All About Beer Magazine » History

Drafting A Revolution

Tom Acitelli — Mon, 01 Jul 2013 16:48:09 +0000

Fritz Maytag bought a controlling share in Anchor Brewing in 1965, around the time when more than 80 percent of the beer sold in the United States was made by just six breweries. Photo courtesy of Anchor Brewing.

One day in August, 1965, a 27-year-old former graduate student in Japanese studies at Stanford walked into his favorite bar, the Old Spaghetti Factory in San Francisco’s trendy North Beach neighborhood. He ordered his usual: an Anchor Steam. The bar’s owner, a World War II veteran and local eccentric named Fred Kuh, ambled over. “You ever been to the brewery?” Kuh asked the young man (they knew each other).

“No.”

“You ought to see it,” Kuh said. “It’s closing in a day or two, and you ought to see it.”

The next day, the young man walked the mile and a half from his apartment to the Anchor Brewery at Eighth and Brannan streets, and bought a 51 percent stake for what he would later describe as “less than the price of a used car.”

The young man’s name was Fritz Maytag.

The purchase came at a restless time for Maytag, who already looked every inch the Midwestern patriarch he would come to resemble in later years: trim, compact, with large-frame glasses and close-cropped hair, a tie knotted snugly during the working day. The Kennedy assassination less than two years earlier had jarred him, and made him reconsider his Stanford studies, which he came to regard as “very minor.” He dropped out in the midst of what we would come to call a quarter-life crisis.

What was he going to do with his life? He had grown up on the family farm in Iowa, about 35 miles east of Des Moines. There, he was aware not only of the appliance empire started by his great-grandfather, a German immigrant, but of his father’s blue-cheese concern. Frederick Louis Maytag II, using a herd of Holsteins and the expertise of Iowa State’s dairy department, made blue cheese modeled after the Roquefort style in France. Like the French, he aged the cheese in caves: two 110-foot-deep ones dug into the family farm in 1941.

“I saw the pride with which my father reacted when people would ask him, ‘Have you anything to do with that blue cheese?’” Maytag recalled decades later.

Perhaps that’s why Maytag bought Anchor after barely an hour of checking it out (he would buy full control in 1969). The brewery was the last of its kind in America: one that made small batches of beer from traditional ingredients and distributed locally.

Raised from the dead

Don Russell — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 18:52:23 +0000

Driven by the never-ending nostalgia craze, several old-time brands have risen from the grave, including:

Duquesne (1899-1972) Once king of western Pennsylvania, the Duke returned a couple years ago, calling itself “the Prince of Pilsner.”

Falls City (1905-1978) Formed as an attempt to break Louisville’s beer monopoly, the brand was once the official beer of the Indianapolis 500. It’s back on its feet with a pale ale.

Highlander (1910-1964) A Missouri beer named after the American League team that would become the New York Yankees, it’s returned as a Scottish red ale.

Lithia (1848-1972). “The beer that made Milwaukee jealous” has returned to West Bend, Ind.

Narragansett (1890-1981) It once greeted Cape Cod vacationers, Boston Red Sox fans and everyone else in New England with its famous slogan, “Hi neighbor, have a ‘Gansett!” It’s back in six different styles, including bock and porter.

Primo (1897-1979) One of Hawaii’s first beers is still brewed by Pabst. But there’s a local draft version made by tiny Keoki Brewing of Kauai.

Rheingold (1873-1976) Once the largest-selling beer in New York, it was known for its annual Miss Rheingold beauty pageant. It’s been re-launched at least twice in recent years.

Walter’s (1874-1989) Brewing up to 80,000 barrels a year before its collapse, “The Beer that is Beer” has returned.

How They Survive Today

Don Russell — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 18:22:32 +0000

Anchor Brewing

San Francisco
Founded: 1896
Current rank: 32
How it survived Prohibition: Shut down for duration.
How it survives today: Fritz Maytag’s legacy.

Anheuser-Busch

St. Louis
Founded: 1852
Current rank: 1
How it survived Prohibition: Grape soda, ginger ale, carbonated coffee.
How it survives today: Resistance is futile.

Cold Springs

(formerly Gluek)

Cold Springs, MN
Founded: 1857
Current rank: 47
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer and soda.
How it survives today: Energy drinks, O.P.B. (Other People’s Beer)OK?

Coors

Golden, CO
Founded: 1873
Current rank: 2 (as Miller Coors)
How it survived Prohibition: Mars candy bars, porcelain manufacturing.
How it survives today: Inexplicable allure of pure Rocky Mountain spring water.

Genesee

Rochester, NY
Founded: 1878
Current rank: 8
How it survived Prohibition: Shut down for duration.
How it survives today: Private equity, discount pricing.

Leinenkugel

Chippewa Falls, WI
Founded: 1867
Current rank: 2 (as Miller Coors)
How it survived Prohibition: Soda water.
How it survives today: Dogged family principles in face of assimilation.

Lion

Wilkes-Barre, PA
Founded: 1905
Current rank: 15
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, dye manufacture.
How it survives today: Stegmaier beers, Goya Malta, O.P.B.

F.X. Matt

Utica, NY
Founded: 1888
Current rank: 13
How it survived Prohibition: Utica Club soda.
How it survives today: Saranac beers, O.P.B.

Miller

Milwaukee, WI
Founded: 1855
Current rank: 2 (as Miller Coors)
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, malt tonic.
How it survives today: Tastes great, less filling.

Minhas

(formerly Joseph Huber)

Monroe, WI
Founded: 1845
Current rank: 14
How it survived Prohibition: Ice cream, near beer, farm equipment.
How it survives today: Insatiable thirst of Canadians.

August Schell

New Ulm, MN
Founded: 1860
Current rank: 22
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, soda and candy.
How it survives today: Craft brewing, lingering appreciation of retro Grain Belt.

Spoetzl

Shiner, TX
Founded: 1909
Current rank: 10
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, though local legend says they never stopped brewing the real thing.
How it survives today: Don’t mess with Texas.

Stevens Point

Stevens Point, WI
Founded: 1857
Current rank: 44
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, Orange Crush.
How it survives today: You can teach an old dog new tricks.

Straub

St. Marys, PA
Founded: 1872
Current rank: 50
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer.
How it survives today: Think small.

Yuengling

Pottsville, PA
Founded: 1829
Current rank: 4
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer and ice cream.
How it survives today: American icon.

Heritage Breweries

Don Russell — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 17:34:14 +0000

“Brewing since 1907.”
For an industry that spends millions to emphasize the freshness of its product, there’s still some attention to be paid to dusty, sepia-shaded history.

“Made in San Francisco since 1896.”
It takes some looking, but if you shuffle through the cooler at your local beer store you’ll find labels that proudly boast of traditions that are seriously old.

“Brewing excellence since 1857”
Not just old as in “your father’s beer.”

“Established in Milwaukee 1844.”
We’re talking old enough to be Abe Lincoln’s father’s beer.

“Since 1829.”
Somehow they’ve survived, through world wars and epidemics how would epidemics affect beer companies?and family rivalries and corporate takeovers and that loathsome low-carb fad. And they continue to thrive, even in an era of shortened attention spans and the newfangled desire for the next newest thing.

These are America’s pre-Prohibition breweries, the ones that were founded before passage of the 18th Amendment and then somehow emerged when we came back to our senses.

You can call them retro or old-fashioned. A decade ago, beer historian Greg Kitsock labeled them as heirloom breweries, a bit of an inaccuracy because most of the survivors have been sold and re-sold so many times, they’re hardly family treasures. More recently, Brewers Association President Charlie Papazian began calling them heritage breweries, another description that implies inheritance.

Maybe that’s the point.

From Skull Cup to Pint Glass

Rick Lyke — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 15:54:54 +0000

A mug is more than just something to hold a cold brew. The iconic beer stein, for instance, was developed using one part industrial progress and one part public health emergency.

The stein, with its sturdy handle and hinged lid, was legislated into beer drinking history during the 14th century. As the bubonic plague wiped out entire villages and infestations of flies swept across parts of modern day Germany, rulers decreed that drinking vessels should be covered. At around the same time advancements were being made in ceramics and stoneware was developed. These two factors combined to create the classic beer stein.

When it comes to beer drinking vessels, man has been tinkering and innovating for centuries. Sometimes, like with the stein, necessity has been the mother of invention. In other cases, style and taste have shaped what holds our beer.

What is true today is that right glass with the right beer makes the experience memorable.

The delicate thin-walled 0.2 liter stange delivers a fresh kölsch to your lips at just the right temperature. The tulip-shaped imperial pint captures the flavor and aromas of an extra special bitter. And the 1-liter masskrug is as much a part of the enjoyment of Oktoberfest as drindls or leiderhosen. Anyone who has ever been to Cologne, London or Munich knows the sensory pleasure of holding one of these glasses. They can transport you back to the place because they are as much a part of the experience as any cathedral, palace or museum is in these great cities.

Most beer drinkers have a favorite glass. Many have a few glasses that they use regularly depending on the beer being poured. The search for the proper drinking vessel goes back through the ages—it’s part utilitarianism and part ceremony. The clinking of glasses signifies friendship and goodwill. Over time beer has served to drive away evil spirits, celebrate reunions and seal business deals. The beer mug is more than a container: it is part of the experience.

How we got to the modern beer glass is a story that reflects our development over the centuries. What now might look quaint, or even barbaric at times, was something our ancestors accepted as the perfect way to hoist a brew.

Gemütlichkeit

John Holl — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 19:11:14 +0000

Just out of the subway and trudging through freshly fallen snow, my sights were set on Radegast Hall and Biergarten in Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood. Fighting against a bracing wind, I focused on what I thought lay ahead of me: liters of lager brought to tables in bunches by—perhaps—a kind woman in a dirndl, in the corner an oompah band occasionally leading the crowd in song. Smiling as I opened the door with these thoughts, I was met with the sound of jazz.

The band was playing a version of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day” and while quite good, it certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. A few moments later I settled into a stein of Weihenstephaner Dunkel Weiss and surveyed the scene. It was decidedly hipster, 30-somethings wearing T-shirts with ironic sayings or vague movie references. One was alone and reading with a glass of wine—yes, wine—in front of him. Two others were engrossed in the contents on the screen of a digital camera.

Clearly this was not Bavaria.

No, this was just one of many “beer gardens” that has sprang up in recent years around the country, making it seem that bar owners are embracing a new decorating theme much in the same way that “Irish pubs” were in fashion a decade ago.

And why not? Bavaria is the fertile crescent of beer. Hundreds of thousands of people make pilgrimages to Munich each year to drink deep from the kegs of some of the world’s best-known and beloved breweries. The styles developed over the centuries by master brewers have been enjoyed and imbibed by millions and copied and analyzed by fellow brewers around the globe. In short, so much of what people enjoy about beer found its beginnings in Germany.

Then consider how the United States is in the midst of a beer renaissance. Sure, sugary vodka-based drinks that masquerade as martinis are still popular at lounges and wine lists still rein supreme at high-end restaurants. But beer brings people together for a good time and rather than just another neighborhood dive, restaurateurs are capitalizing on the current beer trend and are offering up a place with an “authentic feel.”

Getting Primitive

Matt Stinchfield — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 20:55:58 +0000

Most of us have had a beer so good that drinking it was “like a religious experience.” But when was the last time you were served a bowl of murky grog at church? Early people from Mesopotamia to Mesoamerica celebrated everything with beer—from their daily prayers and good harvests to human sacrifice and their gods.

Ancient beers from around the world were usually low in alcohol, sour, chunky or slimy—eeew! They were made of any fermentable materials at hand. If you are one to harp on about adjuncts and German purity, you’d better fasten your seat belt. Dan Shelton, co-founder of the Shelton Brothers specialty beer importation company says, “Fact is that all of the ancient beers would have been spontaneously fermented, they would therefore have been very low alcohol, and they would have been progressively more sour and redolent with all sorts of flavors—certainly foul and off-putting at the time.”

Who could have made this stuff up, you’re wondering? Well, the gods did. Often the recipes for these beverages were transmitted through visions of tribal deities. They required specific ingredients and equipment bestowed with magical properties. Mythology and sacred poems accompanied the brew. Righteous consumption demanded special drinking vessels and adherence to ceremonial customs.

“In a world so lacking in modern comforts like ibuprofen and dental care,” reckons Santa Fe brewer Cullen Dwyer, “a food that required no chewing and let you forget your aches, pains and cares must have won a big double thumbs-up.” It’s true. Beer was medicine. And it was also a staple food, a religious sacrament, social lubricant and aphrodisiac.

Here and Gone: The Pop-up Beer Garden

John Holl — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 18:57:27 +0000

Following the lead of pop-up restaurants, where a dining experience appears in a place it had not previously stood and is gone before you can make reservations for a return visit, a Los Angeles group has introduced the pop-up beer garden.

Brain child of four beer bar owners in the L.A. area, the ColLAboration Craft Beer Gardens and Events brings tents, tables, chairs and, most importantly, good beer to parking lots and parks across the City of Angels.

It’s for beer geeks and beyond,” says Tony Yanow, owner of Tony’s Darts Away & Mohawk Bend. The group sells 21 oz glasses that serves as a ticket for entry and patrons can choose the pour amount, as indicated by notches on the glass. The smallest pour available is 8 oz, good for say, a barrel-aged barley wine.

Along with Yanow, ColLAboration is run by Ryan Sweeney of Verdugo Bar & The Surly Goat, Brian Lenzo of Blue Palms Brewhouse and Clay Harding of the 38° Ale House & Grill.

All are personally invested in the promotion of American craft beer and enjoy good relationships with brewers large and small. Yanow says that those relationships help get smaller breweries involved in a large gatherings that they might not otherwise be able to afford.

The pop-up gardens do not serve food but organizers work with local restaurants and post menus on tables, encouraging patrons to call for delivery. There is no music, just conversation and Yanow says that the bartender staffs from the restaurants work the gardens, ensuring that those unfamiliar with a particular beer can get an education along with a taste.

The whole point is to make it comfortable,” says Yanow. “We want to drink beer in the way we want to drink beer. This is the way we see beer drinking as it ought to be.”

Nawait

Matt Stinchfield — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 14:18:35 +0000

Some liquid in the bottom of a jar
They gave me.
Crouching, I sat before it,
Desiring that speedily it should ferment.
But still it did not.

Then it had pity on me
And, after two mornings,
Gloriously it fermented.

Then of those whose desires were like to mine
I bethought me,
And straight to you a shining road was stretched.
As I started upon it,
It was the wind that met me
And rainily it blew.
It was this that I desired in what I did.

Excerpt from the “Invitation to the Sit-and-Drink” song of the Tohono O’Odham.

Chhaang

Matt Stinchfield — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 14:13:30 +0000

This bowl of wine in my hand,
Is not ordinarily made,
In the blue sky of heaven,
Thunder roars like the Green Dragon,
Lightning flashes like glowing fire,
Fine raindrops like sweet dew,
With the essence of pure sweet dew,
People on earth make tasty wine.

When people make gingke wine they are wild with joy.

Excerpt from “The Laud to Wine” in the epic poem King Gesar.