A few weeks ago, my wife and I were planning an overnight trip to just north of Cincinnati, OH. We were going there to celebrate a friend’s birthday. The drive would be approximately three hours. And given that we’re planning to leave mid-morning we decided to look for a possible lunch venue along our route. Anytime we are on the road and have a lunch stop, I always try to see if there is a brewery where we can eat and have a beer. We figured we would be near Dayton, OH around lunchtime, and so I looked for breweries there. In my search I came across Carillon Brewing Co. I had read about Carillon a few years ago and had always had an interest in visiting it.
Carillon Brewing Co. is a little different than most craft breweries. It is located inside Carillon Historical Park. The park is a sixty-five acre open-air history museum that depicts the history of Dayton from the late-1700s to the present.
Carillon Brewing Co.
Carillon Brewing Co. was established in 2014. One of the brewery’s claim to fame is that it is the nation’s only production brewery that is located inside a museum. Inside the brewery itself, there are displays highlighting Dayton’s brewing history. Like many other city’s across the United States, British-inspired ales were the dominant type of beer produced. When German immigrants started arriving in significant numbers in the 1840s, they introduced Lager to the city. By the 1880s there were as many as fourteen breweries operating in the city, and by 1900 Dayton’s breweries were producing three million gallons of beer annually.
This map inside Carillon Brewery provides information on Dayton’s brewing history in the 1850-1856 period
According to the brewery’s website, all of the beer brewed at Carillon is a “historical recreation of the earliest brews made in Ohio’s breweries.” Many of the processes used to brew the beer replicate those of the nineteenth century. Beer is brewed in open kettles, fermented in oak barrels, and is unfiltered. And when available , Ohio-grown hops are used. Beers on the menu include Coriander Ale, Irish Red Ale, and Pale Rye Ale (no IPAs!). The staff at the brewery are dressed in period costume. With my lunch, I opted for their Ginger Pale Ale. In addition to brewing beer, bread using spent grain from the brewing process is made daily onsite. My wife and I enjoyed some with the soup we had for lunch, and purchased a loaf to take back home with us.
For $150, Carillon offers you the opportunity to be a brewer for the day. It is quite a long day, which starts at 11:00 am and runs until 7:30 pm. While we can read about the process of brewing beer, and even look at diagrams that identify the various steps, it is my belief that there is nothing like a little bit of hands-on experience to enhance one’s understanding.
Carillon offers you the opportunity to be a brewer for the day
While craft beer has bought us a unprecedented diversity of wonderful beers (The Brewers Association recognizes over 150 different styles of beer), it has, I believe, also contributed to a growing appreciation of brewing history. This is manifest in any number of ways. In my town of Toledo, OH, for example, the Toledo Historical Museum organize a History and Hops Brewery Tour, in which participants learn about the city’s brewing history. The tour starts at one of the city’s craft breweries – Maumee Bay Brewing Company. In a similar fashion, the Over-the-Rhine Brewery District Community Urban Redevelopment Corporation (BDCURC) in CincinnatI, OH offer a number of walking tours that recount that neighborhood’s historical connection with beer. In St. Louis, MO, the Bellefontaine Cemetery and Arboretum offer the Beer Barons Tour. The cemetery contains around forty burial sites that have a connection with St. Louis’s rich brewing history. The tour provides people with an opportunity to learn about the city’s beer entrepreneurs.
Individual breweries are discovering and recreating old beer styles that have not been brewed in decades. For example, breweries in Louisville, KY are brewing their version of pre-Prohibition Kentucky Common beer. The city’s Apocalypse Brew Works produce a Kentucky Common beer using a 1912 recipe from the Oertel Brewing Company; a recipe that calls for corn grits.
Kentucky Common – a beer style that was popular in the Louiseville, KY region in the pre-Prohibition era is now being produced by a number of Louisville breweries. The one pictured here was brewed by Louisville’s Bluegrass Brewing Company.
History is important. It grounds us in our roots, helps us understand change, and can inspire us to learn more. And thanks, in part to craft beer, there seems to be a growing interest in the history of both beer and brewing. This is a good thing.
Last month I was in Altoona, PA. I was there at the invitation of the Altoona Blair County Development Corporation (ABCDC), who had asked me to give the keynote address at their Annual Meeting. ABCDC’s President and CEO, Steve McKnight, had read my blog entry, Craft Breweries as Third Places, and wanted me to share my perspective on the topic to the broader Altoona-Blair County community. I drove to Altoona from my home in Toledo, covering the 328 miles in a little over five hours. Shortly after checking into my hotel I met up with Steve who gave me a tour of downtown Altoona, with a focus on the redevelopment initiatives that are under way there.
Promotional material for ABCDC’s Annual Meeting
Altoona has a population of just over forty-four thousand people. Like many cities in that part of the country it has lost population over the years. It’s population, in fact peaked in 1930, at just over eighty-two thousand. It is what is known as a shrinking city. Like many shrinking cities, Altoona is grappling with the challenge of how to stem, perhaps even reverse, decades of population decline. Third Places may be one piece of Altoona’s revitalization jigsaw.
Altoona’s population has been declining since 1930
Altoona owes its existence to the Pennsylvania Railroad. The community that would eventually become Altoona started out, in 1849, as a staging area for the construction of the rail line. Such was the importance of the railroad that in 1925, fourteen thousand of the area’s seventeen thousand industrial workers were employed by The Pennsylvania Railroad.
Like many American cities, Altoona has a proud brewing history. Also, like many American cities that history follows a familiar pattern. At various periods prior to Prohibition. Altoona was home to nine breweries. Two of those – the Oswald Brewing Company and the Altoona Brewing Company – survived Prohibition. But as with many smaller breweries they did not survive the post-Prohibition era, when economies of scale became the keys to success and smaller breweries were either bought by larger competitors or simply closed down. The Oswald Brewing Company closed in 1935 and the Altoona Brewing Company closed in 1974. Some of the beer produced by the Altoona Brewing Company included Altoona Bock, Horseshoe Curve Porter, Altoona Pilsener Beer, Altoona 36 Beer, American Maid Ale, and Pops Brau Beer.
Today, Altoona is home to two breweries – Railroad City Brewing Company and Marzoni’s Brick Oven and Brewery. The Railroad City Brewing Company, of course, is a nod to the important part played by the railroad in Altoona’s social and economic history. I love it when a brewery pays homage to some aspect of its local community, be it a historical figure, local landmark, or industrial heritage.
Railroad City Brewing Company is contributing to the revitalization of downtown Altoona, PA
After a walk around downtown Steve and I dropped into Railroad Brewing Company, where we met up with some of ABCDC’s staff, as well as brewery owner Matt Winrick. The brewery opened in 2016 and is a key part of the revitalization that is happening on Altoona’s 11th Street. Along with the recently opened coffee shop across the street, The Clay Cup, Railroad Brewing Company has become a vibrant local gathering spot (aka Third Place) in the heart of the city.
Community gathering spots, otherwise known as Third Places, were the focus of my presentation the next morning at the annual meeting of ABCDC. I have written about Third Places in a previous blog entry. It is a simple concept really. According to Ray Oldenburg, who coined the term, a Third Place is nothing more than an informal public gathering place. They are places outside of the home (first places) and work (second places) where we gather with friends, work colleagues, family members etc. According to Stuart Butler and Carmen Diaz, they are places where we “exchange ideas, have a good time, and build relationships“. Michael Hickey refers to Third Places as “the Living Room of society“. Despite the simplicity of the concept Third Places play a key role in creating social capital and a sense of community. A wide variety of venues in a community can function as Third Places, including libraries, coffee shops, and churches. Indeed, the subtitle of Oldenburg’s classic work on the topic, The Great Good Place, “cafes, coffee shops, bookstores, bars, hair salons and other great hangouts at the heart of a community”, hint at the diversity of venues that can serve as Third Places. And, while not on the radar when Oldenburg was formulating his ideas, craft breweries are emerging as vital Third Places in communities all across America. Oldenburg was fearful that Third Places were becoming less popular, and that America was experiencing a decline in what is termed its associational life. The same fear was echoed by Harvard’s Robert Putnam in his classic work Bowling Alone.
Ray Oldenburg’s, “The Great Good Place”Railroad City Brewing is emerging as a gathering spot for locals in downtown Altoona.
ABCDC’s Annual Meeting was held at the Blair County Convention Center. There were approximately 250 people in attendance. A copy of my presentation is available here. During my talk I presented some statistics from the Social Capital Project that highlighted the decline of associational life in America:
Between 1974 and 2016, the percent of adults who said they spend a social evening at least several times a week fell from 30% to 19%,
Between the mid-1970s and 2012, the average amount of time Americans (25-54) spend with coworkers outside the workplace fell from 2.5 hours to just under one hour per week
Between 1972 and 2016, the share of adults who thought most people could be trusted declined from 46% to 31%
Third Places, including craft breweries, can play a critical role in reigniting our bonds with friends, neighbors, co-workers, and even family members. Towards the end of my presentation I presented some challenges to those in the room. With respect to Altoona, I asked:
• Where are your existing Third Places? • Are you utilizing these to their full potential? • If not, why not? How can they be better utilized? • Where are your potential (as yet unused) Third Places? • Why aren’t these being utilized? • What needs to happen for the community to utilize them?
While Third Places can emerge organically (e.g. a neighborhood bar), I believe that it behooves a community to think strategically about the concept – hence the questions I posed above. Although I was in Altoona for less than twenty-four hours, I got the sense that the city is thinking strategically about Third Places and the role that they might play in the city’s revitalization. When I visit a city like Altoona, I often wonder what it will be like two, three, or five years down the road. Altoona is close enough to Toledo that I may just make a return visit to take a look.
I was in Napa, CA recently. To get to Napa, we (me, my wife, youngest daughter, and son-in-law) flew into San Francisco, CA, rented a car, and drove north. On our return trip home we decided to spend a day in San Francisco before catching our flight the next morning. When we knew that we were going to spend some time in San Francisco, I had one destination in mind – Anchor Brewing.
Any craft beer drinker worth his or her salt knows of Anchor Brewing. It’s status among American craft breweries is legendary and iconic. For those of you unfamiliar with its story and historic significance, here is the CliffNotes version.
In 1871, Gottlieb Brekle, a German immigrant purchased an old beer and billiards saloon on San Francisco’s Pacific Street. He transformed it into a brewery. It was not called Anchor back then. The Anchor name did not materialize until 1896 when, another German brewer, Ernst F. Baruth and his son-in-law, Otto Schinkel, Jr., purchased the brewery and called it Anchor. In the years that followed, Anchor Brewing faced and overcame a number of challenges. In 1906 the brewery was destroyed by a devastating fire; the fire being the result of the great San Francisco earthquake. A new Anchor Brewery was built, on Market Street. In 1920, Prohibition arrived. Unlike many breweries across the country, Anchor opted not to produce alternative products (e.g., ice cream or soft drinks) during Prohibition. The brewery sat idle. In 1934, Anchor Brewery suffered another fire. Once again, a replacement brewery was constructed; this one being only a few blocks from Anchor’s present-day location. In 1959, Anchor Brewery was shut for a brief period by its then owners, Joe Allen and Joe Krause. In 1960, the brewery was as purchased and reopened by Lawrence Steese. But these proved challenging times for a small brewery like Anchor. Mass produced lighter lagers were growing in popularity, and Anchor struggled to retain accounts and maintain sales. By 1965, Steese was ready to close down Anchor Brewing. Enter stage left, Fritz Maytag.
Fritz Maytag is the great-grandson of Fred Maytag, founder of the Maytag Corporation. Fritz was a big fan of the beer brewed at Anchor Brewery. So when he heard that it was going to close, he decided to do something about it; he purchased a fifty-one percent share in the brewery. With that single act, and the subsequent success of Anchor Brewery, Maytag has become known to many as the “Godfather” of craft beer. Maytag revitalized the brewery. Both its portfolio and sales of beer expanded. Such was Anchor’s success that by the late-1970s, they were looking for a new production facility. In 1979, the moved into their current home on Mariposa Street. The building, had started life as a coffee roasters in 1937. In 2010 Maytag retired, selling the brewery to Keith Greggor and Tony Foglio. In 2017, Anchor Brewing was sold to the Japanese brewing giant Sapporo. The purchase price was a reported eighty-five million dollars.
Maytag’s influence on craft brewing extended well beyond what he achieved at Anchor. Maytag assisted other prospective craft brewers and was thus instrumental in assisting the broader growth of the fledgling craft brewing industry. In a 2015 paper, published in the Journal of Wine Economics, Kenneth G. Elzinga, Carol Horton Tremblay, and Victor J. Tremblay, observe that “many early entrants clustered near Anchor Brewing to learn the art of craft brewing from Maytag . . . several of the pioneers in craft brewing were in geographic proximity to Maytag’s operation, visited his facility, and learned (and received encouragement) from him.”
The Anchor Brewery on Mariposa Street
Anchor offers guided tours of its brewery, so we signed up for one. The cost was $25 per person. We arrived at the brewery several hours before our tour time. This gave us time to have lunch. We found a couple of lunch options within walking distance of the brewery, and decided upon Dos Piñas Taqueria. As I was standing in line waiting to order our food, I noticed a poster on the wall that stated, “We support Anchor Steam Workers”. Six days prior to our tour of the brewery, the members of a worker’s organizing committee had delivered a letter to the Anchor management requesting that they formally recognize an employees’ union.
Poster supporting Anchor Brewery workers at Dos Piñas Taqueria
Following lunch we headed over to Anchor Public Taps, the taproom across the street from the main production brewery. In addition to being a taproom, Anchor Public Taps is a pilot brewery, where a number of small batch beers are produced. These are available exclusively for sale in the taproom. I opted for Dank Denali, a session IPA.
Anchor Public Taps is across the street from the main Anchor Brewery. Inside Anchor Public Taps Anchor Public Taps includes a pilot brewery, whose beers are exclusively available at the taproom
After Anchor Public Taps, it was time for our tour of the main production brewery. After entering the brewery we were greeted at the brewery’s bar by what would be our friendly and highly informative tour guide, Pedro. Pedro provided us with a history of Anchor Brewery and a sample of the brewery’s signature product, Anchor Steam. First brewed in 1896, Anchor Steam is widely recognized today as an iconic American beer. After an overview of Anchor’s history, Pedro offered us another beer (I opted for their Anchor Porter) and, with brew in hand, we started our tour of the brewery. The tour was, in many ways, a typical brewery tour. We learned about the brewing process and saw where the magic happened. Buy this was not a typical brewery. This was an iconic brewery, and the building for me constituted something of a sacred space. It was not the original space occupied by Anchor. Nor was it the original space purchased by Fritz Maytag. But it was a space that Anchor now occupied. It was a space that represented and symbolized a revolutuon; a revolution in which ordinary beer drinkers stood up and declared, with a certain conviction, that ‘we can do better’. And it was a conviction upon which many acted, witness the seven thousand plus breweries that dot the American landscape today.
Our highly likeable and informative tour guide, Pedro, tells us about the history of the brewery Fritz Maytag and Anchor Brewery have an important place in American craft brewing history Pedro telling us about the brewing processOpen fermentation tanks Northern Brewer hops – the only hop used in Anchor Steam beer
Last month, I went on a tour organized by the the Toledo History Museum. The tour was titled “History & Hops Brewery Tour”, and combined some general Toledo urban history with the history of the brewing industry in the city. The two-hour tour started at Toledo’s oldest and largest modern-day craft brewery, Maumee Bay Brewing Company (established 1995; white star on map below). Gathered outside of the brewery as we waited on the bus to start our tour, I counted about twenty fellow tour participants.
Our tour guide was Tedd Long, Vice President of the Toledo History Museum. Tedd provided commentary for the tour, which he supplemented with short video clips. Tedd started off by noting the historical importance of the brewing industry in Toledo. Indeed, from the early to mid-1800s up until the early twentieth century it was one of the leading industries in the city. If I heard Tedd correctly, there were fourteen breweries in the city of Toledo in 1900.
Map of Toledo Breweries That Existed at Some Point Between 1838 and 1972. Source: Maumee Bay Brewing Company
We made a number of stops along the tour. I won’t cover them all in this blog entry, but will rather hit on a few highlights. Our first stop was in east Toledo, at the corner of Oak and Front Streets (number 7 on map). This was the site of the Home Brewing Company, which existed between 1904 and 1919. The brewery was a five-story structure. Interestingly, the brewery was owned by a syndicate of saloon owners. The syndicate ownership structure gave the saloon owners control over the price of the beer. At its peak, the Home Brewing Company produced 40,000 barrels of beer per year.
Our second stop was at the intersection of Front and Main Streets, also in east Toledo. Toledoeans will recognize this intersection, as the iconic Tony Packo’s Restaurant is located there. This intersection was the location of the original Buckeye Brewery (number 9 on map). The brewery was established in 1838, and was owned by a German Brewmaster, Julius Kohler. In 1854, Kohler purchased a brewery at the corner of Bush and Champlain Streets (number 1 on map) and shifted his brewing operations to this location. The brewery, which was a small, white, wooden frame building, was purchased by Kohler for $2,400. Our tour also included a stop at the Bush and Champlain Streets location. Over the years the Buckeye Brewery underwent numerous ownership changes, while also gaining capacity as a result of building additions. By the 1870s, the brewery was producing between fourteen thousand and nineteen thousand barrels of lager. In 1880, it was the fourth largest brewery in the city.
Another stop was at the intersection of Summit and Elm Streets, the site of the Finlay Brewing Company (number 4 on map). The brewery opened in 1853. It started off brewing Ales and Porter, but in 1869 switched to producing Lager. In 1874, Finlay Brewing Company produced 12,000 barrels of beer. By 1881, production had increased to 54,000 barrels. Finlay Brewing Company was the first Toledo brewery to sell its beer outside of the city, when it expanded its market reach to include Michigan, Indiana, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and New York. It was also the first Toledo brewery to bottle its beer. The bottling of beer, of course, was made possible by the invention of the automated bottling machine by Michael J. Owens, who worked for the Toledo Glass Factory (owned by Edward Drummond Libby). Prior to bottles, beer was sold in kegs. Today , Toledo remains a center of beer bottle design and innovation – a topic I covered in a previous blog entry.
Maumee Bay’s Brewery Manager, Craig Kerr, leads us through the beer tasting portion of the tour
Another stop that we made on the tour was the building that currently houses the Spaghetti Warehouuse restaurant, at the intersection of Lafayette and Superior Streets. Constructed towards the end of the nineteenth century, this building was the Hoppe and Strube Bottling Company. Hoppe and Strube bottled beer for a number of breweries including the Pabst Brewing Company from Milwaukee, WI and the Maumee Brewing Company, whose brewery was located right next door.
These are just a few of the stops we made on our tour. As I reflected on my afternoon, visiting the sites of old Toledo breweries, it struck me that most American cities have a brewing history. It is a history that should be preserved and told. Thankfully, the Toledo History Museum have taken on that task in Toledo. Back in March 2017, I took a guided tour of the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood in Cincinnati, OH and learned about that neighborhood’s rich brewing history. The tour was organized by the Over-the-Rhine Brewery District Community Urban Redevelopment Corporation, a not-for-profit group, part of whose mission it is to preserve and tell the story of the neighborhood’s brewing heritage. Just the other day, I came across this piece, in the St. Louis Dispatch about the Bellefontaine Cemetery and Arboretum Beer Baron Tour. Around forty burial sites in the cemetery have a connection with St. Louis’s brewing history. The annual Beer Barons Tour gives people an opportunity to learn about some of the city’s beer entrepreneurs. These are important histories. We should preserve them and share them.
Following the bus segment of the tour, we returned to the Maumee Bay Brewing Company for beer tasting in the brewery’s cafe. The beer tasting was led by Brewery Manager, Craig Kerr. We sampled six Maumee Bay brews – Cherry Vanilla Porter, Coffee Cream Ale, Dreamin Demon (Belgian Strong Dark Ale), Glass Hopper IPA, Oktoberfest, and Mango Jerry (Gose). The background to each beer, including information on the ingredients was provided by Craig Kerr. I have sat through a lot of craft beer samplings over the years and this was perhaps the best. Craig did a fantastic job of describing each beer, as well as providing information on the general brewing process, and the function of the different ingredients.
FurtherReading:
Musson, Robert A. 2011. Brewing Beer in the Glass City, Volume I. The Buckeye Story. Medina, OH: Zepp Publications.
Musson, Robert A. 2018. Brewing Beer in the Glass City, Volume II: Huebner, Koerber, Maumee Bay and the Rest, 2nd edition. Medina, OH: Zepp Publications.
I was in my local Kroger supermarket the other week. As I made my way down the beer aisle, a carefully placed display of beer caught my eye. I usually don’t pay too much attention to the beer selection at Kroger; it does not change much and I pretty much know what they have. But what caught my attention on this particular occasion was a display of a beer named Freedom Reserve Red Lager.
Freedom Reserve Red Lager on sale at my local Kroger
Freedom Reserve Lager is a new beer produced by the brewing giant, AB InBev. Released in May 2018, it is the second beer in AB InBev’s Reserve Collection. The first in the collection, released in October 2017, was the limited-edition 1933 Repeal Reserve Amber Lager. Freedom Reserve Lager is inspired by a 1757 recipe for beer that was hand-penned by George Washington.
As I reached the display, I reached down, grabbed a six-pack, and put it in my cart. Why did I, someone who normally buys beer brewed in small-scale, independently-owned, craft breweries, purchase a beer brewed by a large multinational brewer? It wasn’t because I anticipated that this beer would be particularly good. In fact, I expected to be quite underwhelmed by it. No, I bought it because on the side of the six-pack carton it noted that for every case of this beer purchased, AB InBev donate one dollar to Folds of Honor.
Freedom Reserve Red Lager bottle cap
You see, I am huge supporter of the U.S. military. I am highly appreciative of the men and women who serve our country; and of their families who sacrifice in different ways, but in equal measure. Folds of Honor is a not-for-profit organization, which provides “educational scholarships to spouses and children of America’s fallen and disabled service-members.” During the calendar year 2016, Folds of Honor scholarships totaled almost twelve million dollars. So knowing that twenty-five cents of my beer purchase was going to such a worthy cause was enough to make me part with some of my money.
The name, Folds of Honor, refers to the process of folding an American flag. It is a process that is ingrained with tradition and respect. A properly-folded American flag has thirteen folds – each one representing the thirteen original colonies. According to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum:
”when the flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat, representing the soldiers who served under George Washington, the sailors and marines who served under John Paul Jones, and the many who have followed in their footsteps.”
In addition to partnering with Folds of Honor, AB InBev have a number of other initiatives and programs that support our veterans. Since 1987, Anheuser-Busch have donated close to $11 million to military charities including USO, Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, Hispanic War Veterans of America, and the Korean War and Vietnam War Memorials. They also helped found the U.S. Military Sports Association, an organization that has donated over eighteen thousand pieces of sports equipment to U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan.
A bottle of Freedom Reserve Red Lager
The men and women of Anheuser-Busch have also stepped up and served in the trenches, so to speak. Since World War I, more than 5,500 Anheuser-Busch employees have served in a variety of U.S. military campaigns. After serving their country, many of had the opportunity to return to work with Anheuser-Busch. Indeed, Freedom Reserve Red Lager is brewed by brewers who themselves are veterans. Anhesuer-Busch’s military connections date back to the Civil War, when both of the company’s co-fonders Adolphus Busch and Eberhard Anheuser enlisted in the Union Army’s home guard, which was stationed in St. Louis, MO.
As to the ‘quality’ of Freedom Reserve Red Lager, I will not comment. I rarely do. Taste, in my opinion, is such a personal thing. What I, or others for that matter, think of the beer is irrelevant. Taste it for yourself – you decide whether it is ‘good’ beer or not.
I’ve been reading a lot about the hop industry recently. My interest in hops at this particular point in time stems from the fact that I am working with some colleagues from Rutgers University, Pennsylvania State University, and Simon Fraser University, on a project funded by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The primary goal of the project is to identify which agricultural commodities exhibit knowledge-driven locational clustering and, where such clustering exists to isolate the specific underlying drivers.
Part of the project involves doing case studies of particular specialty crops, with a view to understanding the geography of their production. With my interest in the brewing industry, I volunteered to lead a case study of the American hop industry. I was particularly interested in documenting the impact of the growing popularity of craft beer on hop production – not only changes in which varieties of hops are being grown, but also where these hops are being grown.
As I started searching on Google Scholar for scholarly pieces on the hop industry, I came across a couple of papers that explored the decline of the hop industry in various parts of England during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. One of those pieces, interestingly enough, was by a young Assistant Lecturer of Geography at the University of Bristol, by the name of David Harvey. As my Geographer friends know, Harvey would go on to become one of most influential geographic thinkers of the twentieth century. It is interesting that one of his early papers examined changing land use patterns in Kent’s hop industry.
Another paper I found was written by Paige Raibmon. It explored the hop picking industry in the Puget Sound area of Washington in the late nineteenth century. It focused, in particular, on indigenous women who worked in the industry. In the northern hemisphere, hop harvesting lasts for approximately six weeks, starting in mid-August. During this period, there is a need for seasonal labor. As a result, thousands of people from the surrounding regions would migrate to the Puget Sound. These included large numbers of indigenous peoples. Such was the demand for hop pickers in Washington state, that an estimated twenty-five percent of British Columbia’s indigenous population traveled to the Puget Sound during the hop harvest. Of those who migrated south, the number of women outnumbered men. The indigenous women, it turned out, were particularly hard working and adept at picking hops. Indeed, popular accounts of the time often noted the industriousness of indigenous women. Writing in 1898, Susan Lord Currier, observed that:
“the Indians, on the other hand, gather the hops they pick into woven baskets. They pick with a deftness and skill rarely equaled by the whites. Even old Indian women in their dotage and almost blind, manage to pick their three boxes a day, while the white man or woman who picks two boxes a day is considered an expert”.
While working in the hop fields, the indigenous hop pickers became something of a tourist attraction. Every day, hundreds of visitors traveled to the hop growing regions. They did so for the opportunity to see “authentic Indians”. They traveled by carriage and interurban passenger trains, and stayed in hotels that had been built, by entrepreneurs, near the hop fields. Indigenous hop pickers would often pass through Seattle on their way to and from the hop fields. In Seattle, they would stop-off and sell handmade wares such as baskets from the sidewalk. Locals and tourists alike would also pose for photographs with the indigenous travelers, with the latter receiving payment in return.
Indian hop pickers, Puget Sound, WA, circa 1895-1900. Photograph by Frank La Roche (1853-1934).
George Orwell’s “A Clergyman’s Daughter”
As I was reading Raibmon’s account of indigenous hop pickers in Washington, the name of one of my favorite authors, George Orwell, popped into my head. I have read almost everything that Orwell has written, including his essays. Like most people that have read it, I found Orwell’s 1984 to be a particular haunting piece of work. Another one of Orwell’s novels is A Clergyman’s Daughter. Published in 1935, it tells the story of Dorothy Hare (a clergyman’s daughter) who suffers a bout of amnesia, and as a result, ends up wandering the English countryside with three hobos – Nobby, Charlie, and, Flo. The four of them decide to head to Kent (the same part of the country that the aforementioned David Harvey wrote about) in southeastern England to seek employment picking hops. In telling the story of Dorothy and her three friends, Orwell provides some interesting insights into the life of a hop picker in 1930s England. Most hop pickers fell into one of two broad categories. First, there were the Gypsies. Second, there were individuals and their families from poorer parts of London, who regarded hop picking as a working holiday. During the hop harvest, they descended on Kent and other hop growing regions of England. Indeed, by the 1870s special trains were laid-on to take families from London to the hop fields.
Pickers worked six days a week. Sunday was a day-off. The work day started at 8am and ended between 5pm and 6pm; this period included two meal breaks. While picking hops was not a particularly difficult task, and was quite mechanical in nature, the tiny thorns that were found on the stem of the plant meant that the pickers’ fingers were soon bleeding in multiple places. “Measurers” would make their rounds twice a day. Their job was to measure the number of bushels each group (often a group comprised a family) had picked. Pickers were paid by the bushel. There were tricks that the pickers learned, which were designed to maximize their income. For example, while “foreign” material such as leaves and stalks in the collecting bins were undesirable, a certain amount was tolerated. The gypsies were particularly adept at knowing how much of the contents of their bins could be foreign material, without jeopardizing their wages.
Pickers lived in tents, barns, and stables. Conditions, from a hygiene perspective, were generally poor; even being described as “squalid”. The camps became breeding grounds for a variety of diseases. In 1849, cholera took the lives of forty-three hop pickers on a single farm. So poor were the conditions that, in 1866, two priests established the Society for Employment and Improved Lodgings for Hop Pickers. During the second half of the nineteenth century hopper huts became increasingly common. A typical hopper hut was nine feet by nine feet and was made from a variety of materials, including timber (surrounded by corrugated metal), brick, and breeze blocks.
A hopper hut near Lamberhurst, Kent. This photograph comes from the Oast House Archive.
Orwell’s account of hop picking in his novel was based on actual experience. In 1931 Orwell went hop picking in Kent. He recounted this experience in an essay, titled Hop Picking, published later that year (under Orwell’s real name, Eric Blair) in the New Statesman & Nation. While Orwell bemoaned the low rate of pay received by hop pickers, there is a sense from reading his New Statesman essay that he enjoyed the work:
“One can talk and smoke as one works, and on hot days there is no pleasanter place than the shady lanes of hops, with their bitter scent – an unutterably refreshing scent, like a wind blowing from oceans of cool beer.”
Hop-picking in Yalding, Kent, England, UK, 1944 Mr and Mrs Boulton and their three year old son Billy pick hops on a farm in Yalding, Kent. The Boultons are placing the picked hop cones into a large ‘bin’, which is made from canvas and supported on a wooden frame. This photograph is from the collections of the Imperial War Museums.
W. Somerset Maugham’s “Of Human Bondage”
Another author who describes hop picking in Kent is W. Somerset Maugham. He does so towards the end of his 1915 novel, Of Human Bondage. While providing a less detailed description of hop picking than Orwell, Maugham’s account is consistent with Orwell’s. Here is a passage from Maugham’s work:
“They were all hard at work, talking and laughing as they picked. They sat on chairs, on stools, on boxes, with their baskets by their sides, and some stood by the bin throwing the hops they picked straight into it. There were a lot of children about and a good many babies, some in makeshift cradles, some tucked up in a rug on the soft brown dry earth. The children picked a little and played a great deal. The women worked busily, they had been pickers from childhood, and they could pick twice as fast as foreigners from London. They boasted about the number of bushels they had picked in a day, but they complained you could not make money now as in former times: then they paid you a shilling for five bushels, but now the rate was eight and even nine bushels to the shilling.”
Today, hop harvesting is a highly mechanized process. As is the case with many other industries, the worker had been replaced by technology. I got to witness modern-day hop harvesting and processing first hand in September 2015 when I spent a day in Washington’s Yakima Valley. I watched hops arrive at a processing facility, in trucks, still attached to the bines. The bines were fed into a machine, which then separated out the hops.
Hops arriving at a hop processing facility in Washington’s Yakima Valley
Hop bines are fed into a machine which separates the hops from the bines
Separated hops
For individuals looking to experience manual hop picking, there are modern-day opportunities to do so. In Essex, northeast of London, it is possible to go hop picking for a day, thanks to an initiative (Company Drinks) started by artist Kathrin Böhm in 2014. Company Drinks is an:
“arts project and community drinks enterprise that links east London’s history of ‘going picking’ with a full drinks production cycle: from picking to bottling, branding to trading and reinvesting”.
The goal is to:
“combine local heritage (‘going picking’ and the area’s agricultural and industrial past) with local resources (spare fruit, growing spaces), local skills (recipe ideas, specialist and localised knowledge, drinks production) and a local economy.”
During hop harvesting season, individuals can go to local hop fields and pick hops by hand. The hops are then taken to Kernel Brewery in London, where they are used to brew somewhere in the region of nine thousand bottles of a one-off beer.
So there it is – the humble hop. As I drink a beer, particularly an India Pale Ale, I never give much thought to the idea that the hop that plays such a critical part in its flavor and aroma has such a fascinating historical underpinning. But it does. And it is a history, of which I have barely scratched the surface here. There is, as my research demonstrated to me, quite a lot written about the history of the hop industry – particularly its economic and social history. It is a fascinating history, and one well worth delving into.
Further Reading:
Blair, Eric. 1931. Hop Picking. New Statesman & Nation, 17th October.
Harvey, David. 1963. Locational change in the Kentish hop industry and the analysis of land use patterns. Transactions and Papers (Institute of British Geographers), Volume 33, December, pp. 123-144.
Maugham, William Somerset. 1915. Of Human Bondage. New York: The Modern Library Publishers (read chapters CXVIII and CCIX).
Raibmon, Paige. 2006.The practice of everyday colonialism: Indigenous women at work in the hop fields and tourist industry of Puget Sound. Labor: Studies in Working-Class History of the Americas, Volume 3, Issue 3, pp. 23-56.
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