‘Hollywood Hippie’ Finds His Final Encore in Cheyenne Hotel Lobby

Call Michael DeGreve on a Friday at noon and you’ll learn a few things. He answers unknown numbers on the first ring. He eats breakfast at noon. And he’s the kind of guy who can take a question and run with it for two hours straight.

“I’m a musician, brother. I’m on musician time,” he says, chewing a bite of waffle.

You’d never guess by that gentle voice that this man dropped LSD with Jimi Hendrix, got drunk with Janis Joplin, or cut a record with Graham Nash. Now 78, with a terminal illness tightening its grip, DeGreve is looking back on his Wyoming years for the strength to finish his last major work before the music stops.

“Some of my best songs I’ve never even recorded. I’ve got work to do, brother.”

For 30 years, DeGreve was the heart of Cheyenne’s iconic Hitching Post Inn—the “Hitch”—where lawmakers, lobbyists and locals gathered each night in the lobby. With a repertoire of 500 songs committed to memory, he turned the space into a grown-up story hour, taking requests and ringing in dollar-off shots at the top of each hour.

“He was the best at working a crowd,” said Brian Leneschmidt, a Cheyenne musician DeGreve mentored. “It was just like being in your living room with a whole bunch of friends.”

His path to that lobby was circuitous. An All-American basketball recruit, he gave up his scholarship to join a rock band on the Sunset Strip. He married actress Susan Sennett, partied with draft-card burners, and immersed himself in the 60s counterculture. He pulled back early after seeing friends destroyed by addiction.

After his marriage ended, a two-week gig in Cheyenne stretched into three decades. “Here I was this Hollywood hills hippie who came out for a two-week deal,” he said. “I ended up staying six nights a week for the next 30 years.”

In Cheyenne, he recorded “Gypsy’s Lament” with Graham Nash providing harmonies and Eagles’ bassist Randy Meisner in the studio. The album was a hit in Russia, of all places—oil field workers took it home, and suddenly “Misha” was treated like a Beatle in Moscow.

When the city dedicated a war memorial, Vietnam vets begged him to write a tribute song. He hesitated—he wasn’t there, he said. They insisted. “American Soldier” moved servicemen to tears.

After the Hitch changed owners and later burned in an arson fire, DeGreve was crushed. “For everything I’ve done, that time in Cheyenne meant so much,” he said. “That was my space, man. It was my family.”

Now, facing the end, he’s focused on recording those last songs.

“I posted photos online recently—one of me at the L.A. Times looking like Leave it to Beaver, another as an All-American basketball player,” he said. “People asked, ‘How many lives did you live?’ I don’t know, but they’ve all been fun.”