First Draft Follies: Early History of the American Homebrewers Association and the Brewers Association, Part 3

Part One --- Part Two --- Part Three --- Part Four Part Five --- Part Six --- Part Seven --- Part Eight --- Part Nine

Welcome to this edition of First Draft Follies, an ongoing series here at the blog. The material is presented “as is” from the first draft of the manuscript that became the book Ambitious Brew. In a few places I added one or two words in brackets — [like this] — for clarification. As always, when the excerpt is lengthy, and this one is, I break it into manageable bits and post those bits over the course of several days.

This edition of FDF concerns the early years of the American Homebrewers Association and what is now the Brewers Association, the craft brewing trade group. Much of my research into the topic fell into “insider baseball” information: interesting to those who were involved, and to people with a serious interest in brewing history, but dull as rocks to a more general audience. As a result, almost none of what follows ended up in the book, which was intended for a general audience.

On the other hand, the groups' early histories provide fascinating insight into the creation of a organization from the ground up, particularly the conflicts that ensued between and among the participants. As a result, I think it’s worth posting this (long) series in full.

For more about the founding of the AHA, see my earlier string of First Draft Follies entries on that topic. (The link takes you to part six of the six-part series; it contains links to parts one through five.)

_______________________________________________________________

For Charlie Papazian's commentary on Part 3, see here and here.

Bradford entered the Boulder circle almost by accident. He had grown up in New England, where his family had lived for sixteen generations, being descendants of William Bradford, Mayflower passenger and first governor of Plymouth colony. That ancestry endowed him with an intuitive sense that his own life and the present were but small parts of a past much larger than himself. It also left him with a strong desire to break free of his New England roots and make his way in the world as unimpeded by the Bradford name as possible.

In 1968, he graduated from high school and headed to Boulder to attend the University of Colorado. There the maelstrom that was the United States in 1968 “descended upon” him starting with his dormitory: His roommate was a Japanese-American kid whose best friend was a black kid whose own best friend was a member of the SDS. (*1) Bradford plunged into campus politics--the demonstrations and shut-downs that were normal for that time--studying history in the classroom and hanging out with graduate students and professors during his free time. I

n 1977, BA and MA in hand, he headed for Ann Arbor with the idea of getting a PHD in history and entering the academy. Sadly, like all too many graduate students, he collided immediately with the reality of academia: infighting, back stabbing, bitching, whining, and complaining. This was not the rarefied world of ideas he had imagined when he’d manned the barricades back in Boulder and dreamed of changing the world.

Distraught to the point of breakdown, Bradford embarked on a two-year trek through his own soul and most of Europe. Eventually he returned to Boulder, at loose ends and no more certain of what he wanted to do than when he had left.

A friend who worked at a Denver publishing company suggested that Bradford become a literary agent. She knew a homebrewer who was trying to publish a book on the subject and needed an agent. He was, by his own admission, “clueless” about what agents did or who they were, but it sounded as good as anything else.

The author was, of course, Papazian, who wanted to push Joy of Brewing to the next level. Bradford compiled a list of publishers, headed for New York, and, after a daunting number of rejections and almost to his own surprise, succeeded in selling the work to a major publisher.

His energy impressed Papazian, who decided he was just what the AHA needed, especially if the organization hoped to host a national beer festival, which was how the New Englander ended up on the payroll early 1982 as the organization’s first employee.

Bradford was a good choice. Like Papazian, he loved “getting people in a room and having a good time”; loved the idea of providing ways for others to “express their own passions.” He was also, and perhaps more importantly, the “kind of guy who didn’t understand ‘no.’” And last but not least, Bradford knew nothing about beer or brewing and so had no turf to protect and no agenda to promote except whatever the AHA happened to need at the moment.

__________

SOURCE:

*1: Daniel Bradford, interview with Maureen Ogle, April 28, 2005. All quotations in the entry are from the interview. Bradford is publisher of All About Beer.

First Draft Follies: Early History of the American Homebrewers Association and the Brewers Association, Part 2

Part One --- Part Two --- Part Three --- Part Four Part Five --- Part Six --- Part Seven --- Part Eight --- Part Nine

Welcome to this edition of First Draft Follies, an ongoing series here at the blog. The material is presented “as is” from the first draft of the manuscript that became the book Ambitious Brew. In a few places I added one or two words in brackets — [like this] — for clarification. As always, when the excerpt is lengthy, and this one is, I break it into manageable bits and post those bits over the course of several days.

This edition of FDF concerns the early years of the American Homebrewers Association and what is now the Brewers Association, the craft brewing trade group. Much of my research into the topic fell into “insider baseball” information: interesting to those who were involved, and to people with a serious interest in brewing history, but dull as rocks to a more general audience. As a result, almost none of what follows ended up in the book, which was intended for a general audience.

On the other hand, the groups' early histories provide fascinating insight into the creation of a organization from the ground up, particularly the conflicts that ensued between and among the participants. As a result, I think it’s worth posting this (long) series in full.

For more about the founding of the AHA, see my earlier string of First Draft Follies entries on that topic. (The link takes you to part six of the six-part series; it contains links to parts one through five.)

______________________________________________________________

Also see Charlie Papazian's commentary on this entry, as well as photos and a video (how cool IS the internet?).

The laid-back tone and calculated amateurism concealed a more complex agenda. Papazian laid his cards on the table in the Winter 1980 issue of Zymurgy.

An article written by Matzen and titled “Small Breweries Revive” described five “small” breweries --- the term “microbrewery” had not yet taken hold --- New Albion, Boulder, DeBakker, Sierra Nevada, and Cartwright. Matzen also interviewed Bill O’Shea at the Brewers Association of America [the trade group for small regional brewers]. O’Shea reported that he’d been “getting calls from people all over the country wanting information about starting small, family type breweries.’” (*1)

With that one piece, Zymurgy laid claim to ownership of not just homebrewing but the “real beer” movement. And if anyone doubted his intentions, Papazian upped the ante in May 1981, when the AHA hosted “The American Homebrewers Association Third Annual Homebrew/Mead Countrywine Competition and Conference.”

Papazian held the event at Chautauqua Park, an 83-year-old community education center just outside Boulder, a grand setting for the AHA’s first major event, which included a Friday night reception and the beer competition. The main event, however, was the conference, which featured, among others, Michael Jackson and Fred Eckhardt. (The next issue of Zymurgy added Jackson’s name to Eckhardt’s and [Paul] Freedman’s as an “advising editor.”)

The centerpiece? A ninety-minute session whose title, “The Small Commercial Micro-Brewery in America--Its Revival,” obscured its content. Panelists included Jack McAuliffe of New Albion and representatives from Boulder Brewing and Cartwright Brewing of Portland, Oregon. They showed slides, discussed their journey from home to commercial brewing, and answered questions from an audience that was less interested in the “revival” than in how to get in on it themselves. Topics ranged from paperwork and regulatory woes (Tom Burns from Cartwright warned that state governments caused more headaches than the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms) to bottling equipment and finances (the “typical” small brewery could be started with “a relatively modest” $100,000 investment). (*2)

everal months later, Papazian, who had left his teaching job to work fulltime in beer, solidified his intent to travel in large circles: He flew to England, where he joined Jackson at CAMRA’s tenth annual Great British Beer Festival. Papazian served as a judge in three categories and met Roger Protz, who edited CAMRA’s renowned Good Beer Guide. He also came home inspired to create an American version of the GBBF. The plan pushed the AHA into questionable activity, give its mission statement.

But Papazian being Papazian, the idea also shifted almost immediately from idea to reality, propriety be damned. The AHA, he told Zymurgy’s readers, had “become a focal point for the microbrewery movement in the United States,” and that alone “warranted a re-evaluation of the Association’s role in devoting its efforts on behalf of the microbrewer.” (*3)

“In sponsoring this event,” Zymurgy announced,

“the American Homebrewers Association hopes to bring public attention to the micro-brewery industry and provide a forum where brewers and would-be brewers may exchange ideas and information about the industry.” (*4)

But accommodating the new mission forced Papazian to dip a tentative toe into professionalism, something he had thus far resisted. [So far], the organization had relied on volunteers and friends. They wrote and produced the magazine and staffed the board of directors.

[Now that was not enough.] Papazian moved operations out of his back porch and into a small space on Pearl Street in downtown Boulder, just west of the Pearl Street Mall, a bustling ribbon of hip entrepreneurial energy and so a fitting neighborhood for his ambitions. He also hired Daniel Bradford, the organization’s first paid employee other than himself.

_____________

SOURCES:

*1: Charles Matzen, “Small Breweries Revive,” Zymurgy 3, no. 4 (Winter 1980): 16.

*2: Stuart Harris, “Small Breweries Revive: A Resurgence of Traditional Beer,” Zymurgy (Special Issue 1981): 8.

*3: Charlie Papazian, “How Many Apples Does It Take to Make a Pie?,” Zymurgy 5, no. 4 (Winter 1982): 2.

*4: Stuart Harris, “Update,” Zymurgy 5, no. 1 (Spring 1982): 18.

First Draft Follies: Early History of the American Homebrewers Association and the Brewers Association, Part 1

Part One --- Part Two --- Part Three --- Part Four Part Five --- Part Six --- Part Seven --- Part Eight --- Part Nine

Welcome to First Draft Follies, an ongoing series here at the blog. The material is presented "as is" from the first draft of the manuscript that became the book Ambitious Brew. In a few places I added one or two words in brackets -- [like this] -- for clarification. As always, when the excerpt is lengthy, and this one is, I break it into manageable bits and post those bits over the course of several days.

This edition of FDF concerns the early years of the American Homebrewers Association and what is now the Brewers Association, the craft brewing trade group. Much of my research into the topic fell into "insider baseball" information: interesting to those who were involved, and to people with a serious interest in brewing history, but dull as rocks to a more general audience. As a result, almost none of what follows ended up in the book, which was intended for a general audience.

On the other hand, the groups' early histories provide fascinating insight into the creation of a organization from the ground up, particularly the conflicts that ensued between and among the participants. As a result, I think it's worth posting this (long) series in full.

For more about the founding of the AHA, see my earlier string of First Draft Follies entries on that topic. (The link takes you to part six of the six-part series; it contains links to parts one through five.)

_________________________________________________

NOTE: Charlie Papazian is providing commentary on and photos for this series. See his remarks about this entry.

In April, 1980, [Charlie] Papazian and [AHA co-founder Charlie] Matzen traveled to Minneapolis for the annual meeting of the Home Wine and Beer Trade Association (HWBTA), which represented the interests of shop owners and their suppliers. Retail shops provided the most important outlet for Zymurgy [the AHA newsletter], and it behooved Papazian to cultivate friends and acquaintances in the group.

The event was skewed toward the international: Joe Goodwin, chairman of CAMRA, and two British homebrewing experts were scheduled to speak. The event also featured the first International Beer Competition, so-called because the HWBTA’s membership included Canadians, a homebrewing contest organized by Jay Connor, co-owner with Byron Burch of Great Fermentations, [homebrewing] supply shops in northern California.

Papazian won Best of Show and first prize for his Pale Ale, wins that likely surprised the Californians in attendance. Whenever an issue of Zymurgy arrived at Great Fermentations Nancy Vineyard and the rest of the staff would “shake [their] heads” over the brewing information which was, by the Californians’ standards, stone age in its technical competence. (*1)

But that was part of the philosophy bordering on mystique cultivated back in Boulder. Nearly every issue repeated his admonition to “Relax. Have a homebrew.” When a reader wrote to Zymurgy to share with others a technique he used during brewing, Papazian responded with a slap on the wrist in the form of a detailed and complicated scientific correction, but then negated his own advice, and the reader’s concern for detail, [by dismissing] science and complexity.

“Let’s try keep our homebrewing simple but knowledgeable, concerned yet not worried and above all relaxed. Have a homebrew!” (*2)

“A much larger market exists” for shop owners, Papazian argued in another issue, “if the average person can be convinced that he/she can make a consistently better, less expensive beer than those sold commercially, and that homebrewing is not a ‘mystique’ meant only for ‘eccentrics.’” (*3)

Have fun. Keep it simple. Relax. Have a homebrew. Papazian’s Joy of Brewing also focused on fun; never mind that its pages were riddled with inconsistencies and errors, including one procedure which, if followed, would cause the carboy used in the task to explode. Even the Boulder brewing competitions were “primitive” affairs compared to the sophisticated events organized by homebrewers in California. (*4)

___________

SOURCES:

*1: Nancy Vineyard interview with Maureen Ogle, June 6, 2005.

*2: Professor Surfeit, response to Herb Vadney, Zymurgy 3, no. 4 (Winter 1980): 22.

*3: “Sharing Information is Good for the Homebrewer . . . And Good Business,” Zymurgy 3, no. 3 (Fall 1980): 4.

*4: Byron Burch, interview with Maureen Ogle, June 16, 2005.

First-Draft Follies: Budweiser, Baseball and . . . Communism. Part 4 of 4

Part One --- Part Two --- Part Three --- Part Four Welcome to First Draft Follies, an ongoing series here at the blog. The material is presented "as is" from the first draft of the manuscript that became the book Ambitious Brew. In a few places I added one or two words in brackets -- [like this] -- for clarification. The excerpt is long, so I'm breaking it into manageable bits and posting those bits over the next few days.

This edition of the Follies concerns Gus Busch and the fallout from his purchase of the St. Louis Cardinals.

__________________________

August Busch was not the least bit confused. Angry perhaps, but not confused. He fielded his own team at the hearings: an Anheuser-Busch vice-president plus the company's legal counsel and its advertising manager, the corporation's tax attorney, and an extra lawyer for good measure.

Perhaps the numbers provided comfort as Senator Johnson seized the opportunity to attack Busch face to face. August Busch and Anheuser-Busch, Johnson said, constituted a "selfish" interest that had "openly and without shame . . . prostituted and exploited" the national pastime by making it the "handmaiden and adjunct of the brewing business." (*18) The "Anheuser-Busch-Cardinal combination" posed a "great menace" to the "minor leagues," and a "very grave menace to the small brewing industry . . . ."(*19)

"Stop using the Cardinals as a prop and a stunt to popularize and advertise one specific brand of beer," demanded the senator. (*20)

To his credit, Gus Busch stashed his temper in his hip pocket and stuck to the facts. "Gentleman, I am not a lawyer," he told the senators, but even his untrained eye recognized that Johnson’s bill had "all the appearance and the intent of a discriminatory and punitive law." (*21)

Moreover, Busch added, the Senator was "in error" when he accused Gus Busch and Anheuser-Busch of trying to evade, avoid, or hide tax liabilities and his charges "completely distort[ed]" the legal and tax relationship between Anheuser-Busch and the St. Louis Cardinals. (*22)

With that introduction, Gus handed the proceedings over to the tax attorney, who systematically demolished Johnson’s charges of tax irregularities. Then Gus took the witness seat again, this time to dismantle Johnson’s claim that Anheuser-Busch was destroying minor league baseball and monopolizing the nation’s beer business. In the year since Anheuser-Busch had purchased the team, Busch explained, the Cardinals had signed agreements with five minor league teams and "revived" a sixth that had shut down for lack of money. (*23)

More to the point, Busch argued, if minor league baseball was in trouble, it could hardly be the fault of Anheuser-Busch, which had only begun buying radio time a few weeks earlier at the start of the 1954 baseball season. For the previous eight years, another brewery (Griesedieck Brothers) had broadcast the team’s games on seventy-seven different radio stations, nineteen of them located in cities with minor league teams.

And, Busch added, when Johnson and minor league club owners protested the Cardinals’ purchase of radio air time, the Cardinals organization had promptly canceled all its radio contracts, a move that had provoked an angry uproar and the threat of lawsuits from the affected station managers.

Last but not least, Busch told the committee, Anheuser-Busch sold a grand total of 7.8% of the nation’s beer. "So much," he concluded, "for the charge about so-called beer monopoly." (*24) And so much for Edwin Johnson’s attempts to embarrass August A. Busch, Jr..

The day after Busch’s testimony, Senator Johnson announced that he was abandoning his attempt to apply the antitrust laws to the St. Louis Cardinals.

But Johnson was no doubt pleased to see that even the hated Commie pinkos joined him in denouncing Gus Busch. [The magazine] Soviet Sport denounced Busch’s ownership of the Cardinals and his decision to trade Enos Slaughter to the New York Yankees. "This," pronounced the Communist commentator, "is a typical example of beer and beizbol. The baseball bosses care nothing about sport or their athletes, but only about their profits." (*25)

________________________________________

SOURCES: *18: Senate Subcommittee on the Judiciary, Subjecting Professional Baseball Clubs to the Antitrust Laws, 83d Cong., 2d sess., 1954, 71.

*19: Ibid., 73.

*20: Ibid., 74.

*21: Ibid., 96.

*22: Ibid.

*23: Ibid., 105.

*24: Ibid., 11.

*25: “Moscow Paper Critical of ‘Beer and Beizbol,’” New York Times, May 25, 1954, p. 30.

First-Draft Follies: Budweiser, Baseball and . . . Communism. Part 3 of 4

Part One --- Part Two --- Part Three --- Part Four Welcome to First Draft Follies, an ongoing series here at the blog. The material is presented "as is" from the first draft of the manuscript that became the book Ambitious Brew. In a few places I added one or two words in brackets -- [like this] -- for clarification. The excerpt is long, so I'm breaking it into manageable bits and posting those bits over the next few days.

This edition of the Follies concerns Gus Busch and the fallout from his purchase of the St. Louis Cardinals. _____________________________

A Senate subcommittee opened hearings into the matter in March. Johnson’s cause was lost almost the moment the gavel landed.

The first witness was Stanley W. Barnes, speaking on behalf of the Attorney General and the Department of Justice. Barnes got right to the point: as far as the Attorney General was concerned, Senate Joint Resolution 133 appeared to be a "discriminatory" and virtually unenforceable proposal and Justice planned to oppose any effort to enact said resolution. (*9)

Johnson gamely carried on, accusing August A. Busch, Jr. of tax fraud, condemning Busch’s "lavish and vulgar display of beer wealth and beer opulence," and attacking the company’s decision to parade the "magnificent" Anheuser-Busch Clydesdales at Busch Stadium and at the Cardinal’s spring training park in St. Petersburg, Florida. (*10) Anheuser-Busch, Johnson also told his audience, had recently snatched the number one rank away from Schlitz Brewing, and "the reason for it is the ownership of the Cardinal Baseball Club." (*11)

Joseph H. Garagiola, catcher for the Chicago Cubs, showed up at the hearings, although it was not immediately clear to him or to anyone else why he’d been called. Perhaps it was because he’d played for the Cards back in the forties and had lived in St. Louis his entire life.

In any case, Senator William Langer, the North Dakota Republican who presided over the hearings, quizzed Garagiola about his baseball history, the shoulder injury that had caused him to rethink his career in sports, and his current plan, which was to exit baseball and go into sports broadcasting.

After a long series of often confusing questions (and even more confusing answers that may have led the audience to wonder if Joe had injured his head rather than his shoulder), Garagiola’s (tenuous) connection to the Anheuser-Busch matter finally came out: The catcher had talked to one Harry Renfro about switching from baseball to radio or TV. Renfro worked for d’Arcy Advertising, and d’Arcy handled the advertising for Anheuser-Busch.

Therefore, announced a triumphant Senator Johnson, Harry Renfro was actually "doing a fancy bit of tampering with [Garagiola's] contract," and Garagiola himself had come close to violating one of baseball’s sacred rules. (*12)

"Could I say what my thinking is,?" the frustrated ballplayer asked after Johnson finally wound up his confusing and wholly inaccurate assessment of the conversation between Garagiola and Renfro. (*13)

Oh, Johnson replied, "[y]ou could not be held in anyway to blame for anything that may have happened, but I cannot say that for Mr. Renfro, I cannot say that for the Anheuser-Busch people because they knew very well what they were doing." (*14)

The obviously baffled Garagiola kept trying to persuade Johnson otherwise, but finally gave up and let Johnson ramble on.

"I am still confused," said Joe as he prepared to leave the witness chair. (*15) "You do not know whether you are on the air or up in the air," replied Senator Harley Kilgore (D-West Virginia). "Joe, we want to thank you very much," added Senator Langer. (*16)

"I am thoroughly confused," replied Garagioloa. (*17)

______________________________

Sources:

*9: Senate Subcommittee on the Judiciary, Subjecting Professional Baseball Clubs to the Antitrust Laws, 83d Cong., 2d sess., 1954, 4.

*10: Ibid., 18.

*11: Ibid., 24.

*12: Ibid., 55.

*13: Ibid.

*14: Ibid.

*15: Ibid., 65.

*16: Ibid.

*17: Ibid.

First-Draft Follies: Budweiser, Baseball and . . . Communism. Part 2 of 4

Part One --- Part Two --- Part Three --- Part Four

Welcome to First Draft Follies, an ongoing series here at the blog. The material is presented "as is" from the first draft of the manuscript that became the book Ambitious Brew. In a few places I added one or two words in brackets -- [like this] -- for clarification. The excerpt is long, so I'm breaking it into manageable bits and posting those bits over the next few days.

The edition of the Follies concerns Gus Busch and the fallout from his purchase of the St. Louis Cardinals.

____________________

Gus Busch was all smiles and good humor then--and a good deal less cheerful ten months later, when Senator Edwin C. Johnson, Democrat from Colorado, rose on the Senate floor to engage in that time-honored profession: Busch-bashing.

"Mr. August A. Busch," Johnson informed his colleagues, "is using the St. Louis Cardinals to promote the monopoly of Anheuser-Busch over his competitors in the brewing industry" and "ruthlessly and deliberately annihilating minor-league baseball in a large area of the Midwest."(*3) Baseball, "America’s great national game" and symbol of "everything that is clean and wholesome," meant nothing to Gus Busch except as it provided him with a "cold-blooded, beer-peddling" "opportunity to sell" more Budweiser. (*4) Until and unless Busch was stopped, baseball would be ruined.

Johnson then introduced Senate Joint Resolution 133, which would subject any baseball club "affiliated with the alcoholic beverages industry" to antitrust laws, legislation from which baseball was otherwise exempt. (*5) And in case anyone misunderstood his intent, Johnson added that S.J.R. 133 "was aimed specifically at” August A. Busch and his “beer-baseball combination in St. Louis." (*6)

Johnson’s timing was no coincidence. Baseball’s antitrust exemption had been affirmed just three months earlier in a Supreme Court ruling. Johnson seized on that as a way to leverage Busch out of baseball: if the Cards lost their exemption from antitrust laws, they would also lose access to the reserve clause, which prevented players from jumping ship the minute their contracts expired. Johnson regarded the reserve clause as the "very cornerstone of organized baseball," without which it could not exist, and so believed that the threat of an antitrust suit would be enough to persuade Gus Busch to sell the Cards. (*7)

Nor was Johnson’s motive hard to understand. When he was not serving as senator from Colorado, Johnson presided over the Western Baseball League (WBL), an organization of midwestern and western minor league clubs. In 1953, WBL member Wichita had earned six thousand dollars from radio broadcasts of its games. In 1954, however, it stood to earn zero dollars because the airtime had been purchased by the St. Louis Cardinals.

"Six thousand dollars may seem like peanuts to some," Johnson observed, "but it is the difference between local baseball or no local baseball in Wichita." Because of the Anheuser-Busch "invasion," Johnson added, "it is my considered judgment that the Western League will not operate in 1954." And he, Edwin C. Johnson, would be out of a job. (*8)

___________________________________________

Sources:

*3: Congressional Record, 83d Congress, 2d sess., 1954, 100, pt. 2: 2116, 2119.

*4: Ibid., 2115, 2117.

*5: Ibid., 2115.

*6: Ibid, 2116.

*7: Senate Subcommittee on the Judiciary, Subjecting Professional Baseball Clubs to the Antitrust Laws, 83d Cong., 2d sess., 1954, 8.

*8: E. C. Johnson to August A. Busch, Jr., February 9, 1954, quoted in Senate Subcommittee, Subjecting Professional Baseball Clubs, 103.