Patriotism and Beer
Let's put patriotism on tap
BY JEFF NUSSBAUM
Monday, August 11th 2008, 4:00 AM
My father tells the story of a job interview he had in St. Louis. Over dinner downtown, the waiter asked for drink orders. Dad, trying to be a regional diplomat, asked if they served any local beers. His dining companions exchanged smirks as the waiter cocked his head toward the window where, clearly visible and roughly the size of a small airport, the Anheuser-Busch brewery stood.
Today, if asked the same question, that waiter would have to jerk his head, quite violently, eastward. When InBev completes its takeover of Anheuser-Bush, the Boston Beer Co., makers of Samuel Adams, will be the biggest brewer in America.
Once the contract is finalized - when all of the "i"s are dotted and, given that this is Dutch, the "o"s are crossed - Anheuser-Busch will be Belgian and MillerCoors will be both Canadian (MolsonCoors) and South African (SABMiller). Pabst, the beer that time forgot and our country's fourth-largest beer maker by volume, might be considered American, but they contract to have their beer made in Miller breweries.
While I am proud of my hometown's ascendancy in the beer pantheon, this sale of Anheuser troubles me deeply. In fact, it has tapped into a jingoistic impulse I didn't know I had. Sure, China can make our toys (preferably unleaded), Japan can make our cars, India can take our call centers and Saudi Arabia can take our gas money. Even our baseballs - not to mention most of our players - are made in the Caribbean. But when American workers want to lament all of these things, they should be able to do so while cracking open a mediocre mass-market American brew.
I see a huge market opportunity here.
Consider that in this new beer universe, the largest brewers after Boston Beer Co. are Yuengling (Pottsville, Pa.) and Sierra Nevada (Chico, Calif.). Sierra Nevada calls its flagship beer an "interpretation" and talks about its "character and fragrant bouquet."
Please. These are the coastal elites of beer. These companies are to beer what the knowledge economy is to the real economy, or what intellectual capital is to actual capital. Yes, they're sophisticated, contemplative and complex. So is John Kerry. And like John Kerry, they remain a regional and acquired taste.
Where's the beer whose cans can be crushed against fraternity foreheads with pride? Where's the beer that will be nestled into foam cozies and novelty cup holder hats (and heaved onto the track in disgust at a Jeff Gordon victory) across NASCAR nation?
Where is our liberty lager, our patriotic Pilsner, our red, white and blue stripe? The loss of one American icon demands the creation of a new one.
Think about the immediate market share of a new beer company that decides to purchase and set up shop in an abandoned rust belt steel mill. Think how much more goodwill it gets when it pledges to pay its workers a decent wage, and source its wheat, hops and barley only from American farmers.
I don't think any Budweiser-drinking Joe Sixpack wants to become a Stella Artois-drinking Joep Zespak, nor do I think his loyalties will translate into Dutch that easily either.
A truly American mass-market beer company could tap into - pun fully intended - the national pride we would feel from seeing American workers actually producing something other than a PowerPoint slide deck.
Just as I believe that the sale of Anheuser-Busch is an indication of all that is wrong with our economy, perhaps the innovation, national pride and jobs that would come with the creation of a true American macrobrew can demonstrate what's right.
BY JEFF NUSSBAUM
Monday, August 11th 2008, 4:00 AM
My father tells the story of a job interview he had in St. Louis. Over dinner downtown, the waiter asked for drink orders. Dad, trying to be a regional diplomat, asked if they served any local beers. His dining companions exchanged smirks as the waiter cocked his head toward the window where, clearly visible and roughly the size of a small airport, the Anheuser-Busch brewery stood.
Today, if asked the same question, that waiter would have to jerk his head, quite violently, eastward. When InBev completes its takeover of Anheuser-Bush, the Boston Beer Co., makers of Samuel Adams, will be the biggest brewer in America.
Once the contract is finalized - when all of the "i"s are dotted and, given that this is Dutch, the "o"s are crossed - Anheuser-Busch will be Belgian and MillerCoors will be both Canadian (MolsonCoors) and South African (SABMiller). Pabst, the beer that time forgot and our country's fourth-largest beer maker by volume, might be considered American, but they contract to have their beer made in Miller breweries.
While I am proud of my hometown's ascendancy in the beer pantheon, this sale of Anheuser troubles me deeply. In fact, it has tapped into a jingoistic impulse I didn't know I had. Sure, China can make our toys (preferably unleaded), Japan can make our cars, India can take our call centers and Saudi Arabia can take our gas money. Even our baseballs - not to mention most of our players - are made in the Caribbean. But when American workers want to lament all of these things, they should be able to do so while cracking open a mediocre mass-market American brew.
I see a huge market opportunity here.
Consider that in this new beer universe, the largest brewers after Boston Beer Co. are Yuengling (Pottsville, Pa.) and Sierra Nevada (Chico, Calif.). Sierra Nevada calls its flagship beer an "interpretation" and talks about its "character and fragrant bouquet."
Please. These are the coastal elites of beer. These companies are to beer what the knowledge economy is to the real economy, or what intellectual capital is to actual capital. Yes, they're sophisticated, contemplative and complex. So is John Kerry. And like John Kerry, they remain a regional and acquired taste.
Where's the beer whose cans can be crushed against fraternity foreheads with pride? Where's the beer that will be nestled into foam cozies and novelty cup holder hats (and heaved onto the track in disgust at a Jeff Gordon victory) across NASCAR nation?
Where is our liberty lager, our patriotic Pilsner, our red, white and blue stripe? The loss of one American icon demands the creation of a new one.
Think about the immediate market share of a new beer company that decides to purchase and set up shop in an abandoned rust belt steel mill. Think how much more goodwill it gets when it pledges to pay its workers a decent wage, and source its wheat, hops and barley only from American farmers.
I don't think any Budweiser-drinking Joe Sixpack wants to become a Stella Artois-drinking Joep Zespak, nor do I think his loyalties will translate into Dutch that easily either.
A truly American mass-market beer company could tap into - pun fully intended - the national pride we would feel from seeing American workers actually producing something other than a PowerPoint slide deck.
Just as I believe that the sale of Anheuser-Busch is an indication of all that is wrong with our economy, perhaps the innovation, national pride and jobs that would come with the creation of a true American macrobrew can demonstrate what's right.