Anchor steams away over the horizon

This story is a couple of weeks old now, but that doesn’t stop it from being both topical, poignant and, above all, relevant, especially as it highlights much of what is wrong with today’s beer and brewing scene. The story is of course, the recently announced closure of iconic Anchor Brewing in San Francisco, acquired by Japanese brewing giant, Sapporo, and now thrown on the scrapheap. In doing so, Sapporo are discarding a century and a quarter’s history, as well as the love and devotion of the man who saved the brewery, and its unique style of beer from a previous threat of closure.

That threat occurred back in the mid 1960’s, and the knight in shining armour was Fritz Maytag. The story of how and why Fritz bought Anchor Brewing is well known to those of us who witnessed the development of the phenomenon that is today’s global brewing scene, but for those who weren’t around during those heady days, here’s a brief synopsis of what happened.

Anchor was regarded as the last speciality brewery of any kind in America, but set against a tide of often insipid, heavily promoted nations brands – think Budweiser, Coors, Miller, Schlitz, Pabst, and a handful of other behemoths that dominated US brewing, it was sinking fast, and almost without trace. What happened next passed into legend amongst American beer lovers, so it is doubly upsetting seeing Anchor, once again under threat of vanishing from the North American beer scene.

It was 1965, and Fritz Maytag, whose family owned one of the USA's principal washing machine companies, was a student at Stanford University. The laundry connection comes into play shortly, other wise I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but during his student days, Fritz was a regular at a San Francisco bar and restaurant, where Anchor Steam Beer was stocked. One day, whilst sitting at the bar, and ordering an Anchor Steam, he was told that the brewery was due to close at the end of the week.

Fritz was horrified but was determined not to allow his favourite beer to disappear. At first, he thought his family connections might be able to provide some business experience to help the brewery. Instead, he found himself selling some shares in the family's business in order to become a partner and subsequent owner at Anchor Steam. Most observers thought he was crazy. The brewery was seriously underfunded, was situated underneath the freeway and employed only one person. Baker's yeast was used for the fermentation, and in the absence of a bottling line, only draught beer was produced.

Undeterred, Fritz put everything he could in the brewery, including making sales calls and doing his own deliveries. He also learned as much as he could about the brewing process, making improvements wherever he could. Slowly, but surely Fritz began turning the business around, although it took him 10 years before Anchor was turning in a profit. Soon afterwards he moved the operation into a stylish 1930s building that formerly housed a coffee roasting company. This was located in the fashionable, San Francisco district of Potrero Hill.

Maytag’s philosophy was the company should always remain in touch with what they were about i.e., brewing a first-class beer. In order to achieve this, he designed the new Anchor brewery so that all the officers faced directly onto the copper kettles, and other brewing vessels. As a further reminder of the ethos behind the business, the brewery included a tap room, complete with a traditional, bar decorated with memorabilia, where workers could relax over a few, after work beers. In addition, once a year, Fritz would take a party from the brewery, to the far north of California, in order to see the barley being harvested. Other years, he would take the staff to watch the hops, used in the brewery, being picked.

Maytag’s determination and drive, combined with his insistence of top-quality ingredients, that turned Anchor’s flagship product, into a renowned classic, acknowledged by beer lovers, the world over. Anchor Steam beer was produced from pale and crystal malts and hopped three times throughout the brewing process with Northern Brewer hops. Fermentation took place in a series of uniquely shallow fermentation vessels, each just two foot deep. This produced a beer with an alcohol content of around 5%.

Fermentation was followed by three-week’s warm conditioning, and dry-hopping, before the beer was pasteurised, bottled, or kegged. Anchor Steam beer had the roundness and cleanness of a lager but some of the complexity of an ale. It was bronze in colour, with a pleasing natural carbonation, that was a good match for its clean, and pleasing fruitiness. Although the term “steam beer” had been known for decades, it was the time, effort, and sheer dedication put in by Fritz and his team, that fostered and saved this unique way of brewing.

As well as Steam Beer, Anchor also produced the famous Liberty Ale, along with Old Foghorn Barleywine. Fritz’s rescue of Anchor preceded the micro-brewery movement in North America by 10 or 12 years, and whilst he never intended to spend his life as a brewer, what he achieved during his years at the helm of the company, proved inspirational to a host of other aspiring brewers, both in the United States and further afield.

 As one industry commentator put it, “Fritz not only saved Anchor in 1965, but he also essentially laid the tracks for others to follow. Anchor Steam was recreated in a vacuum because there were no drinkable examples and few who remembered it. Fritz may have "simply" Americanized dead, unpopular, or under-appreciated English styles like Pale Ale, IPA, Porter, Barley-wine, and Holiday beer, but he was very inspirational to the first small craft breweries in Northern California.”

Unfortunately, despite Maytag’s legacy, the iconic role he played at Anchor in bringing diversity, character, and style to the American brewing scene, was slowly buried over by the years, as brewers in that part of the world began trying to out-compete one another by producing increasingly extreme beers. West Coast IPA Double IPA, New England IPA, and a plethora of  other different beer styles left Anchor Beer as a refugee in its own homeland.  Ticking apps, such as Rate Beer and Untappd, spawned a whole generation of drinkers more interested in chasing the latest fad, than appreciating what they already had.

This is a lesson I feel all beer lovers should take note of, and I have seen several American beer commentators making similar points. "Smoothie Pastry Hazy Juicy Dessert IPAs have destroyed classic beers. But we’re all to blame. I don’t understand why Sapporo would buy the brewery and shut it down so quickly. Not only does that make no sense with regard to their investment, but they have made a lot of enemies, too. But as fickle craft beer drinkers we are all to blame. We are more focused on the latest fad and in the process let this classic brewery die a slow death. And that’s a shame of epic proportions."

For my part I am extremely sorry to see Anchor disappear, because like many people who grew up witnessing the micro-brewery revolution as it developed into a global phenomenon, iconic beers, such as Anchor, which played such a pivotal role will always have a special place in my heart. When we had our off licence, Anchor Steam, Porter, and Liberty Ale from San Francisco were regular staples on our shelves. We obtained them through an importer called James Clay & Sons, who are still trading today. That was 17 years ago, and since that time I have rarely seen Anchor beers on sale anywhere in the UK.

Let’s leave the final words of this sorry saga to Chuck Magerl, proprietor of Free State Brewing in Kansas. Fritz Maytag and his crew created the amazing beer world in America today. “When we opened Free State in early spring of 1989, the initial response quickly outstripped our capacity to release new batches. We bought in the only keg of Anchor beer available in Kansas, as a way to offer a like-minded beer for our guests.”

“Others played a role, but Fritz was the key. While the news of Anchor’s closing may yet unfold with another chapter, what is certain is the importance of what this Iowa guy achieved as he guided the historic San Francisco brewery into the new age. Wherever you have a beer this week, whatever flavour you enjoy, please join us in raising an appreciative toast to the world Fritz Maytag enhanced with his devotion at Anchor Brewing”.

The High Rocks, where it really was third time lucky!

You left Matthew and I departing from the rather upmarket Beacon, after failing for the second time that afternoon to obtain a beer. The Beacon was the second of three pubs that we visited on that particular Sunday, but with the first one closed and the second pub focussing almost exclusively on wine, would it be a case of third time lucky? Earlier that afternoon, we had tried to locate the High Rocks, a popular pub, restaurant, and wedding venue to the west of Tunbridge Wells. The complex is named after the adjacent outcrops of sandstone rocks, which are a popular tourist attraction.

We initially failed in that endeavour, as we were actually much further south than I thought we were, but after our experience at the Beacon, I surmised that we were now a lot closer to the High Rocks than we were when driving towards Groombridge. The thought came to me whilst sitting on the terrace, at the Beacon, overlooking the feature known locally as "Happy Valley". We heard the whistle of a steam locomotive, belonging to the Spa Valley Railway, as it passed along the valley and one of the stops on that line is the halt adjacent to the High Rocks complex.

The Beacon is situated a third of the way down Tea Garden Lane, so armed with what we’d seen and heard earlier, I assumed that if we followed the lane to the bottom of the valley, we would be close to the High Rocks, and the prospect of a beer. Not wishing to get lost a second time, I programmed the destination into my phone, and let Google Maps do the rest. My assumption was correct, and after driving with care, along the rather narrow lane, we reached a T junction. The sign indicated that a right turn would lead us to the High Rocks, and a short while later, we reached our destination.

After leaving the car in the substantial car park, adjacent to the High Rocks themselves, we crossed the road and made our way towards the pub and restaurant. Despite it being a Sunday, a wedding was taking place, which seemed strange, as back in my day such ceremonies were never held on a Sunday. Times change though, and we followed the steps down into the terrace garden, to the left of the High Rocks pub, before entering, to see what beers were on offer.

As well as a beer from Tonbridge Brewery, I was surprised to see one from the Nelson Brewery, who are based in the Historic Naval Dockyard at Chatham. Admiral IPA was the beer, and the pump clip showing the silhouette of an Admiral, dressed in early 19th century garb, was obviously supposed to be Admiral Nelson himself. This was the first time in a decade and a half that I had seen Nelson beers on sale, and seeing the pump clip it was quite a poignant moment, because a couple of weeks ago we learned of the sad death of the brewery owner, Piers MacDonald.

Piers had single handedly, turned the Nelson Brewery’s fortune around, after buying the business in 2006, and from what I remember of the brewery, following a visit in 2009 the place was certainly in need of improvement. That was my only visit to the brewery, but Piers was obviously successful in his endeavours, otherwise the company would have ceased trading a long time ago. The beer too was a dramatic improvement, as the sourness, spoiling the taste of Nelson beers, which was probably due to a yeast infection, had gone. The 4.0% Admiral IPA was certainly very drinkable.

After a brief chat with the pleasant girl behind the bar, we took our drinks outside, joining several other groups of drinkers enjoying the afternoon sunshine. From our seats, we could see back across the Happy Valley, and down to the High Rocks Halt, which is where the SVR trains call at, as they travel back and forth along the line between Tunbridge Wells West and Eridge. We witnessed one of the trains pulling away, from the platform, and I managed to snap a quick photo.

The High Rocks will be the venue for the wedding of Eileen’s’ niece Heidi, and her fiancé in just over a year's time, and there is another family connection with the complex too, because the magnificent, oak-beamed barn, which is used to host larger functions, was constructed by Heidi’s father, Brian. It began life as an old farm building, before being acquired by the owner of the High Rocks owner and being taken apart, transported to its new site, and then reassembled. It was quite a project, and Brian was rightly very proud of it. Brian died three years ago, right at the beginning of the pandemic, although his death was not COVID related, so sadly he will not be there to give his youngest daughter away.

The High Rocks themselves, occupy a geological Site of Special Scientific Interest to the west of Tunbridge Wells Spread over several acres the impressive sandstone rocks are interlinked with eleven bridges, to provide a scenic walk in a tranquil woodland setting. Once a Stone Age encampment, these ancient rocks are now a National Monument. Along with the nearby Harrison’s Rocks, these rocky crags form a world-renowned location for rock climbing. The attraction is open daily from 10:00 until dusk except Boxing Day, apparently. Admission is £5 per person, and tickets are available from the High Rocks Pub.

As with several other places of interest locally - Penshurst Place, Hever Castle, Chartwell and Ightham Mote, all spring to mind, I have never visited the High Rocks themselves, but with such a reasonable admission charge there is no real excuse. I have visited the High Rocks pub several times, the last time being back in 2016, when a group of us, walked from Tunbridge Wells West station, to Groombridge, following one of the Link Routes of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk. I also remember a firm’s Christmas party being held there, many years ago.

So, leaving the joys of the pub aside for a moment, I definitely feel that an hour or two spent exploring the High Rocks National Monument, would be £5 well spent, and I could always slake my thirst in the bar, afterwards. Thinking further outside the box, it would be good to travel either there, or back, by means of the Spa Valley Railway.

Third time lucky - Parts 1 & 2

It was a case third time lucky last Sunday afternoon when, after a spot of shopping in Tunbridge Wells, Matthew and I decided we could do with a drink. It wasn’t exactly serious shopping, but rather an excuse to get out of the house and leave Mrs PBT’s in peace. We didn’t realise at the time, but Eileen was in the early stages of a bout of cellulitis. You might not have heard much about this condition, but if not treated quickly it can be serious, and even life-threatening.

I won’t go into details here, although if you want to know more, then take a look on this link, but what I will say is that between us Mrs PBT’s and I know quite a few people who have had cellulitis, and that most of them are male. Eileen has been prescribed a course of strong antibiotics, so strong in fact that they have left her feeling nauseous, and completely off her food. I’m jumping the gun somewhat here, as on Sunday, whilst suspecting cellulitis was the cause of my wife’s malaise (she’d experienced this condition previously, about, three years ago), we weren’t quite completely certain, and besides, I want to get back to the narrative and tell you more about the three pubs we visited.

Upon reaching Tunbridge Wells, we headed to the south of the town and the area next to the former Tunbridge Wells West station. The site is occupied by a large Sainsbury’s superstore at one end, and by branches of both Lidl and Homebase at the other, and it was the latter shops that we called in at. For the record though, Tunbridge Wells West station still stands, with the large, former booking hall and waiting rooms, surmounted by an impressive clock tower, now home to a Smith & Western, "cowboy-inspired" restaurant, alongside a small hotel.

The Spa Valley Railway, now operate a heritage service of mixed steam and diesel trains along the former BR branch-line to Eridge, and it was the latter station we were heading for, by car though, rather than by rail. The line to Eridge, formerly connected the West station with Tunbridge Wells Central, although following the removal of the rail link, the “central” suffix has been dropped. The line itself closed pretty late in the general scheme of things, after having survived the notorious Beeching cuts of the mid-1960’s, by some 20 years or so.

It was a useful diversionary route, so its cull by the notoriously anti-railway government of Margaret Thatcher, was both unjustified, unnecessary, and almost certainly was driven by the redevelopment potential of the large goods yard and train depot, next to the West Station. As mentioned earlier, the former west yard was snapped up by Sainsbury’s, with the large area of adjacent flat ground forming an ideal car park.

Since those dark days of 1985, the heritage enthusiasts of the SVR have managed to reopen the former line in stages, initially to Groombridge and then eventually to Eridge, where it connects with the Southern mainline to Uckfield. I am mentioning the SVR primarily because their preserved railway line crops up several times in this narrative. Also, as mentioned earlier, it was Eridge we were heading for, in order to visit the Huntsman pub, next to the station.

This former King & Barnes pub, is now a free-house, having been sold on by Dorset brewers, Hall & Woodhouse, who took over, and the closed the much, lamented K & B Brewery, in Horsham, back in the early 2000’s. I’ve soft spot for the Huntsman, which probably dates back to the last time I travelled from Tonbridge to Eridge, on a British Rail train. This would have been shortly before the line closed in the mid 80’s.

I’ve only returned to the Huntsman on a handful of occasions since then, although I’ve been meaning to revisit for quite some time. The last time I set foot in the pub, was on a return from a winter ales festival, held at the Coopers Arms in Crowborough, but prior to that Matthew and I had visited the Huntsman a decade or so previously. On that occasion we were in the company of friends from West Kent CAMRA, and the visit followed on from a ride on the Spa Valley Railway. We enjoyed a decent lunch at the pub, along with some equally fine Badger ales, before walking across country to the picturesque Crown Inn, overlooking the green at neighbouring Groombridge.

This time we headed south from Tunbridge Wells, before turning off the busy A26 road at the bottom of a valley. We then followed the road for a short distance past Eridge station and parked the car. As we walked along to pub, we could see across to the sunken garden at the side of the pub. It seemed deserted, which set alarm bells ringing, and when we reached the entrance, there was no sign of life and just a rather ominous notice on the door.

“Sorry, we are unable to open the pub today, due to a power outage,” or words to that effect, which meant my second attempt, this year, to visit the Huntsman, ended in failure. "Never mind,” I said to Matthew, we can visit the High Rocks instead. Returning to the car, we followed the narrow road from the pub, in a roughly westerly direction, whilst keeping an eye out for a turning on the right, to the High Rocks.

We didn’t see one, and not long after, ended up in Groombridge. We could have stopped at the aforementioned Crown, but parking can be a little tricky there, so we continued up the hill towards Tunbridge Wells, through Langton, and the edge of Rusthall. Plan C was to call in at the Beacon situated along the quaintly named Tea Garden Lane. It must be a decade or more since I last set foot in the Beacon, but back in the day it was a favourite watering hole for local CAMRA members, due to it stocking the then, rather rare, Timothy Taylor’s Landlord.

A lot can change in 10 years, or even in four, because the pub was last surveyed by the local CAMRA branch in January 2019, but since that time the Beacon appears to have morphed into a very upmarket, wedding venue. It was all very pleasant, but the place is no longer a pub catering to the casual drinker. We walked up the steps leading to the terrace bar, passing through what looked like the reception area, as the Beacon now offers accommodation.

At the bar, we directed through to the terrace, by a member of the waiting staff. I said that we only wanted a drink, to which the reply was, “That’s fine, I will bring you the drinks menu.” This duly arrived, but it seemed to be wine only. When I mentioned the Beacon’s former reputation for “real ale,” the young man gave me a look that straight away said he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. “It it’s beer you want, we do have Coors,” he said, with a faint hint of expectation in his voice.

I politely declined his offer and told him we’d be heading elsewhere.  This was a shame, as the view from the Beacon’s terrace was stunning, with vistas right across what is known locally as "Happy Valley," and it is this natural feature through which the Tunbridge Wells- Eridge line runs – (Spa Valley Railway!). As if to illustrate the point, we heard the whistle of a steam train as it passed through the wooded course of the River Grom below us.

I called this piece, "third time lucky," and indeed we both were when we made our way to the third hostelry of the afternoon. However, despite the title of this post, I shall have to leave describing the “lucky” third pub, until next time, as I’ve waffled on rather too long with this one. To be continued.

Footnote: It appears that a communication problem was responsible for the perceived “no beer” situation at the Beacon, as following the post, a friend phoned the Beacon and was told, by the manager, that they currently have on two Cellar Head keg beers, English Pilsner, and Session IPA, plus a few of their "lovely" bottles.

I also discovered that the “drinks menu” given to Matthew and I, was a photocopy of just one side of the menu, and was missing the bulk of the information relating to the snacks, charcuterie, lunch, cocktail and the "Draught.” The latter, of course was the beer. So full apologies to the Beacon, even though this mix-up could easily have been avoided.

Further details can be found in the extensive correspondence between Stafford Paul and me in the comments section.