On a recent Monday afternoon, “Biker Jim” Pittenger was reflecting on an unlikely 20-year career selling sausages when talk turned to the business that bears his name.
“I feel swindled out of my company,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely heartbroken.”
Pittenger, 66, wore jeans and a tight v-neck, his gray hair at its usual shoulder length. A former repo man who can count on two hands the times he’s been held at gunpoint, he sold his first hot dogs from a 16th Street Mall cart in 2005. After Anthony Bourdain praised them — “I’ve been to the mountaintop and found enlightenment” — Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs took off.
First came a brick-and-mortar restaurant at 2148 Larimer St. that is still open, then another in Highlands Ranch that isn’t. Then there were Biker Jim’s hot dogs at concession stands in Coors Field and at Mile High Stadium, and then Biker Jim’s hot dogs in grocery stores.
“I’m not saying we changed lives or anything but, hey, we catered a lot of weddings, we had a lot of first dates comes through, I met a lot of people,” Pittenger said.
“To just give it away like I did and see it come to this …” he said, his gravelly voice trailing off.
Two years ago, in a transaction that wasn’t publicized, Pittenger sold 99 percent of Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs to a friend and occasional business partner, Andrew Soulakis, in exchange for 250,000 shares of Soulakis’ California company, Environmental Applied Technology Corporation, Pittenger said.
The shares were worth $1 million then, and there were assurances he would receive another 250,000 shares and be paid a good salary to run Biker Jim’s, according to Pittenger.
But that hasn’t happened. Instead, the shares are worth little as EATC struggles, Pittenger hasn’t been paid consistently, and Soulakis has been moving Biker Jim’s money to other ventures, Pittenger said. (Soulakis did not return BusinessDen’s emails and calls.)
Longtime loyal customers and vendors are complaining about the restaurant, according to Pittenger, and the unique meats and eclectic list of toppings that made Biker Jim’s popular are dwindling. A quirky restaurant, in other words, is at risk of becoming ordinary.
“And that’s not why I got into the business,” Pittenger said. “I got into the business to make money, sure, but also to feed people and to do something unique.”
So, after much consideration, Biker Jim has decided to step away from Biker Jim’s, to no longer be a manager and, perhaps most importantly, to no longer be the company’s face.
“I think Biker Jim’s will probably fold,” Pittenger said. “I don’t see a way out of it.”
“I just don’t know how it’s going to survive without me and I don’t know how they’re going to survive this Kroenke thing,” he said. “That was the last straw for me.”
“This Kroenke thing” was a June 4 lawsuit by Kroenke Sports & Entertainment, which accuses Biker Jim’s of signing a three-year agreement to sell its hot dogs at Ball Arena but never paying the $870,000 in sponsorship fees. Pittenger said that was all Soulakis’ fault.
And it wasn’t the first legal hiccup. The landlord of the Biker Jim’s warehouse in Globeville sued Biker Jim’s in November, citing a lease breach. The restaurant ignored that lawsuit, so a judge ordered it to pay $22,000 and allowed the landlord to garnish its bank account.
“Me leaving,” Pittenger said, “might be the last thing this house of cards needs to blow over.”
The repo man turned restaurateur’s own future is as uncertain as his former restaurant’s. He spent a third of his life building Biker Jim’s from a cart to a company. Now what?
“I don’t want to be a greeter at Walmart,” he said. “So, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
On a recent Monday afternoon, “Biker Jim” Pittenger was reflecting on an unlikely 20-year career selling sausages when talk turned to the business that bears his name.
“I feel swindled out of my company,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely heartbroken.”
Pittenger, 66, wore jeans and a tight v-neck, his gray hair at its usual shoulder length. A former repo man who can count on two hands the times he’s been held at gunpoint, he sold his first hot dogs from a 16th Street Mall cart in 2005. After Anthony Bourdain praised them — “I’ve been to the mountaintop and found enlightenment” — Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs took off.
First came a brick-and-mortar restaurant at 2148 Larimer St. that is still open, then another in Highlands Ranch that isn’t. Then there were Biker Jim’s hot dogs at concession stands in Coors Field and at Mile High Stadium, and then Biker Jim’s hot dogs in grocery stores.
“I’m not saying we changed lives or anything but, hey, we catered a lot of weddings, we had a lot of first dates comes through, I met a lot of people,” Pittenger said.
“To just give it away like I did and see it come to this …” he said, his gravelly voice trailing off.
Two years ago, in a transaction that wasn’t publicized, Pittenger sold 99 percent of Biker Jim’s Gourmet Dogs to a friend and occasional business partner, Andrew Soulakis, in exchange for 250,000 shares of Soulakis’ California company, Environmental Applied Technology Corporation, Pittenger said.
The shares were worth $1 million then, and there were assurances he would receive another 250,000 shares and be paid a good salary to run Biker Jim’s, according to Pittenger.
But that hasn’t happened. Instead, the shares are worth little as EATC struggles, Pittenger hasn’t been paid consistently, and Soulakis has been moving Biker Jim’s money to other ventures, Pittenger said. (Soulakis did not return BusinessDen’s emails and calls.)
Longtime loyal customers and vendors are complaining about the restaurant, according to Pittenger, and the unique meats and eclectic list of toppings that made Biker Jim’s popular are dwindling. A quirky restaurant, in other words, is at risk of becoming ordinary.
“And that’s not why I got into the business,” Pittenger said. “I got into the business to make money, sure, but also to feed people and to do something unique.”
So, after much consideration, Biker Jim has decided to step away from Biker Jim’s, to no longer be a manager and, perhaps most importantly, to no longer be the company’s face.
“I think Biker Jim’s will probably fold,” Pittenger said. “I don’t see a way out of it.”
“I just don’t know how it’s going to survive without me and I don’t know how they’re going to survive this Kroenke thing,” he said. “That was the last straw for me.”
“This Kroenke thing” was a June 4 lawsuit by Kroenke Sports & Entertainment, which accuses Biker Jim’s of signing a three-year agreement to sell its hot dogs at Ball Arena but never paying the $870,000 in sponsorship fees. Pittenger said that was all Soulakis’ fault.
And it wasn’t the first legal hiccup. The landlord of the Biker Jim’s warehouse in Globeville sued Biker Jim’s in November, citing a lease breach. The restaurant ignored that lawsuit, so a judge ordered it to pay $22,000 and allowed the landlord to garnish its bank account.
“Me leaving,” Pittenger said, “might be the last thing this house of cards needs to blow over.”
The repo man turned restaurateur’s own future is as uncertain as his former restaurant’s. He spent a third of his life building Biker Jim’s from a cart to a company. Now what?
“I don’t want to be a greeter at Walmart,” he said. “So, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”