Denver Lawyer Defends Monica Martinez as Community Organizer

The obvious take on Monica Martinez is that she’s a product of the people who bankrolled her. The lawyers. The real estate developers. The moneyed interests who see a city council seat as an asset class.

That take is wrong. Or at least, it’s incomplete to the point of being useless.

Nicolais wrote in the Colorado Sun that a recent news piece linked Martinez to those professions, seemingly intent on exposing a weakness. The author of that earlier piece wanted an angle. Nicolais didn’t want one. He wanted to know the woman lacing up her cleats at Cranmer Park, colloquially known as Sundial Park, just east of Colorado Boulevard and the Cherry Creek Mall.

He played pickup soccer on a bumpy pitch in central Denver for years with her. He says she is kind, smart, fierce, and good-natured. He admits he is a lawyer. He admitted he gave her a contribution. But he insists his support has zero to do with the legal profession. It’s about the person who makes him smile when he shows up to play.

That distinction matters because it cuts through the noise of a campaign defined by professional labels. Voters are tired of sorting candidates by their day jobs. They want to know how a candidate handles the messy, unglamorous reality of city life.

Martinez has spent years leading The Fax Partnership in the Colfax corridor. Nicolais describes Colfax as a place with more than local ethos, citing unsubstantiated Denver lore that dubbed it "the longest, wickedest street in America." It sits at the intersection of all walks of life. It is home to the state Capitol, a Catholic cathedral, historic East High School, Mile High Stadium, and legendary music venues.

The standard political move for a place like Colfax is to wipe the slate clean. High crime rates and visible poverty often push officials toward wholesale change. Nicolais argues Martinez rejects that approach. She embraces the area, warts and all.

That is a distinct political stance in Denver right now. The city’s decades of desirability led to rapid growth. Housing prices skyrocketed as demand outstripped supply. Roads became congested and dilapidated. Small businesses struggled to keep leases in evolving neighborhoods.

Martinez’s approach, according to Nicolais, is preservation through engagement. She has helped preserve Denver’s culture and protect its people while planning for change that works for everyone. Nicolais calls it a tricky endeavor. It requires principled leadership and many, many, many community meetings.

The short version: Martinez is not a developer’s proxy. She is a neighborhood organizer who happens to run for at-large office. The developers backed her, yes. But the foundation of her support is local, physical, and persistent.

Read that again. The opposition wants to frame her as a suit. Nicolais frames her as a teammate on a bumpy pitch in central Denver.

Denver needs leaders who understand that clear-slate solutions have broken along the cracked asphalt of Colfax for a century. The street is resistant to those changes because its character makes it strong. Martinez gets that.

Her detractors are focused on the money trail. Nicolais is focused on the ball. He says she closed him down, stole the ball, and made him look silly.

In a few days, Martinez will make her detractors know how he felt.