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Published September 2013, Volume 34, Number 4
In 2004, Marc Cappelletti took a job as a Philadelphia Eagles Beer Man. Photo courtesy Marc Cappelletti.
By Marc Cappelletti
Growing up in a family with three Heisman Trophy winners and NFL running backs (John Cappelletti and, through marriage, Alan Ameche and Glenn Davis), I never had to go far for my football fix. Games, memorabilia, awards banquets—I was blessed to have intimate access to a sport I loved. But it wasn’t until I left those privileges at the front gate and strapped two cases of beer around my neck that I learned what it really means to be a part of the football experience.
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Published July 2013, Volume 34, Number 3
Julia Herz is the publisher of CraftBeer.com and the craft beer program director for the Brewers Association.
By Julia Herz
All beer lovers have their story. Mine began in an unlikely way, but looking back now it all makes sense. When I was young, my brother, Billy, had a beer can collection. I remember following him on my banana-seat bike (sans tassels ’cause that’s how I rolled) as he’d score collectibles in shopping mall parking lots, diving into dumpsters, trading with his friends and having a blast every minute and in every dumpster. This all to me was fascinating.
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Published March 2013, Volume 34, Number 1
By Dennis Dunham
I grew up in Ohio on Stroh’s. I went to Penn State (IC Light pumpers!), so probably the first good beer I had was Leinenkugel’s, courtesy of my brother-in-law from Wisconsin. My dad grew up on a farm drinking dandelion wine, so I didn’t get it from him. He did drink scotch, though. In his later years, I tried to interest him in dark craft beers, but he never caught the bug.
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By John Holl
Published May 2013, Volume 34, Number 2
I don’t need surveys, spreadsheets or analytics to tell me that craft beer is on the rise and that more people than ever are drinking better beer. No, all I need to do is stroll through my neighborhood on Thursday nights, when my neighbors put out their recycling for pickup.
Along with my trusty mutt, Pepper, I meander the streets of Jersey City, NJ, on the final walk of the day, taking my time to unwind and let the dog do her sniffy thing. I don’t go digging through barrels; I just observe whatever is on top of the pile. There, among the crumpled bottles of Poland Spring and familiar cans of brewers with generations of history, are bottles from the likes of Maine Beer Co., Lagunitas, Southern Tier, 21st Amendment, Full Sail and more. As the seasons change, so do the beers. Summer brews turn into pumpkin bottles, followed by winter ale empties.
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By Gerald Jowers
Published May 2012, Volume 33, Number 2
My journey in beer began in the 1970s. During that decade and into the early ‘80s, the beer landscape was bleak throughout most of this country but especially in my native South Carolina. American beers were generally flavorless thirst quenchers and European beers were usually stale or skunked. Despite the sad state of the beer world, I enjoyed beer and I felt there was much more to beer than what I was drinking. I became what we now call a beer hunter and prowled the shelves of bottle shops looking for that special beer.
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By Jim Kohl
Published January 2013, Volume 33, Number 6
When I had just graduated from college, most of my mornings would begin with me stumbling over tossed clothes and sneakers to the refrigerator. My mouth typically felt as barren as the Sahara, and only one thing could cure this—water. I never thought I would ever drink anything else in the morning. Least of all, I never thought I would drink beer. One day that all changed.
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