Today is the feast day of St. Cuthbert (c. 634 – 20 March 687), sometimes referred to as Cuthbert of Lindisfarne. In addition to being the patron saint of England, and specifically Durham, Newcastle, Hexham, Lancaster and Northumbria, shepherds, sailors, and against the plague, he is also the patron saint of maltsters. According to some sources, this is because “during his final years, in retreat on the Island of Farne, Cuthbert was only able to sustain himself by growing barley. He also became a protector of the barley by invoking the name of God to disperse the birds who hungered to consume the barley.”
Cuthbert was an Anglo-Saxon saint of the early Northumbrian church in the Celtic tradition. He was a monk, bishop and hermit, associated with the monasteries of Melrose and Lindisfarne in what might loosely be termed the Kingdom of Northumbria, in North East England[b] and the South East of Scotland. After his death he became the most important medieval saint of Northern England, with a cult centred on his tomb at Durham Cathedral. Cuthbert is regarded as the patron saint of Northumbria.
Cuthbert grew up in or around Lauderdale, near Old Melrose Abbey, a daughter-house of Lindisfarne, today in Scotland. He decided to become a monk after seeing a vision on the night in 651 that St. Aidan, the founder of Lindisfarne, died, but he seems to have seen some military service first. He was quickly made guest-master at the new monastery at Ripon, soon after 655, but had to return with Eata of Hexham to Melrose when Wilfrid was given the monastery instead. About 662 he was made prior at Melrose, and around 665 went as prior to Lindisfarne. In 684 he was made bishop of Lindisfarne, but by late 686 he resigned and returned to his hermitage as he felt he was about to die. He was probably in his early 50s.
Cuthbert discovers the piece of timber washed up with the tide, that was to be used as a roof beam, c. late 12th century.
Here’s another telling of his story, from OrthoChristian, picking it up after he’d been prior of Lindisfarne for twelve years and had been teaching the rules of monastic life to the Lindisfarne monks.
Little by little he introduced very strict discipline and monastic rules to the monastery—he lived precisely such a life himself—and became a real father to his brethren. And he continued his missionary work, which stretched to such places as Durham and Carlisle. But he more and more wished for a solitary life as a hermit. So he first retired to the isle today known as St. Cuthbert’s Island, and then, in 676, he settled on Inner Farne (both isles belong to the group of the Farne Islands which are famous for their wild nature and colonies of many species of birds today). On Inner Farne he built himself a little hut and a chapel and constructed a high wall around them (he was a physically very strong and skillful man).
At first he did not want any visitors to come to him, wishing to see only the sky, the heaven for which he strove so much. The saint lived in extremely difficult conditions on Farne, but nothing was impossible for him because God and the angels were always nearby. The saint by his fervent prayer expelled all the demons from Farne, who for some time attacked him ferociously. He also provided food for himself by the labor of his hands: through his prayer the soil on Farne became fertile and he was able to grow barley there, and a holy well with an abundant amount of water gushed forth from a dry rock on the isle due to his prayers. With time monks from Lindisfarne and other monasteries, nevertheless, started to flock to him and inhabitants from outside Lindisfarne followed too, in spite of the remoteness of that site. And Cuthbert, though he tried to avoid fame, could not refuse them wise instruction and words of consolation.
And they mention his growing of barley a little later in the story.
Some modern researchers suggest that St. Cuthbert was the first man in history to speak up in defense of wild nature, in his case: eider ducks. Maybe this is just a legend, but it is certain that he took care of these birds during his life and they still nest on Inner Farne in masses, as if in memory of the great saint. Northumbrians call these eider ducks “chicken of Cuddy” after St. Cuthbert. According to Bede, when Cuthbert first sowed seeds of barley on Inner Farne, birds started pecking them. The saint reproached them for that and they did not do it again. Two ravens used to steal straw from the small guesthouse near the saint’s cell. Cuthbert ordered them to leave the isle for such behavior. But the ravens soon returned with their wings prostrated and the heads lifted low as a sign of their remorse. More than that, they brought him lard to atone for their guilt. The saint forgave them, allowed them to stay on the isle and used the lard to waterproof his shoes.
There is a specific cross named for the saint, known as the St Cuthbert’s Cross, which is used on the County Durham flag, for example.
Today is the feast day of St. Joseph, husband of Mary, and the “legal” father of Jesus. While he’s not the patron saint of brewers or anything beer related, it’s his feast day that marks the beginning of the Frühjahrsbierfest in Munich, Germany. Frühjahrsbierfest translates as “Spring Beer Festival” and it’s also sometimes called “Little Oktoberfest.” It’s very similar to Oktoberfest, held in the same place but is more local-focused and considerably smaller. The modern festival is held in late April now, ending in early May, and this year’s one in Stuttgart begins April 16th and concludes on May 8, with a similar one in Munich over the same dates. But today is its traditional start date and it lasted, I believe, around two weeks.
“Saint Joseph with the Flowering Rod,” by Jusepe de Ribera, c. 1630.
Here is his main description from his Wikipedia page:
Joseph (Hebrew: יוֹסֵף, romanized: Yosef; Greek: Ἰωσήφ, romanized: Ioséph) is a figure in the canonical gospels who was married to Mary, mother of Jesus, and was the legal father of Jesus. The Gospels name brothers of Jesus; the Gospel of James, an apocryphal work of the late 2nd century, theorized these as the sons of Joseph from an earlier marriage. This position is still held in the Orthodox churches, but the Western church holds to Jerome’s argument that both Joseph and Mary must have been lifelong virgins and that the “brothers” must have been his cousins. Perspectives on Joseph as a historical figure are distinguished from a theological reading of the Gospel texts.
Joseph is venerated as Saint Joseph in the Catholic Church, Orthodox Church, Oriental Orthodox Church, Anglicanism, and Lutheranism. In Catholic traditions, Joseph is regarded as the patron saint of workers and is associated with various feast days. The month of March is dedicated to Saint Joseph. Pope Pius IX declared him to be both the patron and the protector of the Catholic Church, in addition to his patronages of the sick and of a happy death, due to the belief that he died in the presence of Jesus and Mary. Joseph has become patron of various dioceses and places.
“Joseph’s Dream” by Rembrandt, completed in 1645.
While not a beer saint in the usual sense, I included him because of his association to this German beer festival. Because of his importance to Christianity, he is a patron for a bewildering number of people, places and things, including carpenters, craftsmen, families, lawyers, people who fight communism, social justice, travelers, working people. The places he’s the patron for include, Austria, Belgium, Bavaria, Bohemia, Canada, the Croatian people, the New World, along with Buffalo, NY; Cologne, Germany; La Crosse, Wisconsin; San Jose, California; and Westphalia, Germany. And trust me, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. For the rest, check out CatholicSaints.info.
Today is one of my favorite author’s birthdays, John Updike. He grew up in the same small Pennsylvania town that I did — Shillington — and we both escaped to a life of writing. Though I think you’ll agree he did rather better than I did with the writing thing, not that I’m complaining. I once wrote to him about a harebrained idea I had about writing updated Olinger stories from the perspective of the next generation (his Olinger Stories were a series of short tales set in Olinger, which was essentially his fictional name for Shillington). He wrote me back a nice note of encouragement on a hand-typed postcard that he signed, which today hangs in my office as a reminder and for inspiration. Anyway, this little gem he wrote for the The New Yorker in 1964 is a favorite of mine and I now post it each year in his honor. Enjoy.
Beer Canby John Updike
This seems to be an era of gratuitous inventions and negative improvements. Consider the beer can. It was beautiful — as beautiful as the clothespin, as inevitable as the wine bottle, as dignified and reassuring as the fire hydrant. A tranquil cylinder of delightfully resonant metal, it could be opened in an instant, requiring only the application of a handy gadget freely dispensed by every grocer. Who can forget the small, symmetrical thrill of those two triangular punctures, the dainty pfff, the little crest of suds that foamed eagerly in the exultation of release? Now we are given, instead, a top beetling with an ugly, shmoo-shaped tab, which, after fiercely resisting the tugging, bleeding fingers of the thirsty man, threatens his lips with a dangerous and hideous hole. However, we have discovered a way to thwart Progress, usually so unthwartable. Turn the beer can upside down and open the bottom. The bottom is still the way the top used to be. True, this operation gives the beer an unsettling jolt, and the sight of a consistently inverted beer can might make people edgy, not to say queasy. But the latter difficulty could be eliminated if manufacturers would design cans that looked the same whichever end was up, like playing cards. What we need is Progress with an escape hatch.
Now that’s writing. I especially like his allusion to the beauty of the clothespin as I am an unabashed lover of clothespins.
In case you’re not as old and curmudgeonly as me — and who is? — he’s talking about the transition to the pull-tab beer can (introduced between 1962-64) to replace the flat punch-top can that required you to punch two triangular holes in the top of the can in order to drink the beer and pour it in a glass.
The pull-tab (at left) replaced the punch top (right).
Originally known as the Zip Top, Rusty Cans has an informative and entertaining history of them. Now you know why a lot of bottle openers still have that triangle-shaped punch on one end.
So essentially, he’s lamenting the death of the old style beer can which most people considered a pain to open and downright impossible should you be without the necessary church key opener. He is correct, however, that the newfangled suckers were sharp and did cut fingers and lips on occasion, even snapping off without opening from time to time. But you still have to laugh at the unwillingness to embrace change (and possibly progress) even though he was only 32 at the time; hardly a normally curmudgeonly age.
Today is the birthday of English scientist Joseph Priestley (March 13, 1733-February 6, 1804). While he was also a “clergyman, natural philosopher, chemist, educator, and Liberal political theorist,” he’s perhaps best known for discovering oxygen (even though a few others lay claim to that honor). According to Wikipedia, “his early scientific interest was electricity, but he is remembered for his later work in chemistry, especially gases. He investigated the ‘fixed air’ (carbon dioxide) found in a layer above the liquid in beer brewery fermentation vats. Although known by different names at the time, he also discovered sulphur dioxide, ammonia, nitrogen oxides, carbon monoxide and silicon fluoride. Priestley is remembered for his invention of a way of making soda-water (1772), the pneumatic trough, and recognising that green plants in light released oxygen. His political opinions and support of the French Revolution, were unpopular. After his home and laboratory were set afire (1791), he sailed for America, arriving at New York on 4 Jun 1794
In 1767, Priestley was offered a ministry in Leeds, Englane, located near a brewery. This abundant and convenient source of “fixed air” — what we now know as carbon dioxide — from fermentation sparked his lifetime investigation into the chemistry of gases. He found a way to produce artificially what occurred naturally in beer and champagne: water containing the effervescence of carbon dioxide. The method earned the Royal Society’s coveted Copley Prize and was the precursor of the modern soft-drink industry.
Even Michael Jackson, in 1994, wrote about Priestley connection to the brewing industry.
“It has been suggested that the Yorkshire square system was developed with the help of Joseph Priestley who, in 1722, delivered a paper to the Royal Society on the absorption of gases in liquids. In addition to being a scientist, and later a political dissident, he was for a time the minister of a Unitarian church in Leeds. During that period he lived next to a brewery on a site that is now Tetley’s.”
In the New World Encyclopedia, during his time in Leeds, it explains his work on carbonation.
Priestley’s house was next to a brewery, and he became fascinated with the layer of dense gas that hung over the giant vats of fermenting beer. His first experiments showed that the gas would extinguish lighted wood chips. He then noticed that the gas appeared to be heavier than normal air, as it remained in the vats and did not mix with the air in the room. The distinctive gas, which Priestley called “fixed air,” had already been discovered and named “mephitic air” by Joseph Black. It was, in fact, carbon dioxide. Priestley discovered a method of impregnating water with the carbon dioxide by placing a bowl of water above a vat of fermenting beer. The carbon dioxide soon became dissolved in the water to produce soda water, and Priestley found that the impregnated water developed a pleasant acidic taste. In 1773, he published an article on the carbonation of water (soda water), which won him the Royal Society’s Copley Medal and brought much attention to his scientific work.
He began to offer the treated water to friends as a refreshing drink. In 1772, Priestley published a paper entitled Impregnating Water with Fixed Air, in which he described a process of dripping sulfuric acid (or oil of vitriol as Priestley knew it) onto chalk to produce carbon dioxide and forcing the gas to dissolve by agitating a bowl of water in contact with the gas.
But his most important work was to be in the field of gases, which he called ‘airs’ (he would later chide James Keir for giving himself airs (oh dear!) by adopting the term ‘gases’ in his Dictionary of Chemistry, saying ‘I cannot help smiling at his new phraseology’). Living, as he did at the time, next to a brewery, he noticed that the gas given off from the fermenting vats drifted to the ground, implying that it was heavier than air. Moreover, he discovered that it extinguished lighted wood chips. He had discovered carbon dioxide, which he called ‘fixed air’. Devising a method of making the gas at home without brewing beer, he discovered that it produced a pleasant tangy taste when dissolved in water. By this invention of carbonated water, he had become the father of fizzy drinks!
20. By this process may fixed air be given to wine, beer, and almost any liquor whatever: and when beer is become flat or dead, it will be revived by this means; but the delicate agreeable flavour, or acidulous taste communicated by the fixed air, and which is manifest in water, will hardly be perceived in wine, or other liquors which have much taste of their own.
Priestley’s apparatus for experimenting with ‘airs.’
Today is the birthday of George Michael Biner (February 22, 1897-June 19, 1971). He was the brother of William H. Biner, who was also a brewer. He was born in the Montana territory to Swiss immigrant parents. His father, Theophil Biner, knew Leopold Schmidt and even worked at his Olympia Brewery. Biner sent both of his sons, including George, to brewing school in Milwaukee.
This short biography is from his Find-a-Grave page:
George Michael Biner (1897-1971) was the son of Theophil Biner and Juliana Truffer. George contracted polio as a soldier during World War I. However, he went on to be a successful artist, brew master and inventor. He supervised the laying of the tile for the dome of the Los Angeles County Library, invented a labeling machine for breweries and was the co-founder of Biner Ellison which pioneered the production of liquid filling machines, and still makes brewery equipment today.
Today is the birthday of French physician and chemist Louis Camille Maillard (February 4, 1878-May 12, 1936) who was the Doogie Howser of his era, joining the faculty of the University of Nancy when he was only sixteen. He rose to prominence thanks to his work on kidney disorders and later taught medicine at the prestigious University of Paris.
But his biggest contribution, especially to brewing, was an accidental discovery he made in 1912, which today we call the Maillard Reaction, or Browning Reaction.
Here’s the basic description, from Wikipedia:
The Maillard Reaction a chemical reaction between amino acids and reducing sugars that gives browned food its desirable flavor. Seared steaks, pan-fried dumplings, biscuits (widely known in North America as cookies), breads, toasted marshmallows, and many other foods undergo this reaction. It is named after French chemist Louis-Camille Maillard, who first described it in 1912 while attempting to reproduce biological protein synthesis.
The reaction is a form of non-enzymatic browning which typically proceeds rapidly from around 140 to 165 °C (284 to 329 °F). At higher temperatures, caramelization and subsequently pyrolysis become more pronounced.
The reactive carbonyl group of the sugar reacts with the nucleophilic amino group of the amino acid, and forms a complex mixture of poorly characterized molecules responsible for a range of odors and flavors. This process is accelerated in an alkaline environment (e.g., lye applied to darken pretzels), as the amino groups (RNH3+) are deprotonated and, hence, have an increased nucleophilicity. The type of the amino acid determines the resulting flavor. This reaction is the basis of the flavoring industry. At high temperatures, a potential carcinogen called acrylamide can be formed.
In the process, hundreds of different flavor compounds are created. These compounds, in turn, break down to form yet more new flavor compounds, and so on. Each type of food has a very distinctive set of flavor compounds that are formed during the Maillard reaction. It is these same compounds that flavor scientists have used over the years to make reaction flavors.
It was, and is, for food science and understanding how heat and cooking create flavors. If you want to dive deeper, the Warwick Medical School has an article on the Historical Development of the reaction, and NPR’s Food for Thought on the centenary of Malliard’s discovery posted 100 Years Ago, Maillard Taught Us Why Our Food Tastes Better Cooked.
But it was also very important to brewing, too, especially when it comes to malting and roasting malt to get different flavors and colors in the beer. For example, here’s UC Davis professor Charlie Bamforth writing about the Malliard Reaction in his book Grape vs. Grain.
Today is the birthday of William Frederick Wenzel (January 31, 1854-January 15, 1927). He was born in Germany, but moved to Wisconsin as a boy with his family. He was trained in a number of fields, but is best known in brewing circles for the Wenzel Filtermass, which became the standard for clarifying filters for breweries in the 19th century. Unfortunately, I could not find any photographs of Wenzel. This biography of Weznel is from a “History of Outagamie County, Wisconsin.”
And this obituary was published in the Post-Crescent of Appleton, Wisconsin, on April 25, 2917.
Today is the feast day of St. Veronus. He is the patron saint of Lambeek & Belgian brewers. He was also known as Veronus van Lembeek, and he was a professor or a farmhand (accounts differ) who lived in Belgium in the 9th century.
This short account of his life is from his Dutch Wikipedia page, translated by Google:
The life of Veronus is known from a hagiography written by Olbert van Gembloers around 1015-1020.
According to legend, Veronus was a great-grandson of Charlemagne. He left the parental home at the age of 15, because he did not want to get married, and ended up in Lembeek. Here he settled and served as a servant on a farmyard.
Once when he hammered a stick into the ground, water immediately bubbled from the ground. He told his twin sister, Saint Verona, where he would be buried after his death. A fallen tree would show her the way. After his death it happened as he had foreseen.
Woodcut of Veronus dressed as a pilgrim and holding a staff standing outside a farmhouse, where a woman is pouring liquid from a churn, from c.1516-8.
And this account is from Heiligen, a German website devoted to saints, also translated by Google.
Veronus was of fairly high descent. He is said to have been a cousin of Charles the Bald († 877). He left his parental home because he did not agree with the plans of his parents who liked to see him married and with an appropriate party. He himself walked around desiring to devote himself entirely to the service of God, and thus not to marry. On his departure, he informed his sister Verona (9th century; feast day, August 29) that in due time a sign would indicate the time and place of his death: a storm would arise and the trees would blow over and fall in towards the place where he is said to have died. After some wanderings, he ended up on a court farm in Lembeek. There he hired himself out as a farmhand. He lived a life of simplicity and service.
Legend tells how he drilled a well when he once planted his stick in the ground near the church. After all, according to the chronicles, he died “loved by God and by men.”
Indeed, his death was accompanied by the signs he had announced to his sister at the time. So she left in the indicated direction and ended up in Brabant. The horses stopped in Berchem. There she was told that she had to continue to Lembeek. She found her brother’s grave in the local church. The moment she entered the body emitted a wonderful scent. The tomb was opened and the dead was found completely intact. Over the centuries, the memory of Veronus faded. He is said to have appeared to a priest on the spot to remind him of his memory. The priest began to work for the restoration of the worship of Veronus, and the latter expressed his agreement by delighting many pilgrims with answers to prayers and other miracles.
Modern Usages
There’s a St. Veronus Cafe and Tap Room located in Peterborough, Ontario, Canada. They bill themselves as a Belgian restaurant and beer bar.
Today is the birthday of Martin Stelzer (January 30, 1815-August 3, 1894). Stelzer was an architect, probably from Germany, who built a number of homes in Plzeň, Czech Republic, such as “the old (small) Synagogue in Pilsen, the Little Theatre (formerly on Goethe Street) and a stone Saxon bridge in the suburbs of Roudná which has one rare feature, a sweep middle.” He was also hired by the local Burghers (or citizens) to build the town brewery, which today is known as the Pilsner Urquell brewery. He is also believed to have hired their first brewmaster, Josef Groll.
This biography is from the Pilsner Urquell website:
When it comes to the founding of Pilsner Urquell, Martin Stelzer remains one of the most important figures, though he is also one of the most misunderstood.
Often mischaracterized as a brewer, Martin Stelzer was the most famous builder in nineteenth-century Plzen — something like the unofficial town architect. Born in 1815, Stelzer had constructed more than two hundred buildings in Plzen by the time of his death in 1894, including such important sites as Old Synagogue of 1859 and the Small Theater of 1869.
When he was first hired to create the new town brewery in 1839, however, Stelzer was just 24 years old — and, most importantly, he had never built a brewery of any kind. (Later, he would be seen as something of an expert on the subject.) One special demand: the new brewery was supposed to be a cold-fermentation or lager brewery, something that did not exist in Plzen at the time. To familiarize himself with the requirements of the project, Stelzer traveled to Bavaria in December of 1839, visiting several breweries there.
A common rumor holds that Stelzer befriended Josef Groll, the first brewmaster of Pilsner Urquell, during this trip, or even that Stelzer brought Groll back to Plzen with him. However, no confirmation of this appears to have been published during Stelzer’s lifetime. It certainly seems possible that the two were friends, however, given the closeness of their age: the original brewmaster was less than a year and a half older than the architect.
In addition to directing the expansion of the Burghers’ Brewery in 1849 and 1852, as well as the construction of a new fermentation room in 1856, Stelzer designed and built the brewery’s enlarged cooperage in 1870. Stelzer’s other projects included the next-door Gambrinus brewery in 1869 and the Dobřany town brewery in 1873. He remains part of everyday lore in Plzen today, having given his first name to the street Martinská in central Plzen as early as 1857.
Local businessmen and tavern owners in Pilsen committed to raise funds and build a new brewery, to be called Burghers’ (Citizens’) Brewery. A leading architect, Martin Stelzer, was hired to design the brewery and he toured Europe and Britain to study modern breweries that used the new technologies of the Industrial Revolution—pure yeast strains, steam power, and artificial refrigeration—to make beer.
He returned to Pilsen to design a brewery on a site in the Bubenc district with a plentiful supply of soft water and sandstone foundations where deep cellars could be dug to store or “lager” beer. He also brought with him from Bavaria a brewer called Josef Groll who had the skills to make the new cold-fermented style of beer. See groll, josef. The brewery was built rapidly and its first batch of beer was unveiled at the Martinmas Fair on November 11, 1842. The beer astonished and delighted the people of Pilsen. It was a golden beer, the first truly pale beer ever seen in central Europe, for the lager beers brewed in Bavaria were a deep russet/brown in color as a result of barley malt being kilned or gently roasted over wood fires. A legend in Pilsen says the wrong type of malt was delivered to the brewery by mistake but this seems fanciful. It’s more likely that Martin Stelzer brought back from England a malt kiln indirectly fired by coke rather than directly fired by wood. This type of kiln that was used to make pale malt, the basis of the new style of beer brewed in England called pale ale. A model of a kiln in the Pilsen museum of brewing supports this theory.
At the start of the nineteenth century, the quality of beer everywhere was often poor and standards varied wildly. This prompted some of the Plzen’s conscientious and passionate brewers to band together to find a way of producing a beer of a superior and more consistent quality.
Their first decision was one of their finest, to appoint a young architect called Martin Stelzer. Traveling far and wide to study the best of brewery design he returned to Plzen with plans for the most modern brewery of the age.
He chose a site on the banks of the city‘s Radbuza River, which offered a number of natural advantages – sandstone rock for the easy carving of large tunnels for cold storage, and aquifers supplying the soft water which would one day help make Plzen’s finest beer so distinctive.
But, most importantly, Martin Stelzer also discovered a brewmaster who would change the way that beer was brewed forever: a young Bavarian called Josef Groll.
The original gate, which still stands at the brewery.
Today is the birthday of W.C. Fields (January 29, 1880–December 25, 1946). His full name was William Claude Dukenfield. He “was an American comedian, actor, juggler and writer. Fields’ comic persona was a misanthropic and hard-drinking egotist, who remained a sympathetic character despite his snarling contempt for dogs and children.
His career in show business began in vaudeville, where he attained international success as a silent juggler. He gradually incorporated comedy into his act, and was a featured comedian in the Ziegfeld Follies for several years. He became a star in the Broadway musical comedy Poppy (1923), in which he played a colorful small-time con man. His subsequent stage and film roles were often similar scoundrels, or else henpecked everyman characters.
Among his recognizable trademarks were his raspy drawl and grandiloquent vocabulary. The characterization he portrayed in films and on radio was so strong it was generally identified with Fields himself. It was maintained by the publicity departments at Fields’ studios (Paramount and Universal) and was further established by Robert Lewis Taylor’s biography, W.C. Fields, His Follies and Fortunes (1949). Beginning in 1973, with the publication of Fields’ letters, photos, and personal notes in grandson Ronald Fields’ book W.C. Fields by Himself, it was shown that Fields was married (and subsequently estranged from his wife), and financially supported their son and loved his grandchildren.”
Known as “The Great One,” William Claude Dukenfield was better known to the world by his stage name, W.C. Fields. Born in Darby, Pennsylvania, on January 29, 1880, Fields created a hard-drinking, sarcastic, egocentric persona that was so convincing he became one of the most famous drunk misanthropes who ever lived. He famously said that a man should “never work with animals or children,” and carefully cultivated the perception of a curmudgeon, but in real life he was a devoted father and grandfather.
His entertainment career began in vaudeville, where he made a name for himself as a juggler and comedian, and later took the act on Broadway, before making his first short films in 1915. He eventually made around 45 films, the most of famous of which were “Tillie’s Punctured Romance,” “The Fatal Glass of Beer,” “My Little Chickadee,” “The Bank Dick” and “Never Give a Sucker an Even Break.” Most of his most memorable quotes come from his films, though they’ve become entwined with his public persona, making it difficult to separate his roles from the man.
Fields with Mae West.
Fields’ screen character often expressed a fondness for alcohol, a prominent component of the Fields legend. Fields never drank in his early career as a juggler, because he did not want to impair his functions while performing. Eventually, the loneliness of constant travel prompted him to keep liquor in his dressing room as an inducement for fellow performers to socialize with him on the road. Only after he became a Follies star and abandoned juggling did Fields begin drinking regularly.[59] His role in Paramount Pictures’ International House (1933), as an aviator with an unquenchable taste for beer, did much to establish Fields’ popular reputation as a prodigious drinker. Studio publicists promoted this image, as did Fields himself in press interviews.
Fields expressed his fondness for alcohol to Gloria Jean (playing his niece) in Never Give a Sucker an Even Break: “I was in love with a beautiful blonde once, dear. She drove me to drink. That’s the one thing I am indebted to her for.” Equally memorable was a line in the 1940 film My Little Chickadee: “Once, on a trek through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew…and were forced to live on food and water for several days!” The oft-repeated anecdote that Fields refused to drink water “because fish fuck in it” is unsubstantiated.
On movie sets Fields famously shot most of his scenes in varying states of inebriation. During the filming of Tales of Manhattan (1942), he kept a vacuum flask with him at all times and frequently availed himself of its contents. Phil Silvers, who had a minor supporting role in the scene featuring Fields, described in his memoir what happened next:
One day the producers appeared on the set to plead with Fields: “Please don’t drink while we’re shooting — we’re way behind schedule” … Fields merely raised an eyebrow. “Gentlemen, this is only lemonade. For a little acid condition afflicting me.” He leaned on me. “Would you be kind enough to taste this, sir?” I took a careful sip — pure gin. I have always been a friend of the drinking man; I respect him for his courage to withdraw from the world of the thinking man. I answered the producers a little scornfully, “It’s lemonade.” My reward? The scene was snipped out of the picture.
There’s no doubt that regardless of how much Fields drank, he certainly created a reputation and persona around it. And while he seems to have favored whiskey, gin and other spirits, he did love his beer, too. Below are some quotes I’ve collected by Fields, the first group being quotes he said, or were attributed to him, while the second group are quotes from films he appeared in, and thus easier to verify.
Personal Quotes
“I never drank anything stronger than beer before I was twelve.”
“Everybody has to believe in something … I believe I’ll have another beer.”
“If I had to live my life over, I’d live over a saloon.”
“I never drink water; that is the stuff that rusts pipes.”
“I drink therefore I am.”
“There are only two real ways to get ahead today — sell liquor or drink it.”
“I like to keep a bottle of stimulant handy in case I see a snake, which I also keep handy.”
“I must have a drink of breakfast.”
“I never worry about being driven to drink; I just worry about being driven home.”
“It was a woman who drove me to drink, and I never had the courtesy to thank her for it.”
“A woman drove me to drink and I didn’t even have the decency to thank her.”
“Fell in love with a beautiful blonde once. Drove me to drink. And I never had the decency to thank her.”
“Now don’t say you can’t swear off drinking; it’s easy. I’ve done it a thousand times.”
“Once, during Prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water.”
“Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and for several days we had to live on nothing but food and water.”
“I never drink water. I’m afraid it will become habit-forming.”
“What contemptible scoundrel stole the cork from my lunch?”
“I spent half my money on gambling, alcohol and wild women. The other half I wasted.” [Note: Tug McGraw has a similar quote attributed to him.]
Film Quotes
Ouliotta Delight Hemogloben: “Do you think he drinks?”Mrs. Hemogloben: “He didn’t get that nose from playing ping-pong.”
— From “Never Give a Sucker an Even Break,” 1941
Receptionist: “Some day you’ll drown in a vat of whiskey!”The Great Man: “Drown in a vat of whiskey. Death, where is thy sting?”
— From “Never Give a Sucker an Even Break,” 1941
The Great Man: [Suffering from a hangover] “Somebody put too many olives in my martini last night!”Stewardess: “Should I get you a Bromo?”
The Great Man: “No, I couldn’t stand the noise!”
— From “Never Give a Sucker an Even Break,” 1941
Egbert Sousé: “Ten cents a share. Telephone sold for five cents a share. How would you like something better for ten cents a share? If five gets ya ten, ten’ll get ya twenty. A beautiful home in the country, upstairs and down. Beer flowing through the estate over your grandmother’s paisley shawl.”Og Oggilby: “Beer?”
Egbert Sousé: “Beer! Fishing in the stream that runs under the aboreal dell. A man comes up from the bar, dumps $3,500 in your lap for every nickel invested. Says to you, “Sign here on the dotted line.” And then disappears in the waving fields of alfalfa.”
— From “The Bank Dick,” 1940
Egbert Sousé, to his bartender: “Was I in here last night, and did I spend a twenty dollar bill?”Bartender: “Yeah.”
Egbert Sousé: “Oh, boy. What a load that is off my mind. I thought I’d lost it.”
— From “The Bank Dick,” 1940
Cuthbert J. Twillie: “During one of my treks through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. Compelled to live on food and water … for several days.”
— From “My Little Chickadee,” 1940
Cuthbert J. Twillie, nursing a hangover: “I feel as though a midget with muddy feet had been walking over my tongue all night.”
— From “My Little Chickadee,” 1940
Whipsnade: “Some weasel took the cork out of my lunch.”
— from “You Can’t Cheat An Honest Man,” 1939
S.B. Bellows: “Meet me down in the bar! We’ll drink breakfast together.”
— From “The Big Broadcast of 1938,” 1938
Businessman: “You’re drunk.”Harold: “Yeah, and you’re crazy. But I’ll be sober tomorrow, and you’ll be crazy for the rest of your life.”
— From “It’s a Gift,” 1934
Quail, to a valet: “Hey, garcon. Bring me a drink.”Valet: “Water, sir?”
So essentially, he’s lamenting the death of the old style beer can which most people considered a pain to open and downright impossible should you be without the necessary church key opener. He is correct, however, that the newfangled suckers were sharp and did cut fingers and lips on occasion, even snapping off without opening from time to time. But you still have to laugh at the unwillingness to embrace change (and possibly progress) even though he was only 32 at the time; hardly a normally curmudgeonly age.
