By Dana DuGan
In the imagination of adventurous people, people who look outside the box, who like to gather with scintillating companions, where art hangs, the smell of coffee is in the air and people know your name, there is a place. In Ketchum, for more than two decades, the Coffee Grinder & Gallery was that place. You didn’t even have to like coffee. Overseeing the constant stream of locals, visitors and those in the know was Nicola Potts, better known as Nikki. She had her fingers in many pots (pun intended), was passionate about environmental causes and outdoor recreation. Even as she sold the business, and moved to Santa Cruz in February, her loss last week to cancer was a devastating blow to the community.
The last time I heard from her, via text, I asked if she was coming back to the Valley.
“Of course, you wild thing. I don’t want to miss the many wild adventures with you, she wrote back,” followed by several hearts.
She always looked to the future.
A larger public memorial will be held in early October in Ketchum. So many people spoke last week at a quickly arranged memorial that, rather than write an obituary, The Weekly Sun decided to print some of these remembrances.
Barbi Reed:
The Grinder was an institution and Nikki made it so. For decades, from this once-only coffee shop in Ketchum, ideas were incubated, dreams and convictions embraced and confirmed. But more than that, Nikki made The Grinder an exhibition space for artistic talent, whether emanating from an 8-year-old or someone mentally lost in her own world or from extraordinary local talent without formal representation. Nikki loved being a gallerist – and a true gallerist she was. She understood the importance of offering an alternative exhibition space but I doubt she ever fully comprehended the impact she left by her enthusiasm for the art and loyalty to the artists.
Nikki offered, to whomever walked into the door of the Grinder, a brand new day launched with an ‘Orange Grinder’ and talk about the brilliant stars of the previous night. Nikki not only gathered friends, she, as the ultimate networker, unselfishly and without ego, shared them. This was Nikki… blessing us with a mind that was never still and a commitment to speak loudly as an environmentalist long before it was fashionable to do so. We all are in her debt.
Ethan Hunt, age 13
I met Nicola when I was 5 years old. My mom and I spent a lot of time with her. She tried to recruit me as a Grinder employee at the age of 9. I had to remind her that we have a big problem in the world – it’s called child labor. I looked forward to working for Nicola at the Grinder when I reached legal working age. I loved grinding coffee beans through the old-fashioned coffee grinder mounted on the counter and stamping the Grinder pastry bags, coffee cups and gift cards.
Nicola was super-fun and mischievous. My mom and I went to the Grinder after hours a lot and Nicola would give me the day’s last few cookies or muffins to eat. She and my mom would then drag me over to the Sun Valley Wine Company where they would talk, laugh, drink, eat and drink some more. She often tried to convince my mom to allow me to see R-rated movies. She always wanted to know what was going on with me, always asked about all my activities and was super supportive of me.
I could rely on Nikki to be at the Grinder, ready to have an adventure or conversation with me. There was always something she just had to share with me when I was talking to her and she will be dearly missed.
Leigh Barer
Nicola was a go-to-girl for me – someone I would seek out to talk through issues, challenges and pretty much everything. We had lots of laughter, talks in her coffee house, hilarious ‘always makes me feel better’ walks up Sun Valley Road to the ‘AARP hill,’ hikes, and shenanigans, along with wine and Caprese salad – her favorite – at the Sun Valley Wine Company. She was such a strong, witty, wise and beautiful friend.
Our ritual of a last-minute text or call to arrange for getting together that same afternoon or evening remains vivid. I would swing by her coffee shop and wait for her to finish up ‘just a few things’ before taking our walk or walking across the street to the Sun Valley Wine Company. We would talk and analyze, vent and laugh.
On Sunday mornings, she absolutely had to watch Fareed Zakaria on CNN’s Global Public Square before going on a walk or hike.
Greg Stahl:
Nikki and I were roommates for three years and good friends for many years after. Those three years were hugely important, formative years for me. I was very happy during some of them, but I was also very unhappy – for reasons unrelated to Nikki – for an extended period when I rented the loft at her cabin in West Ketchum.
As a person who enjoys playing with words, I have several unfinished manuscripts, one of which is called ‘Evenings at Nikki’s.’ She really was my Morrie Schwartz in a lot of ways. When I was at my worst, she stood by and nudged me back toward the light. She had an uncanny, intuitive sense for people that came out in debate, in her shrewd business sense and in her friendships and more intimate relationships. She had the gift of seamlessly connecting with people, and it didn’t matter where they came from or who they were. She validated people and made them feel important while simultaneously and steadfastly holding strong to her core values, which were the bedrock of who she was.
Nikki is also one of the few people with whom I’ve had scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs fights. There were only a few, but this was a function of her ability to cut to the quick of a situation. Her intuition was an incredible gift, but hearing her out wasn’t always easy. I guess I also hope those fights were a function of how close we grew.
I’m happy I was able to spend some one-on-one time with Nikki just last year. It was my wedding day, so the odds of that happening weren’t high. It was the final couple of hours before the wedding, and Nikki drove to town with me to help me buy, of all things, a box of nicotine patches with which to help me quit chewing tobacco. Even then, when it seemed so irrelevant to the day’s purpose, she was encouraging me to be a better person and achieve more for myself. And her jokes along the way certainly helped loosen me up. I didn’t request a best man for my wedding, but in a very organic sense that person ended up being Nikki. And I haven’t chewed tobacco since.
As with many people in the Wood River Valley and beyond, I could keep telling stories for a while. But the bottom line is that Nikki Potts was an iconic character in the Wood River Valley. The word iconic is very overused in this day and age of Facebook sound bites, but it is incredibly well suited to Nikki. Ketchum lost a little bit of its soul this week. And all of us lost a friend.
Pam Colesworthy:
I admired her ability to maintain relationships. She was always warm and welcoming to all who entered The Coffee Grinder, almost to a fault because the service was the slowest in town – owing to the fact that she had lengthy conversations with everyone – young and old, new and longtime customers. We went just to say hello to her. I now see how beloved she was. I knew she had many friends but I didn’t know how much they loved her.
Warren Benjamin:
Everyone has experienced the ups and downs of life; sometimes you made the best of it by just making lemonade.
I know this expression from my past but was re-introduced to it by hearing it from Nikki Potts. She had her own experiences of being up and then being down. But it also expressed for her the can-do attitude that mirrored her own life.
Her life was all about the community of Ketchum; her first home was the Coffee Grinder, where many of us got to know her. It was her hangout place and she encouraged others to hang with her. While she overcharged you for a cup of joe and it took forever to make the damn coffee, you simply didn’t mind. You kept coming back for more, not because of the coffee but because of Nikki.
She sometimes objected to the kind of progress that she assumed would change Ketchum.
“Keep those big, damn, franchise coffee shops out of here,” was one of her favorite rants.
“Let’s get a petition going” for the latest cause was another.
Over a glass of white wine, she’d let you know what was on her mind.
Nikki was old school. Discussions about her community and the direction on any matters that mattered to Nikki led from quiet and civilized banter to out and out loud screaming. I actually walked away from her over a discussion about more airline flights into the Valley. She was all for it but had a better idea; re-establish the Southern Pacific Railroad to Shoshone and have transportation deliver folks to the Valley. No arguing with Nikki. Old school rules!
We shared many things in common; Manhattan Beach, Calif., beach volleyball (she was good), love for the outdoors and, of course, a good glass of wine.
Walking past The Grinder (sorry, Leadville Espresso) isn’t quite the same. Things have changed, the place looks great and they actually serve a great cup of joe at a reasonable price without waiting too long. But for me, it will always be the Grinder, that old-school location where Nikki kept house and welcomed people to our community.
She knew the recipe for lemonade when life dealt her lemons.
Miss you, Nik.
Cathy Reinheimer:
Nikki Potts and her coffee shop, the Coffee Grinder, which she owned for 24 years, were synonymous with home, where points of view, relationships and life plans could develop. It included a commitment to small-town community values and recipe for the good life. One started the day at The Grinder with a Fair Trade, gourmet cup of coffee, and the friendships, adventures and community awareness that followed.
She challenged everyone to think globally and to maintain the old-school Ketchum/human principles of affordable housing and higher education, acceptance of diversity, and support of environmental and humanitarian causes, in order to live our best lives on a protected Earth.
She especially championed women’s empowerment in business and in social causes; she surmounted gender challenges and knew that old attitudes die-hard.
All done with that perfect blend of sugar and spice – that was Nikki Potts.
Pre-Internet, Nikki would inform and share information from the Grinder on the Ketchum art scene, upcoming lectures and fundraisers for causes.
Nikki addressed it all with humor and a hug. Her generous and maternal brand of humanitarianism always championed the under supported citizens of our town and world, and she was invested in bettering the local experience of living in our area.
In late July, a longtime Ketchum friend visited her in Santa Cruz, where she was living (temporarily). Nikki asked about how the Grinder was doing, which she’d sold over the winter.
Nikki, in her famous adamant and passionate way, said, “I really want [people] to embrace the new Grinder, and hang out there, and support it; it’s OUR Grinder. I specifically sold it to Betsy because I believed in her vision. She’s a strong woman with great taste, and a good soul and great coffee.”
She then said she looked forward to coming home to Ketchum, at some point, and to hanging out at her old spot on Leadville, and catching up with friends, town and local news.
Nicola Potts…Nikki – Ketchum tribal leader, entrepreneur, friend to all, beautiful and generous soul – they broke the mold and we will miss you always.
Dana Maxey:
In about 1990, six girls and I were going to Paul Bates’ New Year’s Eve party. We spent the evening dressing each other in all our finery. I wore stilettos despite being 5-foot-8, a cat suit with one of Millie Wiggins’ great hats, and my blond hair halfway down my back. I looked hot for a crazy New Year’s Eve in Ketchum.
We danced for hours at Paul’s and just as we decided to leave, two of the most handsome young men I’d ever seen walked into the party.
In an instant we about-faced and headed back in to the party. As our eyes adjusted to the very festive yet dim room I realized that one of the guys was John Kennedy, Jr. As the clock struck midnight, Lisa Henak and I sashayed over to his side and planted kisses on both his cheeks, as he shoveled hors d’oeuvres into his mouth. He promptly asked me to dance and we joined his oh-so-handsome friend who was dancing with Nikki Potts. We danced for quite a while, sharing beers and rocking to the Toast Points.
After I left, John asked Nikki, “Who was that?”
“Oh, the town transvestite,” Nikki said in response.
I dated one of those handsome men, who later told me what she said. I was so damn mad at her I could spit.
I marched into the Grinder with all intentions of chewing her out and, of course, ended up drinking a latté together and laughing our asses off instead.
