I know, it’s not exactly a monster claim. Put down the phone, Matilda, no need to ring up the Guinness World Records people. But it’s something, and I’ll take whatever glory I can get at this point in my career.

To those who have been gunning for this distinction, I regret to report that I’ve had several unfair advantages. My mother, father and grandparents on both sides were soda bottlers and beer distributors, so I started attending both soda bottler and beer distributor conventions while still wet behind the ears. Pepsi convention in Orlando, Schweppes in Vegas, 7-UP (owned by Philip Morris at the time) in Richmond, Lone Star in Houston, Cerveceria Cuauhtemoc in Grand Cayman, S&P (now called Pabst) in Los Angeles, California Cooler in Chicago, etc. etc. Yes, at a Pepsi meeting I met Joan Crawford, and though I was a child, for the record she didn’t beat me with a wire hanger. And yes, at a Lone Star meeting I met Willie Nelson. And got my picture taken with Sonny and Cher, curiously enough.

Upon graduation from college and being cast into the cold cruel world by my wretched parents, I went to work for a Miller beer distributor in Houston, which also sold a myriad of other beers, fizzy waters, teas and juices whose parent companies—all vying for the fleeting attention of their distributor—threw elaborate shows for us to attend. Again I was on the distributor convention road. Then I started Beer Business Daily, which eventually afforded me the invitations of most all brewers and importers to attend their national distributor meetings each year. Anheuser-Busch and MillerCoors even took to having two meetings a year. Plus the National Beer Wholesalers Association’s two meetings a year, plus the Craft Brewers Conference, plus SAVOR, plus the GABF, plus the myriad state distributor meetings I attend each year. I wasn’t allowed at first to attend the annual Beer Institute meetings since August Busch III blackballed me. But the late Beer Institute president Jeff Becker would sneak me in. “Don’t worry, pal,” he said with a smile and a wink. “He doesn’t even know what you look like. Just don’t draw attention to yourself.” I sat in the back and never made eye contact with anybody.

Then I started a wine and spirits trade publication and started attending all of their conventions, seminars and confabs as well. Meetings meetings meetings. Sometimes I’d go to the restroom and accidentally board a plane heading to an industry conference. Sometimes I’d kiss my wife, Lulu, on the cheek good night, lay my head on my pillow—and wake up on stage at the Craft Brewers Conference in San Diego.

Pretty soon I achieved Executive Platinum status on American Airlines, which allows me to board the plane before others and sit in the front where there are no chickens, pigs or, most importantly, human babies. And the beer is free. Being from San Antonio—not exactly a hub—I naturally have to fly to Dallas to fly anywhere else. I fly to Dallas so much that sometimes I forget myself and fly to Dallas just to pee and then fly back home. I’m not certain, but I may have a second family in Dallas. I think they live under the bar at the Terminal D Admirals Club, and they might be Vietnamese. If you see them, tell them I love them, and green cards and cash are forthcoming as promised.

The golden age of beer company distributor conferences, I fear, has come and gone. In the old days, the big brewers’ conventions held for their distributors were a spectacle to behold, although the degree of spectacle depended largely on market share. Anheuser-Busch, which had 50 percent of the market, threw the best parties. Lobsters piled up a mile high on ice, free Dove Bars (don’t go well with beer, though), those giant shrimp people call prawns, George Strait playing in one room and Elton John in another, August Busch III arriving dramatically on the putting green self-piloting his jet helicopter; his son August IV arriving much more modestly in a fleet of armored black Suburbans piloted by mercs in the employ of Blackwater, later to ferry him and his entourage late night to clubs. Those were the days.

A record 233 small and independent American brewery owners and brewers, representing 215 craft breweries and 46 states, climbed the steps of the United States Capitol. (Photo courtesy of The Brewers Association)

The Brewers Association (BA)—the not-for-profit trade group representing America’s small and independent craft brewers—has concluded the 30th edition of the Craft Brewers Conference (CBC) & BrewExpo America.

As the largest industry gathering, CBC brought together some 6,400 brewing professionals and approximately 440 exhibitors in the nation’s capital for conversation and collaboration about America’s ever-growing craft beer culture.

Three members of the brewing community were recognized and awarded for their dedication and service during the opening session.

Russell Schehrer Award for Innovation in Brewing: Peter Bouckaert of New Belgium Brewing Co. was honored with the Russell Schehrer Award for implementing the biggest barrel ageing operation in the country. Brewmaster for the past 10 years, Bouckaert makes all kinds of experimental beers, many of which are released under New Belgium’s “Lips of Faith” series. The award is given annually to honor Schehrer’s contributions to the brewing industry. Schehrer was a founding partner and original head brewer at Colorado’s first brewpub, Wynkoop Brewing Co.

Brewers Association Recognition Award: Art Larrance of Cascade Brewing/Raccoon Lodge & Brewpub received the Brewers Association Recognition Award for his innovative and award-winning beers. Larrance has been in the industry since the early 1980s and opened Cascade Brewing in 1998. Each year, BA members nominate candidates for this award and the BA Board of Directors votes to determine the most deserving brewer.

F.X. Matt Defense of the Industry Award: David Katleski, president of the New York State Craft Brewers Guild and owner of the Empire Brewing Co., received the F.X. Matt Award for his tireless efforts to make regulatory reform possible and change legislation. Katleski operates a small brewpub in Syracuse and is constantly working to help the local craft market. This past year, he had five major pieces of reform legislation passed in New York. The award is given in honor of a champion of small brewers, F.X. Matt, president of the F.X. Matt Brewing Co. in Utica, New York from 1980-1989 and chairman from 1989-2001.

Previous year’s BA awards winners are available on the Brewers Association website.

Other notable takeaways from this year’s CBC include:

Craft Brewers Hill Climb: A record 233 small and independent American brewery owners and brewers, representing 215 craft breweries and 46 states, climbed the steps of the United States Capitol. They met with Congressional staff to tell their success stories and discuss legislative issues of concern to the craft brewing industry.

Kim Jordan Keynote: New Belgium Brewing co-founder and CEO Kim Jordan welcomed attendees as this year’s keynote speaker. Jordan presented the keynote at CBC in New Orleans in 2003, where she famously called for craft brewers to aspire to reach 10 percent of all U.S. beer sales. A decade later, Jordan returned to discuss issues ranging from technical brewing considerations to the industry’s collective spirit and future.

Leadership Recognition Awards: The Honorable Peter DeFazio (D-OR) was presented the Brewers Association Achievement Award in appreciation of his five years of leadership in the House Small Brewers Caucus. DeFazio was recognized for his evergreen commitment to supporting America’s small and independent brewers and for his personal passion and enthusiasm for craft beer and homebrewing.

Sustainability Manuals: With increasing numbers of craft brewers prioritizing sustainability issues, the BA officially unveiled threenew manuals for craft brewers: BA Water and Wastewater: Treatment/Volume Reduction Manual; BA Solid Waste Reduction Manual; and BA Energy Usage, GHG Reduction, Efficiency and Load Management Manual. Each contains multiple levels of solutions for different size breweries and a toolbox including guidance, checklists and Excel-based tools.

New Records in Craft Beer Growth in the U.S. and Abroad: CBC also saw the BA release a full, extensive analysis of 2012 data on U.S. craft brewing growth. In a year when the total U.S. beer market grew by one percent, craft brewers saw a 15 percent rise in volume and a 17 percent increase in dollar growth, representing a total barrelage increase of almost 1.8 million. The BA also recently reported that the American craft brewing industry set new records for exports in 2012. Craft beer export volume increased by an astounding 72 percent compared to 2011, with a value estimated at $49.1 million. The full 2012 industry analysis will be published in the May/June 2013 issue of The New Brewer.

Next year’s conference will be held in Denver, CO from April 8-11, 2014, in conjunction with the 2014 World Beer Cup.

Along with enjoying a beer at lunch (a lost art for our country, it seems, and one I’m crusading to revive), buying a friend a pint seems to have slipped somewhat into the recesses of time. It has always been my habit, but I’ve had the good fortune to have spent all of my post-college life serving the craft brewing industry. It was my job to support beer enjoyment and introduce people to good beer.

I remember one of the first times I bought someone a pint—actually, many someones. It was at the Austin Ginger Man during a Craft Brewers Conference years ago. As a struggling magazine publisher, I simply couldn’t get over the pleasure of being in the middle of dozens of good friends, good brewers and great people.

The atmosphere crackled with conviviality. By the end of the weekend, my credit card, conveniently left at the bar for three days, had gotten into the mid-three digits—no decimal point, mind you.

However, there is something more universal about buying someone a pint than just an expression of professional duty. Deeper down, that gesture connects to a reservoir of passion for both life and colleagues that lies at the true heart of beer.

I carried that special moment in Austin forward into my company, bringing together the magazine team or the festival team or the brewcrew or the volunteer captains. Sitting amidst this dedicated company as beers are ordered, discussed and shared is pretty heady, as the conversation rolls around the common topics of beer, publishing or events. All of these elements conspire to create a unified sensibility.

These gatherings at favorite watering holes see a lot of elbows on tables, or chairs tilted back or heads bending together. The conversation never falters and the decibels remain appropriate. In every pair of hands lurks a fine beer. The bonds of common interests and passions make buying these pints grist to a mill, the furtherance of a shared goal.

But these are collectives that come together over a common purpose, the pursuit of a beer culture. One step away lies a network of individual relationships, where one of the deepest forms of communication can be that simple act of buying a friend a pint.

Reaching over the space of a bar, or sending a pint with a server across the room is a statement of kinship. The words “This one’s on me” or “Put it on my tab” reinforce a social bond. These expressions of connectivity speak to the pleasure of another’s company, a pleasure eloquently expressed with this token of hospitality.

With little effort, a relationship is strengthened. Gone are the trappings of social convention, the rituals and routines of mass culture. The gesture of offering a pint opens a doorway to a special type of intimacy and equality.

Anyone can buy someone a beer. If you are having one yourself, then obviously you enjoy it. And equally as obviously you can afford it: it’s one of life’s affordable luxuries. Greeting someone else with the offer of a pint is taking your beer enjoyment and sharing it with just that one other person.

When the festival volunteer buys the festival producer a beer, as happened that pint night, he makes a statement of friendship, recognizing a common spirit and acknowledging it with one simple offer—a pint of beer.

Well, Ft. Bragg… we moved to Ft. Bragg from Devon, England. Merle and I met in San Francisco. She’s English. It must have been 1976 when she and I met. And when she figured it was time for her to go back to England to spend some time near her mother, we decided it would be a good thing if I went, too. So we moved to England near her mum in the southwest for a couple of years. It would have been a difficult proposition for us to remain in England. I was trying my hand at some writing and so I did not have real work…

You weren’t in brewing yet?

Oh no.

And you’d left biology?

Well, I had my degree in zoology and—much to my father’s disappointment—had not yet managed to find a job in my field. And so I was still sort of free and easy, with the exception that I was in this committed relationship and we were over in England. So I had the responsibilities of an immigrant over there. They were pretty serious about that stuff even in the days before homeland security of their own variety. So we decided after a couple of years we’d have to return to the United States because the British government said, basically, “You can’t stay here unless something happens: you get married or someone here decides they can’t continue in business without your help,”—I think that probably sums it up. Or I would suddenly find myself with offers from publishers for my book—which of course wasn’t going to happen.

We knew we wanted to move back to California, but not to the city. I had always had ideas and still had ideas of pursuing a career in marine biology. It had been my dream to work on the coast of California in my field so we looked up and down the coast, to see what made sense, far enough away from the city, but close enough that we could partake of the culture. Of course, you know that with a bachelor’s degree, there’s not a lot of opportunity. With a master’s degree there’s not a lot of opportunity! When I first got here, I traveled up and down and stopped at Scripps and a bunch of places and talked to people about what I could expect to do, and really it was nothing. If you don’t have a PhD and convince people you’ve got work and funding, well forget it.

Four years of college was about all I could handle, and I knew there was no way I was staying around for more just be able to do the work that was interesting to me. On the other hand, the interest was here. All the things that I was interested in studying or learning more about, the marine biology of the Pacific Coast, was here. You don’t have to have a job to study them. Midterm in our stay over there, I came Ft. Bragg and Mendocino, and looked around. It’s such a beautiful coastline, and I thought I could pursue my interest without a job and do some other work.

So we made the decision to move someplace that we thought we’d really love to live, a beautiful place away from the city.

The place we lived in England was absolutely idyllic. It is on the Channel side, South Ham near Torquay, Dartmouth actually, in the Dart watershed, a beautiful little area, and it convinced us we wanted to stay in a pastoral environment. We lived in a 900 year old house. For me, being at home all day long, it was fantastic because there were all the rhythms of the country there. You know, Reg the cow man would drive the cows out in the morning and he’d call them in at night. The only sounds during the day besides the sounds of nature, every now and then a car would go down the lane. So we really wanted to continue that experience here. We made the priority to find a great place to live, and then find jobs and all the rest.