Considering my nearly lifelong affinity for that “nectar of
the gods” known as beer, I thought it would be a fun and interesting project to
review the long history of the world’s most popular alcoholic beverage.
However, this will not be an unabridged history of beer: more like “the history
of beer, according to Gonzo.”
No, instead of a
comprehensive review of the third most widely consumed liquid (behind water and
tea), this post will provide a personal perspective on the subject -- from the
streets of Portland to the bier halls of Munich -- prefaced by a brief overview
of beer through the ages. Where to start, but in the beginning?
Imagine, if you will, this scenario: a band of primeval
humans, at the end of a long day of hunting and gathering, huddled around a
communal fire sharing…beer? Don’t laugh; based on archeological evidence, beer
has been part of the human existence since the dawn of humankind, playing a significant role in virtually every culture.
The brewing and consumption
of beer dates back several millennia to ancient Babylon, Egypt and Mesopotamia
at a time when humans began to settle down, according to anthropological
studies. The advent of grain-based alcohol coincided with cultivating cereal
grains such as wheat and barley to make bread and beer for sustenance.
With safe, sanitary water largely nonexistent, beer provided both essential nutrients for maintaining health and also antiseptic
qualities from the alcohol. Legend has it that soggy grain had accidentally
fermented after coming into contact with wild yeast. Some claim the
intoxicating mix inspired ancient humans to begin farming.
However, beer as a business
didn’t develop until the sixth century when brewing technology and science
evolved rapidly thanks to Christian monks who learned to develop high quality
beer and closely guarded the secrets of their craft. During medieval times, as
many as 500 monastic breweries existed in Germany alone.
Monks ultimately controlled the commercial brewing industry
for a time and they excelled at experimenting with ingredients. Some historians
credit the monks as the first to introduce hops, recognizing its preservative
qualities, as an ingredient in beer, essentially extending the life of the
brew.
By
the 12th century, feudal lords had noticed the popularity of ales
and the profitability of brewing. Soon, they created laws granting themselves
exclusive brewing privileges, giving them full command of the industry. In 1447, ordinances were established in Munich requiring brewers to use only barley, hops and water for their beers.
In 1516, the powers-that-be in Bavaria issued the Purity Order (known as “Reinheitsgebot”), effectively taking the lead in regulating ingredients, processes and the quality of beer sold to the public. Many brewers still subscribe to the antiquated law as a marketing tool against mass-produced competitors.
In the U.S., ale dominated the market for the first 200 years until German and Dutch immigrants arrived in large numbers and by the Civil War, lager beer was outselling ale with its appeal to increasing numbers of newcomers. These German brewers -- Pabst, Coors and Busch -- would come to monopolize the American market.
Interestingly, Oregon -- with a climate similar to the
hop-growing regions of Germany -- would become the top hops producer in America by 1905.
The climate and soil in the Willamette Valley were both perfect for growing
hops, with wet springs, dry summers and at least one hard freeze in the winter.
The
next decade would become a good news/bad news proposition for brewers in
Oregon. Because World War I had devastated European agriculture, the state expanded
the production of hops to meet global demands, but in 1916, Prohibition came to
Oregon and effectively put smaller breweries out of business.
Prohibition for the whole country began it 1919. To survive,
Portland’s largest brewery owned by Henry Weinhard, merged with the Portland
Brewing Company, owned by Arnold Blitz, becoming Blitz-Weinhard. Hop growers in
Oregon leveraged other farming operations but continued to sell hops for
medicinal elixirs.
Fast
forward to the late 1960s, when I tasted my first beer: though underage, some
of us with more mature features and facial hair could hoodwink clerks at
neighborhood stores into selling us beer -- sometimes
in large quantities. Our choices were limited to Western beers, primarily
produced in the Northwest.
Growing up in the City of Roses, grocery outlets typically stocked Blitz-Weinhard
(known simply as “Blitz”), Heidelberg (Tacoma), Olympia (Tumwater), Rainier
(Seattle) and Lucky Lager (San Francisco). That was it, until we discovered a
precious commodity not available locally known as Coors.
Compared
to the beers available in Oregon and Washington, Coors -- brewed in Colorado by
another German immigrant -- was a pilsner, smoother and more pleasing to our
(still developing) palates than other Western beers. But the “banquet beer,” as
it was known, was banned in the Northwest in those days.
As young entrepreneurs, a midnight run to either Hilt,
California (608 miles round trip) or Ingard, Idaho (725 miles round trip) was
not uncommon. There, we would purchase mass quantities of Coors for both
consumption and sale back to Portland. At Crater Lake, we often shuttled Coors
purchased in Dorris, California to Portland.
Such was the popularity of Coors in those days. Due to an Oregon
statute maintained by organized labor (Coors was non-union), only pasteurized
malt beverages in brewery-sealed packages could be sold for consumption. Consequently,
it was illegal to stock Coors on retail shelves in Oregon, hence its wide
acclaim.
While Coors was easier on the pallet, it was only slightly
better than its other Western counterparts in hindsight. In an oddly ironic
twist, it would be childhood acquaintances of mine who would help Coors ultimately
sell its product in Oregon. Good news for Coors, to be sure. That bad news was
their names were McMenamin and Widmer.
In
college, I drank my first European beer at a frat party, where someone afforded
unlimited bottles of Becks for guests. Also known as Brauerei Beck and Co, the
German brew was a big improvement over Western beer, I thought. At Lake Wenatchee, I discovered Mexican (Dos Equis) and Australian (Foster’s and KB)
beer.
Meanwhile, the McMenamin brothers would open “Produce Row”
under the Morrison Bridge in Portland. The unique establishment was an instant hit
with beer loving hipsters and yuppies alike. In addition to Becks and Heineken,
a popular Dutch brew, the unique pub offered Guinness on tap -- particularly popular
on Saint Patrick’s Day.
From
that point on, I would not swill mass-produced American beer again. Sold on
European beers, particularly those from Northern European countries like
Germany, Denmark, Czech Republic, Belgium, England, Ireland and Lithuania, I
would not return to the fold until the microbrewery revolution led by the
McMenamins and Widmers.
In 1985, two sets of Portland-area brothers, Mike and Brian
McMenamin, and Kurt and Rob Widmer, along with other motivated local
brewers, helped write a bill that would change the law in Oregon
to allow the combination of brewing and retail sales, a critical component
that shapes today’s industry.
True,
“The Coors Bill” was a good thing for the Colorado brewer, at least
initially. But the microbrewery revolution would change the face of
beer drinking in this country. My brush with fame: I attended Jesuit High
School with Mike McMenamin and the Widmer boys grew up a few blocks from my
childhood home on Mt. Tabor.
After Produce Row, the McMenamins opened “The Lighthouse” in
Lincoln City near my family’s summer home and “The High Street Café” in Eugene.
The Widmers introduced their “hefeweisen” in downtown Portland, a popular
blonde wheat beer in the German style. McMenamin’s featured "Hammerhead Ale," among others.
Today,
both sets of brothers have numerous brewpubs and commercial sales outlets, having contributed to Portland's growing reputation as the best beer city in America. Oregon has become the vanguard for
craft brewing and has one of the few colleges that condones brewing beer as an
academic pursuit (Go Beavers!).
In 2011, I traveled to Munich, home of the annual
Oktoberfest, and visited the Hofbräuhaus, one of the oldest beer halls in
Europe. During the annual beer festival, Munich swells from 2 million people to
8 million. Also toured the Paulaner (est. 1634) and Spaten (est. 1522)
breweries, among the oldest in all of Germany.
These
days, I still prefer mostly European beer in bottles (Carlsberg Elephant is a
favorite), but with so many choices available from among literally hundreds of
microbrews from throughout the Pacific Northwest, I find myself staying close
to home when it comes to draught beer. Now then, what's your pleasure? Cheers!
