old friend.

There were no strangers at Joe’s, just people who hadn’t been introduced yet.

Molly Hauser, a regular for more than a decade, said that’s what made Joe’s stand out.

“It was a neighborhood place,” she said. “Smaller, more intimate. Everybody knew everybody. The bartenders were what made it special. They made you feel at home, and it was the one bar I always felt safe walking into alone as a woman.”

Tellefson-Rowland felt the same way. Over the years, it became her daily ritual, her social circle, her second home.

“I was there daily,” she said. “Everybody knew where I was. If I was late for work, they knew I had stopped at Joe’s first.”

Even after she stopped drinking several years ago due to health issues, she kept going.

“I had to keep going in,” she said. “My friends were there.”

Tellefson-Rowland even remembers the time before government regulations got in the way, when Sundays at Joe’s meant potlucks and football nights always came with homemade food.

From its legendary rowdy karaoke nights to serving some of the best bloody marys in town, Joe’s carved out its own place in Rock Springs history.

Its reputation stretched even further.

In 2017, it was inducted into the Dive Bar Hall of Fame, a recognition reserved for places with deep roots, unforgettable stories and a fiercely loyal crowd. The only other Wyoming bar to receive the honor is the Buckhorn Bar and Parlor in Laramie, more than 200 miles east along Interstate 80.

The distinction cemented Joe’s as more than just a favorite watering hole, it was a legend in its own right where history, community and good whiskey blended together in just the right way.

Drinks Through the Drive-Thru

When the world shut down in 2020, Joe’s didn’t stop serving. It just adapted.

With indoor seating off-limits, the bar leaned on its small drive-thru window, turning it into a lifeline for regulars looking for a familiar taste of normalcy.

“We did a lot of packaged drinks out that window,” bartender Amber Hemker said. “We were making adult Capri Suns, batching bloody marys and all sorts of cocktails, and selling them like crazy.”

Joe’s had long been known around town for its bloody marys, and that reputation held strong even when customers could no longer walk through the door.

“People would come just for those,” Calhoun said. “Even when they couldn’t sit at the bar, they still wanted their Joe’s bloody mary.”

The bartenders got creative, crafting large-batch cocktails in the back and sealing them up for easy pickup.

Customers lined up outside, some grabbing a drink to take home, others simply looking for a quick chat through the window, for a brief connection in a time of isolation.

“There was a lot of prep that went on behind the closed doors because we just could do everything out the window,” Hemker said. “We were doing batch cocktails, big, huge batches at a time. And they were selling like hotcakes,”

Despite the challenges of the pandemic, the drive-thru kept the bar afloat and regulars coming back, one to-go drink at a time.

The Last Call

The final night at Joe’s was packed. While it had advertised March 17 as being its last day, the small lettering that said "or sooner" proved prophetic and Wednesday was it.

Customers crammed into the tiny space for one last round, raising their glasses to the bar that had been the backdrop for countless stories, laughter and even a few tears. For many, the emotions were overwhelming.

“I felt like an orphan,” Hemker said. “The emotions were so high. We all kind of hyperventilated ourselves out the door when it closed.”

For 12 years, Calhoun stood behind the bar mixing drinks and making memories with the customers who became like family. That was her last night.

“It was emotional,” she said. “It was an emotional night for everybody.”

One of the things that set Joe’s apart, she said, was the way each bartender was encouraged to bring their own creativity behind the bar.

Twice a year, they would come up with their own signature drinks, from festive holiday margaritas to Calhoun’s own Belt Buckle Lemonade, a bourbon-based drink featuring homemade candied jalapeños.

“We all brought something different to the table, but we had one thing in common,” she said. “We cared about the people who came through those doors.”

Calhoun had been out on medical leave for a couple of weeks, but she wasn’t going to miss Joe’s final night.

"I told Angela, ‘If the other girls want the night off, I’d love to be the one to close it down,’" she said.

The bar was packed from the moment she walked in at 2 p.m., people spilling in and out all night, squeezing in one last round.

Eventually, as the shelves emptied, she made the final call for drinks not at the usual 2 a.m. but at 10:30 p.m., when the alcohol finally ran out.

Then it hit her. Hard

“It finally got to me. I started to cry a little,” she said. “That place has seen me through a lot. It’s seen me through death, pregnancies, everything. The good, bad, and in between.”

What About That Unique Neon Sign?

One piece of Joe’s is still looking for a home.

The neon sign that had watched over Joe’s Liquor and Bar for decades has to come down, but Gaensslen is determined to make sure it doesn’t disappear.

For 20 years, she kept it glowing, making repairs while it remained standing because a city ordinance prohibited her from taking it down and reinstalling it.

“If I took it down, I couldn’t put it back up because the city sign ordinance didn’t allow that type of sign anymore,” she said. “But it was grandfathered in, so I could keep it. I just couldn’t take it down.”

Now, she’s searching for a museum willing to give it a home, ideally somewhere in the Western United States. She’d love for it to stay in Wyoming, but with the state’s only museum for vintage signs no longer accepting new pieces, she’s still looking.

“The closer to home, the better,” she said. “But right now, what I care about most is keeping it out of the landfill.”

The sign is a symbol of a time that’s slipping away, of a place that meant something to the people who walked through its doors.