Saturday’s ad is for Knickerbocker Beer, from 1954. This is number 3 in a series by the Jacob Ruppert Brewing Co. The third one shows when “Dutch Landing at Communipaw,” illustrated by Lumen Martin Winter. It depicts a rather weird story of Native Americans committing suicide after hearing a trumpet, with text by author Washington Irving.
Friday’s ad is for Knickerbocker Beer, from 1954. This is number 2 in a series by the Jacob Ruppert Brewing Co. The second one shows when “Hudson Sights Manhattan,” illustrated by Lumen Martin Winter. It depicts a rather fanciful story of this event, with text by author Washington Irving.
Thursday’s ad is for Knickerbocker Beer, from 1954. This is number 1 in a series by the Jacob Ruppert Brewing Co. The first one shows the “Purchase Of The Island Of Manhattan,” illustrated by Lumen Martin Winter. It depicts a rather fanciful origin story for the Purchase of the Island of Manhattan, as told in the text.
Today is the birthday of George Peter Allen Schmitt (June 14, 1833-May 4, 1897). He was born in Zell-in-der-Pflaz, Bavaria. Originally trained as a carpenter, he came to America when he was 19, in 1852, eventually shifting careers to importing wines. That proved successful enough that he partnered with Henry Elias to open the Central Park Brewery, and after changing partners a few times it became known as the Schmitt & Schwanenfluegel Brewery, which was in New York City, near Central Park at 1065 Avenue A, between 56th & 57th. Schmitt passed away in 1897, and his son, also George Schmitt, kept it going briefly, but he also died the following year, in 1898.
The brewery was originally known as the Henry Elias Brewery, who founded it near 15th Street & Broadway in 1855. Elias, in 1865, partnered with George Schmitt, and became known as Henry Elias & George Schmitt Brewery, a.k.a. the Central Park Brewery (and was readdressed to 1065 Avenue A, between 56th & 57th). In 1868, Schmitt partnered with Christian Koehne to keep it going and it became the Schmitt & Christian Koehne Brewery. Then in 1885, Koehne left and Louis Von Schwanenfluegel came to the business and it became known as Schmitt & Schwanenfluegel Brewery, which it remained until it closed in 1906. During that time it was also known as Consumers Park Brewing Co. and also Central Park Brewery.
Sunday’s ad is for Ruppert Beer, from 1947. The ad shows a farmer taking a nap while his horse looks on disapprovingly. But the tagline, “Some Things Can’t Be Hurried” isn’t about growing crops, but about brewing beer, which Ruppert apparently does not just slowly, but s-l-o-w-l-y. I may not be an expert in the philosophy of time, but I don’t think you can age something slowly. Time is linear, at least in practical terms, and moves at a fixed pace. It may sometimes seem to go slower or faster, but that’s just our perception of it.
You’ve undoubtedly seen the photographs or men marching through the streets carrying signs that read “We Want Beer.” The parade, held on May 14, 1932, was organized by the city’s mayor, Jimmy Walker, and was originally called the Beer for Taxation march, although it quickly became known more popularly as the “We Want Beer!” parade. Mayor Walker was a flamboyant showman, but prohibition was also making life difficult for New Yorkers. The criminal element took over the sale and distribution of illegal alcohol and something like 400 murders each year were attributed to bootleggers and gangsters in New York. And the increased crime was harder to combat because of the city’s lost revenue from various alcohol taxes, which forced the mayor to dramatically reduce both his police and fire departments. There was also rampant unemployment as the nation was in the throes of the Great Depression.
This is the iconic photo of marchers in the We Want Beer parade.
The photo above shows marchers at night, which may be surprising, but the parade actually lasted all day long, and continued into the evening.
Mayor Walker gave a speech in the evening over station WEAF of the National Broadcasting Company, in which he challenged the opponents of his “Beer for Taxation” plan to produce any other form of taxation that would be “less of a burden upon people already overburdened with taxation.”
The parade began down Fifth Avenue from 80th Street in Manhattan, “with picket signs, in costume, and cars festooned with slogans. The marchers went west on 59th Street and back north on Central Park West, parading into the night,” with Mayor Jimmy Walker, “dapper in his derby and suit (and about to be brought up on corruption charges before resigning as mayor), led the procession.” Within the month, other cities held similar parades.
“Interestingly, at noon, the marchers paused for a minute of silence in honor of Charles Lindbergh Jr., whose body was found dead in woods in New Jersey two days earlier.”
It started as a fairly small protest, but quickly swelled to an estimated 100,000 marchers (and some accounts put that number closer to 150,000). One of the slogans they chanted was “Beer for Prosperity” and they also chanted the call and response “Who wants beer?” followed by “We Do!”
Today I Found Out also has an account of the parade, including:
When Congressman Emanuel Celler heard about the event, he said he’d come and bring a bunch of friends. You’d be able to pick him out in the crowd by the two signs he’d be holding: “Never Say Dry” and “Open the Spigots and Drown the Bigots.” The Veterans of Foreign Wars, the American Legion and the Grand Army of the Republic (a group of Civil War veterans) also turned out to march in the parade. Students and society matrons also joined the fray.
They even created a souvenir program for the parade.
And Steuben Taverns created a hanger to put on your car’s rear view mirror.
And to get a sense of the parade itself, here is a video from the event.
This is an interesting article I stumbled upon, from a Time magazine article about Sam’s Bar & Grill in St. Mark’s Place in the East Village of New York City. It was from April 4, 1949
Pale and shaken, 51-year-old Sam Atkins backed away from himself with a feeling somewhere between disbelief and awe. By a single, splendid cerebration he had been lifted out of the ruck into the status of a television curiosity. In his humble Manhattan saloon, Sam had decided to cut the price of beer (the 7-oz. glass) from a dime to a nickel.
Up to that moment Sam was just a pensioned pumper driver from the Bayonne (N.J.) fire department, and Sam’s bar & grill was like any neighborhood joint around St. Mark’s Place on the Lower East Side. Its only distinctive touch was Sam’s cousin, “Bottle Sam” Hock, who amused the trade by whacking tunes out of whisky bottles with a suds-scraper. But the customers got a joyful jolt when Sam opened up one morning last week.
All around the walls, even over the bar mirror, tasteful, powder-blue signs proclaimed in red letters: “Spring is here and so is the 5¢ beer.” The early birds drank and took their change in mild disbelief. The nickel wasn’t obsolescent after all. The word spread. Sam’s bar & grill started to bulge like Madison Square Garden on fight night. People drank, shook hands with strangers and sang.
Then something went sour. The two breweries that supplied Sam cut him off, and an electrician came around and took the neon beer sign out of the flyspecked windows. Somehow, it seemed, Sam had betrayed free enterprise. An organization of restaurant owners muttered that Sam might not be cutting his beer, but he was cutting his throat. The Bartenders Union threw a picket line in front of the place because it was nonunion.
But Sam hung on. He signed up with the union, managed to get his beer through a couple of distributors and a Brooklyn brewery, announced that he was going to have the windows washed, and keep at it. Said he solemnly: “The people want it.” By this week Sam’s idea had spread to other saloons in Washington, D.C. and New Jersey, and Sam was getting more trade in a day than he had drawn before in a week. The nickel beer was here to stay, Sam announced.
Friday’s holiday ad is for the William Simon Brewery, of Buffalo, New York. But on closer inspection it turns out to be just another ad dressed up for the holidays.
While researching Joseph Fallert, whose birthday was earlier today, I came across an interesting lawsuit they were involved in brought by the Department of Agriculture in U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York, which was in Brooklyn. It seems the Joseph Fallert Brewery mislabeled fifty cases of beer they brewed and shipped them to Cuba. Apparently the beer was labeled “St. Louis” and “Bohemian Brewery’s Bottling” with the beer itself called “Brilliant BOHEMIAN Beer,” none of which was true.
Anyway, below is a report of the adjudication of the case interspersed with beer labels of breweries making Bohemian-Style Beer.
I’m not sure what “Bohemian Beer” was specifically as defined in the early 1900s. There were quite a few beers that called their beer Bohemian, or “Bohemian Style” or “Bohemian Type” beer from that time period up through the 1950s and 60s. But the U.S. Attorney, after an investigation by the Department of Agriculture, alleged the beer brewed by Fallert was not Bohemian.
There even was Bohemian Beer brewed in St. Louis by the American Brewing Co.
If you read through the case, taken from a “Report of Committee and Hearings Held Before the Senate Committee on Manufactures Relative to Foods Held in Cold Storage,” you may have noticed that judgment was rendered without the Joseph Fallert Brewery having brought a defense or even appearing in court. I guess they figured there really was no legitimate defense they could bring and it appears that only the beer was lost, confiscated and sold at auction, and they weren’t fined or in any other way punished as far as I can tell.
Today is Wendy Littlefield’s 60th birthday. Wendy, along with her husband, ran the Belgian export company Vanberg & DeWulf, until quite recently, when the business was sold, although they continued for the next year with the company before starting the next chapter. Their portfolio included such great beer lines as Dupont, Castelain and Dubuisson (Bush). They were also the original founders of Brewery Ommegang. Four years ago was their 30th anniversary of being involved in the beer industry and bringing great beer to America. Plus, they’re great fun to hang out and drink with, especially in Belgium. Join me in wishing Wendy a very happy birthday.
Michael Roper, owner of the Hopleaf, Jonathan Surratt, and Wendy, when we had dinner there a couple of years ago.
At an Avec beer dinner a few years ago.
Wendy with husband Don Feinberg in Ghent at a beer dinner with Dilewyns last week.
Don Feinberg, Anne (from New York’s Ginger Man) and Wendy in Belgium.
Wendy and Don in 1979.
NOTE: Photos purloined from Vanberg & DeWulf’s website and Facebook.