Related Pleasures Archives - Brookston Beer Bulletin

Historic Beer Birthday: Al Levy

April 25, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Al Levy (April 25, 1860-March 24, 1941). He was born in Liverpool, England, but made his mark in Hollywood, California. He was a “notable L.A.-based Restauranteur, owner and operator of Al Levy’s Tavern in Hollywood and Al Levy’s Grill in Downtown L.A. in the 1930s and 40s. [He was also] credited with creating the Oyster Cocktail.”

Levy-1940-obit — Levy, from his obituary.

This is how his carer began, according to the Jewish Museum of the American West:

Levy’s first job was at the Techau Tavern, a famous San Francisco restaurant, where he rose from errand boy, to dishwasher, to chef.
After opening two restaurants with partners who ran off with the money, Al Levy was advised to go to Los Angeles where the tempo was slower, and where there were no quality restaurants.

His first L.A. place was this pushcart, but it did well enough to establish himself and move to a permanent location, The Oyster House.

Eventually, Levy was able to open his Oyster House on Fifth and String Streets, later the site of the Alexandria Hotel.
His second and larger restaurant, located at Third and Main Streets, became a center of fashionable night life in 1906.
It was the finest such institution in Los Angeles. Each table had its own telephone, and the chandeliers were all of the finest crystal.
Al Levy’s restaurant consisted of four stories: the kitchen and main dining room were on the first floor; the second floor had booths for two, three, and four diners; the third floor had banquet rooms for smaller groups; the fourth floor had the large banquet/ballroom, and included the cart from which Al Levy had peddled oysters during his first years in Los Angeles.

But it was his third place, Al Levy’s Tavern, located at 1623 North Vine Street, that was his most famous, was huge during the heyday of old Hollywood

Lots of famous people and celebrities spent time at Al Levy’s Tavern, it was, after all, “The Fun Center of Hollywood Life!”

The Daily Mirror has a great article about Levy and his legacy entitled Hollywood Heights: Al Levy’s Tavern Toasts 1930s Hollywood, by Mary Mallory.

Historic Beer Birthday: William Cullen

April 15, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of William Cullen (April 15, 1710-February 5, 1790). He “was a Scottish physician, chemist and agriculturalist, and one of the most important professors at the Edinburgh Medical School, during its hay-day as the leading center of medical education in the English-speaking world.

Cullen was also a central figure in the Scottish Enlightenment. He was David Hume’s physician and friend, and on intimate terms with Adam Smith, Lord Kames (with whom he discussed theoretical and practical aspects of husbandry), Joseph Black, John Millar, and Adam Ferguson, among others.

He was President of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Glasgow (1746–47), President of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh (1773–1775) and First Physician to the King in Scotland (1773–1790). He was also, incidentally, one of the prime movers in obtaining a royal charter for the Philosophical Society of Edinburgh, resulting in the formation of the Royal Society of Edinburgh in 1783.”

Cullen extended the subject of chemistry beyond medicine by connecting it to many “arts” including agriculture, bleaching, brewing, mining, and the manufacture of vinegar and alkalies. In brewing, it was the very important need for cooling using artificial refrigeration where William Cullen at the University of Glasgow in 1748 made his impact, making advances crucial to the development of refrigeration for the brewing industry when he began studying the cooling effects of liquids evaporating in a vacuum, the process by which we cool foods today. He even demonstrated artificial refrigeration for the first time in 1748.

In the Brussels Journal, in a multi-part history of beer, Cullen’s contributions are acknowledged and explained:

The principle of vacuum refrigerators is based on the fact that water in a sealed container can be made to boil if the pressure is reduced (the “boiling point” of 100 degrees Celsius refers to the situation when the external pressure equals one atmosphere; water can be made to boil at lower temperatures on a mountain top). The heat necessary for evaporation is taken from the water itself. Reducing the pressure further lowers the temperature until freezing-point is reached and ice is formed. The Scottish scholar and chemist William Cullen (1710-1790) gave one of the first documented public demonstrations of artificial refrigeration, and the United States inventor Oliver Evans (1755-1819) designed, but did not build, a refrigeration machine which ran on vapor in 1805. I. Hornsey writes in his history of beer and brewing:

“The earliest machine of this type was constructed in 1755, by Dr William Cullen, who produced the vacuum necessary purely by means of a pump. Then, in 1810, Sir John Leslie combined a vessel containing a strong sulphuric acid solution along with the air pump, the acid acting as an absorbent for water vapour in the air. This principle was taken up and elaborated upon by E.C. Carré, who in 1860 invented a machine that used ammonia as the volatile liquid instead of water….The first compression machine was manufactured by John Hague in 1834, from designs by the inventor, Jacob Perkins, who took out the original patents, and recommended that ether was used as the volatile agent. Although Hague’s machine can be regarded as the archetype for all ‘modern’ refrigerators, it never really got past the development stage, and it was left to the Australian, James Harrison, of Geelong, Victoria, to finalise the practicalities and produce a working version, which he did in 1856. By 1859, Harrison’s equipment was being manufactured commercially in New South Wales, and the first of them (which used ether as the refrigerating agent) came to Britain in 1861.”

Although the first inventor of a practical refrigerator was Oliver Evans in 1805, Cullen invented the process in 1748 which allowed the technology to be further developed. After his public demonstration of the refrigeration effects of evaporative cooling, he described the phenomenon in “Of the Cold Produced by Evaporating Fluids and of Some Other Means of Producing Cold” (Essays and Observations, Physical and Literary, vol. 2 [1756]).

The Shooting Of Dan McGoo

April 14, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Tex Avery (February 26, 1908–August 26, 1980) is simply one of the best animators of all time, and that’s not hyperbole. He’s also a personal favorite. He was “known for producing and directing animated cartoons during the golden age of American animation. His most significant work was for the Warner Bros. and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios, where he was crucial in the creation and evolution of famous animated characters such as Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Elmer Fudd, Droopy, Screwy Squirrel, George and Junior, and Chilly Willy.”

Here’s how one critic described Avery’s innovative approach:

Above all, [Avery] steered the Warner Bros. house style away from Disney-esque sentimentality and made cartoons that appealed equally to adults, who appreciated Avery’s speed, sarcasm, and irony, and to kids, who liked the nonstop action. Disney’s “cute and cuddly” creatures, under Avery’s guidance, were transformed into unflappable wits like Bugs Bunny, endearing buffoons like Porky Pig, or dazzling crazies like Daffy Duck. Even the classic fairy tale, a market that Disney had cornered, was appropriated by Avery, who made innocent heroines like Red Riding Hood into sexy jazz babes, more than a match for any Wolf. Avery also endeared himself to intellectuals by constantly breaking through the artifice of the cartoon, having characters leap out of the end credits, loudly object to the plot of the cartoon they were starring in, or speak directly to the audience.

One of his best known cartoons was called “The Shooting of Dan McGoo,” which debuted today, April 14, 1945, at least according to the iMDb (some sources give different dates).

The plot, such as it is, spoofs Robert W. Service‘s poem, The Shooting of Dan McGrew, “complete with a literal depiction of a man with one foot in the grave. But when Dan McGoo turns out to be Droopy, it turns into a Droopy-versus-the Wolf/Wolf-goes-ape-for-the-girl gagfest.” But the story takes place in a small Alaska bar, and there are a lot of great beer and booze references throughout the animated film.

From the outskirts of town, the camera pans into the entrance of the Malamute Saloon, where at the entrance they advertise “Beer.”

Then the shot moves to the right to reveal another, smaller door for “Short Beers.”

Inside, the pianist was doing his part, surrounded by mugs of beer and discarded or broken bottles and glassware.

After we’re introduced to Dan McGoo, who in reality is Droopy, we then meet his paramour, Lou, and afterwards it cuts to the bar where the wolves bellied to the bar all give a wolf call.

Someone yells for a beer, and the bartender fills up a mug behind the bar, then flings it down the bar to whoever ordered it, taking a hilarious route along the bar.

Wait, cocktail pedestrian using the crosswalk.

Requisite beer “on the house” gag as they scramble to the roof.

Then one of Avery’s most famous cartoon characters, Lou, takes the stage and all hell breaks loose.

Eventually beer makes a final appearance about a minuted before the ending.

But go ahead and watch it all unfold:

13 – The Shooting of Dan McGoo from dadada on Vimeo.

Historic Beer Birthday: Joseph Bramah

April 13, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Joseph Bramah (April 13, 1748-December 9, 1814). Bramah was an English engineer, and inventor, whose most famous invention was the hydraulic press. But he also made improvements and created a practical beer engine, creating his beer pump and engine inventions between 1785 and 1797.

Another summary of his achievements is quite flattering:

English engineer and inventor whose lock manufacturing shop was the cradle of the British machine-tool industry. Central in early Victorian lockmaking and manufacturing, he influenced almost every mechanical trade of the time. Like Henry Ford, his influence was probably greater for the manufacturing processes he developed, than the product itself. He took out his first patent on a safety lock (1784) and in 1795 he patented his hydraulic press, known as the Bramah press, used for heavy forging. He devised a numerical printing machine for bank notes and was one of the first to suggest the practicability of screw propellers and of hydraulic transmission. He invented milling and planing machines and other machine tools, a beer-engine (1797), and a water-closet.

As for the actual patents, there were two of them. The first was in 1785 and was for what he called a “beer pump.” Then, in 1793 he was granted Patent No. 2196 for his improved version, now referred to as a “beer engine.” It was actually a Dutchman, John Lofting, who had first invented the beer pump in 1688, but Bramah’s were more refined and practical, and more importantly, patented. Curiously, Grace’s Guide to British Industrial History lists the patent dates as 1787 and 1797, so it’s unclear which are the correct dates.

In this engraving, entitled Men of Science Living in 1807-8, Bramah is on the left side, the tenth one in the back from the left. He’s the one with the wide sash across his chest and the star-shaped badge on his jacket. Others include Joseph Banks, Henry Cavendish and James Watt.

There’s even a J.D. Wetherspoon’s pub in his home town of Bramley called The Joseph Bramah

Historic Beer Birthday: Charles Duff

April 7, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Charles Duff (April 7, 1894–October 15, 1966). He was primarily known as “an Irish author of books on language learning,” although his most famous book was “A Handbook of Hanging,” which also covered “electrocution, decapitations, gassings, innocent men executed and botched executions.” He was an interesting, eclectic person, to say the least, and last year Gary Gillman did a nice job summarizing his quirky life in a post entitled “Charles Duff on the Circa-1950s Irish Pub.”

But he also wrote a few travel guides, including one called “Ireland and the Irish,” published in 1952. In it, he starts with Irish history and its folklore, in fact spending nearly 100 pages of the 282-page book, before actually suggesting what the reader should see in Ireland.

Duff also had a lot to say about beer in Ireland at the time, and it’s fascinating to see his views over 75 years later. Gillman also analyzes his writing historically and reprints some of his great writing, and you should read that, too, but I’m also sharing my favorite passages from Duff regarding the beer.

In discussing Dublin, Duff attempts to provide an image of the typical modern Dublin pub, and describes a place I’d certainly like to visit.

The atmosphere is cocktailish, the seats are most comfortable, the carpets soft. I did not find the drinks or service any less efficient, nor, I must say in fairness, any more efficient than in the old days when, before Dublin was really awake in the morning, a kindly and sympathetic barman diagnosed your hangover and might prescribe, as he did for me on one occasion, a seidlitz powder, telling me not to drink anything alcoholic before noon, when he recommended a dozen oysters and a bottle or two of stout “to settle the inside and get back the feelings of a Christian.” Today the atmosphere is convivial and friendly, and you will get a good drink there. But when you go out into the street you will not have the feelings we had after a session there. I think the main difference is that in the old days the drinkers in ‘Davy Byrne’s’ had a higher opinion of one another than they have now. And in the old days you sat on any sort of old chair with a pint in front of you on a very plain table and knew that there was no other pub quite like this. It is almost ill- mannered to make the comparison, and perhaps unfair to the present house which, after all, is not responsible for the age in which we live.

Another interesting insight about Dublin, is that you should read some Joyce before your visit.

It is not a bad preparation for a visit to Dublin to read James Joyce’s Dubliners, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and Ulysses—in that order if you have not already read Joyce. On your second visit, or perhaps on some later occasion, you can have a try at Finnegan’s Wake, which a Dublin friend assures me is best read by moonlight as you lean over one of the Liffey bridges, and preferably while in that state of imaginative gestation to which a reasonable consumption of the wine of the country—Guinness’s Stout—is conducive. But you will not need any of this preparation to tell you that Dubliners are not always easy people to understand, and experience of Ireland can lead you to the conclusion that it is more difficult to grasp and analyse the mentality of the Dubliner than of any other kind or class of native. For one thing, Dubliners are a more mixed breed than you will find anywhere in Ireland, because Dublin has been a cosmopoli- tan community longer than any other in Ireland. This ‘town of the ford of the hurdles’ had its original Picts, Celtic Irish, its Norsemen, its Normans and then its English as the principal elements in its ethnic constitution. It has also had a generous sprinkling of the adventurous; and of the adven- turers, military, political and commercial, who invariably find their way to promising territories. In Dublin you will find surnames which come direct or are derived from those of almost every country and race in Europe; one cannot say this of any other Irish city or town.

Duff’s other travel guide was called “England and the English,” in which he followed a similar format as his Irish guidebook. This one was published a few years later, in 1955. Gillman also analyzes Duff’s English writing, too, in a two-part post entitled Charles Duff Eulogises the English Pub – Part I, which primarily provides context and background to the 1950s climate in which Duff was writing. But in Part II he tackles Duff’s take on the Eglish pub.

But I’m more interested in just sharing his stories. Like his previous work, it is filled with interesting anecdotes about like in England, with this one from an experience in World War II involving beer and cider being particularly funny.

By way of final warning, I can tell of an episode I am not likely to forget. There was a shortage of beer in the last years of the Second World War when I was staying at the cottage in Devon. That did not greatly worry local people; they drank their local cider. But very often the American troops stationed in the neighbourhood suffered distress from the lack of alcohol and (I suspect, somewhat to their disgust) were driven back on cider, which they contemptuously regarded as a soft drink 1 Friendly patrons of the pub advised them to ‘take it easy’ until they got used to it. But those hearties just laughed, possibly regarding the civilian adviser as needlessly timid; and they just went ahead. At about the third mug the fun began then the cider started to have effect. Another mug or two and the balloon went up. The usual effects of strong alcohol were felt : in this case of an alcoholic beverage to which those strong, healthy men were quite unaccustomed. We all felt sorry for them, and for their poor heads next day. And as, one by one they rolled off, the locals smiled and called for another mug saying: “Don’t it just show ‘ee !”
My friend would often reminisce and philosophize about cider, telling me that farm-workers used to have little barrels (he later showed me his; it held about a pint and a half) which they took with them to their work, but that the young genera- tion know nothing of this. He thought that modern cider is better and purer than that of his youth. He had known of men who drank themselves to death on cider, but insisted that this is rare; because, he said, cider is one of those rare drinks which carries its own safety-point and, when that point has been reached depending on the drinker’s capacity and head there is no inclination to drink any more. “How very con- venient!” the conservative drinker will say. The illustrious may comment: “How awful! ” There it is.

Duff discusses pubs more generally when covering the “prosperous market-town of Bishop’s Stortford (about thirty miles from London) is on the River Stort, which forms the boundary with Essex.”

It was precisely this easy-going atmosphere which I liked about Bishop’s Stortford. With it goes a great variety of friendly pubs Herts is a good county for beer some of which confront the traveller unexpectedly, and inside are found to be just the sort of typical little country pubs one reads about. You can find a pub almost anywhere in the town. There are the major houses such as the ‘George* and the ‘Chequers’, but I felt attracted by old names such as:

The Feathers
The Falcon
The Anchor
The Swan
The Grapes
The Reindeer
The Boar’s Head
The Half Moon
The Rising Sun
The Castle The Royal Oak
The Bull
The Fox
The Bricklayers’ Arms

most of them with their colourful, interesting signs. The names I have listed do not exhaust the possibilities of Bishop’s Stortford, and merely represent what I recall easily. The little ‘Bricklayers’ Arms’ on the road to Hadham had just received a fresh coat of paint the last time I was there. I thought it looked a very beautiful little pub from outside. Inside I was not disappointed: the beer was delicious, and Mrs. Morgan, the landlady, a great personality whom I am not likely to forget.
I should like to dwell on these pubs, some of which are very old, because of their importance as an institution of considerable import in the social fabric of this country. Hertfordshire, and, indeed, all of this eastern area, can provide examples of more than ordinary interest. At St. Albans there is the ‘Fighting Cocks’, which is said to be the oldest inhabited licensed house in England. Thomas Burke mentions A.D. 795 as the date of its foundation. “The traveller by car who takes the Great North Road the historic highway linking London with Edinburgh will come upon many pub signs which will inevitably attract his attention and often make him stop for a closer scrutiny. A little conversation with landlords and know- ledgeable local people will quickly show that the English public-house (as we usually call it now), with which one may include the terms ‘inn’ and ‘tavern’, embraces a vast social his- tory that can be traced back to Saxon times. For over one thou- sand years the house which provides food and drink for the traveller and wayfarer, and a centre or dub for local people, has been a part of English life. If I have not mentioned the subject until now, it is not because other areas of England are less rich in public-houses than this eastern part, but merely that it falls in more conveniently at this stage. What I say about the pubs here can be paralleled for most parts of England and, as it is, I can deal with it only in the most summary way. Take, for example, the ‘Letchworth Hair at Letchworth, formerly a manor-house and, some may say, too much of an hotel to be considered as a ‘typical’ pub. It is mentioned in Domesday Book. And the ‘Sun’ at Hitchin, which was used by the Parliamentarians during the Civil War (1642-1648), and, in 1745, was the place in which North Hertfordshire men enrolled for the Resistence Movement that was to face the advancing army of the Pretender. Some of these old buildings are architecturally and artistically extremely interesting, externally or internally, and sometimes in both senses. As we move northwards, a slight detour takes us to Buckden and Huntingdon, both in Huntingdonshire. The first town has the ‘Lion’ with a lounge beautifully adorned by some magnificent oak beams; the second town has the ‘George’, with its long frontage and a lovely row of fifteen windows. Stilton, where one of the world’s great cheeses is made, has the ‘Bell’ dating back to the spacious days when men travelled on horseback, more often than not in companies in order to be able to cope with the activities of such gentry as Dick Turpin. Lincolnshire has some noteworthy houses: the ‘George’ at Stamford where, in 1746, William Duke of Cumberland put up after his victory over Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden; and the curiously named ‘Ram Jam Inn’, a haunt of Dick Turpin and his men. At Grantham there is another ‘George’, visited by Charles Dickens in 1838 and about which he wrote to his wife, “. . . the most comfortable inn I ever put up in”. In Grantham there is also the ancient ‘Angel and Royal’ with seven hundred years of history behind it and originally a favourite house of the Knights Templars. Kings held their courts there; the present building dates from about the middle of the i4th century. These few dips will indicate the scope of the subject, but I think I have said sufficient to show the reader that the English pub is a very old, very strong institution and in every way worthy of his attention. I have never yet entered a pub, however humble, from which I did not emerge refreshed in mind and body, and I think that a good argument could be put up in favour of the pub as the most characteristic institution of the people of England: of the men, that is, for it is only in comparatively recent years that women are frequenting licensed premises with the approval of the younger generation of men, of course, but often with the strong disapproval of old regulars. To these it is unbecoming to the spirit and atmosphere of their club that lively and frivolous girls the more attractive they are, the worse it is ! often in slacks or even shorts, should lower the serious tone of the establishment with their disconcerting jazzing, crooning and giggling. This little survival of Puritanism is quickly passing and in many places no longer exists. It will soon be gone. The pub will survive by adapting itself to the social environment: as it always has done in the past.

He also stresses that one should never discuss politics or religion in a pub, good advice now as then.

Again it comes back to the desire for political stability, for if there is one thing that the English have learnt by bitter experience, it is that nothing can cause greater disturbances than religion, especially when used for a political end. A man’s religion is his own affair. Hence, in conversation it is never even discussed! The unwritten law of the English pub is: No religion.

Duff-hanging — Still his most famous work.

Historic Beer Birthday: Jaromír Vejvoda

March 28, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Jaromír Vejvoda (March 28, 1902-November 13, 1988). He was a Czech composer and his most famous song was the iconic “Beer Barrel Polka.”

Here’s a short biography of Vejvoda, from his Wikipedia page:

Vejvoda was born and died in Zbraslav. He learned to play the fiddle and flugelhorn in a band led by his father. Later he played these instruments in a military band. He started to compose in the 1920s while he worked as a bartender in a pub owned by his father-in-law. In 1929 he wrote the Modřanská polka named after Modřany, a suburb of Prague where it was played the first time. This catchy tune became a hit and allowed Vejvoda to pursue music as a full-time professional. It was published in 1934 with lyrics Škoda lásky, kterou jsem tobě dala… Publishing house Shapiro Bernstein acquired the rights shortly before World War II and the polka, now the “Beer Barrel Polka” with the English lyrics “Roll out the barrel…”, became the most popular song of the Allies in the West, although the original Czech lyrics have a very different meaning and do not speak about beer. After the war this polka became popular around the world, in German-speaking countries as “Rosamunde.”

And here’s the story of his famous song:

“Beer Barrel Polka”, also known as “The Barrel Polka” and “Roll Out the Barrel”, is a song which became popular worldwide during World War II. The music was composed by the Czech musician Jaromír Vejvoda in 1927.[1] Eduard Ingriš wrote the first arrangement of the piece, after Vejvoda came upon the melody and sought Ingriš’s help in refining it. At that time, it was played without lyrics as “Modřanská polka” (“Polka of Modřany”). Its first text was written later (in 1934) by Václav Zeman – with the title “Škoda lásky” (“Wasted Love”).

The polka became famous around the world. In June 1939, “Beer Barrel Polka”, as recorded by Will Glahé, was number one on the Hit Parade. This version was distributed by Shapiro Bernstein. Glahé’s earlier 1934 recording sold many copies in its German version Rosamunde (it is possible the reason for the rapid spread was due to the occupation of Czechoslovakia by Nazi Germany, and subsequent emigration of thousands of Czechs to other parts of the world, bringing this catchy tune with them). The authors of the English lyrics were Lew Brown and Wladimir Timm. Meanwhile, the song was recorded and played by many others such as Andrews Sisters in 1939, Glenn Miller Orchestra, Benny Goodman, Bobby Vinton, Billie Holiday, and Joe Patek who sold over a million copies of his album “Beer Barrel Polka.”

During World War II, versions in many other languages were created and the song was popular among soldiers, regardless of their allegiances. It was claimed many times that the song was written in the country where it had just become a hit. Its actual composer was not widely known until after the war.

The first hit recording of the song under the name we all know it by today was in 1939, by Will Glahé.

And this more recent recording is by Frankie Yankovic and His Yanks.

Robert Frost’s Beer Bath

March 26, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Here’s a fun story. Today is the birthday of American poet Robert Frost. “His work was initially published in England before it was published in the United States. Known for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech, Frost frequently wrote about settings from rural life in New England in the early 20th century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes. Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime and is the only poet to receive four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry. He became one of America’s rare ‘public literary figures, almost an artistic institution.’ He was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 1960 for his poetic works.”

Publisher and author Bill Peschel related a story from 1935 that involved some beer that found its way to Frost.

Robert Frost was an irascible poet, jealous of rivals, and called by at least one friend as Yahweh. Any slight, real or perceived, was paid back, with interest.
Such as the case in Santa Fe, N.M., where Frost had been invited to speak at the city’s New Mexico Museum. At the event the day before, local poet Witter Bynner had been scheduled to introduce the poet, but had showed up late. While there may have been a good reason for his tardiness, it may also have been an intentional slight over Frost’s greater success with the public.
So Frost was deliberately late the next day at a lunch held in his honor at Bynner’s house. Then, they clashed over a book of poetry that praised homosexuality. While Frost found the subject distasteful, he went along with Bynner’s praise, even saying that he had a favorite poem. Could he read it aloud?
Bynner passed the book to him. Frost read one of the more erotically charged passages, then teased Bynner, saying he was “too young and innocent to understand such verse.” Bynner responded angrily by pouring a mug of beer over Frost’s head.
Frost got the explosion he wanted, so he took the bath in good humor. As a friend later remarked, “Robert took great pleasure in setting the cat among the pigeons.”

Beer Saints: St. Cuthbert

March 20, 2021 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

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.”

Here’s his overview from Wikipedia:

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.