tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60121787441199526122024-03-15T20:12:18.537-05:00Oshkosh BeerA History of Beer, Breweries, and Saloons in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1254125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-50238426303841289852024-01-30T08:18:00.006-06:002024-01-31T07:33:41.282-06:00A Beer By Any Other NameThe longest-lived craft beer made in Oshkosh has a fluid identity. It’s a Scottish Ale from Fox River Brewing Company, and it was first served to the public at Fratello's Italian Cafe on Friday, December 15, 1995. On that day, it was called Caber Tossing. In 2014, Caber Tossing became Marble Eye. This February, the name will change again, this time to Highland Fox Scottish Ale.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZajFRS8_tfVVIAXxjQ6fntTHhQI8kMZr64VOQObQ229JFsd6pyPO21hRUovN9hQ9dvSfO1GX0wLHvIgA2uALWvue4nUjZyB1j0vwYhUKS1D59S4JCIrXrkjqJFjbJhtfqy9dmtrt0qTzAUs2dFnk3i6zoKqsyYgDI82kBzrA71f89JHwTcXVUAqUXjgJ/s1200/Highland%20Fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZajFRS8_tfVVIAXxjQ6fntTHhQI8kMZr64VOQObQ229JFsd6pyPO21hRUovN9hQ9dvSfO1GX0wLHvIgA2uALWvue4nUjZyB1j0vwYhUKS1D59S4JCIrXrkjqJFjbJhtfqy9dmtrt0qTzAUs2dFnk3i6zoKqsyYgDI82kBzrA71f89JHwTcXVUAqUXjgJ/w640-h334/Highland%20Fox.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Drew Roth is the head brewer at Fox River. He knows what’s coming next. “It’s kind of a running joke around the brewery. People will insist that Caber Tossing and Marble Eye were completely different beers with different recipes,” he says. “I can pull out recipe sheets and show them that they’re the same beers. It doesn’t matter. They just tell me I’m wrong.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-cCnBIgO7kTMAefAs0vc3_a-CnPczaUskbFl5endyLRnob6zakeTE4mgM3UITDQ5epRum9fwS_AykikHdo53oaCZY7gvcngdpWzECEDPc90FAHN5AHc46tIGMWIkYXI095ek5H4ghdVJFPSA-jhSwllw9LX1uYQ-H7zzDjCoYgmQDDEo3XS0YFoiTIHE/s1164/Drew%20Roth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="1152" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-cCnBIgO7kTMAefAs0vc3_a-CnPczaUskbFl5endyLRnob6zakeTE4mgM3UITDQ5epRum9fwS_AykikHdo53oaCZY7gvcngdpWzECEDPc90FAHN5AHc46tIGMWIkYXI095ek5H4ghdVJFPSA-jhSwllw9LX1uYQ-H7zzDjCoYgmQDDEo3XS0YFoiTIHE/w634-h640/Drew%20Roth.jpg" width="634" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drew Roth</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Roth has 29 years of brewing logs backing up his claim. The recipe he is using for Highland Fox adheres, in every important respect, to the recipe that former Fox River head Brewer Al Bundee entered into the logbook for the first batch of Caber Tossing on November 25, 1995. “It’s a different name, but the recipe is not changing in the slightest,” he says.<br /><br />In the trend-riddled world of craft beer, that kind of longevity is practically unheard of. But then, this beer was an outlier from the start. When Caber Tossing was introduced it became the strongest year-round beer ever produced in Oshkosh. At 6.5% ABV, with its deep amber color and caramelized malt flavor, Fox River’s Scottish Ale was altogether different from the mild, pale lagers that had been dominant here for a century.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUc44WtX0YXiS1eTj2KbN21Oy4XvHWy3fUuam95PUO5ozXVUPwuW79xnsKE4gzqdypXGS73xz1nPbaMWY39q5YF4pOf7M6LZvzAFud6a2q7j5wSNuv0gv2X0vSdNDAxqFHFScwipMf9sKA6fwkw6D0zZiedl7lLCJWdyiXTum7dDE7uLyLjX6iLindkKr/s966/Caber%20Tossing%20Scottish%20Ale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="962" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUc44WtX0YXiS1eTj2KbN21Oy4XvHWy3fUuam95PUO5ozXVUPwuW79xnsKE4gzqdypXGS73xz1nPbaMWY39q5YF4pOf7M6LZvzAFud6a2q7j5wSNuv0gv2X0vSdNDAxqFHFScwipMf9sKA6fwkw6D0zZiedl7lLCJWdyiXTum7dDE7uLyLjX6iLindkKr/w638-h640/Caber%20Tossing%20Scottish%20Ale.jpg" width="638" /></a></div><br />Beer connoisseur and brewer Mark Stanek was among the early adopters. He became acquainted with Caber Tossing after moving to Oshkosh from Madison in 1997. “That beer was outstanding,” Stanek says. “It was malty in flavor and aromatics. It was one of the great beers from that time frame and was really well respected.”<br /><br />In 2001, Caber Tossing took the gold medal in the Scottish-style ale category at the Great American Beer Festival. By 2006, it was the best-selling beer in Fox River’s portfolio. Caber Tossing-cum-Marble Eye held that position until 2014 when BLU Bobber became a year-round beer and the brewery’s runaway bestseller. Ten years later, Marble Eye, soon to be Highland Fox, still holds its own.<br /><br />“It just continues to be that beer that consistently sells,” Roth says. “We have discussions every year about what beers are going to get pulled to make room for new things, but Marble Eye has never been up for discussion. It just keeps going, and we’re going to keep brewing it.”<br /><br />That’s a rare declaration to attach to an amber beer these days. Nationwide, the popularity of darker-hued brews has fallen significantly. The decline is illustrated by the recently diminished Fat Tire Amber Ale. Ten years ago, Fat Tire was among the most popular of all craft beers. But deflating sales led to Fat Tire's reformulation last year. Gone is the amber. Fat Tire now wobbles along, drained of its color.<br /><br />“Wisconsin is kind of a weird market in that way,” Roth says. “A lot of people here still want those darker beers. It might be our climate, or some of the traditions around here, I’m not really sure. Marble Eye is often our second or third best seller on draft even in the summertime.” <br /><br />It's a beer that has been bucking trends for so long that it has entered the pantheon of Oshkosh classics such as Chief Oshkosh, Peoples Beer, and Rahr’s Elk’s Head. At 29-years old, what is about to become Highland Fox is the youngster of that bunch. Yet it remains an old friend to those who discovered their love of flavorful beer through Caber Tossing. “I know I’m going to hear about it, but I like the new name,” Roth says. “Highland Fox embraces our identity and what the beer is about. We're getting back to our roots on that.”<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>A slightly different version of this story appears in today's Oshkosh Herald.</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-45211807835378360372023-12-31T04:30:00.002-06:002023-12-31T04:30:00.134-06:00The Best to You!Hey Gang, first off, thanks so much for checking out the blog in 2023. I truly appreciate it!<br /><br />Second, there won’t be much new content here for the next couple months. I'm working on a short book (about historic Oshkosh beer recipes) that I need to complete by the end of February. And in March, I'm giving a presentation about the <a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-omro-saloon-wars.html" target="_blank">Omro Saloon Wars</a> at the Omro Public Library. Combined, these two projects will absorb most of my free time until March. But after that, things will get rolling again. There's so much more to tell!<br /><br />Until next time, Happy New Year!<br />Prost,<div><i>Lee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dsOaaupIwMAeU5balmEZCu3Yg0rJEcy6Qf5kMpQZMIzMkSD_Es6S52YB19OWn9R51LFSmvBaL6b4C7GcrBySRSroTANz_SQr-V_THlLERxgSWZXLJRWjX8ssa-KXiFyfzjrfDnaJ0vxt-QMCW9-l0_eyYCQkRHr42zNxfaRzcfk639aUixoa12HpEvBs/s1267/OBC%20Happy%20New%20Year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1267" data-original-width="713" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dsOaaupIwMAeU5balmEZCu3Yg0rJEcy6Qf5kMpQZMIzMkSD_Es6S52YB19OWn9R51LFSmvBaL6b4C7GcrBySRSroTANz_SQr-V_THlLERxgSWZXLJRWjX8ssa-KXiFyfzjrfDnaJ0vxt-QMCW9-l0_eyYCQkRHr42zNxfaRzcfk639aUixoa12HpEvBs/w360-h640/OBC%20Happy%20New%20Year.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-56648050820758566502023-12-03T04:20:00.006-06:002023-12-03T16:03:53.798-06:00The Unmaking of Witzke’sThe origin of Witzke’s Bar traces back to 1873. That’s when a German immigrant named Henry Schmidt bought the property at 17th and Oregon to establish a saloon there. What Schmidt set in motion was still going strong 100 years later. But in 1973, there was no centennial celebration at Witzke’s. By then, no one could recall how it all got started.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNweAaKkM5LGVMlqISRD10amFNwQeVCd2XvAocPAzaRo1p2edI2WsRVt4lSU6Wu17kh9hU1czG3YVOBTMi4JnpJz6UuTQlPrvpYssMqZbhWSSAVX3l6EBADM1rTrz-_ClQm-0aFGIGxGkbbtz4PSB4CFQrfyGIV2OI-JSa0kaU6nJrWk5ifY-vmoJbep-/s1200/01%20Corner%20Sign.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNweAaKkM5LGVMlqISRD10amFNwQeVCd2XvAocPAzaRo1p2edI2WsRVt4lSU6Wu17kh9hU1czG3YVOBTMi4JnpJz6UuTQlPrvpYssMqZbhWSSAVX3l6EBADM1rTrz-_ClQm-0aFGIGxGkbbtz4PSB4CFQrfyGIV2OI-JSa0kaU6nJrWk5ifY-vmoJbep-/w640-h334/01%20Corner%20Sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Est. 1850? The guess was off by 23 years.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The forgetting began long before the 1970s. A 1948 article in the Oshkosh <i>Daily Northwestern</i> said the tavern's “early history has been lost from memory.” What memories remained resided with the man who ran the place in the 1970s. Kenneth Frederick Witzke had been there all his life.<br /><br />Ken Witzke was born in 1924. His father, August "Fuddy" Wtizke, had just finished a jail sentence for serving moonshine in the speakeasy bearing his name. Ken grew up amid a criminal enterprise in the apartment attached to the speakeasy. None of this was especially unusual in the Roaring Twenties. Prohibition made a lot of Oshkosh parents into outlaws.<br /><br />Witzke’s became a legal bar again after Prohibition ended in 1933. In 1942, Ken Witzke turned 18, got drafted into an Army infantry unit, and was sent to fight in the South Pacific. He came home four years later with a bronze star for bravery. “We were in a lot of the thick of it,” Witzke later said.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujTxkZSrgXOl8xbev6FyYgd1S_-HD6rwN1AEaDrzMVdPpoMmk5C_9Ss7Bb-ClB6M3R9B7uKg2hkLQVWOZbIa3MKSJa0kwspvBx03psFZOnBmgsUcbd2T9N0M6Zf4e-6RMIzTga37pd0YzKyFlHPuUYnCDISbHgYF_m9NuwCOHNF5XWtuH0J1T0bTW5jaC/s964/02%20Kenneth%20Witzke%20WW2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="964" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujTxkZSrgXOl8xbev6FyYgd1S_-HD6rwN1AEaDrzMVdPpoMmk5C_9Ss7Bb-ClB6M3R9B7uKg2hkLQVWOZbIa3MKSJa0kwspvBx03psFZOnBmgsUcbd2T9N0M6Zf4e-6RMIzTga37pd0YzKyFlHPuUYnCDISbHgYF_m9NuwCOHNF5XWtuH0J1T0bTW5jaC/w640-h376/02%20Kenneth%20Witzke%20WW2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken Witzke, on the right wearing t-shirt and glasses, circa 1944.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Back in Oshkosh, Witzke went to work tending bar at his father’s tavern. And when Fuddy retired in 1966, Ken Witzke took over. He ran the place for the next 30 years and launched a few traditions of his own. They were informed less by the past than by Witzke’s droll humor.<br /><br />At Christmastime, he would stand a fresh cut balsam in the barroom. After the 1980 holiday, Witzke decided to re-use the same tree next year. Each year thereafter, the increasingly brown evergreen, trimmings and all, was dragged up from the basement and propped in a corner by the pool cues. Bartender Cliff Sweet gave the tree a shot of vodka every morning to keep its spirits up. “The needles are petrified,” Sweet said in 1995. “They don’t even fall off anymore”<br /><br />Older yet was the ossified moose head mounted on the wall opposite the bar. The head was said to have been separated from its source sometime around the turn of the century. It became a rite of passage for newlyweds to come in and kiss the snout of the hoary totem. The moose head became the perennial symbol of Witzke’s.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsYz-ty8HlbgeepbuO7QEvVrLKPMEK5JQIWhG2Pq48jGNNjhetvzCw7ZswICEZAMGwNtVCKxGk2FiaO-unjCBq-V9wqJhy_SRsA5LYWH1ynrQg9oXYwGT0pYPqbXdb2kvOQdAsui9Okq0TqGvnugdTW7kTDcDPtz0iE7mR9Rbj9CwwZ0WZoES54hLQwbo/s1722/03%201983%20Witzke's.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="1722" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsYz-ty8HlbgeepbuO7QEvVrLKPMEK5JQIWhG2Pq48jGNNjhetvzCw7ZswICEZAMGwNtVCKxGk2FiaO-unjCBq-V9wqJhy_SRsA5LYWH1ynrQg9oXYwGT0pYPqbXdb2kvOQdAsui9Okq0TqGvnugdTW7kTDcDPtz0iE7mR9Rbj9CwwZ0WZoES54hLQwbo/w640-h508/03%201983%20Witzke's.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose head and all... Inside Witzke's 1983. <i>Photo courtesy of Dan Radig</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Ken Witzke retired in the summer of 1996 and sold the family bar. For the first time in 82 years, there was not a Witzke pouring beer at 1700 Oregon. The new owner, Harold Salzer, played a transitional role. He was a 34-year-old Oshkosh native who had recently started a home siding business. Salzer’s partner at Witzke’s was John Rasmussen. He was 35 and had been working at the Morgan Company mill. At the end of the 1990s, Rasmussen became the sole owner of Witzke's, leading the tavern into its third century.</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQswihncP7nCFGZE62iFmhaZYaXWgkt2zZv4jVAjBMtCg7BlhxKqjup2cxyICMRu682mnXvTgbrl1eA558Hvr4dTocBf8qis-kMSsNvPvfcINFol0MHvrqn_GWi447XwOkpAJrGp6P7voy0ooxvVZOSJMSXL-4876w-4x8-KwO0PRYWmX0a70qCp5_uCU/s784/04%20JR%20Behind%20Bar.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="784" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQswihncP7nCFGZE62iFmhaZYaXWgkt2zZv4jVAjBMtCg7BlhxKqjup2cxyICMRu682mnXvTgbrl1eA558Hvr4dTocBf8qis-kMSsNvPvfcINFol0MHvrqn_GWi447XwOkpAJrGp6P7voy0ooxvVZOSJMSXL-4876w-4x8-KwO0PRYWmX0a70qCp5_uCU/w640-h418/04%20JR%20Behind%20Bar.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Rasmussen behind the bar at Witzke's, 1997.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Rasmussen was eager to emphasize Witzke’s significance to Oshkosh. “The history of the bar is so interesting,” he said in 1997, “so we’ve tried to accent that.” But the history had a downside. There had been little investment in the property over the previous three decades. The place looked worn out. Rasmussen promised to address that.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiYi_AC1FufH6RL4_rYjW3OM73ofwJMdTPDBjGmH7l5h9zGaegr8030ZfYKllFfVJqD4-DEz4TyD-bObXmSxdfZOL8FY_S7F-7nhny8LG8mb_soNvvW204qZVzvYr9pHHgt1W7IydA1jOrxgOuVghBijM2-3DfdSenRqf3HJtznYgDnvskMhZC4o9Utrl/s854/05%20early%201980s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="854" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiYi_AC1FufH6RL4_rYjW3OM73ofwJMdTPDBjGmH7l5h9zGaegr8030ZfYKllFfVJqD4-DEz4TyD-bObXmSxdfZOL8FY_S7F-7nhny8LG8mb_soNvvW204qZVzvYr9pHHgt1W7IydA1jOrxgOuVghBijM2-3DfdSenRqf3HJtznYgDnvskMhZC4o9Utrl/w640-h492/05%20early%201980s.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Witzke's, circa 2001.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In 2003, Rasmussen began sharing his renovation plans. He met with local preservationists and the Oshkosh Landmarks Commission to assure them that he would retain the character of the property. He was true to his word. The tavern Rasmussen started with was a ramshackle offcut of its past glory. The Witzke’s of 2008 was an eye-catching homage to enduring Southside traditions. Witzke’s hadn’t looked this good since its first remodeling in 1901.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbCyyp2cs5xMGhQU3j8YqnFfNnxQIOvsRKiLtua0ssJ7-xrVkQu7QWjV0mo4puMvC5xVDtKTB_R09enzqfdNhbMN-QIxVuV3TQ6VQGtLROA-eBQdN-fbbong_pCpY8QsdYLFWrl0PRFOo48_Jsljx_AjA3Do1km0Dx4i1LbkrNk_ErHMk0JCu3Kuf2RFs/s1152/06%202011.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="1152" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbCyyp2cs5xMGhQU3j8YqnFfNnxQIOvsRKiLtua0ssJ7-xrVkQu7QWjV0mo4puMvC5xVDtKTB_R09enzqfdNhbMN-QIxVuV3TQ6VQGtLROA-eBQdN-fbbong_pCpY8QsdYLFWrl0PRFOo48_Jsljx_AjA3Do1km0Dx4i1LbkrNk_ErHMk0JCu3Kuf2RFs/w640-h560/06%202011.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2010</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>In addition to the restoration, Rasmussen added a banquet hall and video archery range behind the original saloon building. It took five years and more than $300,000 to complete the project. Witzke’s appeared poised for another successful run. But it wasn’t to be.<br /><br />In July 2017, Wells Fargo Bank filed a notice of intent to foreclose on the property. Later that summer, the Wisconsin Department of Revenue began issuing tax warrants against the business. Over the next two years, Witzke’s Tavern, LLC was hounded by creditors baying for payment. Initially, Rasmussen was able to navigate the storm. But by 2019, his options had run out.</div><div><br />Rasmussen announced Witzke’s closing at the end of September 2019. A handwritten sign was taped to the front door: “CLOSED until further notice. Thanks for your understanding! Management.” The “further notice” never came, and the “understanding” was in short supply among those Rasmussen was indebted to.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybXgBYI79rr3k9G31JZj589o2_vwT6YpL9q20wWgLoRaeub60X0JljcJBElRGec3WJvSt5cV3zW1PzIePko66VEJCCF9WsPNHfpUyJzA0psrYVCQQwAzGWf-QVt6vsLOgfywyyUrk130xqJ_5U3Ys59dhikS965Mw4EkyrWhLYs7QM4LGHTTIaeCQowh3/s1362/07%202019-09-27-FB%20Review.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="1362" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybXgBYI79rr3k9G31JZj589o2_vwT6YpL9q20wWgLoRaeub60X0JljcJBElRGec3WJvSt5cV3zW1PzIePko66VEJCCF9WsPNHfpUyJzA0psrYVCQQwAzGWf-QVt6vsLOgfywyyUrk130xqJ_5U3Ys59dhikS965Mw4EkyrWhLYs7QM4LGHTTIaeCQowh3/w640-h198/07%202019-09-27-FB%20Review.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />He renewed the tavern’s liquor license in 2020. The 2021 application was more closely scrutinized. Rasmussen told the Common Council that he hoped to have Witzke's back in business by the end of 2021. There was little chance of that. The delinquent taxes remained unpaid. And since closing, the tavern “had sustained significant water damage.” Rasmussen couldn’t say how he would address the issues. The liquor license was revoked. And on October 19, 2023, the title to the property was transferred to Winnebago County for non-payment of taxes.<br /><br />This year is the sesquicentennial of Witzke’s founding. But like the tavern’s centennial, this anniversary passes without celebration. One of the southside’s most historically significant properties sits vacant, neglected, and moldering. An abandoned Oshkosh landmark at the edge of oblivion.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXrEYit7ENCGLOPUjMtpnmGkCgWDI0Op33e1GJkMK-gEKzLsD3vr2Z9n3RQ5xX12ySWJktljzwdm1TsiHpq9G4OrdGV-kiApItXd9bCnbD_jECjbFu91iu_nfpvTiHrjVC0kjZsbuvFwfwbCnwSdF9JcvfM-R3P4Dq9joKWIn8C8yGVYt4C9RH-qMiCTTX/s1152/08-2023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="1152" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXrEYit7ENCGLOPUjMtpnmGkCgWDI0Op33e1GJkMK-gEKzLsD3vr2Z9n3RQ5xX12ySWJktljzwdm1TsiHpq9G4OrdGV-kiApItXd9bCnbD_jECjbFu91iu_nfpvTiHrjVC0kjZsbuvFwfwbCnwSdF9JcvfM-R3P4Dq9joKWIn8C8yGVYt4C9RH-qMiCTTX/w640-h472/08-2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 2023</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><i>This is the third in a series of three stories about the history of Witzke's. Here are links to <a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-garden-where-witzkes-grew.html" target="_blank">Part 1 (The Garden Where Witzke's Grew)</a> and <a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/11/witzkes-wild-years.html" target="_blank">Part 2 (Witzke's Wild Years).</a> If you would like to receive an update when I release new content, send an email to OshkoshBeer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject box. Your email address will never be shared or sold.</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-77949693442112679462023-11-19T05:21:00.004-06:002023-12-03T13:24:05.145-06:00Witzke’s Wild YearsThe saloon and beer garden at 17th and Oregon was already 40 years old in 1914. The Oshkosh Brewing Company, owner of the property since 1897, was looking for someone new to run the place. Fuddy Witzke was the perfect fit.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDsLXkBzAYdWa8_BuENeszUOHyQ7uDedi2I_jbbp3TZqPeEr4tgynIJPz0J0Ubn89eWmuZGB5siXErc0XAYHezVqDlgmbaDUXgBIdKifOJkWboJi3n1fcSxhezy0DNChKST-cPbgNMZBcVtVR_qLXWLFvWU11xms_ddg0glEwJLtkMM4c2Y1F9I0lJU-b/s941/01%20Witzke's%201941.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="941" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDsLXkBzAYdWa8_BuENeszUOHyQ7uDedi2I_jbbp3TZqPeEr4tgynIJPz0J0Ubn89eWmuZGB5siXErc0XAYHezVqDlgmbaDUXgBIdKifOJkWboJi3n1fcSxhezy0DNChKST-cPbgNMZBcVtVR_qLXWLFvWU11xms_ddg0glEwJLtkMM4c2Y1F9I0lJU-b/w640-h482/01%20Witzke's%201941.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Witzks’s bar room in the early 1940s. Fuddy Witzke is behind the bar on the right, the shorter of the two men.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Becoming Fuddy</span></u></b><br />August Herman Friedrich “Fuddy” Witzke was born in Oshkosh on July 19, 1886. He was raised on 18th Street, just a block away from the saloon that would later bear his name. His parents, Charles and Augusta Witzke, were German-speaking immigrants. So were most of their neighbors. Charles Witzke was a millworker for the Morgan Company and was involved in Southside labor politics. He and his union brethren often rallied at the 17th and Oregon saloon and beer garden. This place was always part of Fuddy’s life.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2KLPWdaK2grImZFkpV5uz8Jm-NdPK28cqzHuLAushSeDisA2n-gmbIortaiJZ_ZQIhzlDl-1wGVDHckNsm-FMDArulTxYdDoxASktLrPQ1ahtFNhZjn89Oxjg_Lkyj2wedYA58unZcStP-njUffWfDni1eHxnEqeViSuCztZ48o9XZdDRXoPa2ZLSRAb/s888/02%201911-05-04.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="888" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2KLPWdaK2grImZFkpV5uz8Jm-NdPK28cqzHuLAushSeDisA2n-gmbIortaiJZ_ZQIhzlDl-1wGVDHckNsm-FMDArulTxYdDoxASktLrPQ1ahtFNhZjn89Oxjg_Lkyj2wedYA58unZcStP-njUffWfDni1eHxnEqeViSuCztZ48o9XZdDRXoPa2ZLSRAb/w640-h206/02%201911-05-04.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 5, 1911. At this time, Theodore Bork was the proprietor of the saloon and beer garden.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Fuddy quit school at 13 and followed his father into the mills. His first job was at the Campbell & Cameron box factory. The boy walked an hour every morning from his home on 18th Street to his job in the factory next to Campbell Creek.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolsG6JHWig0vmnQ5YgUPTwPXhEaH-yxgCgoDLMsZAJt2yBoLWHfORjVCOR3M5JV9uuYYxOwJbMU3ayC6G7g-vkp9YW0jkpjIRgs4T460TRleReckxm0VoreH0lBu1jIj5US0KrCRP27a72wrZoDeilgsd9fhHnMzMUATv4Pq5qo3q1dXC9-w8pq68q9U0/s1249/03%20Campbell-Cameron%20Co.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="1249" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolsG6JHWig0vmnQ5YgUPTwPXhEaH-yxgCgoDLMsZAJt2yBoLWHfORjVCOR3M5JV9uuYYxOwJbMU3ayC6G7g-vkp9YW0jkpjIRgs4T460TRleReckxm0VoreH0lBu1jIj5US0KrCRP27a72wrZoDeilgsd9fhHnMzMUATv4Pq5qo3q1dXC9-w8pq68q9U0/w640-h250/03%20Campbell-Cameron%20Co.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The foot bridge over Campbell Creek leading to the Campbell & Cameron box factory. It was the last leg of Fuddy’s daily journey to work.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />He grew up and found a marginally better job at Diamond Match. And from there, he drifted to the McMillen Company. By age 25, he had a dozen years of factory time under his belt. That was enough.<br /><br />In 1911, Fuddy got a job tending bar for Louis Clute at his saloon on 7th Street. Clute’s place was an Oshkosh Brewing Company tied house. OBC liked what it saw in Fuddy. In May 1914, the brewery recruited the 28-year-old bartender for its showcase saloon at 17th and Oregon. Hereafter, it was called Witzke’s.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFd0zEaV9f646-NSAWfEMRDT0qEs9_Y0-Z7SZkLgvmR2YJYKCFi6RBLHgnuYdluMK65t8H0FwYUc0MVOnG1xgTGxhjZbGitDhgqAkJVBIFPW0_vgS85k6f8sMiw99G_7VAtlIlrC-VegeHPPPK5y6KgdLg4mYgsN6ieQqRK7cjP4Tdl4bTXarvfdhamiO/s697/05%20Witzke%20Glass.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFd0zEaV9f646-NSAWfEMRDT0qEs9_Y0-Z7SZkLgvmR2YJYKCFi6RBLHgnuYdluMK65t8H0FwYUc0MVOnG1xgTGxhjZbGitDhgqAkJVBIFPW0_vgS85k6f8sMiw99G_7VAtlIlrC-VegeHPPPK5y6KgdLg4mYgsN6ieQqRK7cjP4Tdl4bTXarvfdhamiO/w368-h640/05%20Witzke%20Glass.jpg" width="368" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bar glass from Augie Witzke’s Tavern. The address, 1701 Oregon, reflects the old numbering system in Oshkosh. That address is now 1700 Oregon.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />At Witzke’s you could get any beer you wanted. So long as it was brewed by the Oshkosh Brewing Company. But that seems to have been about the only limitation the brewery placed upon its new tenant. Witzke made the place his own.<br /><br />He lived up to his nickname. Fuddy was 5’6” tall, 170 pounds, and reliably grouchy. But he was a good man. His customers leaned on him when they had trouble. He’d bail them out of jail. He’d use his connections to get them jobs. People trusted him. No one more so than his wife, Ella.<br /><br />They probably met at Diamond Match in 1907 when they both worked there. Fuddy was 21 then. Ella was 17. She had a one-year-old daughter named Wilma and had just gotten divorced. Her former husband had beaten her repeatedly. The last beating was just before Christmas 1905. Ella was five months pregnant with Wilma at the time.<br /><br />Fuddy and Ella were married in July 1914, a couple of months after he had gotten the saloon at 17th and Oregon. Fuddy adopted Wilma, and the three of them moved into the apartment connected to the bar.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyjqfIT9Eh6bZsruniWjvWfx6CFempzYR6rOs-pTkK1hpyV0re3mscTo4svlA6pvVtpFdHs8B8rp6-G_sZ3vSobwlshHYKIs8t6Fe9jSo6qllBuZwL2tVvRgs9w5-z8S_FuE6BriNVE5xXolqZo15TtuTMDWncPgo1ESJwwEbYxYo7R-AcgpGJhU0s7R0/s1728/06%20early%20Witzke's.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1232" data-original-width="1728" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyjqfIT9Eh6bZsruniWjvWfx6CFempzYR6rOs-pTkK1hpyV0re3mscTo4svlA6pvVtpFdHs8B8rp6-G_sZ3vSobwlshHYKIs8t6Fe9jSo6qllBuZwL2tVvRgs9w5-z8S_FuE6BriNVE5xXolqZo15TtuTMDWncPgo1ESJwwEbYxYo7R-AcgpGJhU0s7R0/w640-h456/06%20early%20Witzke's.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuddy Witzke behind his bar, circa 1915.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />These were salad days for Fuddy and Ella Witzke. The saloon ran seven days a week. If Fuddy skipped out on a Saturday morning to go ice fishing, Ella would pull duty behind the bar. The Witzkes leaned into the traditions that had long ago made the place so popular with southsiders. Right down to the annual Labor Day dance and picnic in the beer garden.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqf5ZK2Oe6TJwVG3Ayz5orAlZT9u20GW8hgc3whLoTV_EQoeAQ3aPZWw8aRhTK79Q9LF8nnYIyteMxJ2Wc9rmHn5SU9JHhIMuAk4YEJcNNe3-ytvTsZWIaNvATijAItxgDkZOCP1qE99jHsOuWFhY3fDIjgCv51nQGFMHXlFEV7eb2T4f6dRh8S8Kxi8v/s737/07%201914-09-05%20Labor%20Day%20Dance.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="737" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqf5ZK2Oe6TJwVG3Ayz5orAlZT9u20GW8hgc3whLoTV_EQoeAQ3aPZWw8aRhTK79Q9LF8nnYIyteMxJ2Wc9rmHn5SU9JHhIMuAk4YEJcNNe3-ytvTsZWIaNvATijAItxgDkZOCP1qE99jHsOuWFhY3fDIjgCv51nQGFMHXlFEV7eb2T4f6dRh8S8Kxi8v/w640-h586/07%201914-09-05%20Labor%20Day%20Dance.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 5, 1914.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Undry Land</span></u></b><br />The high times turned into hard times with the arrival of Prohibition in 1920. Fuddy had been gearing up for this. The previous summer, he purchased a license to sell soft drinks. It allowed him to keep his saloon open after the dry law went into effect. But Fuddy could not have cared less about soft drinks. Every bar owner in Oshkosh knew that you couldn’t make the rent selling soda. Witzke’s became a speakeasy. <br /><br />The cops in Oshkosh showed little interest in Prohibition violations. Even the mayor, Arthur McHenry, was against the new law, saying that “the City of Oshkosh was not in sympathy with Prohibition enforcement.” Oshkosh ran wide open that first year. By the summer of 1921, the city had grown notorious as a place where Prohibition did not apply. And that brought the feds to town.<br /><br />Federal agents made their first major raids in Oshkosh on the Friday evening of August 26, 1921. They aimed their initial thrusts at the most prominent targets. On the northside, they hit the Annex Thirst Parlor (now Oblio’s Lounge). On the Southside they headed for Witzke’s.<br /><br />The feds poured through the door to find Witzke mixing drinks from a tumbler of moonshine. He was ready for this. He just needed to give the tumbler a nudge. It would drop into the sink and send the liquor down the drain. Fuddy’s plan failed. The feds said he was so alarmed by their sudden appearance that Witzke forgot his trick. <br /><br /></div><div>They arrested Fuddy and took him to the city jail. He pleaded guilty when his trial came up in September. The district attorney recommended the minimum penalty: $100 (about $900 today). Fuddy could turn on the charm if he needed to. The DA commented that Witzke had been “very fair and decent in this matter.” Fuddy paid the fine and went straight back to his bar.<br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Man with the Moon</span></u></b><br />The striking building at 17th and Oregon was an advantage in the heady days before Prohibition. Standing tall at the south entrance to the Southside, Witzke’s Saloon could not be missed. But the prominence became a liability when liquor became illegal. As a speakeasy, Witzke’s was too conspicuous. He got caught again in 1924.<br /><br />The agents rushed in at about 7 pm on the Monday evening of April 28th. They found Witzke holding two quarts of moonshine. They searched Fuddy and Ella’s apartment and found another bottle of liquor on the kitchen table. They hauled Fuddy to jail where he said he’d just as soon plead guilty now and skip the trial. Fuddy changed his tune when they told him this second offense would mean mandatory jail time. <br /><br />At his trial, Witzke asked for leniency. He said he was quitting the business and promised to stop selling bootleg liquor. The judge didn’t even bother to comment. He slapped Witzke with a $300 fine (about $5,000 in today’s money) and sent him to the county jail for 30 days of hard labor. Witzke served his sentence, went back home, and reopened his speakeasy. But he was cagier now. He pulled off a six-year run before they got him again.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0LlyffXChN6Yd91536_yG5acOeGTjqYzbFMCylSZeCaxFYaF-Oc7_wUaBVF7DrRLbTr5u3k5mrrgRkyj_JAf6IgvcFNj6DSG-AggWunIhbt4I1ov6NE0CMNOgsv2vaB2tLea9wK6zoTCbd7ybtxYQ80Hh2FvduR86DBjYs6pbBhWNEJ-RQvx3PzzgNNV/s1801/08%201931-10-19%20Headline.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="1801" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0LlyffXChN6Yd91536_yG5acOeGTjqYzbFMCylSZeCaxFYaF-Oc7_wUaBVF7DrRLbTr5u3k5mrrgRkyj_JAf6IgvcFNj6DSG-AggWunIhbt4I1ov6NE0CMNOgsv2vaB2tLea9wK6zoTCbd7ybtxYQ80Hh2FvduR86DBjYs6pbBhWNEJ-RQvx3PzzgNNV/w640-h150/08%201931-10-19%20Headline.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />In the fall of 1931, federal agents made a series of raids on speakeasies in Oshkosh. There had been rumblings for weeks that a housecleaning was in the works. On October 17, a squad of 29 agents invaded the city. Of course, they paid a visit to their old buddy Fuddy. But he wasn’t home.<br /><br />He had stepped away for a moment, asking his friend Henry Drew to watch the bar. Fuddy walked out, and an undercover federal agent walked in. The agent called for a beer. It was the first beer Henry Drew poured as a bartender. It was also the last. The agent immediately arrested Drew. A reporter saw his arrival at the city jail. “His jaws and knees shook noticeably. ‘Heck of a note,’ he remarked, ‘J-j-just doing a favor for a friend.’”<br /><br />The feds met up with Fuddy the following day. His case was settled in May, 1932. Witzke was fined $250 and handed over to an officer from the House of Corrections in Milwaukee to serve six months behind bars.<br /><br /></div><div><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Free at Last</span></u></b><br />Things were getting better when he got back to Oshkosh in late 1932. Prohibition was being dismantled. In April 1933, beer became legal again. Full repeal came at the end of the year. But by then, Prohibition had changed everything for the saloon keepers. Fuddy could see that through his back door.<br /><br />The dry law led to the closing of the beer garden that had accompanied the saloon for decades. People in Oshkosh did not stop drinking during Prohibition, but they wouldn’t do it in a park in broad daylight. In 1927, the Oshkosh Brewing Company sold the beer garden to a charity group. The pavilion later became home to the Florian Lampert Post of the Veterans of Foreign Wars.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuX8BP4RbSp-OghrMB5OdbrEBOZWb4bjLXAMCK8LSyjpGua8NCjJOLERVGQnWsL2-xsSKHT8IvNSaQgarPXKbLCIQftU6Dov-xXPy7C3zO6b9rOAnf7d4A6vQ6j5p4MWz1z9ElOIA6UUpt08anXLihJak9pdw1atnKHgZp2oSjfZccsXp7ynRS58eKpye/s1296/09%20Beer%20Garden.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1296" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuX8BP4RbSp-OghrMB5OdbrEBOZWb4bjLXAMCK8LSyjpGua8NCjJOLERVGQnWsL2-xsSKHT8IvNSaQgarPXKbLCIQftU6Dov-xXPy7C3zO6b9rOAnf7d4A6vQ6j5p4MWz1z9ElOIA6UUpt08anXLihJak9pdw1atnKHgZp2oSjfZccsXp7ynRS58eKpye/w640-h400/09%20Beer%20Garden.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The site of the beer garden pavilion on the south side of Seventeenth Avenue near Oregon Street as it is today.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Oshkosh Brewing Company also shed many of its saloon properties during Prohibition. The brewery sold Witzke’s in 1930. After 16 hard years there, Fuddy became the owner of the building. It would remain his until his death in 1969.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLk8CDR5f8JbH4VmIFpkQ4JmJ9UHGNRUtimUYMwVOmy4bVVyvMXaQEXn7-5pKeZjuynvaFoxgYOwYJ6MI_xCtiNjW08I3f_YV6MQUNJ14viBCkcEzUWHdAHEoU9ka2bY-yuLrsVUTBs0vSGlDeqhMYIpsZeJW93n4JqIAVaL_tsMdo-gBQusc6i5RHthP/s1149/10%20Witzke%20card%20.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="1149" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLk8CDR5f8JbH4VmIFpkQ4JmJ9UHGNRUtimUYMwVOmy4bVVyvMXaQEXn7-5pKeZjuynvaFoxgYOwYJ6MI_xCtiNjW08I3f_YV6MQUNJ14viBCkcEzUWHdAHEoU9ka2bY-yuLrsVUTBs0vSGlDeqhMYIpsZeJW93n4JqIAVaL_tsMdo-gBQusc6i5RHthP/w640-h358/10%20Witzke%20card%20.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Fuddy retired from his bar in 1966. He was 79 years old. But his retirement was more of an easing up than a hard stop. Fuddy and Ella still lived in the apartment attached to the tavern, and Fuddy still dropped in at the bar to pour beer now and then. His presence at 17th and Oregon lingered even after his death. From 1914 until its closing in 2019, the tavern was never known as anything other than Witzke’s.<br /><br /><i>This post is the second in a series of three stories about the history of Witzke’s. The first story (<a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-garden-where-witzkes-grew.html" target="_blank">The Garden Where Witzke's Grew</a>) was published on November 5th. Part 3,<a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/12/the-unmaking-of-witzkes.html" target="_blank"> the Unmaking of Witzke's</a>, was published on December 3. If you would like to receive an update when I release new content, send an email to OshkoshBeer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject box. Your email address will never be shared or sold.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-79289049202472967072023-11-09T10:00:00.001-06:002023-11-09T10:00:41.579-06:00Fifth Ward... Six Years.Fifth Ward Brewing in Oshkosh is celebrating its Sixth Anniversary this week. And every year around this time I snap a picture of the brewery’s founders, Ian Wenger and Zach Clark, in front of their tap handles. Here we go again with another round of Fifth Ward.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNXhrKwLKhWbMIFduka-2-t86_9Y3crwlZFwRfr6ViILspYpq6BjM-upG1gfyaqIhs64o6IUkCU1OX6JGaP7D8EuZvnUwurOGQxdXmCQ1Hd4-4VsUDGpTB3c1KAyCqh002qLMPKr2WXVtBWYvFWTbLMWtPIaLF0s0Be-pOCzSyQGPKDfiM5jBuL_7KyN-/s640/2017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNXhrKwLKhWbMIFduka-2-t86_9Y3crwlZFwRfr6ViILspYpq6BjM-upG1gfyaqIhs64o6IUkCU1OX6JGaP7D8EuZvnUwurOGQxdXmCQ1Hd4-4VsUDGpTB3c1KAyCqh002qLMPKr2WXVtBWYvFWTbLMWtPIaLF0s0Be-pOCzSyQGPKDfiM5jBuL_7KyN-/w640-h480/2017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ian Wenger (left) and Zach Clark on opening night at the Fifth Ward Taproom, November 12, 2017.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z21UYLu2bSHqQfDWjAFb1_nJzalECqn5pL5bv0OoEMJUKVQoDNVgDbygTnmGH3QPbZRSkigqVbWzfmmBqCEqJHb8xD0HHCsPVOaSHx0lfPutHxCzLivZFDFbKmyZ8mcCVOelTwVr_knXaoQh7QEXF-aWp6nRubsrd034hmkewY0saPi5GKyQQiPLv3ya/s640/2018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z21UYLu2bSHqQfDWjAFb1_nJzalECqn5pL5bv0OoEMJUKVQoDNVgDbygTnmGH3QPbZRSkigqVbWzfmmBqCEqJHb8xD0HHCsPVOaSHx0lfPutHxCzLivZFDFbKmyZ8mcCVOelTwVr_knXaoQh7QEXF-aWp6nRubsrd034hmkewY0saPi5GKyQQiPLv3ya/w640-h480/2018.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 7, 2018.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEapyp9B4FgsZ-mIMb-DGZ3MdHYU0u0XV89Qyl820PqvO102nPulGPJ5UzJoYq38_0sA2HI3DJdvINsK7b4Sn3gYN1X2MKiwzx9caHcPUi1E1NAaAb1_ZWvqGznHs4_PbMUBdpseBHbnbOmP_Xb3vs1Px0s0dswz6jP35WKSZTY12xuoPkCRFg3prZC2DY/s640/2019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="640" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEapyp9B4FgsZ-mIMb-DGZ3MdHYU0u0XV89Qyl820PqvO102nPulGPJ5UzJoYq38_0sA2HI3DJdvINsK7b4Sn3gYN1X2MKiwzx9caHcPUi1E1NAaAb1_ZWvqGznHs4_PbMUBdpseBHbnbOmP_Xb3vs1Px0s0dswz6jP35WKSZTY12xuoPkCRFg3prZC2DY/w640-h498/2019.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 4, 2019.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64GV0Lkmy6mCso70wVOIkxa6UwUVxIpkvLmSvEj3RusRX8Z-6C63oXSiWKBGPui_FErxijFECnkOBCdQiKQKkDxP-9X3ffB8LGq4z_oxqUJnljP_4TiNwad7XCV2aXp8lW1ZF6Xk-zOLLFJAdctmrLR3dkCx0PJRjip7NFRzK_LI7AcHbyOVAgplFhzSJ/s640/2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64GV0Lkmy6mCso70wVOIkxa6UwUVxIpkvLmSvEj3RusRX8Z-6C63oXSiWKBGPui_FErxijFECnkOBCdQiKQKkDxP-9X3ffB8LGq4z_oxqUJnljP_4TiNwad7XCV2aXp8lW1ZF6Xk-zOLLFJAdctmrLR3dkCx0PJRjip7NFRzK_LI7AcHbyOVAgplFhzSJ/w640-h480/2020.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 10, 2020.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFLdWJ0vGUmJgEyGBJXcggGZZPvlQY2hywq0D_FlC6ceGxF3lt8G9w5AuUz8rhvQkL8Jd3ThBdVr6KLV4STY-ZAwW9QDpoDCjFAGd3xsQ3RmdML-Dmfgyi2THfLlX_GAg9L49pSLc0I3PyER3CfQiJ2OC8uncof88SVM4bWQEIcAqMdLrPGeMtBY1uBq2/s640/2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="640" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFLdWJ0vGUmJgEyGBJXcggGZZPvlQY2hywq0D_FlC6ceGxF3lt8G9w5AuUz8rhvQkL8Jd3ThBdVr6KLV4STY-ZAwW9QDpoDCjFAGd3xsQ3RmdML-Dmfgyi2THfLlX_GAg9L49pSLc0I3PyER3CfQiJ2OC8uncof88SVM4bWQEIcAqMdLrPGeMtBY1uBq2/w640-h514/2021.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 28, 2021.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMGmBUVWxBZiTQ4ALWZIorrfch4dPVJSo6iKc3JvANQs91oLfMr3gGhAreVVzqCbWaaBg3v-ngyYzPDhiH_vwdgvWaNnWbiuSwBP5WeJPoVMeCg3QimfcvQzGo1OHl-PZyLhXGIYkqf8JIiI03qKg0SgP_GwonErXa69kwpfnMe1P5H9d9sNTLRWZhURj/s640/2022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="640" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMGmBUVWxBZiTQ4ALWZIorrfch4dPVJSo6iKc3JvANQs91oLfMr3gGhAreVVzqCbWaaBg3v-ngyYzPDhiH_vwdgvWaNnWbiuSwBP5WeJPoVMeCg3QimfcvQzGo1OHl-PZyLhXGIYkqf8JIiI03qKg0SgP_GwonErXa69kwpfnMe1P5H9d9sNTLRWZhURj/w640-h524/2022.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2022</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3twkwFKK3jEMzTPUZoghoqkFtRxHURw-VVP4ptku3CwircUSC6FzVx3aaAs2ZRWIiKuY8C-dfcbonGLCJRMBMHmJIOIxwYFFmBhyv-ngdRIR9xiS12i5-RE4WRkAWJ2ULNWH45q_10cUB8RolfpE-RJ2dsM_f-xBlOo6m5PiFNOPdGJs6tOdGhlDuAXW/s1080/2023-11-09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="1080" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3twkwFKK3jEMzTPUZoghoqkFtRxHURw-VVP4ptku3CwircUSC6FzVx3aaAs2ZRWIiKuY8C-dfcbonGLCJRMBMHmJIOIxwYFFmBhyv-ngdRIR9xiS12i5-RE4WRkAWJ2ULNWH45q_10cUB8RolfpE-RJ2dsM_f-xBlOo6m5PiFNOPdGJs6tOdGhlDuAXW/w640-h562/2023-11-09.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 9, 2023.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-20239225221233902912023-11-05T04:20:00.020-06:002023-12-03T13:22:35.566-06:00The Garden Where Witzke's GrewThere’s a non-certified landmark at 17th and Oregon. And it’s falling apart.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1bo0v17AWNOu50gXe_H0FswXaggUBW61g_svVMvkoxBCO2zSf3nXxc3EhTSARcYqiK47JXb7sERoi09LoHnpG5l01pPp-wIRKnshAB16Xg5cXiRokF7PFHAjSSQ231x6NtDYGkdCMChixEckmOXC7xo-7RLDIU7stHTitS0D0XiC2Ld5h79507jIm2SN/s1200/01%20Witzke's%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="1200" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1bo0v17AWNOu50gXe_H0FswXaggUBW61g_svVMvkoxBCO2zSf3nXxc3EhTSARcYqiK47JXb7sERoi09LoHnpG5l01pPp-wIRKnshAB16Xg5cXiRokF7PFHAjSSQ231x6NtDYGkdCMChixEckmOXC7xo-7RLDIU7stHTitS0D0XiC2Ld5h79507jIm2SN/w640-h382/01%20Witzke's%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The abandoned Witzke’s Bar at 1700 Oregon Street.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />That building is the last remnant of a historically important site. This isn’t just another forsaken tavern property. This corner was the cultural home of Oshkosh's southside. The story that follows will be the first in a series of three about the history of this place and how it came to its current predicament. <br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Enter the Garden</span></u></b><br />Like so many of the early Oshkosh saloons, this one was born in a grocery store. It started in the spring of 1873 after an immigrant from Mecklenburg, Germany bought the spacious, empty lot at the southeast corner of 17th and Oregon. His name was Henry Schmidt. He was 43, and he had recently closed a saloon he’d been running on Main Street.<br /><br />Schmidt had a lot more room down on Oregon. His new property contained better than an acre of land. On the corner of the lot he built a boxy, two-storied, wood-framed structure. Schmidt, his wife, Maria, and their three children lived in the rooms upstairs. Below, they put in a grocery and saloon. <br /><br />The grocery/saloon combo was already becoming commonplace on the southside. What made this corner different was the field out back where Schmidt planted a beer garden. Southsiders would gather there for the next 40 years.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWf3g25nsFmf2oa5A-jKIvgKJ1KF4Xi6zudRMZKAvl4auNknBBKxaF0s_SfdqL9r8QYECky284GVrRwQVPZozHVVWE7zapSDTrmipId2LTgWpnqSgqWya4enxtJA0J0V704SFOP_53fWWxQPkquORNOXycWmYsNB6uDiKcEu6FvKHQm3nAYJ8OuaOlw9m/s1795/02%201890%20Witze%20Sanborn%20Beer%20Garden.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="1795" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWf3g25nsFmf2oa5A-jKIvgKJ1KF4Xi6zudRMZKAvl4auNknBBKxaF0s_SfdqL9r8QYECky284GVrRwQVPZozHVVWE7zapSDTrmipId2LTgWpnqSgqWya4enxtJA0J0V704SFOP_53fWWxQPkquORNOXycWmYsNB6uDiKcEu6FvKHQm3nAYJ8OuaOlw9m/w640-h426/02%201890%20Witze%20Sanborn%20Beer%20Garden.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An 1890 Sanborn map with the grocery, saloon, dancing pavilion, and beer garden at 17th and Oregon.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Schmidt sold the property in 1883, but the essence of the place never changed. The proprietors who came after him were also immigrants from Germanic lands. There were a lot of such folks flocking to Oshkosh. <br /><br />By the 1870s, more than 30 percent of the city’s population was foreign born. The greatest concentration was south of the river, where migrants from Central Europe made up the majority. With them came their culture of pleasure. The saloon and beer garden at 17th and Oregon was a welcoming spot where they could relax, foster a sense of community, and feel at home again.<br /><br />The name of the beer garden changed with each succeeding proprietor. First, it was Schmidt’s Garden, and when he left it became Thom’s Garden. After Augusta Thom took over the business, she renamed it the White Clover Summer Garden. Later, it was Scherck's Grove, Abrams Beer Garden, and then Bork’s Park. Whatever the name, the beer garden was always about more than beer. <br /><br />This was the southside’s summer resort. Music and dancing were almost always part of the attraction. The Sunday afternoon sessions featured Oshkosh’s most popular bands. Among them were the Arion Band, the American Cornet Band, and the Acme Orchestra.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BOr6EdGP4fwzAQddvDnmsTdfvp3T-CG1B_xuKqg0hSdOj-r3A9J35ZY5JCitEBBuEWkp_bkICt9kO671bPE-6PVbwmDgV8knPxeYe8GzCZsoSy-_nv627L8wt2DS8pdpCH4tD8I3zitoJ6aDDkpy6oOh7O1KLjPBOljyhYoTigbMWDeBJGvL4zfW2rVc/s1296/03%20Arion.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1296" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BOr6EdGP4fwzAQddvDnmsTdfvp3T-CG1B_xuKqg0hSdOj-r3A9J35ZY5JCitEBBuEWkp_bkICt9kO671bPE-6PVbwmDgV8knPxeYe8GzCZsoSy-_nv627L8wt2DS8pdpCH4tD8I3zitoJ6aDDkpy6oOh7O1KLjPBOljyhYoTigbMWDeBJGvL4zfW2rVc/w640-h490/03%20Arion.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Arion Orchestra. <i>Photo courtesy of Bob Bergman</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />If there wasn’t music, there might be boxing matches, gymnastics exhibitions, or roller skating. There were Oktoberfest celebrations in fall, and on May Days and Labor Days crowds would gather there to hear pro-labor speakers urging them to organize for better pay and working conditions.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyrybXX8fnwN6YufvUh4zGF5QX0Oz41IcyJTAxZJLF5AsIvIfOMOwstdAACy6AITnFgTjfJwXoZdeCB_0zJe8AVp6RLQGgvux_DDvNjvD484j5WZ21DyricT4x0a42voCawzfi8Yafyw_ULqIKGYp753PPBbWxb4H-ecNzKg5FNZwdGSizjYbS8NLgJaU/s1224/04%20Bork%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1224" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyrybXX8fnwN6YufvUh4zGF5QX0Oz41IcyJTAxZJLF5AsIvIfOMOwstdAACy6AITnFgTjfJwXoZdeCB_0zJe8AVp6RLQGgvux_DDvNjvD484j5WZ21DyricT4x0a42voCawzfi8Yafyw_ULqIKGYp753PPBbWxb4H-ecNzKg5FNZwdGSizjYbS8NLgJaU/w640-h414/04%20Bork%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer Garden events in the early 1900s when it was run by Theodore Bork.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">A Noise from the Northside</span></u></b><br />The free-flowing Gemütlichkeit didn’t sit well with Yankee elites living north of the river. Complaints from the American-born upper crust were common from the start. In the summer of 1880, the Oshkosh <i>Daily Northwestern</i>, ever the advocate of the bosses, ran a slanted article suggesting the city council should shut the place down. The paper smeared the beer-garden goers describing them as “the roughs who congregate there every Sunday.” The so-called “roughs” included women, children, and people of every age.<br /><br />The bigotry was served with a side of moralism. “Our German citizens” at “their beer garden in the south wood” were accused of having too much fun on Sundays. On the north side, they thumped their pulpits and demanded that the Sabbath be kept sacred, free from the stain of vice and worldly concerns. The Southsiders paid no heed. Many of them labored 60-70 hours a week in grim lumber mills. Sunday was the one day they had for themselves. They would spend it as they pleased.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHww71F9zpeSpsm-DlGfIlnVX3Tl05FVfSgdG-Gao2CDHQRMxKljYv9ya9jaQrp1fuAg7Y-0scl_msqu2_7wwcq60m8pBUcefZeH-AARm2uERqAVuIYohKajj545pMAezF1f50mj-ubosvX60wLDO5pPvEKktk0vXLUObrlRspXiyJlKlKLTzZDxKlpoB/s1047/05%20German%20Kriegerverein%20Fest.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1004" data-original-width="1047" height="614" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHww71F9zpeSpsm-DlGfIlnVX3Tl05FVfSgdG-Gao2CDHQRMxKljYv9ya9jaQrp1fuAg7Y-0scl_msqu2_7wwcq60m8pBUcefZeH-AARm2uERqAVuIYohKajj545pMAezF1f50mj-ubosvX60wLDO5pPvEKktk0vXLUObrlRspXiyJlKlKLTzZDxKlpoB/w640-h614/05%20German%20Kriegerverein%20Fest.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Oshkosh branch of the German Kriegerverein in the beer garden, circa 1906. The group was composed of men who served in the German army before their immigration to the United States.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Rise of the Southside</span></u></b><br />The nattering died down by the end of the 1800s. Even the gray <i>Daily Northwestern</i> managed to concede a degree of appreciation for “The German with his long-stemmed pipe and a big stein of beer in front of him, the picture of solid comfort.” But the compliments also missed their mark. On the “Brooklyn” side of town it wasn’t all pipes and beer steins. They were working to create their own rendition of the American Dream. <br /><br />Oregon and South Main streets became the domain of German-speaking merchants and their butcher shops, grocery stores, carriage works, and saloons. Near the beer garden were Oshkosh’s two largest breweries. Both were run by German immigrants who teamed up in 1894 to form the Oshkosh Brewing Company. The President of OBC, Bavarian-born August Horn, decided that the southside’s cherished resort was due for an upgrade.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7bEOiAQLWaHy2s-sJdLSRV9_AkCr5Iz-QL2nNL11biHH1TrNCe7sgoAFPLXXVm1f-Qisf84lWju2tFCpPfAA4uFN_WtcHrGYE0W6F0ZB5KNruidvmSQ57893BsMhvZgYcqLSJxLls9aAar-7KrlwlBfUGlqm8z34KnMSx7otkhJWaocRYR2lvK5_1jhk/s1484/06%20Horn%20Couple.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="968" data-original-width="1484" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7bEOiAQLWaHy2s-sJdLSRV9_AkCr5Iz-QL2nNL11biHH1TrNCe7sgoAFPLXXVm1f-Qisf84lWju2tFCpPfAA4uFN_WtcHrGYE0W6F0ZB5KNruidvmSQ57893BsMhvZgYcqLSJxLls9aAar-7KrlwlBfUGlqm8z34KnMSx7otkhJWaocRYR2lvK5_1jhk/w640-h418/06%20Horn%20Couple.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August Horn and his wife, Amailie.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Oshkosh Brewing Company purchased the saloon and beer garden in January 1897. A wholesale renovation of the property began in the summer of 1901. The beer garden pavilion was replaced with a 600-foot dance hall. Henry Schmidt's old grocery and saloon was gutted and given a Queen Anne makeover. The turret added to the northwest corner of the building remains a familiar beacon more than 120 years later.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbKThd3DMH3W1K3n-6IxpVuPHlSKZWvjS36pZgOjZcg3yjwykgpFXlE5ZZSRF-e27qCZkcyi5MHomxSD_OKscL3x7umSqkpKZ4pQfaTqJCJ6Pby5E0vdY53kODchpA1-U1LFw1O0UHOpJW7lVJvsPd7n0gPG2m53oQpAow5nqXFYgkVku4Uvouk_NU-1a/s1221/07%20Witzke's%20early%201900s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="1221" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbKThd3DMH3W1K3n-6IxpVuPHlSKZWvjS36pZgOjZcg3yjwykgpFXlE5ZZSRF-e27qCZkcyi5MHomxSD_OKscL3x7umSqkpKZ4pQfaTqJCJ6Pby5E0vdY53kODchpA1-U1LFw1O0UHOpJW7lVJvsPd7n0gPG2m53oQpAow5nqXFYgkVku4Uvouk_NU-1a/w640-h428/07%20Witzke's%20early%201900s.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The reconstructed saloon at 17th and Oregon in the early 1900s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqC2fi14CgIipckFmUukXHNkUZOO-GN4grkImRCAdTijVKP12Gf3hX4Fe_j66w5VD0XG8goIdOiSh2l04masfRS1gQ27szrkUD4Oc06qVfPU49qKnJq9iPfRsRk6XzlfQM9FLbbEJ0_N2EjfyQtSJh6urjCn40Tx5b1nueVxv6-hLZQ3MWmeBtuLmBOBq/s747/08%201903%20SAnborn.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="747" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqC2fi14CgIipckFmUukXHNkUZOO-GN4grkImRCAdTijVKP12Gf3hX4Fe_j66w5VD0XG8goIdOiSh2l04masfRS1gQ27szrkUD4Oc06qVfPU49qKnJq9iPfRsRk6XzlfQM9FLbbEJ0_N2EjfyQtSJh6urjCn40Tx5b1nueVxv6-hLZQ3MWmeBtuLmBOBq/w640-h494/08%201903%20SAnborn.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 1903 Sanborn map illustrates the changes to the property.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In 1914, the saloon at 17th and Oregon took on the name that most people in Oshkosh still know it by. “Witzke’s” was coined by August Herman Friedrich “Fuddy” Witzke. He was 33 and cut from the same cloth as the saloon keepers who came to that corner before him. Witzke, though, would face a challenge his predecessors could not have imagined. But they certainly would have admired his response.<br /><br /><i><a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/11/witzkes-wild-years.html" target="_blank">The second part of this story, Witzke's Wild Years, was posted on Sunday, November 19</a>. Part 3, <a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/12/the-unmaking-of-witzkes.html" target="_blank">The Unmaking of Witzke's</a>, was posted on December 3. If you would like to receive an update when I release new content, send me an email at OshkoshBeer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject box. Your email address will never be shared or sold.</i><br /><br />Finally, here’s a chronology of the first 40 years of this historic Oshkosh saloon and beer garden.<br /><br /><b><u>1873-1882: Henry Schmidt</u></b><br />Before moving to the south side, Schmidt ran a saloon on the west side of Main Street near the river. His partner in that venture was a fellow German expat named Conrad Schuri. After closing their saloon, Schuri also moved to the south side and launched a vinegar factory with another German named August Fugleberg. The vinegar factory was on the site of what is now Fugleberg Park at 2000 Doty St.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmwiRidLvY1KiYDwn9ge81gx753lPQMM3al1D2AEzuOkgLwfewB4bU4F94PQr_2UAeXPCyxvllcc2jKRGOnVglOGZ4QhCkVKQvhpjdptXZ0F9yYOuuBkcUhFuhRpu6_OF97DXdI0Wqx2yo5UE9IrrNoWEzBmCaCP317wrwQRD8MUbIx9DxmiKuFzya2yB/s1002/09%201876%20Fugleberg%20&%20Schuri.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="1002" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmwiRidLvY1KiYDwn9ge81gx753lPQMM3al1D2AEzuOkgLwfewB4bU4F94PQr_2UAeXPCyxvllcc2jKRGOnVglOGZ4QhCkVKQvhpjdptXZ0F9yYOuuBkcUhFuhRpu6_OF97DXdI0Wqx2yo5UE9IrrNoWEzBmCaCP317wrwQRD8MUbIx9DxmiKuFzya2yB/w640-h438/09%201876%20Fugleberg%20&%20Schuri.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1876</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Sorry about the diversion, but I’m fascinated by Schuri and that vinegar plant. OK, let’s get back to Henry Schmidt… He bought the 17th and Oregon property on April 8, 1873; just before the great financial panic of that year. The tight money supply may have slowed Schmidt’s plans. It seems he didn’t get the saloon/grocery up and running until 1875. The beer garden was introduced later. By the spring of 1880, though, the beer garden was a vital piece of southside culture.<br /><br />Schmidt sold the business and property in 1882. He moved to Council Bluffs, Iowa where he passed away in 1915.<br /><br /><u><b>1882-1883: Gustav Thom</b></u><br />Gus Thom bought the property from Schmidt on April 22, 1882. Thom was born in 1840 in northern Prussia. He came to America in 1854 and later fought in the Civil War. He was a popular southside figure, having been a city assessor and operator of a grocery store at 12th and Minnesota. His career on Oregon Street was sad and short. In early 1883, he came down with dropsy and experienced a horrific death. His obituary notes, “His limbs swelled to enormous proportions. The disease latterly affected the heart, and for days before his death his sufferings were intense.”<br /><br /><b><u>1883-1887: Augusta and Richard Thom</u></b><br />Augusta Thom took over the business following the death of her husband, Gustav. She was 40 years old at the time. Augusta was among a small number of women who ran saloons in Oshkosh prior to the 1900s. And by all accounts, she was quite successful. She was responsible for re-branding Thom’s Garden as the White Clover Summer Garden. Nice touch! In 1887, Augusta married a former Winnebago County farmer named David Way. She then left Oshkosh to be with Way on his farm in South Dakota. <br /><br />When Augusta left, she put her son Richard in charge. Richard Thom was born in Oshkosh in 1866 and began working in the family business as a teenager. He turned 21 just before taking over the grocery, saloon, and beer garden. But the young man just wasn't into it. He almost immediately leased the business to Charles Scherck.<br /><br /><b><u>1887-1890: Charles Scherck</u></b><br />F. Hans Charles Scherck looked like a good fit for the place. He was born in Prussia in 1836 and had connections to the beer business in Oshkosh, having worked as a cooper (barrel maker) before taking over the saloon. But what looked good on paper was awful in practice. Scherck attracted a rough, thuggish crowd. The bruisers included his son Otto, who liked to sit at his father's bar and throw down a few drinks and then start throwing punches. All the fighting and police activity led to Scherck’s ouster in late summer 1890. And with that, Richard Thom returned to a job he wasn’t all that fond of.<br /><br /><b><u>1890-1896: Richard Thom</u></b><br />Here’s where things get messy…<br />Richard Thom’s second tour seemed to go well enough at first. But things changed after his mother died in 1892. Ownership of the property fell to Richard and his two brothers, Ernst and Gustav Jr. Before long, the Thom Trio had the place mortgaged to the hilt. One of the loans came from Oshkosh whiskey distiller John Thielen. If you were a whiskey drinker in the Thom brother’s saloon, you can bet it was Thielen’s whiskey you were snorting.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwN0azGUwazQSr2Okb32MAeO42SQPMSGETb78KCXSTz6UTGgzxwhMXnU-Krt9CbOSsXXOQPwIhrjyGPEaUFPHnm6VHBurxrhN61P8DM3k9c5DvZwrCPq1Lybvqjf6SRcgFfYWJz1cB4tFrJkDTStnW5u5cR6PEFn2XeAkfMoUtZCQFL4NLTeONGlDtUv2/s381/10%20Badger%20Club%20Whiskey%20Thielen%20Shot%20Glass.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="300" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwN0azGUwazQSr2Okb32MAeO42SQPMSGETb78KCXSTz6UTGgzxwhMXnU-Krt9CbOSsXXOQPwIhrjyGPEaUFPHnm6VHBurxrhN61P8DM3k9c5DvZwrCPq1Lybvqjf6SRcgFfYWJz1cB4tFrJkDTStnW5u5cR6PEFn2XeAkfMoUtZCQFL4NLTeONGlDtUv2/w504-h640/10%20Badger%20Club%20Whiskey%20Thielen%20Shot%20Glass.jpg" width="504" /></a></div><br />The folks at Schlitz Brewing might have sniffed out that the Thom boys had taken on more debt than they could manage. In 1893, word leaked that Schlitz was trying to acquire the property. But before that could happen, Christian Elser finagled his way in. Elser was tight with the folks who ran the Oshkosh Brewing Company. Schlitz got outmaneuvered by Elser when he managed to acquire a majority stake ownership in the property.</div><div><br />Richard and Ernst Thom were still running the bar, but they were running on fumes. They closed the grocery and launched a barbershop in the space. Christian Elser was not impressed. He wedged out the Thom brothers in 1896, and then sold the property to the Oshkosh Brewing Company in 1897. This may have been the plan all along. <br /><br /><b><u>1896-1905: Fred Abrams</u></b><br />Two months after getting title to the property, August Horn of the Oshkosh Brewing Company brought in Fred Abrams to run the saloon and beer garden. Horn and Abrams were old pals. Abrams had been running saloons selling Horn’s beer back when Horn was still running Horn & Schwalm’s Brooklyn Brewery. <br /><br /></div><div>Oshkosh Brewing invested heavily in the saloon and beer garden during the Abrams years. The 1901 reconstruction of the property cost about $5,000 (or about 475,000 in today's money). The brewery made a point of putting its stamp on the fancy, new digs. The Oshkosh Brewing Company name is still on the parapet facing Oregon Street.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlxEUYzwEcHYAqLsUXYRYeR-dMbGRRbLjyELQXhwsiUFAZYPYlzZs0xBo4VKNazLj7cin3tF7hjlwGigspKKjR-6rCI0B3EKrES0o9a9ix_3WXs-1Cp_SsZOxaVCQoskkxkF50JvZGXq9TRlZUJaEhizpOzulRYxVaxnlSZAqbJsMoPKTKrJS4TByg3rwC/s1380/10.5%20OBC%20at%20Witzke's.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="1380" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlxEUYzwEcHYAqLsUXYRYeR-dMbGRRbLjyELQXhwsiUFAZYPYlzZs0xBo4VKNazLj7cin3tF7hjlwGigspKKjR-6rCI0B3EKrES0o9a9ix_3WXs-1Cp_SsZOxaVCQoskkxkF50JvZGXq9TRlZUJaEhizpOzulRYxVaxnlSZAqbJsMoPKTKrJS4TByg3rwC/w640-h270/10.5%20OBC%20at%20Witzke's.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><u>1906-1914: Theodore Bork</u></b><br />Fred Abrams bid adieu to the saloon trade in June 1906. That same month, 36-year-old Theodore Bork quit his job as an Oshkosh cop. Bork’s beat was the southside. He seems to have made surprisingly few enemies during his six-year stint with the night stick. The 6' 3" Bork showed more restraint than his fellow officers of that era. Anyway, Bork handed in his badge and slid behind the bar.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfBejrnGduCwhvIAaNjhZUgs-SU0X8O6mv6MH50NVhjdSDAlJCNgSQ6I7QAUIFzs4MpqfGsDR82RbuZHR_5kuEEi1MGYLu_Bsm5-N8_D4rRTlF2CAos556ICLaPVJuHOEEik5Be6mfR-lRuYsdSngVrgzQx8hJEK_mEAqSuDuZ2tn5EWKlgQhlDv70RT3/s807/11%20Bork%201902.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfBejrnGduCwhvIAaNjhZUgs-SU0X8O6mv6MH50NVhjdSDAlJCNgSQ6I7QAUIFzs4MpqfGsDR82RbuZHR_5kuEEi1MGYLu_Bsm5-N8_D4rRTlF2CAos556ICLaPVJuHOEEik5Be6mfR-lRuYsdSngVrgzQx8hJEK_mEAqSuDuZ2tn5EWKlgQhlDv70RT3/w456-h640/11%20Bork%201902.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theodore Bork, 1902.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />He was just the kind of guy the Oshkosh Brewing Company needed for its showcase estate. Under Bork, both the saloon and beer garden flourished. If you take a peruse through the newspapers of those years, you’ll see a stream of advertising for the Sunday events at Bork’s Park. These were peak years for the southside's favorite gathering place.<br /><br /><i>There’s more to come…</i><br />1914 brings us to the start of the Witzke era. I’ll get to that with the next post in this series. Prost!<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-49759208514476166782023-10-08T04:20:00.027-05:002023-10-08T04:20:00.152-05:00The Last Oshkosh BootleggerAdolph Seibold got caught on Jackson Street trying to move 1,700 gallons of moonshine. The arrests that followed triggered the downfall of the largest syndicate of bootleggers in the State of Wisconsin. Seibold had been flirting with this kind of trouble for years. You could see it coming from a long way off.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbPAQFYaNpIpEibm1pjJpgGp0oXb4HN7QFy6JhM-0MRQC1mNM9w2e-DrKUxhAu7cMB_sCuvgD-yukEWB0aoUIyzH4K2-49plcmxte4z34tIGWeuK1Y9EYlldl9Kpxxb02DrWAnNwLoSP6w5YUAQ_C49_5BonVY3-TenDX5EVmBjhV2HEKX-Ny-luiH9ZO/s1491/01%20Adolph%20Seibold.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1376" data-original-width="1491" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbPAQFYaNpIpEibm1pjJpgGp0oXb4HN7QFy6JhM-0MRQC1mNM9w2e-DrKUxhAu7cMB_sCuvgD-yukEWB0aoUIyzH4K2-49plcmxte4z34tIGWeuK1Y9EYlldl9Kpxxb02DrWAnNwLoSP6w5YUAQ_C49_5BonVY3-TenDX5EVmBjhV2HEKX-Ny-luiH9ZO/w640-h590/01%20Adolph%20Seibold.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Adolph Seibold</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><u>A Son of the Southside</u></b></span><br />Adolph Seibold Jr. was born in Oshkosh in 1894. He was the second child of Adolph Seibold, a Bavarian immigrant, and Theresa Mueller Seibold, who migrated to Oshkosh from Bohemia. The family lived in a home that still stands at what is now 423 W. 14th Avenue.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0IBBLwHSKhJlarjcCyyY491ZI3oDQcEZmhSk2KC5QBYuz4b_7V7ekBlotuY9778SOcYg8YuVxWJAyIW3UTefaSl1QRnUdhIZ6ULGOR90g1K9zchtuaWTSr4JwOHNxps2VyZP2HiBbzhgB-p6HlMWy0wn9iBHVTcFaKrT2G9CPaBFqwWCmqFiwov2mMkE/s1385/02%20719%2014th%20St.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1385" data-original-width="1112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0IBBLwHSKhJlarjcCyyY491ZI3oDQcEZmhSk2KC5QBYuz4b_7V7ekBlotuY9778SOcYg8YuVxWJAyIW3UTefaSl1QRnUdhIZ6ULGOR90g1K9zchtuaWTSr4JwOHNxps2VyZP2HiBbzhgB-p6HlMWy0wn9iBHVTcFaKrT2G9CPaBFqwWCmqFiwov2mMkE/w514-h640/02%20719%2014th%20St.jpg" width="514" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Seibold family home, ca 1935.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Seibold quit school at 15. Like his father, he got a job at a woodworking mill. But the Morgan Company couldn’t hold him. Adolph possessed a restless energy. It led him to a more stimulating job at Chris Genal’s saloon on Oregon Street.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvLnjBQkecdhHy7f_eLj1cEsqCVQF3eJaCrA5O1TJS8C3QpQ6SFYY45PD7A4Oe3gH4z8qNeOZOKzijMXH4kPleRhKkTJTy1IRAWK3qu_rY7MqIVkS6z42zU5UVDKTUJahesmGWOj17dJb4bzDUoAu9WnMdIuLNovCX1GJ0N1ZQUwhoHKVOVy8LgtNbhy0/s3266/1309%20Oregon%20Large.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2928" data-original-width="3266" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvLnjBQkecdhHy7f_eLj1cEsqCVQF3eJaCrA5O1TJS8C3QpQ6SFYY45PD7A4Oe3gH4z8qNeOZOKzijMXH4kPleRhKkTJTy1IRAWK3qu_rY7MqIVkS6z42zU5UVDKTUJahesmGWOj17dJb4bzDUoAu9WnMdIuLNovCX1GJ0N1ZQUwhoHKVOVy8LgtNbhy0/w640-h574/1309%20Oregon%20Large.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1309 Oregon Street, the former saloon of Chris Genal.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Genal’s saloon was launched in 1891 by a beer bottler named Frank Lutz. Around 1904, a pair of bowling alleys were grafted onto the back of the building. The Rahr Brewing Company bought the bar in 1913, turned it into a tied house, and installed Chris Genal as the proprietor. Genal renamed the saloon Elk’s Head Alleys. The name change was probably at the behest of the Rahrs, who had just come out with Elk’s Head Beer. Seibold was there by 1917, slinging mugs of Elk’s Head.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3QISVXTp88-vx_iZsHC91Pa-F9RL4m-iptaCI29T0ysfu6yd_aPvkfAGC3jpUcwKdpb29Aj2DOZ7YnxtMs7XNu6ObcLG_ttGekHoMsPQB0dD8wBRYh7Neq-s8j94Vxcvrh4NCkmXPnZeYUBacUn0KCi5PnZX-UndDGItkfLHuJQLHOraJLBUjntpRlDKy/s1005/04%201916-10-13%20Rahr%20Ad.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1005" data-original-width="754" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3QISVXTp88-vx_iZsHC91Pa-F9RL4m-iptaCI29T0ysfu6yd_aPvkfAGC3jpUcwKdpb29Aj2DOZ7YnxtMs7XNu6ObcLG_ttGekHoMsPQB0dD8wBRYh7Neq-s8j94Vxcvrh4NCkmXPnZeYUBacUn0KCi5PnZX-UndDGItkfLHuJQLHOraJLBUjntpRlDKy/w480-h640/04%201916-10-13%20Rahr%20Ad.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From a 1916 advertisement for Rahr’s Elk’s Head Beer.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Seibold’s first stab at his new vocation came to a sudden end in 1918. It was a hell of a year. In mid-April he got his girlfriend pregnant. She was a 23-year-old northsider named Maude Zwickie. Adolph wasn’t around to see the birth of their child. The conception had coincided with the arrival of his draft notice. July found him in France flung into World War I. Seibold may not have known he was going to be a father.<br /><br />He was assigned to the 6th Division’s supply train and sent to the Western Front. There he endured the Meuse–Argonne offensive, the deadliest battle in the history of the United States Army. More than 350,000 casualties were suffered in 47 days of non-stop fighting. Seibold’s luck held. He came through the war unscathed.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHRklcuilDQlW-SAOylNyg2dZjw8CIVd3FN-XfuiqP-30RasukePCQEnEg5UA0e9ReZ-Ju9qG0RUqVeqRIO8cj-3TQdcy_247EiXemfruA49YkoOVknAa5tH9bxYjc6mYk5gc0pAq6g3Pf0_6l6BF7IDogMEuoc5UXpEHfMI9mTXFvDfXsDmUAWOKqmWsc/s2393/05%20Adolph%20Army%201.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2393" data-original-width="1578" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHRklcuilDQlW-SAOylNyg2dZjw8CIVd3FN-XfuiqP-30RasukePCQEnEg5UA0e9ReZ-Ju9qG0RUqVeqRIO8cj-3TQdcy_247EiXemfruA49YkoOVknAa5tH9bxYjc6mYk5gc0pAq6g3Pf0_6l6BF7IDogMEuoc5UXpEHfMI9mTXFvDfXsDmUAWOKqmWsc/w422-h640/05%20Adolph%20Army%201.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold in France.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />On June 10, 1919, Seibold boarded a ship in Brest, France and began his journey home. He was back in Oshkosh by early July and finally met his daughter Dolores. She was six months old. And at the end of August, Adolph Seibold and Maude Zwickie were married.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJhyKyFJKO1k7I4oucWsiHDAqvSD1fUyrx_uSfKEtQnvmxRNNS-mxH9m0rPQXIRmf4UDNny_xcMJ0HnWXzc4w3euMsZ-SBwxbwuGXfpMmaC-wz7aE_B16uw_a2NXC01_6EnGWQsru9KjQO90cmC3EXnSFHxbGQsXYCEsrTEVs6mnBZGw5wJvr9iSuCB4B/s1915/06%20Wedding%20Day.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1248" data-original-width="1915" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJhyKyFJKO1k7I4oucWsiHDAqvSD1fUyrx_uSfKEtQnvmxRNNS-mxH9m0rPQXIRmf4UDNny_xcMJ0HnWXzc4w3euMsZ-SBwxbwuGXfpMmaC-wz7aE_B16uw_a2NXC01_6EnGWQsru9KjQO90cmC3EXnSFHxbGQsXYCEsrTEVs6mnBZGw5wJvr9iSuCB4B/w640-h418/06%20Wedding%20Day.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maude and Adolph, seated on their wedding day.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Outlaw</span></u></b><br />Seibold returned to a land less free than the one he left in 1918. While he was away, the Federal Government imposed the Wartime Prohibition Act, a draconian measure aimed at crippling the saloon trade. And then came national Prohibition in January 1920. Seibold’s vocation was outlawed. He would be an outlaw for the next 16 years.<br /><br />His old job at Chris Genal’s saloon was waiting for him. Only it wasn’t a saloon anymore. It was a speakeasy. Rahr Brewing still owned the building, but it was up to Genal what to do with it. What he did was get busted.<br /><br />State prohibition agents raided Genal's place in early February 1924. They uncovered a cache of wine, and arrested Chris Genal in his apartment above the bar. In court, Genal said the wine wasn’t his. He said the bar wasn’t his either. Adolph Seibold had taken over. The judge told the prosecutors to get their story straight. The case fell apart, and the charge was dropped.<br /><br />Seibold’s first brush with the sponge squad seemed to bolster his enthusiasm for bucking Prohibition. Elk's Head Alleys ran wide open every night of the week. It was also around this time that Seibold became acquainted with the Wainer Gang.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHpAKbMbZb_Z1ALKD4lGKXfFzc6rwW_zFs99CGovLwJZw0kzhaxujspyQbq7jBu-v4LO32Q5VRuIoQ46Uf4F7GYMiB-DD4aELDfoVRqlVa2Pq_-HOEoztQA6zFJDTo-TkaYdq1ea4VEIoaQ6_aBdXzYZ-4pbKrs2zPTh2jOF1TZx9djcYNF9Np66fP_Ol9/s1158/07%201924-03-27%20%20ElksHead%20Alley.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="1158" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHpAKbMbZb_Z1ALKD4lGKXfFzc6rwW_zFs99CGovLwJZw0kzhaxujspyQbq7jBu-v4LO32Q5VRuIoQ46Uf4F7GYMiB-DD4aELDfoVRqlVa2Pq_-HOEoztQA6zFJDTo-TkaYdq1ea4VEIoaQ6_aBdXzYZ-4pbKrs2zPTh2jOF1TZx9djcYNF9Np66fP_Ol9/w640-h354/07%201924-03-27%20%20ElksHead%20Alley.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>, March 27, 1924. The clipping shows the old address of 1308 Oregon. The address became 1309 Oregon after the city's 1957 lot renumbering.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Wainer Gang</span></u></b><br />The Wainer Gang was formed from a tight group of New London cattlemen making hay from the mire of Prohibition. It started with two Russian-born brothers: Hyman, better known as Heinie, and Louis Wainer. Their younger brother Sam was soon part of the mix, along with the Blink brothers, Donald and Earl. The Blinks had connections in Oshkosh and may have been responsible for bringing Seibold into the fold.<br /><br />The Wainer Gang got into bootlegging with a cow and false-bottom cattle truck. They’d transport moonshine in one-gallon cans hidden under the truck’s false deck. The cow stood on top acting as a blind. The beast acquired its own degree of underworld fame becoming known as the state’s most traveled bovine.<br /><br />The Wainers were soon running scores of trucks hauling liquor from stills in Antigo, Appleton, Fond du Lac, New London, and Galesburg, Illinois. The Appleton still alone consumed over 275,000 pounds of sugar a week. The enterprise grew into Wisconsin’s largest bootlegging ring, and became known as the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. By 1925, the syndicate’s moonshine, beer, and wine were being sold across Wisconsin and into Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska, and the Dakotas.<br /><br />Exactly when Adolph Seibold came on board is not known. He appears to have been at least somewhat involved by 1926. By 1929 he was in deep.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVStVn8cPJqf5NlJaZ8JLA_1lxhMLqLOuc8CnZG5kRhSI0BjJKIDQcp7aAA-i51pNGC86AFWuZoj-WgMDj1wG4EZuWPgbxsHfHlOcgRxMHqELn9SUfbjaOtE-PF3nSRQJ37FYiWy0d674MgjWXtjCAbRdM6RYZf-Ww-eklTjd3CW92k23tYJJuYWiJgRWo/s1028/08%20Adolph.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="892" data-original-width="1028" height="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVStVn8cPJqf5NlJaZ8JLA_1lxhMLqLOuc8CnZG5kRhSI0BjJKIDQcp7aAA-i51pNGC86AFWuZoj-WgMDj1wG4EZuWPgbxsHfHlOcgRxMHqELn9SUfbjaOtE-PF3nSRQJ37FYiWy0d674MgjWXtjCAbRdM6RYZf-Ww-eklTjd3CW92k23tYJJuYWiJgRWo/w640-h556/08%20Adolph.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold in the late 1920s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Seibold ran the Oshkosh hub of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate from a backroom at Elk's Head Alleys. The liquor was routed through a 13-acre farm Seibold bought one mile north of Oshkosh. He told his neighbors that he intended to raise guinea pigs on the farm. He did, in fact, keep guinea pigs, but the rodents served the same purpose as the Wainer’s cow. The little pigs were there to distract from the main objective: the distribution of bootleg alcohol.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIF4oHBPJxZwMXhzXvCxti63R-M8tLwgrFmLntIQQwetnX0X5UeHtoRlVQyLRfjeQONqP32omLIE0rf2hbgRjzobTm-xt7ZbF6JgGSXhPT1tArkW-DVMPArmDnTVM6Vvxd_501zg4J_GURfhI8ZUFemgVO7QXhhWhJz444bykmHSm1oew6v0WoT5yAezvR/s1296/09%20Farm-Loft.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="1296" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIF4oHBPJxZwMXhzXvCxti63R-M8tLwgrFmLntIQQwetnX0X5UeHtoRlVQyLRfjeQONqP32omLIE0rf2hbgRjzobTm-xt7ZbF6JgGSXhPT1tArkW-DVMPArmDnTVM6Vvxd_501zg4J_GURfhI8ZUFemgVO7QXhhWhJz444bykmHSm1oew6v0WoT5yAezvR/w640-h414/09%20Farm-Loft.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seibold’s Farm just north of Oshkosh where US Highway 41 now crosses Highway 110.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><u>All In</u></b></span><br />Maude had given birth to their second child, Arthur, in 1921. In 1928, the family moved into the apartment above Elk's Head Alleys. But by the spring of 1930, running the syndicate’s liquor, the speakeasy, and bowling alley proved to be more than Seibold could keep up with. The real money was in the booze. So he sublet the bar to his friend Joe Dichtl and concentrated on bootlegging.<br /><br />Seibold was enjoying the fruits of his risky business. He purchased property at Plummers Point on Lake Butte des Morts where he kept a summer cottage and boat house. But the money brought with it an ever-present sense of jeopardy. The threat was nearly realized in the summer of 1931.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsVClABsxGuPh5UnHzRe739bTs_RswfCMOm9wskWdI9Zgh6pq22YNCEIvnc9CT2p97qFVbMr7DTVleS3ORkZ6asHcnA8NXw0pVVigHoRmLfEAIeklkaN75Q0nDqL8Au5WPF6qZWkwyfig6OteZUH5p6dqmFj4l4fj-PvRUYSzo8i2qGnxNcPBA6vXLbnv/s1015/10%201931-08-26%20Farm%20Raid.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1015" data-original-width="675" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsVClABsxGuPh5UnHzRe739bTs_RswfCMOm9wskWdI9Zgh6pq22YNCEIvnc9CT2p97qFVbMr7DTVleS3ORkZ6asHcnA8NXw0pVVigHoRmLfEAIeklkaN75Q0nDqL8Au5WPF6qZWkwyfig6OteZUH5p6dqmFj4l4fj-PvRUYSzo8i2qGnxNcPBA6vXLbnv/w426-h640/10%201931-08-26%20Farm%20Raid.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>, August 26, 1931.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />When federal agents swept into Oshkosh on August 25, 1931, they went directly to Seibold’s farm. They discovered a few guinea pigs and 159 gallons of alcohol worth almost $2,400 (or about $47,000 today). They also uncovered more than 4,000 empty tins used for transporting moonshine. What they didn’t find was any trace of Adolph Seibold. The feds claimed that a boy was in charge of the farm and that he ran off before they could grab him.<br /><br />The agents may have been told to get their noses out of Seibold’s affairs. The Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate’s influence allegedly extended deep into the ranks of law enforcement, on both the local and federal levels. In this case, payoffs may have paid off. Though Seibold owned and operated the farm, his name never came up in connection with the raid. The entire matter was dropped.<br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Family Man</span></u></b><br />All the while, Seibold’s family life continued apace. When his mother died in 1931, he moved his family out of the apartment above the speakeasy and into the 14th Street home where he had been raised, and where his father still lived. Adolph’s father would reside with them for the remainder of his life.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4Ac2PM5J-1Qsv4CqBKxtG3RLsKw0L60_pWwN1__6cGbwbSY-nCTvNxTJMktjzT9gXhekCsWQk2LFK-8WDB3FhQ6nCFAxidGj32LnUdgvj_IvRiHa9XO4aBZSpWwsNJprgiLf_u81bh3aB2iTaRA5Vm0kRzQlYfrxoNhSsHhUmtjPzwrYfYMxa3_TAhuB/s1465/11%20Adolph%20Sr-1939.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1465" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4Ac2PM5J-1Qsv4CqBKxtG3RLsKw0L60_pWwN1__6cGbwbSY-nCTvNxTJMktjzT9gXhekCsWQk2LFK-8WDB3FhQ6nCFAxidGj32LnUdgvj_IvRiHa9XO4aBZSpWwsNJprgiLf_u81bh3aB2iTaRA5Vm0kRzQlYfrxoNhSsHhUmtjPzwrYfYMxa3_TAhuB/w472-h640/11%20Adolph%20Sr-1939.jpeg" width="472" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold Sr. at the family home on 14th St.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Adolph Seibold Sr. was born in 1864, and was a Bavarian farmer before coming to America at 19. He could hardly have imagined the things 1931 would show him. In his homeland they were falling under the spell of a lunatic named Adolf. Here in Oshkosh, he lived with an American outlaw named Adolph. His son, at least, didn’t trade in the hate that came to be associated with the name they all shared. Adolph Seibold’s partners, the Wainer brothers, were Jewish.<br /><br />The Seibolds were Catholics. The kids went to school at St. Vincent’s. Aside from Adolph’s underworld occupation, the Seibolds were like most other Southside families. Maude gave birth to their third child, Kenneth, on January 12, 1933. But again, Adolph was taken away when she needed him most.<br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Friday the 13th</span></u></b><br />On January 13, 1933, the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate sent an enormous haul of moonshine through Oshkosh bound for Illinois. It came in what was later described as “a brand new super-size truck and trailer.” The truck carried 31 metal barrels, each holding 55 gallons of moonshine. In all, it was worth about $26,000 (close to $590,000 in today’s money). <br /><br /></div><div>Earl Blink drove the truck. Sam Wainer, acting as guard, tailed him in a sedan. The truck broke down on Jackson Street as it approached New York Avenue.<br /><br /></div><div>Sam Wainer called for help. Shortly after, another syndicate truck arrived. It was never determined how or when Seibold came on the scene. He may have been traveling with either Blink or Wainer. Or he may have driven the replacement truck. In any case, the three of them went to work transferring the moonshine into the new vehicle. <br /><br /></div><div>Each barrel weighed near 500 pounds. It was close to midnight. They didn’t know that federal agents were trolling in Oshkosh. They found out the hard way. Blink, Seibold, and Wainer got snared when a car carrying two agents came cruising down Jackson. The feds knew at once that they had landed a big one.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMZFBBlQRUaEnjLj3dyUx8jf0XmcK149KJM3RKdE6HiyVxfoqhWbA5dOEuNM0HlvoUSYy4KGRh9VovRcB-my3WhdOKLU05DzKc2anu1lSXunvdaJxbehwsOVl7s8uzSo4mdEY23FFd6ljEiDhHwIIHQwgBiirMtQeM4Fsye1yhCuq6iDetbrjoMs_Mwsr/s1024/12%201933-01-14%20APC%20Headline.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="1024" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMZFBBlQRUaEnjLj3dyUx8jf0XmcK149KJM3RKdE6HiyVxfoqhWbA5dOEuNM0HlvoUSYy4KGRh9VovRcB-my3WhdOKLU05DzKc2anu1lSXunvdaJxbehwsOVl7s8uzSo4mdEY23FFd6ljEiDhHwIIHQwgBiirMtQeM4Fsye1yhCuq6iDetbrjoMs_Mwsr/w640-h574/12%201933-01-14%20APC%20Headline.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Appleton Post-Crescent</i>, Saturday, January 14, 1933.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />All three were arrested and taken to the city jail. Seibold protested. He told the feds he was an innocent bystander, a good samaritan helping a couple of fellows in need. Sam Wainer gave them a false name. The young Wainer was in a bad way, with an outstanding violation from a raid on a New London whiskey depository six months earlier. Another charge would mean jail.<br /><br />The agents knew they were onto something more than a local moonshine outfit. They called in the head of the Milwaukee bureau. He arrived the following morning and identified Sam Wainer, calling him “One of the bigshot bootleggers in Wisconsin.” The downfall of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate was underway.<br /><br /></div><div>Blink, Seibold, and Wainer were denied bail and sent to Green Bay. They were held over the weekend in the Brown County jail. They were arraigned in federal court on Monday afternoon, charged with possession and transportation of alcohol. Later that evening, all three were granted bail and released. Adolph Seibold went home to Oshkosh and met his new son.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPNoKz61gclLvHTHiZnWCYFQ5b58Bs5ewkrnTQKFY4i_q0Lsz6xLHxZO3l7OSkg3b-834BUigqi1ZbUuAomhYNaublB4erW3lp6sC-MwBFVwaYSU518MMuvgD3zRXfCg9UJ3gWF5BcaHQDeUZeIBObRXie7CGJmA1HHLBGA3UKHSDpNKI1OO2JUPGrb00/s1398/13%20Adolph%20w-Baby%20Ken.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1398" data-original-width="1152" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPNoKz61gclLvHTHiZnWCYFQ5b58Bs5ewkrnTQKFY4i_q0Lsz6xLHxZO3l7OSkg3b-834BUigqi1ZbUuAomhYNaublB4erW3lp6sC-MwBFVwaYSU518MMuvgD3zRXfCg9UJ3gWF5BcaHQDeUZeIBObRXie7CGJmA1HHLBGA3UKHSDpNKI1OO2JUPGrb00/w528-h640/13%20Adolph%20w-Baby%20Ken.jpg" width="528" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold with his son Kenneth.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Syndicate</span></u></b><br />Back in Oshkosh, Seibold was at loose ends. He had a wife, three children, and a father to support. And no job. He couldn’t go back to the speakeasy. Even a minor liquor violation would land him in the House of Corrections. But at the end of 1933, the scene changed. Prohibition was repealed on December 5th. And in 1934, Seibold went back behind the familiar bar at 1309 Oregon.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aKHaQEyd4deIn9g4WZQIqJw3c1g8DKmESk9DkneYLm06442tUCcm5ITdM4Ep4ZhxXIjyHm3yitJbVI0LtshAOGksLH_2edpiGa0q25EW3sueTZtGdmPEP4ugxe1PJkfNQDwIlOiGPUsgcip_k8feTxORtCNwy-FxM38MTpEy0dETF28w3Yu4DWfSw3MX/s1693/14%20Adolph%20Cy's%20Casino.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1232" data-original-width="1693" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aKHaQEyd4deIn9g4WZQIqJw3c1g8DKmESk9DkneYLm06442tUCcm5ITdM4Ep4ZhxXIjyHm3yitJbVI0LtshAOGksLH_2edpiGa0q25EW3sueTZtGdmPEP4ugxe1PJkfNQDwIlOiGPUsgcip_k8feTxORtCNwy-FxM38MTpEy0dETF28w3Yu4DWfSw3MX/w640-h466/14%20Adolph%20Cy's%20Casino.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold behind the bar at 1309 Oregon. <i>Photo courtesy of Jen Seibold</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The dry law was nullified, but Seibold’s dry-law offense was not. He could do nothing but wait for the hammer to drop. Meanwhile, the feds were putting all of the pieces together. It wasn’t just Adolph Seibold, Earl Blink, and Sam Wainer they were gunning for. They were going after the entire Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. By the end of the investigation, Seibold was one of 22 indicted co-conspirators. The only problem the feds had was getting them into court.<br /><br />Sam Wainer and Earl Blink jumped bail and went into hiding. Then in early 1934, Heinie and Louis Wainer went on the lam. Heinie and Louis were captured nine months later. But while the brothers were away, their cohorts began telling stories to the feds. Their depositions revealed the unsparing tactics of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. It all came spilling out when the trial finally began in federal court in Milwaukee on December 2, 1935; nearly two years after the fateful breakdown on Jackson Street.<br /><br /></div><div>The syndicate ran like a machine pumping torrents of liquor and kneecapping anyone who interfered. Witnesses told of severe beatings dealt to those who crossed the Wainers. And of threats made to local officials found sniffing around. The operation was byzantine. A complex web of warehouses, breweries, and distilleries operating at capacity. Syndicate liquor was distributed by rail and by trucks shadowed by armed guards. <br /><br />Seibold clung to his “Good Samaritan” defense. And it got shot full of holes by witnesses who said his Oshkosh guinea pig farm was a ruse to conceal his role in the syndicate. He used a local produce dealer's rail account to ship moonshine and deliver corn sugar in boxcars billed for hauling vegetables. Seibold wasn’t implicated in the violence, but was exposed as a Wainer associate in every other respect.<br /><br />As the trial went on, it became clear that the ultimate target was Heinie Wainer. He was the “Master Mind.” His brother Louis was the money man who financed syndicate members and handled payoffs. Donald Blink and his at-large brother Earl were the traffic managers directing shipments of equipment, supplies, and liquor.<br /><br /></div><div>The trial lasted four days. The jury deliberated for less than an hour. Of the 21 indicted, 14 stood trial. All of them were found guilty. Heinie and Louis Wainer were given six-year sentences in the Federal Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas. Donald Blink got just three months in the Milwaukee House of Corrections. Adolph Seibold walked away with the lightest punishment of all, a $100 fine (about $2,500 in today’s money).<br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Last Oshkosh Bootlegger</span></u></b><br />The Wainer’s attorney told his clients they’d get no more than four years in prison. The six-year sentence sent a shock through the courtroom. Heinie Wainer complained to the judge that he had “never heard anything like this before.” Equally shocking were the light sentences handed down to the other members of the syndicate. Seibold’s fine was a slap on the wrist. <br /><br />The leniency may have inspired the retribution that followed. Donald Blink hadn’t even completed his three-month term before being dragged back into court on an older charge involving a distillery in Stevens Point. Don Blink was swiftly convicted. This time, the prosecution got the sort of punishment they were after – a one to two year term in the state prison at Waupun.<br /><br />Adolph Seibold was next. State treasury agents raided his cottage at Plummer’s Point on the Monday afternoon of July 30, 1936. Just seven months after his conviction in federal court. When asked what inspired the raid, the treasury men said “numerous complaints.” End of story. They would not disclose the nature or source of those complaints.<br /><br />The agents at Plummers Point canvassed the property and then honed in on the garage at the back of the lot. The Wainer Gang had been notorious for using false floors to conceal stockpiled liquor. The treasury men went at Seibold’s garage floor with a sledge hammer. The blows were fruitless. But while scrounging around in the boathouse they came up with a gallon and a half of moonshine hidden in a cabinet. It was hardly the bonanza they’d been seeking. They arrested Seibold all the same.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUb-oagOlNRw8BbBsuLxCugdh81J0hqZs83Q5czPRR72oOvmQJ7FHw14EDOnfZh_bz0fAgxsOj-H-kLgOkNXE0XANIaXuDO59eQ216NG71Kia9b55nlCCSF4GFT0UaBlNeXY5DXv9wG1JZ4uPgQAk-TJ4QN7OuYpcswH4WBLuA-hjB8rOVEpnqwWApoUpy/s1152/15%20Plummers%20Point-Boathouse.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="1152" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUb-oagOlNRw8BbBsuLxCugdh81J0hqZs83Q5czPRR72oOvmQJ7FHw14EDOnfZh_bz0fAgxsOj-H-kLgOkNXE0XANIaXuDO59eQ216NG71Kia9b55nlCCSF4GFT0UaBlNeXY5DXv9wG1JZ4uPgQAk-TJ4QN7OuYpcswH4WBLuA-hjB8rOVEpnqwWApoUpy/w640-h412/15%20Plummers%20Point-Boathouse.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seibold’s boathouse in the foreground at Plummers Point.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The agents should have pursued their initial hunch more vigorously. Seibold’s garage did indeed have a false floor. If the cops had been less busy with the hammer, they might have discovered the concealed switch at the back of the garage. Flipping it would have triggered a concrete floor panel on a hydraulic lift to descend, elevator like, into a hidden compartment below. In that space there are still barrels – now rusted and drained – of the type used by the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate for transporting moonshine.<br /><br />Seibold's trial was in Oshkosh on July 22, 1936. The prosecution pleaded with the judge to make an example of him, claiming Seibold was still running significant quantities of bootleg liquor. But the treasury department couldn’t produce an example of him selling the stuff. And the paltry amount of unstamped liquor they caught him with suggested he wasn’t much of a dealer. <br /><br />Adolph Seibold had plenty of practice feeding nonsense to judges. He said he had no idea how that liquor had gotten into his boathouse. The judge dispatched the entire sorry mess by handing Seibold a $200 fine (about $4,300 in today’s money). Oshkosh’s last Prohibition-era bootlegger paid up and walked away one last time.<br /><br />The irony of it could not have escaped him. His $200 fine for holding 192 ounces of moonshine was double the fine he got in 1934 after years spent handling thousands of gallons of illegal liquor. Adolph Seibold was about to turn 42. And he was finally done with all that bootlegging business.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgafu70bYF5rmDxiaufulGFN6R1h41E1LARD69FnCu-nY3HpTvk6ue4vu6_ElBeSR3l9mhQte8xMrZjC7MzQG00XRZznfctywwrwOLW_CS8L1I38_hYbxnMhbTA6vuzoLEye2PlS3BIsUQF0mIf54-aMpRSp8W-whVuZE0udPS-9RwF_1MDFjWAFEfPxuFv/s2139/16%20Adolph%20in%20Boat.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2139" data-original-width="1376" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgafu70bYF5rmDxiaufulGFN6R1h41E1LARD69FnCu-nY3HpTvk6ue4vu6_ElBeSR3l9mhQte8xMrZjC7MzQG00XRZznfctywwrwOLW_CS8L1I38_hYbxnMhbTA6vuzoLEye2PlS3BIsUQF0mIf54-aMpRSp8W-whVuZE0udPS-9RwF_1MDFjWAFEfPxuFv/w412-h640/16%20Adolph%20in%20Boat.jpg" width="412" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold at Plummers Point.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Old Gang</span></u></b><br />Adolph Seibold began pouring his energy into his bar at 1309 Oregon. Rahr Brewing still owned the building, but Seibold treated it as his own. He remodeled the old saloon, took out the bowling alleys, and put in a dining hall that could seat 150 people. He renamed it Cy's Casino. The grand reopening of the “South Side’s Largest Tavern” was on December 17, 1936.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsuZu_Ew5l_O15QYFjln4RawCMvUcwbZssjFCgqvgKq-0Cqc29BF9AIcl_8vsxzTa2IDdagQd5p6erxl6oUA3EI18WVr7ySlEemBAcWCDoY1Nxp0nOwMr3ma3qTCk5d1U3VFYY1ZY-nStH-wN8ybqiLw7ErarqUKwADXbj92NmxWsHFyemr4e1YRr0UUR/s1381/17%201936-12-16%20Grand%20Opening%20Cy's%20Casino.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="1381" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsuZu_Ew5l_O15QYFjln4RawCMvUcwbZssjFCgqvgKq-0Cqc29BF9AIcl_8vsxzTa2IDdagQd5p6erxl6oUA3EI18WVr7ySlEemBAcWCDoY1Nxp0nOwMr3ma3qTCk5d1U3VFYY1ZY-nStH-wN8ybqiLw7ErarqUKwADXbj92NmxWsHFyemr4e1YRr0UUR/w640-h476/17%201936-12-16%20Grand%20Opening%20Cy's%20Casino.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Seibold and his family left the homestead at 14th Avenue after his father died in 1942. They updated the cottage at Plummers Point and made it their permanent home. There have been Seibolds living at Plummers Point ever since.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqziT_091BQY9cYyHOeP0KPwreEx9RxdMxyx7SXZKZvn_gOteNrTs1SEXdAo6o1VvhXk0a27gyJ_LSBlfv9HzbE7Wt10C6ySo2O3lmGiL16iX-6BOQOKypKovo1GiOp6Q3JO2rCNFH5UwMuLX_bKEajuGJavr3FkPSzQYGq87ErpwaNGlYClhFjNsYuMZW/s1269/18%20Boathouse%20outside.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1269" data-original-width="1152" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqziT_091BQY9cYyHOeP0KPwreEx9RxdMxyx7SXZKZvn_gOteNrTs1SEXdAo6o1VvhXk0a27gyJ_LSBlfv9HzbE7Wt10C6ySo2O3lmGiL16iX-6BOQOKypKovo1GiOp6Q3JO2rCNFH5UwMuLX_bKEajuGJavr3FkPSzQYGq87ErpwaNGlYClhFjNsYuMZW/w580-h640/18%20Boathouse%20outside.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boathouse at Plummers Point.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In 1946, Seibold sold the guinea pig farm that had been the Oshkosh hub for the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. The property would later achieve a second round of notoriety as a “gentlemen's club” called The Loft.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLSgWhRRYHD6KbWNg2QHRujXGPW2Nvs6gTs1LkMLzSsTXVwAcRlxBtyT3-tCWwlNoM6KFTXsMhqjqG5T3NGGu-I-UZf2LPXyTKe8F3xaRHQNkFdDcZqOhOtBYCUBDVAC7LIDbk4g_teP04jmrBfNucC8jq5Hj5rt34LT9yN_STWTmgx2aVw9u7q4swjXP/s2034/19a%20The%20Loft.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1206" data-original-width="2034" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLSgWhRRYHD6KbWNg2QHRujXGPW2Nvs6gTs1LkMLzSsTXVwAcRlxBtyT3-tCWwlNoM6KFTXsMhqjqG5T3NGGu-I-UZf2LPXyTKe8F3xaRHQNkFdDcZqOhOtBYCUBDVAC7LIDbk4g_teP04jmrBfNucC8jq5Hj5rt34LT9yN_STWTmgx2aVw9u7q4swjXP/w640-h380/19a%20The%20Loft.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The other members of the Wainer Gang made their way in and out of jail. After Donald Blink's release from Waupun, he moved into the apartment above Cy’s Casino and went to work tending bar for Seibold. His brother Earl Blink – who had been arrested with Seibold on Jackson Street in 1933 – remained a fugitive until 1937. In 1938, he was sentenced to six months in jail. Earl Blink later moved to Oshkosh and became a bartender at Cy’s Casino.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWhHMEU25vN9IJDInQIQJyQTGcEx2bPkeSZ419napob2MImKnyzod8w3EOizQMh9YRMyVCkYk3nerQKD-JZDIdS0MxLzkzLc77mxNh3jm7frCrVWkG-Grn0rd7hlvb3Ub5jFyIb0IfaP-OzgBWqS7ZvIUEgcn98N7lsAzFRM_NwIQYY-3-jINvSwiZeyW/s1335/19b%20Cy's%20Half%20Pint.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1335" data-original-width="864" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWhHMEU25vN9IJDInQIQJyQTGcEx2bPkeSZ419napob2MImKnyzod8w3EOizQMh9YRMyVCkYk3nerQKD-JZDIdS0MxLzkzLc77mxNh3jm7frCrVWkG-Grn0rd7hlvb3Ub5jFyIb0IfaP-OzgBWqS7ZvIUEgcn98N7lsAzFRM_NwIQYY-3-jINvSwiZeyW/w414-h640/19b%20Cy's%20Half%20Pint.jpg" width="414" /></a></div><br />Sam Wainer, also arrested with Seibold in 1933, remained on the run until his capture in 1938. He would spend four months in jail and then move to Chicago. He was joined there by his brother Heinie. Heinie Wainer was fresh from Leavenworth and ready for action. He dove back into the underworld, peddling stolen liquor to taverns in the Chicagoland area. His career ended when he got gunned down by a rival at his Chicago apartment in 1959.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19rdAjfwgeU6ntlw7lx2KQ3B-0sbIrOIt7TywWs4ma647gV-Yb8rN-6hfGnmSfIH4yKPntTzSkFWjQ_OdwKbocvy7whR4PulaN1LPjbRCLBw725inHJ_yIfysVt42nmqWoj15YUUHATXTc-PfhWQPnWi74cU1U191ZM9_kAwPW1fbsLb98xf0lrPtEPIa/s1011/20%20Hyman%20%E2%80%9CHeinie%E2%80%9D%20Wainer.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1011" data-original-width="654" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19rdAjfwgeU6ntlw7lx2KQ3B-0sbIrOIt7TywWs4ma647gV-Yb8rN-6hfGnmSfIH4yKPntTzSkFWjQ_OdwKbocvy7whR4PulaN1LPjbRCLBw725inHJ_yIfysVt42nmqWoj15YUUHATXTc-PfhWQPnWi74cU1U191ZM9_kAwPW1fbsLb98xf0lrPtEPIa/w414-h640/20%20Hyman%20%E2%80%9CHeinie%E2%80%9D%20Wainer.jpg" width="414" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyman “Heinie” Wainer</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Devil May Care</span></u></b><br />The crimes of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate and the Wainer Gang were front-page news in the 1930s. Some of the tales were told again in 1959 after the murder of Heinie Wainer. Among the scattered anecdotes was the Wainer Gang’s alleged war with Al Capone’s mob for control of the liquor trade in southern Wisconsin. These were stories Adolph Seibold never shared.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRf6sFe4uKXd7B2tM3ZubQIvjKYR-VxkRpQbbdemsyj0FZQaBv3mJXORXT-uQAyRPQK6AdYjk58Mb7SmJUGPlvuK6oxv1LrM8WWyrAoCGAxP3ESRTSdXm9-FIju7_TsHmIJ8jwW1vhgJLyg-EgupJ2tXELCoUMtksQERVoJbE9K5Nv4aAZkNivpxrsamR/s1152/21%20Adolph-Maude-Melissa.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="1152" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRf6sFe4uKXd7B2tM3ZubQIvjKYR-VxkRpQbbdemsyj0FZQaBv3mJXORXT-uQAyRPQK6AdYjk58Mb7SmJUGPlvuK6oxv1LrM8WWyrAoCGAxP3ESRTSdXm9-FIju7_TsHmIJ8jwW1vhgJLyg-EgupJ2tXELCoUMtksQERVoJbE9K5Nv4aAZkNivpxrsamR/w640-h586/21%20Adolph-Maude-Melissa.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph and Maude Seibold with their granddaughter Melissa, 1970.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Seibold rarely spoke of his experiences as a bootlegger. The crimes, the arrests, and the peril that stalked him during that era belonged to the past. He put all of it to rest. <br /><br />But the devil-may-care spirit that marked almost everything Seibold did remained with him. He was 79 and suffering from a heart condition when he was admitted to Mercy Hospital on Hazel Street in August 1973. He did not want to be there. So he jumped out of a second floor hospital window attempting to get away. He didn’t get away. He broke his hip and died four weeks later. Adolph Seibold was buried in Oshkosh’s Calvary Cemetery on September 4, 1973.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4m__O1HqEq4AZIrkvJ2Aehq51nXRBHX3KK6eU6RrMNv67sF856JoJXavLpIk2X-7_TNMS0GUpkHG-0BxOnqSoiJm9XwwaIRp7jz1SIMoklhrGfRxFWRsafH6JBfGuNMYqOnLzD2urbr89KFRtm7aBWvGI2iAeM90IB2UgU72AShM-eVJCjESjfMi0DB0/s1296/22%20Seibold%20Grave.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="1296" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4m__O1HqEq4AZIrkvJ2Aehq51nXRBHX3KK6eU6RrMNv67sF856JoJXavLpIk2X-7_TNMS0GUpkHG-0BxOnqSoiJm9XwwaIRp7jz1SIMoklhrGfRxFWRsafH6JBfGuNMYqOnLzD2urbr89KFRtm7aBWvGI2iAeM90IB2UgU72AShM-eVJCjESjfMi0DB0/w640-h344/22%20Seibold%20Grave.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />At Plummers Point there are people who still tell stories about the bootlegger who lived in their midst. The stories are second hand, filled with gaps and hearsay. We can’t know what is lost. Most of what Adolph Seibold saw and did during the dry years remained known only to him. He took those stories to the grave.<br /><br /><b><i><u>About this story...</u></i></b><br />I first came across Adolph Seibold in 2015 while researching another story. I’ve been picking up bits and pieces about him ever since. This past summer, I was contacted by Melissa Seibold, a granddaughter of Adolph. She asked if I was aware of him. At that time, I knew only the outline of his life as a bootlegger. Melissa and I began talking, and she shared with me what she had heard of her grandfather. Those conversations set this story in motion. Melissa deserves the lion’s share of the credit for making this piece happen. I’m sure Adolph would be proud of her.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9U2YvPu1HMy5-RivU9j3AaWQT8hoeNsSq-UWc5isBQhruxWMV6YMIYb5L_Fmt7UDp3bw4-OKc812etxVw13poraAAoo1G7omSlhLwXz2r3ir5l8_R8pm-JhkFSkzCkjVP24BhyphenhyphenMvd6of-7XQC3SeLMFTtascL75m87TW-K6a7OFLqrEIOD-P0jw2n4oKk/s1101/23%20Adolph%20&%20Mel%201970.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="1101" height="628" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9U2YvPu1HMy5-RivU9j3AaWQT8hoeNsSq-UWc5isBQhruxWMV6YMIYb5L_Fmt7UDp3bw4-OKc812etxVw13poraAAoo1G7omSlhLwXz2r3ir5l8_R8pm-JhkFSkzCkjVP24BhyphenhyphenMvd6of-7XQC3SeLMFTtascL75m87TW-K6a7OFLqrEIOD-P0jw2n4oKk/w640-h628/23%20Adolph%20&%20Mel%201970.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolph Seibold and his granddaughter Melissa.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-51093384826458774542023-09-14T10:29:00.001-05:002023-09-14T10:29:22.363-05:00Saturday Walking TourJust a very quick post to note that as part of this Saturday’s <a href="https://scontent-ord5-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/375456772_10161495465106042_1093723897199539953_n.jpg?_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=4c1e7d&_nc_ohc=v7ZaOnvxShoAX8GkmES&_nc_ht=scontent-ord5-2.xx&oh=00_AfALTzDKVyvMGEfJJOZ_H5gzGkLBWEdrQrh7cSBJMgCBAw&oe=650769E1" target="_blank">B'Gosh It's Good Breweriana Show</a>, I’ll be leading a very informal walking tour of historic saloon and beer-related spots along North Main Street. The walk begins at 6pm, leaving from the parking lot behind Oblio’s. There’s no fee, or need to sign-up. Just show up at 6pm and away we’ll go. Hope to see you there. Prost!<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9B4QFAkPj-3F8xvorxkM1rsLTekyVNXMf7rfRfMIRD7GHQyzuE8_pvje0UBCGHTaWq-zVgwlqEzIguwYzr4XY7CRjhwyD0Hqa0CQRL7knfta0uFnlgKtMxPVzfztL1UpdmPUxIfbMZcqx84jJoirMDPChWra_6om6nQJ-TRaFIGj1pvyJbHSTVL-FlpHX/s640/Bgosh%20it's%20Good-2023.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="640" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9B4QFAkPj-3F8xvorxkM1rsLTekyVNXMf7rfRfMIRD7GHQyzuE8_pvje0UBCGHTaWq-zVgwlqEzIguwYzr4XY7CRjhwyD0Hqa0CQRL7knfta0uFnlgKtMxPVzfztL1UpdmPUxIfbMZcqx84jJoirMDPChWra_6om6nQJ-TRaFIGj1pvyJbHSTVL-FlpHX/w640-h336/Bgosh%20it's%20Good-2023.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-48148183660893177522023-08-13T06:00:00.008-05:002023-08-13T18:28:09.913-05:00The Kro-Bar Club of Oshkosh, WisconsinThe Kro-Bar Club was hatched in a chicken coop behind a home on Witzel Avenue 85 years ago. The old coop is gone, but the Kro-Bar Club survives. “It started as a kind of a family club, a neighborhood club,” says Dan Lenz, who has been a club member for 35 years. “It wasn’t too long, though, before it expanded beyond that.”<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKdSjEHgB2ZYrR7ucyEdU7lOXK0j_-dR6yvN8KEhE-Se-ewoMLD0J8Stm35uDq2OMiC-c4LF4-QGdQcKzc6MhhlqP5t9o7NSow7aTBdou8M4P5q1cHaP1SLzXAfSOd0qvLPFGaiQsRvGArCmPl_liWCm2c9dDRtCcltFFvUhseLNiSDBDAynQKqPX6jOv/s1296/Dan%20Lenz%20at%20Bar.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="936" data-original-width="1296" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKdSjEHgB2ZYrR7ucyEdU7lOXK0j_-dR6yvN8KEhE-Se-ewoMLD0J8Stm35uDq2OMiC-c4LF4-QGdQcKzc6MhhlqP5t9o7NSow7aTBdou8M4P5q1cHaP1SLzXAfSOd0qvLPFGaiQsRvGArCmPl_liWCm2c9dDRtCcltFFvUhseLNiSDBDAynQKqPX6jOv/w640-h462/Dan%20Lenz%20at%20Bar.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan Lenz at the Kro-Bar Club.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Kro-Bar Club is a living example of the working-class men's clubs that first became popular in Oshkosh in the late 1800s. Some of the clubs were based upon a single, well defined aspiration. The Skat Club, established in 1889, was created for the “purpose of beer drinking on Sunday.” Others were organized around a more relaxed set of intentions grounded in beer consumption, card playing, and mutual fellowship. These were social clubs. The predominant aim in all cases was to foster a sense of camaraderie among club members.<br /><br />Most of the early clubs lasted a few years and then dissolved without leaving a trace. But a few of them, like the Midnight Club and Hank’s Club – both can trace their lineage back to the turn of the 20th century – are still active. The slightly younger Kro-Bar Club was formally organized in 1938. “They had a kind of informal club before that,” Lenz says. “The way my dad explained it, these guys would get together to play cards in that chicken coop behind Joe Robl’s house. That’s how it started.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHSgKL3RIXnemOJNc1LHuqcUTNyxJiscBloK-IZME0r_K4GidDuD9bnMcrYNxo5qjXShEuG3HtJMIfmc7MQFQif7xKyVmgyKnis-AoU3dsm8W2NnCzDA6mr3gH2gjB5wlLPwMhcwssi2ChwGpf3h-w4vL_Ehnq4qVcBg1qpiaOmSidh1PXCxGomt7GtKa/s693/Joseph%20Robl%201920's.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="606" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHSgKL3RIXnemOJNc1LHuqcUTNyxJiscBloK-IZME0r_K4GidDuD9bnMcrYNxo5qjXShEuG3HtJMIfmc7MQFQif7xKyVmgyKnis-AoU3dsm8W2NnCzDA6mr3gH2gjB5wlLPwMhcwssi2ChwGpf3h-w4vL_Ehnq4qVcBg1qpiaOmSidh1PXCxGomt7GtKa/w560-h640/Joseph%20Robl%201920's.jpg" width="560" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe Robl in the 1920s. <i>Photo courtesy of Dan Radig</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Joseph “Kro-Bar” Robl was born in Oshkosh in 1909. His nickname was derived from the brand of candybar he favored. Robl lived near the corner of Witzel and Guenther. Behind his house was the fabled chicken coop that rarely, if ever, saw a chicken. During Prohibition, the space had been used as a bottling plant by a bootlegger named Elmer Steinhilber. <br /><br />“I was told they bottled beer and stuff in there, and it just kind of became the neighborhood hang out,” Lenz says. The neighbors hanging out there in the mid-1930s were froggers, a species of Oshkosher now extinct. The froggers would canvas local marsh lands filling gunny sacks with leaping amphibians. Robl and his crew would sell their harvest to Elmer Steinhilber who had quit his bootlegging venture and was tending to the sprawling frog farm he established near the northeast corner of Witzel and Josslyn. The frog farm was just across the street from the ersatz chicken coop.</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFU5QMk0hoW83gSKrShvDSb-k0K7PhIJ_yx01Nr7G3_PdBLAgvZtFRP6n_skYBbmaKVcqWNXdd0OLkX2Hpj8v3Um-68YBreZFzfvnoiQddoaHp9_ZZ24PLdXVmL6HFdrX7kvVypygfVdvYdXPGw7LxGFZw_tFqAOuxzcMxEjajMR8k-JuY0p8W2v3GEMw/s1152/Frog%20Catchers-sized.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="1152" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFU5QMk0hoW83gSKrShvDSb-k0K7PhIJ_yx01Nr7G3_PdBLAgvZtFRP6n_skYBbmaKVcqWNXdd0OLkX2Hpj8v3Um-68YBreZFzfvnoiQddoaHp9_ZZ24PLdXVmL6HFdrX7kvVypygfVdvYdXPGw7LxGFZw_tFqAOuxzcMxEjajMR8k-JuY0p8W2v3GEMw/w640-h396/Frog%20Catchers-sized.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />“I knew Elmer,” Lenz says. “He was still around when I was a kid. He was gruff, like all those old guys from back then. He was all right.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKd3whCkTOlFiodovc87kQ4AV-aobRkW5u-V1E7GdqEiKZ30wgR53QLaNaDfPmUhdGvPCYEDQXthVsHenXbVv-Yo0XCDZttriyn7yRD5HqisucBvMhscvv8rsZl718aE2VufCCD-nWQ1g0xdlhSPzXQpvjat4SFHY-hsMV38kzmzFXg6isUS9w47_W3n2n/s540/Elmer%20Steinhilber.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="311" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKd3whCkTOlFiodovc87kQ4AV-aobRkW5u-V1E7GdqEiKZ30wgR53QLaNaDfPmUhdGvPCYEDQXthVsHenXbVv-Yo0XCDZttriyn7yRD5HqisucBvMhscvv8rsZl718aE2VufCCD-nWQ1g0xdlhSPzXQpvjat4SFHY-hsMV38kzmzFXg6isUS9w47_W3n2n/w368-h640/Elmer%20Steinhilber.jpg" width="368" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elmer Steinhilber</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The froggers would unload their haul on Steinhilber and then head to Robl’s coop for a few beers. At one such gathering in March of 1938, the collective drew-up a charter formalizing their association. It was a clear, practical document with guiding principles such as, “Only members of the club can shoot crap in the club room, and one cannot shoot more than 10 cents at one time.” After the members settled on a name, the secretary noted that “It is no more than right to name the club after our esteemed and honorable founder, Joseph Kro-Bar Robl.” <br /><br />Dan Lenz was introduced to the Kro-Bar Club some 30 years later. The chicken coop was a distant memory by then. In 1955, the club moved to its current headquarters on the opposite end of the frog farm. "My grandfather, Oscar Lenz, was here almost every day,” Lenz says as he leans on the bar at the Kro-Bar Clubhouse. “I would come here after school and help him clean up and restock. We’d go pick up the beer at Chief Oshkosh and Peoples and Jordy's. We’d get Bireley's Orange Soda. You had to have Bireley's. I literally grew up here.”<br /><br />The bar they were stocking was as native to Oshkosh as the Kro-Bar Club itself. It was built in 1937 by Robert Brand and Sons on Ceape Avenue. From the Brand plant the bar went into the tavern of former Green Bay Packer Champ Seibold on Commerce Street. After the tavern closed in 1965, the Kro-Bar Club rescued the historic fixture. It remains the centerpiece of the their clubhouse.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VsP64EjZAsaEhhXDysSa5M8M1Horiiztsd53CFnlePWGqwhZyKgfIjs70WN0QeBRFnGdSqbbURyLpMdqQIV2Oi20tzwQvdHMb4xu9aE-E2bxmIHTRzvCPd2NI31sINxArS0tWuO0O3OTL9rb5-nHzD4wsGlRLG2oEnfM3FRyQzNBTPxWx1GaQl1CVHYD/s1440/Seibold%20Heidelberg%20Tavern%201937.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1440" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VsP64EjZAsaEhhXDysSa5M8M1Horiiztsd53CFnlePWGqwhZyKgfIjs70WN0QeBRFnGdSqbbURyLpMdqQIV2Oi20tzwQvdHMb4xu9aE-E2bxmIHTRzvCPd2NI31sINxArS0tWuO0O3OTL9rb5-nHzD4wsGlRLG2oEnfM3FRyQzNBTPxWx1GaQl1CVHYD/w640-h456/Seibold%20Heidelberg%20Tavern%201937.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new bar at Champ Seibold’s Heidelberg Tavern, 1937. <i>Photo courtesy of Dan Radig.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Dan Lenz became an official club member in 1988. “You have to be sponsored by a member to join,” Lenz says. “You can't just walk through the door and fill out an application. In fact, we don't even have an application. My father was a longtime member. He sponsored me. But you don’t need to have a family member in the club to join. Most of our members aren’t related.”<br /><br />“We’re at about 25 members now. Our bylaws let us go as high as 60, so we're a little low. It ebbs and flows. We’re still a men’s club, but we have a thing now called the family membership where you can bring in your kids and your wife. We have a social once a month, and other get togethers. We have a lot of fun. You know, I just really enjoy having a place to come to where it’s not like a bar where you have to scream to talk to the person next to you. I don’t know how to put it, there’s just something special about this.”<br /><br /><i>To learn more about the Kro-Bar Club or explore the possibility of becoming a member, contact Dan Lenz at (920) 422-8041.</i><br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">End Notes</span></u></b><br />Eventually, I’ll write something more in depth about Elmer Steinhilber. By some accounts, he was the most prolific bootlegger operating in Oshkosh during Prohibition. In this story, I mentioned that Steinhilber used the chicken coop as a bottling plant. At that time, the home and the coop were owned by a man named Leo Sperka, who worked as a baker. Sperka’s access to sugar came in handy for Steinhilber when he got into producing moonshine. Steinhilber had launched his bootlegging operation as a wildcat beer brewer. I’ll leave it there, for now, but Steinhilber is one of those Oshkosh characters who absolutely deserves to be much better known.<br /><br />Finally, I got a lot of help with this story and I need to thank some folks who pitched in. This piece would have never happened without the help of my fellow SOBs (Society of Oshkosh Brewers) Al Jacobson and Dan Lenz. Al suggested this story to me years ago, but there didn’t seem to be a way to get it done until Dan revealed to me that he was a KB Club member. Dan cleared the way with the Kro-Bar Club membership to make this happen. Dan’s uncle Bud Lenz was also a great help. Bud is the Kro-Bar Club historian and has done more than anyone to preserve the club’s history. Dan Radig, whose father Norman was one of the original KB Club members, gave me some pointers and helped with images. Mike Robl also came through, supplying that excellent Elmer Steinhilber FROG CATCHERS! sign. Thanks guys!<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-13155349664358849712023-07-23T05:00:00.008-05:002023-07-23T17:50:13.101-05:00Trails End: The History of an Oshkosh TavernThere is no other place like Bob's Trails End. The tavern at 500 Merritt Avenue is the product of a distinct Oshkosh neighborhood and the persistence of the tavern keepers who have made this place their life's work. Trails End is an institution unto itself.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uAmY0ML_IgMRkW7ZoPMF3P4h1qIQKH7R3BSQlAJySh1PudE-Nmah35sqalW_8US5PexHcIujL78vKVqkuoizBQg7YUBRhPkZh-lqVtyh6n65L53vj8sjTMadrgiBIq78Ilu7-8Je3_Lt9JVkDz2lcR3o8ioEYO7elyFsojKHEVe9W4rD52pldkLOa3Xl/s1728/Bob%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1728" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uAmY0ML_IgMRkW7ZoPMF3P4h1qIQKH7R3BSQlAJySh1PudE-Nmah35sqalW_8US5PexHcIujL78vKVqkuoizBQg7YUBRhPkZh-lqVtyh6n65L53vj8sjTMadrgiBIq78Ilu7-8Je3_Lt9JVkDz2lcR3o8ioEYO7elyFsojKHEVe9W4rD52pldkLOa3Xl/w640-h444/Bob%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob Winkelman of Bob’s Trails End.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bob Winkelman has been running the tavern since buying Trails End in 1985. But like many Oshkosh natives, this place has been a part of Winkelman’s life for almost all of his life. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I had hot dogs here when I was a kid, and we'd come in here on Friday nights and have fish, or get chicken on Saturdays.” <br /><br /></div><div>At that time, it was called Van’s Tavern. And by then, it was already 60 years old.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFPRcKCmNn-x81DXH_Y_xUpvOpuPu7K-oNWJWEeaGQ8IATHHYxKyIHQJJOXV7rrUopH-rjhIbX2u26z0i4PY2war3ninY2a5PM5sgDq0is1KG_R99-6EblV1RjR-nBW0DzMZrmXAAAGszpqn6a-DBnNWsR_6teaWdrNL9x7YXtSVH8HFhmzDf78g_irnr/s306/Van's%20Token.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="297" data-original-width="306" height="621" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFPRcKCmNn-x81DXH_Y_xUpvOpuPu7K-oNWJWEeaGQ8IATHHYxKyIHQJJOXV7rrUopH-rjhIbX2u26z0i4PY2war3ninY2a5PM5sgDq0is1KG_R99-6EblV1RjR-nBW0DzMZrmXAAAGszpqn6a-DBnNWsR_6teaWdrNL9x7YXtSVH8HFhmzDf78g_irnr/w640-h621/Van's%20Token.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Trail Begins</span></u></b><br />The tavern at the northeast corner of Broad and Merritt put down its roots in the spring of 1892 after a Swiss immigrant named Rosina Rhyner purchased the property. Rhyner’s acquisition was at the behest of her son-in-law, a fellow Swiss named John P. Steier. The 23-year-old Steier, left his job in construction and put a saloon into the building that is home to Trails End today. Steier and his wife, Rachel, moved into the house next door. By the close of 1892 Steier’s Place was up and running.<br /><br />The location was excellent. The neighborhood, in the heart of the old Fourth Ward, was populated with beer-loving European immigrants. And from across the street came a steady flow of traffic from the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad Depot. Passengers deboarding the train would immediately see the sign for Oshkosh Beer hanging at the entrance to Steier’s Place.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVJZKnW__dhbEbIkgpQv2BtHyaGcpUePTLhSbYmihRos7WisrvyQSURPolpPF-rPuB_OD8NBbQmAXc6bgEqOyiZCB68939_BzCztFMSoO4vCmrQdK4sA8T9GlJ_XIBUlebkgdB18dzBryOjMFrE429jZqdOK1exIGBonMJmeGQfcsUBW7OVjyLz8vHlsL/s1263/CNDepot1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="1263" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVJZKnW__dhbEbIkgpQv2BtHyaGcpUePTLhSbYmihRos7WisrvyQSURPolpPF-rPuB_OD8NBbQmAXc6bgEqOyiZCB68939_BzCztFMSoO4vCmrQdK4sA8T9GlJ_XIBUlebkgdB18dzBryOjMFrE429jZqdOK1exIGBonMJmeGQfcsUBW7OVjyLz8vHlsL/w640-h396/CNDepot1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chicago & Northwestern Railroad Depot on Broad Street. Looking north from Washington towards Merritt.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>Steier was new to the saloon trade. But he was a quick study and seemed to know what he was after. In 1895, he convinced the Oshkosh Brewing Company to become a partner in his fledgling business. It was the start of a long-term relationship between the tavern and Oshkosh’s largest brewery.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhVcaR_v5RwJEjqaWu_02RSFvFsR7wQhY5v_-Pkh-FxuwOWExbdAlyjydMh01gjS8yMzTThID0MdxLEL3Ot-0IKQPVEHuqNjDSebGG-fm41x1gLEomI-XOdYgKi5w0KB5953LoXQrBLOzPlAplYcOLGsiEVJz9lodg2dXsCqGUv82B9ZypZyIVVHUN5tY/s1074/JP%20Steier%201903.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="847" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhVcaR_v5RwJEjqaWu_02RSFvFsR7wQhY5v_-Pkh-FxuwOWExbdAlyjydMh01gjS8yMzTThID0MdxLEL3Ot-0IKQPVEHuqNjDSebGG-fm41x1gLEomI-XOdYgKi5w0KB5953LoXQrBLOzPlAplYcOLGsiEVJz9lodg2dXsCqGUv82B9ZypZyIVVHUN5tY/w504-h640/JP%20Steier%201903.jpg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 1903 drawing of John Steier.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The saloon came to reflect Steier’s obsessions. He was a sporting man. When he wasn’t behind the bar, he was hunting, or bowling, or setting up a smoker where local brawlers would go at it before a crowd of gamblers. Steier had a thing for blood sports. He installed a rat pit in his saloon where packs of rodents would meet their ultimate fate in the jaws of a frenzied terrier. Steier’s Place became one the most popular spots on the east side.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7eYN_GTW-MPI97bxpzXEmP_kU9D9LRyyYhL_7jzrOKVdItuAkEkO9B14RNqNGdnZmUQvDtUsSqKQKs5olQ-j2zSiCq5eSLDfbZ5KtUFhXDvyrMerL7dG8WV01H3CyLqpVFth39s-9xKvBbotd88Hre1HG2uBGbQ0maaQztWdqWNJ0P96r7cu4s3WxalE/s1065/In%20the%20Rat%20Pit-%201898-02-10.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7eYN_GTW-MPI97bxpzXEmP_kU9D9LRyyYhL_7jzrOKVdItuAkEkO9B14RNqNGdnZmUQvDtUsSqKQKs5olQ-j2zSiCq5eSLDfbZ5KtUFhXDvyrMerL7dG8WV01H3CyLqpVFth39s-9xKvBbotd88Hre1HG2uBGbQ0maaQztWdqWNJ0P96r7cu4s3WxalE/w540-h640/In%20the%20Rat%20Pit-%201898-02-10.jpg" width="540" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">February 2, 1898; <i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In the fall of 1896, Steier cut another deal with the Oshkosh Brewing Company. The brewery agreed to purchase the saloon with the stipulation that Steier would continue running it. The arrangement meant the brewery would cover the property expenses. In return, Steier agreed to sell no other beer than that of the Oshkosh Brewing Company. Steier’s Place had become a tied house.<br /><br />Steier put the brewery’s deep pockets to work. He built a narrow addition onto the saloon that stretched along the east side of Broad Street. The structure ran from the back door to the north end of the lot line. Just big enough for two bowling alleys.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YmNCABtz6CMY5SFM9OzllL1PQhE3PlXNAdihd8crDp0hjrOvF3339hO3dCFfFEYhOwMnw5ZyETtDxLSTbJxb1V7HUFA4tSLgGcw3_ftsoe4UKW6-wdRC4X_PL_X_awLluAbio_Lph9T-zPvLH3nmmYoJJHWweCyKHg8iqLVAi8mjoLLD1SHX6Hupb4Bd/s1440/Bowling%20Alley%20Addition.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1440" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YmNCABtz6CMY5SFM9OzllL1PQhE3PlXNAdihd8crDp0hjrOvF3339hO3dCFfFEYhOwMnw5ZyETtDxLSTbJxb1V7HUFA4tSLgGcw3_ftsoe4UKW6-wdRC4X_PL_X_awLluAbio_Lph9T-zPvLH3nmmYoJJHWweCyKHg8iqLVAi8mjoLLD1SHX6Hupb4Bd/w640-h316/Bowling%20Alley%20Addition.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Sanborn map from 1903 alongside a recent picture of the addition built to accommodate the saloon’s bowling alleys.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Steier left the saloon in 1902. His bowling alleys were removed about a decade later. But there remains a lingering feature from this early period: the oak back bar built by the Robert Brand and Sons Company on Ceape Avenue in Oshkosh. The back bar at Trails End is one of the oldest surviving Brand pieces in Oshkosh.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLrUBK0GkEDa0uR8Cl4VrmFHvBY-jmxiD3mk1hcPTCI-qLpVweSIEIlYfgxZBEW2uEQPVtBDc1nYUNzym3d10bDpEXW3Gf30FG9Ez4RVfmQv7G68YlchtoarEXfUUo_ApntKy0btRwrFDUbCSOMX_jAgC3LCzNu-LHctQXHFUBd73QMqlWt0MjCelBk89/s1279/Bob's%20Bar-01.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="1279" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLrUBK0GkEDa0uR8Cl4VrmFHvBY-jmxiD3mk1hcPTCI-qLpVweSIEIlYfgxZBEW2uEQPVtBDc1nYUNzym3d10bDpEXW3Gf30FG9Ez4RVfmQv7G68YlchtoarEXfUUo_ApntKy0btRwrFDUbCSOMX_jAgC3LCzNu-LHctQXHFUBd73QMqlWt0MjCelBk89/w640-h440/Bob's%20Bar-01.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back bar at Bob’s Trails End.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><i>See the timeline at the bottom of this post for more on the period between 1902 and 1923.</i><br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Vandenberg’s Speakeasy</span></u></b><br />The rowdy saloon devolved into little more than a lunch room after Prohibition arrived in 1920. Beer and liquor were out. That left soft drinks and sandwiches. And that was never going to cut it in Oshkosh. The place was tanking when Bill Vandenberg bought the business in early 1923. Vandenberg swept in and put his own name on the sign. And then he put booze in the soda cups.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wXDjcX6GCJVmwFQbg3-jvotIh8b-hnQmjAusBhakN-rDBOg0WjDgY8CGmP6x-FNTL0R_PjV4IcpmOtJF-yd-XSxBLKOwPeaFWIcmuvsRt182tUMP15ivIH9yg5wSGGQEy3BhLFjT4CNaFt5FlF2mH3DypyTn53ERsS2dTXFh_AL_uQfZCfKJDg59AKKZ/s734/BillVan1940s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="734" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wXDjcX6GCJVmwFQbg3-jvotIh8b-hnQmjAusBhakN-rDBOg0WjDgY8CGmP6x-FNTL0R_PjV4IcpmOtJF-yd-XSxBLKOwPeaFWIcmuvsRt182tUMP15ivIH9yg5wSGGQEy3BhLFjT4CNaFt5FlF2mH3DypyTn53ERsS2dTXFh_AL_uQfZCfKJDg59AKKZ/w640-h620/BillVan1940s.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Vandenberg in striped shirt and tie, behind his bar in the late 1940s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />William Alfred Vandenberg was born in 1894 in DePere. At 14, he quit school and went to work full-time. He was 16 when he came to Oshkosh and got a job cutting wood at the Morgan Company. By 1921, he’d had his fill of that kind of labor. Vandenberg left the mills and started tending bar at an east-side speakeasy at the corner of Monroe and Parkway. Two years later, he went out on his own. Vandenberg never looked back.<br /><br />In the spring of 1923, Vandenberg, his wife, Ida, and their two daughters, Dorothy and Kathryn, moved into the home that still stands hip-to-hip with Bob’s Trails End. The proximity of the residence to what was then being called a “soft drink parlor” was crucial.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOiWjmbL08eEHWP6zwNrsKwRgHaT4ohZWo_zJVi1pCep5R7yzUrRBiYs-ak6OY5GuNgz8x6VttQX38pdj2Ehq4F60ZtpdPcfLNDVTy3-kQMZnjq6Up5jPtj9UUBbvfYj7js6kRQBY8J5VuSR3RMl_qr09seb-LBv5I1l1kSuMV2w8RtzghELrFis8rC_OE/s1689/Tavern&Home.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1137" data-original-width="1689" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOiWjmbL08eEHWP6zwNrsKwRgHaT4ohZWo_zJVi1pCep5R7yzUrRBiYs-ak6OY5GuNgz8x6VttQX38pdj2Ehq4F60ZtpdPcfLNDVTy3-kQMZnjq6Up5jPtj9UUBbvfYj7js6kRQBY8J5VuSR3RMl_qr09seb-LBv5I1l1kSuMV2w8RtzghELrFis8rC_OE/w640-h430/Tavern&Home.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The former home and speakeasy of Bill Vandenberg.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Michelle Benton is William Vandenberg’s great granddaughter. The story of how Vandenberg concealed his liquor trade during Prohibition was told to her by her grandmother. “There was a doorway that connected the house and the bar,” Benton says. “The patrons would have a special knock for different alcoholic beverages. My great grandmother ran the door from inside the house and would serve the drinks from there.”<br /><br />It was one of the better speakeasy setups in Oshkosh. But it wasn’t bootleg booze that made Vandenberg famous. It was the hot dogs.<br /><br />The backstory on Vandenberg’s famous hot dog was passed down from Clarence “Pep” Steinhilber. Pep worked for Vandenberg and had known him since the mid-1920s. Pep said Vandenberg was smitten with a hot dog served at a diner on Main Street. The smothering of special sauce made it exceptional. Vandenberg tried to buy the recipe, but the owner wasn’t selling. He changed his mind after his restaurant went under. Vandenberg got the secret recipe and, in 1926, began selling the encased-meat treat at his place. The rest is hot-dog history.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6CcSCHsXTdiT3zJQEak2GqD_hvbZLr0HkYXNv0qWD6zYnF_f02Z2Bh89E0pJaD6obwJ6SHO29jd5yF9WEP-PrTM-SP_hEotmgoMqBoQj2_StYv3Rpf9w-Pne4zrc3F9QW4YBUMyS3IeeCeoZDZoa46L9qaH5xeeSsg5GfDflF9LyISyoP5z3bVFBE3kZ/s1440/1970s%202m%20sold.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="1440" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6CcSCHsXTdiT3zJQEak2GqD_hvbZLr0HkYXNv0qWD6zYnF_f02Z2Bh89E0pJaD6obwJ6SHO29jd5yF9WEP-PrTM-SP_hEotmgoMqBoQj2_StYv3Rpf9w-Pne4zrc3F9QW4YBUMyS3IeeCeoZDZoa46L9qaH5xeeSsg5GfDflF9LyISyoP5z3bVFBE3kZ/w640-h180/1970s%202m%20sold.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two million and counting in the 1970s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />But it took more than a good hot dog to pull a saloon through the dry years. Vandenberg’s, like every other speakeasy in Oshkosh, struggled. At one point, in the late 1920s, Vandenberg’s even offered the services of an in-house barber. Speakeasy / hot-dog parlor / barbershop is a business combination Oshkosh will probably never see again.<br /><br />By the early 1930s, Vandenberg could see light at the end of the tunnel. Prohibition was on its last leg. In April 1933, light beer (less than 4% ABV) became legal. Meanwhile, the 21st Amendment, which would repeal Prohibition, was passing through State Houses on its way to being ratified. There came a close call near the end. <br /><br />Vandenberg’s was raided on September 20, 1933. But Vandenberg laughed last. The cops found nothing but an illegal gambling machine. He got off with a warning. Prohibition was repealed three months later, and Vandenberg’s was reborn as Van’s Tavern. Happy days and real beer were back at Broad and Merritt.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhCes_ZZeDPbpSJmixlMEt_0Oc2T0a0w0A1586lYDmk4KKFKyDVjZubDr7cICNszbJgZLoQEacyYIy5H3YInxuwHuz8BUXOu4tc1Kr7zM3ERie8Wew6UncsxE5NA8rLMQlGM_ZuOkar9FTzxYfBQwLvmceK4h65OnGSspb-QEjVTMXD67sHFWE9-zLiXe/s1368/1930%20Van's%20Real%20beer%20is%20back.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="778" data-original-width="1368" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhCes_ZZeDPbpSJmixlMEt_0Oc2T0a0w0A1586lYDmk4KKFKyDVjZubDr7cICNszbJgZLoQEacyYIy5H3YInxuwHuz8BUXOu4tc1Kr7zM3ERie8Wew6UncsxE5NA8rLMQlGM_ZuOkar9FTzxYfBQwLvmceK4h65OnGSspb-QEjVTMXD67sHFWE9-zLiXe/w640-h364/1930%20Van's%20Real%20beer%20is%20back.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The western exterior wall of Van’s Tavern in the 1930s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Van’s Tavern</span></u></b><br />Prohibition was over, but the hard times were not. The Great Depression was in full effect. But Vandenberg's was a place almost anyone could afford. The Friday night fish fry was five cents. On Saturday’s it was chicken with all the trimmings for 15 cents (about $3.50 in today’s money). There were 5-cent hot dogs and sandwiches all week long, and for a dime you could wash it all down with a hefty schooner of Chief Oshkosh Beer.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSI6seI77fAFqL_MPRMDDMUygH3QdgZTl7yuEBnlNZV8-3OghZtORXlOKBcez08hOqesq1T2T8aqt-uduH6ov5p6Ho0Z8bRtkuYxxlvvOS7fCEKCV7wdtLBCWRSVN3PT_u1V6BqBV4xyDVrQADb6jSc5L9P757jKF-GajiteisS9bQAPccMNCSia2x_8_3/s1152/Big%20Beers.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1152" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSI6seI77fAFqL_MPRMDDMUygH3QdgZTl7yuEBnlNZV8-3OghZtORXlOKBcez08hOqesq1T2T8aqt-uduH6ov5p6Ho0Z8bRtkuYxxlvvOS7fCEKCV7wdtLBCWRSVN3PT_u1V6BqBV4xyDVrQADb6jSc5L9P757jKF-GajiteisS9bQAPccMNCSia2x_8_3/w640-h472/Big%20Beers.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big beers out in back at Van's Tavern. The huge goblet of Chief Oshkosh was a Van's speciality.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It worked. Vandenberg remodeled and expanded the tavern “to meet our increasing patronage” at a time when others were just barely getting by. During the 1930s and early 1940s Van’s became something more than just another tavern. It passed into the realm of Oshkosh institution.<br /><br />All sorts of people assembled at Van's. There was the shot-and-a-beer crowd, there were families there for a meal, there were strangers passing through town by rail, and there were kids from the neighborhood who would wander in just because the door was open.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42hIFfIO25VGHKup3YWKO2rdo0LYccUk_n07IGmsJ-7RY07nEl4b2wyS9KkK8oItlsfEPBX0C5necrEEfFlXBfZ_mUXCTBacH50p49-PdzVc5J5GJFz7RDEUoMLgJR6q4RL_bRxY5oXkZJHSxKdwkxFiB90egM_aVHDzoGfWI4KGrEu1gZk2lPZ_xH_jc/s1296/Big%20Beers%20in%20a%20booth.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="894" data-original-width="1296" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42hIFfIO25VGHKup3YWKO2rdo0LYccUk_n07IGmsJ-7RY07nEl4b2wyS9KkK8oItlsfEPBX0C5necrEEfFlXBfZ_mUXCTBacH50p49-PdzVc5J5GJFz7RDEUoMLgJR6q4RL_bRxY5oXkZJHSxKdwkxFiB90egM_aVHDzoGfWI4KGrEu1gZk2lPZ_xH_jc/w640-h442/Big%20Beers%20in%20a%20booth.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family that drinks together... Van's in the 1940s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>Tom Krumenauer was one of those east-side kids attracted to Van’s. Krumenauer passed away in 2010, but his son Scott recalls the stories his father told him about his adventures at the tavern. “He would go to the train depot and when the train came in he’d go in the passenger car and go around taking orders for beer and hot dogs. He’d add like a nickel or a dime to the price, so he could make some money. Then he’d run over to Van’s and put the order in. So while they were getting that together, he’d hang around by this parrot they had in there. Well, everybody that came into the bar would try to teach that parrot a new word, and of course, it was always a cuss word. My dad said that bird was the most foul-mouthed thing you ever heard. He said that the bird taught <i>him</i> how to swear.”<br /><br />The Chicago & Northwestern Depot was also a portal through which Oshkosh’s enlisted men passed when leaving for and returning from military service during World War II. A visit to Van’s was a rite of that passage. For many it was their first taste of home after having been away for years. For some, it was their last meal in Oshkosh.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioO_InGL8FgUTFB46rQdUrV3vOLzai0jLDaWCXd8xg27WrsHQVwhqSDSlBPzx-cqAO6WZKr2zEWt6BqjKWoQuJPTkq0ZBShFH40Ki8rTmOXB2dIa9gJ8BIFPK267mbg6iXoz9jwB-j5pU7hqFrMUkE3s2TvsQnP1B8YJueZbllG8lwfltoaYR-ieoevc0D/s1689/1940s%20servicemen.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="934" data-original-width="1689" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioO_InGL8FgUTFB46rQdUrV3vOLzai0jLDaWCXd8xg27WrsHQVwhqSDSlBPzx-cqAO6WZKr2zEWt6BqjKWoQuJPTkq0ZBShFH40Ki8rTmOXB2dIa9gJ8BIFPK267mbg6iXoz9jwB-j5pU7hqFrMUkE3s2TvsQnP1B8YJueZbllG8lwfltoaYR-ieoevc0D/w640-h354/1940s%20servicemen.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The war years at Van's.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Van’s Tavern that older Oshkoshers still remember presented itself in the 1950s. And when those folks reminisce about the tavern, they tend to talk about Pep Steinhilber. Pep was an eastsider born on Broad Street, a block north of Van's. He got to know Vandenberg during Prohibition when Pep was still a teenager. Pep would do odd jobs around the tavern, like helping slaughter chickens in the back yard in preparation for the Saturday night special. <br /><br />In 1940, Pep opened his own place. Pep's Tavern was a block east of Van’s at the southeast corner of Boyd and Merritt. Pep did well enough there, but he got tired of being the boss. So in 1950, he went back to work for Vandenberg.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeQwPC8D4ST6-e_uE_hUeuqvPsNbhFYXjq9VGVuSdPX6yhW7ODzaZezGiPzo49_iIIdVjNIYoYvLCuPis7IdqLrgh7lEvR9VxY3_R9NK_OhWR5Vr8T-I6-PI2x1t_EHPvJC8J58eIZ8sMia0rw0COKR6WyMOONWCdQ4a-QL1KxEb0Q4LygIUb_3h58nTv/s1392/Pep%20From%201950s%20series.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1392" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeQwPC8D4ST6-e_uE_hUeuqvPsNbhFYXjq9VGVuSdPX6yhW7ODzaZezGiPzo49_iIIdVjNIYoYvLCuPis7IdqLrgh7lEvR9VxY3_R9NK_OhWR5Vr8T-I6-PI2x1t_EHPvJC8J58eIZ8sMia0rw0COKR6WyMOONWCdQ4a-QL1KxEb0Q4LygIUb_3h58nTv/w640-h490/Pep%20From%201950s%20series.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pep Steinhilber behind the bar at Van's in the 1950s. The woman with him is believed to have been a coworker there.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bob Winkelman remembers Pep well. “He was a great guy,” Winkelman says, “I don't think he ever said a bad word about anybody. Pep was an old-time bartender. He always wore a bar apron when he was working.”<br /><br />Jim Philipp began working at Van’s Tavern about the same time that Pep came on board. Philipp was Vandenberg’s son-in-law and the heir apparent to Van’s Tavern. In 1953, Vandenberg added Philipp’s name to the liquor license.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhifGoDohDdSxwy-BtjnBawG-QxtOr9-jjioonael3InD_H0rKw6SiQHZdF0RPvfeqFVJijWEXtYyUKfio5YzobNiEjvRpCn_03v04Jb2UTC76FNI2G7WLGqJilSb7B_maK6mqEdH47sGwlkdW4dnllwNoq2aLy4UzIHgWiAOgyDE4F0xSru5oktNoV6v/s1296/Philipp%201953-03.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1296" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhifGoDohDdSxwy-BtjnBawG-QxtOr9-jjioonael3InD_H0rKw6SiQHZdF0RPvfeqFVJijWEXtYyUKfio5YzobNiEjvRpCn_03v04Jb2UTC76FNI2G7WLGqJilSb7B_maK6mqEdH47sGwlkdW4dnllwNoq2aLy4UzIHgWiAOgyDE4F0xSru5oktNoV6v/w640-h444/Philipp%201953-03.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim Philipp in the bowler and white t-shirt behind the bar in 1953.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bill Vandenberg was preparing for his exit. The Vandenbergs had lived near the tavern for 30 years, but now Bill and his wife, Ida, moved to a home in Butte des Morts. He was easing his way out. Vandenberg’s landlord led him to the door.<br /><br />The Oshkosh Brewing Company had owned the property since 1895. But in 1960, the brewery’s president, Arthur Schwalm, and vice-president, Earl Horn, were looking to sell their majority stake in the company. They were also dealing off their remaining tavern properties. The 66-year-old Vandenberg wasn’t buying. It was Jim Philipp’s turn.<br /><br /></div><div>Philipp purchased Van’s Tavern on a land contract on May 26, 1960. And within a few months, Van’s Tavern was no more.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeMt7q8MuYuUhjmi6z86dYuGvn7C2H1-WWgt6NrQ10uTQRC9w-YeCQnd-QM2pZcAVGqsg68cd3H31Qz7zaIRFRa1DCk6tMYfWhsqKoq-GR2dd2YF6hrBIGzVVRJtLgZf-8ksvzF8RBUExH3qN6vv_H54zgXS3R1T7eRbTRXp8e7FXBLITVTSUyj4eandZ/s1731/1960-12-09%20Grand%20Opening%20Trails%20End.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1731" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeMt7q8MuYuUhjmi6z86dYuGvn7C2H1-WWgt6NrQ10uTQRC9w-YeCQnd-QM2pZcAVGqsg68cd3H31Qz7zaIRFRa1DCk6tMYfWhsqKoq-GR2dd2YF6hrBIGzVVRJtLgZf-8ksvzF8RBUExH3qN6vv_H54zgXS3R1T7eRbTRXp8e7FXBLITVTSUyj4eandZ/w532-h640/1960-12-09%20Grand%20Opening%20Trails%20End.jpg" width="532" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 09, 1960; <i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Trails End</span></u></b><br />Van’s Tavern became Trails End. The Western motif was new, but that was about it. The hot dogs were still famous, and Philipp, Pep, and Van were still behind the bar pulling mugs of Chief Oshkosh beer. Albeit in bow ties and cowboy hats. </div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbWEXFZWogQLAtphP19tOwm3Ris_DnCGsTA8JgyFHfBWzah4EDvGplXIBWnpRqp0LuFKRPX70FYDuOYn6hhBpHnI-3onCKG2vrYlxUpEaAGDxlATrz5wIZz1Wlcb2NTgwnS0W-QpeCy2JtwDaxAQdMHp59JnRa8BA_uGcSaq-7gV8ovnWNm4lTck9sTLf/s1440/Pep-Jim-Van-1960.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="1440" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbWEXFZWogQLAtphP19tOwm3Ris_DnCGsTA8JgyFHfBWzah4EDvGplXIBWnpRqp0LuFKRPX70FYDuOYn6hhBpHnI-3onCKG2vrYlxUpEaAGDxlATrz5wIZz1Wlcb2NTgwnS0W-QpeCy2JtwDaxAQdMHp59JnRa8BA_uGcSaq-7gV8ovnWNm4lTck9sTLf/w640-h278/Pep-Jim-Van-1960.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right: Pep Steinhilber, Jim Philipp, and Bill Vandenberg in 1960.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pfOxSemNjpz3zFGZsMpOXmVEr0NYHaG9A8fMx0lyKUJRMhNfBnAlvnzqHpNL7B2J4X9bkbi52z59G2UUpHXJrzMUmgv43yYSmAhLjebrh4W9TUXECq0XbdrIjxPJ08WUB-RBZisiUT8NhQ_dAw5hqTwjti4inRSkA9O8H1dpacN99P-CwrrDfLlShmhl/s1233/Trails%20End%201960s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1233" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pfOxSemNjpz3zFGZsMpOXmVEr0NYHaG9A8fMx0lyKUJRMhNfBnAlvnzqHpNL7B2J4X9bkbi52z59G2UUpHXJrzMUmgv43yYSmAhLjebrh4W9TUXECq0XbdrIjxPJ08WUB-RBZisiUT8NhQ_dAw5hqTwjti4inRSkA9O8H1dpacN99P-CwrrDfLlShmhl/w640-h416/Trails%20End%201960s.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trails End in the mid-1960s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>It would take years before people adapted to calling the tavern Trails End. For a generation that had come of age at that bar it would always be Van’s.</div><div><br />The new name acquired a poignance Philipp never intended. Vandenberg retired soon after the transition to Trails End, and passed away in 1968. The old neighborhood was passing, too. <br /><br />The tavern had always been rooted in the blue-collar culture of its patrons. Broad Street along the railroad track was home to manufacturing plants like the Schmit Brothers Trunk Company and the Dunphy Boat Company. The tavern was a haunt for the workers at those factories. It was where they stopped for beer when the workday ended. It was where they cashed their checks on Friday. By the end of the 1960s, those manufacturing jobs and those workers were gone.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmr_05k2eGE4f3nzyvRTDExLcHI5b7qSsc24tyXrmcUngXFRWg2_G2DsNX3OCyVRYXHRwOH7X7QM6LXSJkPUC0NEr7b-kXqVtUkMi7MqL6BftFC0FngIkU5OgBGY0uZ0oAzTMnIK5Q7iUq_qIxYePI2swtK0LnCG8xpgIORlsQQhu_XSVuNJnexrcEuUd/s1129/Dunphy%20Boat.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="1129" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmr_05k2eGE4f3nzyvRTDExLcHI5b7qSsc24tyXrmcUngXFRWg2_G2DsNX3OCyVRYXHRwOH7X7QM6LXSJkPUC0NEr7b-kXqVtUkMi7MqL6BftFC0FngIkU5OgBGY0uZ0oAzTMnIK5Q7iUq_qIxYePI2swtK0LnCG8xpgIORlsQQhu_XSVuNJnexrcEuUd/w640-h194/Dunphy%20Boat.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dunphy Boat on Broad Street.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />In 1971, the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad ended its passenger service along the Oshkosh route. The depot that had brought travelers to the tavern’s doorstep for the past 80 years went silent.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8ubzmZ71jnVC2cLCa6eXS9hofxublP3VTLfEo35NvdzeMyijr8Z1l0_cAMI9P2cafHz6CmJF-KZA6YKZXtPMHqYRZ5gMaA6Tib3PPaXtSxtehT_GTxYHDSw-LvsoW9XWVhIXWmDZcF08sfEl_3qAZeTb1vF520oZtS4646B8kVZnFztkiN-YfoaU4GRO/s1296/CNDepot2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="575" data-original-width="1296" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8ubzmZ71jnVC2cLCa6eXS9hofxublP3VTLfEo35NvdzeMyijr8Z1l0_cAMI9P2cafHz6CmJF-KZA6YKZXtPMHqYRZ5gMaA6Tib3PPaXtSxtehT_GTxYHDSw-LvsoW9XWVhIXWmDZcF08sfEl_3qAZeTb1vF520oZtS4646B8kVZnFztkiN-YfoaU4GRO/w640-h284/CNDepot2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The former Chicago & Northwestern Depot as it now appears.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Maybe Jim Philipp could see where this was heading. He turned 58 in 1974 and had been working at the tavern for 25 years. That was enough. On July 1, 1974, Philipp sold Trails End to Eddie Parada, a 51-year-old car salesman from Connecticut who had moved to Oshkosh about a decade earlier. One by one, the connections to the past were giving way.<br /><br />Trails End became unmoored. Between 1974 and 1984 the tavern changed hands seven times. The situation grew so muddled that the city threatened to revoke the bar’s license over the confusion about who was actually running the place. Trails End had turned into a dead end.<br /><br /><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">Bob’s Trails End</span></u></b><br />The tavern was sold again in 1985. This time it was different. “They kept trying to sell it on a land contract,” says Bob Winkelman. “They would sell it, and the thing would fall through, and they would get it right back. Then they sold it to me. After that, they didn't get it back.”<br /><br />Winkelman was committed to making it work. “I thought of it as something long term,” he says. “I sold my house to buy this place. It pretty much became my life.”<br /><br />He began rebuilding the business and brought Pep Steinhilber back to help. Pep had left the tavern during the turmoil of the early 1980s. He was in his 70s now, the last of the old guard, but still willing to give it another go. “In fact, Pep wanted me to reopen the restaurant and start serving chicken and fish again on the weekends,” Winkelman says. “I checked into it, but thought it would be better if we kept things how they are.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDv8vlQbOkdHtIbGXsbXo6xkAE8pRuezZpzzjNKmfFXMww2pMOX1e8W9siFV0ZTd9WgFkEOiOabOp6ci3FOOlmONSTroRID1CFJsb_9Wg311vro3XVyW9XtMJAudOaOw2-0xQwKmTe73UNhFCaOi5uZpBsrdgyMp3iD911lelWlP3L2KksEjK1TMoDCIbA/s1297/Pep-After-85.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="1296" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDv8vlQbOkdHtIbGXsbXo6xkAE8pRuezZpzzjNKmfFXMww2pMOX1e8W9siFV0ZTd9WgFkEOiOabOp6ci3FOOlmONSTroRID1CFJsb_9Wg311vro3XVyW9XtMJAudOaOw2-0xQwKmTe73UNhFCaOi5uZpBsrdgyMp3iD911lelWlP3L2KksEjK1TMoDCIbA/w640-h640/Pep-After-85.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pep at Trails End after his 1985 return to the tavern.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Pep wasn’t the only Van’s original making a comeback. “After I bought the place, Pep told me the people before me had changed the recipe for the hot dog sauce," Winkelman says. "So I said, let's put it back to the original recipe. We put everything back to the original recipe that Vandenberg first used.” <br /><br />A year after Winkelman took over, Julie Feldner became part of the crew. She and Winkelman would be the stewards of the revitalized tavern.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqMEbHZfvTKJpQOpmqjFgbUoANwkoXZ3TXg-Dk7RSULlPFxTPH6qrrA9KvMSe6dI0ctUCvbGc8SeIu7b0miP0YaiIXiMLRlMnqqmo5kXQcIBecaKMDrjLecvzo3qAYjHM0RSGe_PTeNE9lZeJku2HMtll4Q9nmk_bDHDjdL1CA56sIXavtpTj174mznsY/s1172/Julie%20Feldner.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1172" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqMEbHZfvTKJpQOpmqjFgbUoANwkoXZ3TXg-Dk7RSULlPFxTPH6qrrA9KvMSe6dI0ctUCvbGc8SeIu7b0miP0YaiIXiMLRlMnqqmo5kXQcIBecaKMDrjLecvzo3qAYjHM0RSGe_PTeNE9lZeJku2HMtll4Q9nmk_bDHDjdL1CA56sIXavtpTj174mznsY/w640-h504/Julie%20Feldner.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Julie Feldner at the tavern, Thanksgiving 2014.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Feldner and Winkelman have brought Trails End into the tavern’s third century. The journey has included steering the bar through its second pandemic. The 1918 flu pandemic led to a ban on public gatherings that wreaked havoc for the saloon at Broad and Merritt. Feldner and Winkelman experienced that same trial beginning in March 2020 when a similar ban was imposed in response to the COVID-19 pandemic.<br /><br />“Julie and myself were the only ones here then, and we worked for free,” Winkelman says. “We just had carry outs and curbside pickup. We're still short-handed, so now I'm working seven days a week.”<br /><br />Winkelman is there most days by 4 a.m. “Yeah, it's hard, but I get up early every morning anyway, so it's all right with me,” he says. “I would like to take a little time off and travel on the motorcycle, though. But now it's not going anywhere. I get to ride it back and forth to work.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-TjNEVmZ9IXFdcySiOYQ1iDKmP4A1Acbskk0zL7Mi0fKOqI5E09ZRGfDSoUM-PWYvj_98BjIPpcYZox8DrKwDizkozIqv1VBzYzNXxMTEqQuvT5oN8O1DG-MTUkyVJIMBlbaWMQE5YhHoAyquJL5JD01GRlixIuGEJwIbjpQWg_s1si8KOj8-dQATzgF/s1276/Bob%20making%20Dogs%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="927" data-original-width="1276" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-TjNEVmZ9IXFdcySiOYQ1iDKmP4A1Acbskk0zL7Mi0fKOqI5E09ZRGfDSoUM-PWYvj_98BjIPpcYZox8DrKwDizkozIqv1VBzYzNXxMTEqQuvT5oN8O1DG-MTUkyVJIMBlbaWMQE5YhHoAyquJL5JD01GRlixIuGEJwIbjpQWg_s1si8KOj8-dQATzgF/w640-h464/Bob%20making%20Dogs%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob in the kitchen in 2023.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It’s been 38 years since Winkelman took over Trails End. He’s 73 now, and has replaced Bill Vandenberg as the tavern’s longest-tenured owner. “Everybody asks me when I'm going to retire. Why should I retire?” That’s an attitude Pep Steinhilber would have appreciated. Pep continued working at Trails End until shortly before his death in 2000. He was 88.<br /><br />The tavern is now more than 130 years old. There’s no concealing its age. The floor gently slopes. The bar shows plenty of wear. The well-maintained space is washed by the patina of time. Pinned to the back bar is an unusual, colorful painting. It sometimes baffles newcomers. The painting is of an old fisherman holding the reins of a white horse. Strapped to the side of the horse is an enormous blue fish. <br /><br />The symbolism is inescapable. The blue fish is a traditional symbol of good luck and prosperity. The fabled white horse appears in countless folk tales carrying the patron saint to their destination. The patron saint in this painting happens to be Pep Steinhilber.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ki3oAU-7uFUkQuQXNF5XfRc1_9D0zCFvNKN0U-cJSKlc8a4cdQ4ePeFpN1a2j64iF6Jn3Pt1XTsLmpg-dB5pW5ps4h4qr06hXBh61yIf96-P8neC-qtrU7bKMxgd-JWHdX4qri-tIFZIzKRRt2PyDnf_Ty9wKzAiXHVOxuiZeg9vkkjHsGaOyDoFFzMg/s1559/Pep%20Painting.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1290" data-original-width="1559" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ki3oAU-7uFUkQuQXNF5XfRc1_9D0zCFvNKN0U-cJSKlc8a4cdQ4ePeFpN1a2j64iF6Jn3Pt1XTsLmpg-dB5pW5ps4h4qr06hXBh61yIf96-P8neC-qtrU7bKMxgd-JWHdX4qri-tIFZIzKRRt2PyDnf_Ty9wKzAiXHVOxuiZeg9vkkjHsGaOyDoFFzMg/w640-h530/Pep%20Painting.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The painting, dated 1993, is by Dan Steinhilber. “He painted it for his grandpa,” Winkelman says. “Pep brought it down here, and then I hung it up there.” Winkelman nods towards the painting as a sly grin crosses his face. “That’s Pep. With a fish. Tied to a horse.”</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Up next is a timeline, but before I get to that, there are some people I need to thank. Bob Winkelman and Julie Feldner were both incredibly patient with my questions and generous with their time. This is a story I've wanted to write for a long time. When I finally went to Bob and Julie with it, they could not have been any more obliging. I also need to thank Michelle Benton, the great-granddaughter of Bill Vandenberg and the granddaughter of Jim Philipp. I don't know how many times I sent Michelle pictures and question in hopes that she could clear up my confusion. She never failed. And a big thanks also to Scott Krumenauer whose photographic memory came in especially handy when I was trying to get to the bottom of that foul-mouthed parrot legend.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">A Trails End Timeline</span></u></b><br />This tavern has such a long and involved history that it became impossible to present all of it within the main portion of the blog post. This timeline will fill some of the gaps.<br /><br /><b><u>1884</u></b><br />The Chicago & Northwestern Railroad Depot is built.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzlgKIEbozuCMJyeuqdioloWBJX5IOCZGoAvZjuLlL7gZiXffdNS3WV6OUEuh7HH023HeRkcgJpSPnByH4vQdPEorKfJooPLmbZ4Np5pX5joeBZyMWqKdXrNEtNLkOiaiBPehHbPD-nlhi8TmLefEUW8QTeNbEkgHulDp_MyCYAgaipr62DT2303bgLIm/s931/Depot3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="931" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzlgKIEbozuCMJyeuqdioloWBJX5IOCZGoAvZjuLlL7gZiXffdNS3WV6OUEuh7HH023HeRkcgJpSPnByH4vQdPEorKfJooPLmbZ4Np5pX5joeBZyMWqKdXrNEtNLkOiaiBPehHbPD-nlhi8TmLefEUW8QTeNbEkgHulDp_MyCYAgaipr62DT2303bgLIm/w640-h270/Depot3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chicago & Northwestern Depot in its early days.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1887</u></b><br />There have been several pieces written about this tavern that claim 1887 as its starting date. The original source for this date, I believe, is Larry Spanbauer’s 2012 book <i>Oshkosh Neighborhood Taverns and the People Who Ran Them</i>. I was a friend of Larry’s and wrote favorably about his book when it was released, but he got this one wrong. It happens.<br /><br />Spanbauer identifies John Chamberlain as the proprietor of a tavern/boarding house at the northeast corner of Merritt and Broad Streets in 1887. That’s not correct. Chamberlain was indeed the proprietor of a boarding house in 1887 – the Waldemer House on Broad Street – but it was located south of Merritt, not north of it.<br /><br />The Sanborn map below is from 1890 and shows the east side of Broad Street where it intersects with Merritt. Chamberlain’s “Waldemer Ho.” is clearly shown. The location of Bob’s Trails End is indicated by the red X. As the map illustrates, the corner portion of the lot where the saloon was later built was still vacant in 1890.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nzZson6UzevkOTSJThx5LwZzikBwUMMoJ9gk1FA2N7XjnflxMvMtuMzlPE-6KOTLG7w-GrYuFxWmaykDpXpHmx1xcqn6bhH2ouHvZ2oEmspDS8twYO2p5CBxmcY3SCPdmzi_nwGEpRbIdTDfHDFHJCyPGlMP8EJwRT4iyi6jTNVuQpjObJl3sGDaNslY/s1393/1890%20Sanborn%20Map.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="1393" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nzZson6UzevkOTSJThx5LwZzikBwUMMoJ9gk1FA2N7XjnflxMvMtuMzlPE-6KOTLG7w-GrYuFxWmaykDpXpHmx1xcqn6bhH2ouHvZ2oEmspDS8twYO2p5CBxmcY3SCPdmzi_nwGEpRbIdTDfHDFHJCyPGlMP8EJwRT4iyi6jTNVuQpjObJl3sGDaNslY/w640-h354/1890%20Sanborn%20Map.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The land where the saloon would be built was owned by John McPartlin, a land surveyor born in Canada in 1843. McPartlin had purchased the property on September 19, 1865. McPartlin sold the property to Rosina Rhyner, the mother-in-law of John Steier, on March 18, 1892.<br /><br /><b><u>1892</u></b><br />The first mention of a saloon at the northeast corner of Broad and Merritt appears in A.G. Wright’s 1893 Directory of Oshkosh. Wright’s Directory went to press in January of 1893. The information contained within the directory, including the mention of Steier’s saloon, was gathered in 1892. This 1892 date is entirely consistent with the land records for the property. 1892 is undoubtedly the first year this saloon was in operation.<br /><br /></div><div>It was a bold move for Steier to start a new saloon at this location. During this period, Reverend Roman Scholter of the nearby St. Mary’s Church was raising hell over the saloons that surrounded his church. Scholter went to the city council and tried to get a saloon-free zone imposed around St. Mary’s. The council rejected the idea. 1892 is also the year that Scholter built the St. Mary’s Church that now stands at the southeast corner of Merritt and Monroe. Before this, the church was directly across the street on the north side of Merritt <br /><br /><b><u>1895</u></b><br />The Oshkosh Brewing Company’s financial interest in this saloon began on August 6, when the brewery loaned Steier $1,600 (about $55,000 in today’s money). OBC was definitely bullish on Steier’s Place. The saloon was a tied house from this date until the start of Prohibition.<br /><br /><b><u>1896</u></b><br />Oshkosh Brewing Company purchased the saloon on October 24 for $3,100 (about $103,000 in today’s money). <br /><br /><b><u>1897</u></b><br />The saloon’s bowling alley was first mentioned in newspaper articles in early January of 1898. The reporting suggests that the lanes were already in operation before this time. It appears they were bowling at the saloon by the fall/winter of 1897.<br /><br />A note about the bowling alley: within a few months of the alleys being open, a “house” tournament was held. The winner was Oshkosh Brewing Company president William Glatz. I suspect Glatz was instrumental in having the lanes installed. He was an avid bowler and often rolled at Steier’s lanes.<br /><br /><b><u>1901</u></b><br />By this time, Steier had become surprisingly popular in Oshkosh. Rumors were swirling that Oshkosh Mayor John Mulva wanted to appoint Steier as the city’s chief of police. Quite an endorsement for a guy who, a couple years earlier, had been running a rat pit. The ad below – wherein a gun manufacturer touts its product by stating that Steier uses it – gives an indication of his notoriety.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY82kM3fLhfJ0XZF-KWjDMtN0FlS1uJov74QQklnYZECbdMNlFYAB7qcWMvW58Ex9wH6wYtjf_tJkASzsKXFJd_zLikWo8WekvCsAxXRUtWAsuTchu4w1HZhHMxbjFiMw8DxG0ZKUIjiOiQF8xMK1IwA1Yi3tIk4HYvPKC0ZfBMgS_aK28wBLAas7D7mL/s1333/1901-08-21%20Steier%20is%20a%20hot%20shot.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="928" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY82kM3fLhfJ0XZF-KWjDMtN0FlS1uJov74QQklnYZECbdMNlFYAB7qcWMvW58Ex9wH6wYtjf_tJkASzsKXFJd_zLikWo8WekvCsAxXRUtWAsuTchu4w1HZhHMxbjFiMw8DxG0ZKUIjiOiQF8xMK1IwA1Yi3tIk4HYvPKC0ZfBMgS_aK28wBLAas7D7mL/w446-h640/1901-08-21%20Steier%20is%20a%20hot%20shot.jpg" width="446" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>; August 21, 1901.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1902</u></b><br />In April, Steier sold the saloon business to Otto Joergers, who quit his job as a conductor for the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad to run the bar. It didn’t work out for Joergers. A year later he was gone.<br /><br /><b><u>1903</u></b><br />Henry Guilliaume took over the saloon in 1903 and renamed it the Northwestern Lunch Room. That name, however, was pretty flexible. There are advertisements from the early 1900s that also refer to the saloon as the Northwestern Buffett and the Northwestern Sample Room. Guilliaume had been a fireman and a cop before taking over the saloon.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnDP5LEX3ijeVAwAMs3GiKLeH6HoJBiDDStZxUHrBlYImEkXw1DGtHJGQ6_IEETl8ni4kQNPARZrD6jicJbmVpH7vwQJn5CRhgJ1JLaJt9-xsdhD7kNATFhtngBg5-XvOAMk5pvcCksxY9IK9yQByAZ60t_O66ipNgg37878Zn8lCnv8foYAE7M4Ejcje/s994/Henry%20Guilliaume.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="700" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnDP5LEX3ijeVAwAMs3GiKLeH6HoJBiDDStZxUHrBlYImEkXw1DGtHJGQ6_IEETl8ni4kQNPARZrD6jicJbmVpH7vwQJn5CRhgJ1JLaJt9-xsdhD7kNATFhtngBg5-XvOAMk5pvcCksxY9IK9yQByAZ60t_O66ipNgg37878Zn8lCnv8foYAE7M4Ejcje/w450-h640/Henry%20Guilliaume.jpg" width="450" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry Guilliaume in 1902 wearing his Oshkosh Police uniform.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1911</u></b><br />The saloon’s bowling alley appears to have closed in either 1911 or 1912. Guilliaume was building up the lunch room aspect of the saloon at this point and may have been the one who converted that space into a dining room. <br /><br /><b><u>1913</u></b><br />Guilliaume retires, and later moves to Milwaukee. Herman Dahms takes over. This is the start of a rocky period for the saloon with a new saloon keeper coming in every couple of years until Vandenberg arrives to put the place back on track.<br /><br /><b><u>1915</u></b><br />Dahms is out and John Bischofberger is in. Bischofberger was a veteran Oshkosh saloon man. He had been running a saloon on Main Street prior to taking over the tavern at Broad and Merritt. Bischofberger was also instrumental in the launch of Peoples Brewing Company. Now, three years after Peoples got started, Bischofberger found himself running a saloon owned by the Oshkosh Brewing Company.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwRQPXUXwswsPgtyOR7C8XkR5j8ZIFbxiQfkDio8cXNFULeeu2sBoQWj8Au7JuWrssRwLMljQWZEpdQ0SCFzwSyN-ZdcyPS6LlND21qouDzBTpq2nGLRvetKqTcafLvyoAjjDUQhgfWNtasqj77yvUS3ibkL30tbx-MvakBHky3LqaRGY2pUwKoc3RFCv/s757/Bischofberger's%20Saloon%2046%20N%20Main%201903.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="757" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwRQPXUXwswsPgtyOR7C8XkR5j8ZIFbxiQfkDio8cXNFULeeu2sBoQWj8Au7JuWrssRwLMljQWZEpdQ0SCFzwSyN-ZdcyPS6LlND21qouDzBTpq2nGLRvetKqTcafLvyoAjjDUQhgfWNtasqj77yvUS3ibkL30tbx-MvakBHky3LqaRGY2pUwKoc3RFCv/w640-h394/Bischofberger's%20Saloon%2046%20N%20Main%201903.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bischofberger’s previous saloon on Main Street. Bischofberger is probably the man with the dog at his feet.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1918</u></b><br />Bischofberger was robbed at gunpoint at the saloon in January of 1918. He died later that year, but I haven’t been able to find his cause of death. Was he a victim of the 1918 flu? He was 50 years old at the time of his death. A number of sources, including Oshkosh Brewing Company records, suggest that the saloon is struggling at this point.<br /><br />After Bischofberger’s departure, Frank X. Winkler came in. Prior to this, Winkler had been running a saloon just down the street at the northwest corner of Merritt and Monroe. Winkler was at the saloon when Prohibition arrived and seems to have resisted the urge that gripped practically every other saloon keeper in Oshkosh. The record is free of any indication that Winkler sold bootleg booze. Instead, he took out a soft drink license and started selling PEP, the Oshkosh Brewing Company’s unpopular, non-alcoholic “near beer.” <br /><br /><b><u>1923</u></b><br />Winkler quits and, that spring, Bill Vandenberg comes in. Vandenberg would own the business for the next 37 years. From 1923 until the end of 1933, this place is a speakeasy that also serves food. It’s called Vandenberg’s.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84Cjl3jodqcYW6-NYLhL1WO8UMbcooyuQJxh5LIcDRhCchOL9Kx9eOd5ZinulqY3qYiX-ITvGsjd5GsM4AWruR3rQCDm8reQpCbZPg7EJWz0z07bcFMxEvNjo-N-1wc2KpLAPO7nB9x7BiJkobgkks_tp5sVgvAc67PyfNqvtsXpA8MH6TtKsxzavtOAC/s1783/1932-04-22%20Bill%20Vandenberg's.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1783" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84Cjl3jodqcYW6-NYLhL1WO8UMbcooyuQJxh5LIcDRhCchOL9Kx9eOd5ZinulqY3qYiX-ITvGsjd5GsM4AWruR3rQCDm8reQpCbZPg7EJWz0z07bcFMxEvNjo-N-1wc2KpLAPO7nB9x7BiJkobgkks_tp5sVgvAc67PyfNqvtsXpA8MH6TtKsxzavtOAC/w640-h254/1932-04-22%20Bill%20Vandenberg's.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From April 22, 1932. Vandenberg is selling tickets to see heavyweight boxing champion Max Schmeling fight an exhibition bout in Oshkosh.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1928</u></b><br />The Oshkosh Brewing Company transfers its real estate holdings to Gilt Edge Realty, a shell corporation under the domain of the brewery. Gilt Edge Realty was controlled by the officers of OBC.<br /><br /><b><u>1933</u></b><br />Prohibition ends and Van’s Tavern is born. The clipping below advertises “Heavy Beer” for 10 cents. This was the full strength beer that became legal again after repeal. The pre-repeal beer, still being sold for a nickel, would soon be discontinued.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0I8PcoFLyNB6IZSWq_qeCYjnsdNCXppW-MH_CgzQ10lA4_PJdJVa81z0B42nsROVh1KjgHCu4UxSgGUX2YCVyziN3WnhCWmsSJ4yOHlds8eb0wEJOmQHvV7nuZYzpTUd4A8Dg1zOrrbqoNuze-0QqLzn-fcoDtXsemo67COTFSZGopfZFxJchFgLTOd8G/s663/1933-12-13%20Heavy%20beer%205%20cents.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="605" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0I8PcoFLyNB6IZSWq_qeCYjnsdNCXppW-MH_CgzQ10lA4_PJdJVa81z0B42nsROVh1KjgHCu4UxSgGUX2YCVyziN3WnhCWmsSJ4yOHlds8eb0wEJOmQHvV7nuZYzpTUd4A8Dg1zOrrbqoNuze-0QqLzn-fcoDtXsemo67COTFSZGopfZFxJchFgLTOd8G/w584-h640/1933-12-13%20Heavy%20beer%205%20cents.jpg" width="584" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 13, 1933.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />For the first time, the tavern is now offering beer that wasn't made by the Oshkosh Brewing Company. Among the new rules imposed in the wake of repeal was a law forbidding the old tied-house system where a saloon could be forced to sell only their patron brewery’s beer. The picture below was taken in Van’s in the 1940s. The surprised woman is drinking Peoples Beer.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXXi7MrM5BUSfgtcQjG43FOMkofT1HwFhM7UIBCA6mPZURINv38aqgp5I7uvdnZCKz0RNGTRTtxXGsF6-x8w7rQjJ8nWL71FLXhNu28Q2JJNzk5PpEQbACNopk2qLvIdCLbE92JM-dHMHMBVt6P0Bje-MrJORMFcMBI8_cSdom3W8SS8RhVDpW4-W0hpU/s1996/Shocking%201940s%20peoples%20Beer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1699" data-original-width="1996" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXXi7MrM5BUSfgtcQjG43FOMkofT1HwFhM7UIBCA6mPZURINv38aqgp5I7uvdnZCKz0RNGTRTtxXGsF6-x8w7rQjJ8nWL71FLXhNu28Q2JJNzk5PpEQbACNopk2qLvIdCLbE92JM-dHMHMBVt6P0Bje-MrJORMFcMBI8_cSdom3W8SS8RhVDpW4-W0hpU/w640-h544/Shocking%201940s%20peoples%20Beer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><u>1943</u></b><br />Vandenberg is doing so well that he opens a second location on the southside at 8th and South Main (the building no longer stands). Vandenberg’s son-in-law Roman Langkau was the bar manager. But Vandenberg’s attempt to replicate his success on the southside failed. Vandenberg closed his southside tavern in either late 1944 or early 1945.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwttANNJCXeiYtrumOdIJ2fAB44IX93JuA7sSyRO7io4X4LP8z5cgQhf9oB3yEWYDunb-X720i1O8XayUZV6Cf4hZ4k2ld9A2JB5Z6L4WOu70oPw0ZJfb5_MQykhzya1M_IO1yxoTHLffMNG7tByD58jww8qpBC9DdNPpzYvNsLa2QLBa428QhCEEXyEWI/s1242/1943-09-03%20New%20Tavern.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="988" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwttANNJCXeiYtrumOdIJ2fAB44IX93JuA7sSyRO7io4X4LP8z5cgQhf9oB3yEWYDunb-X720i1O8XayUZV6Cf4hZ4k2ld9A2JB5Z6L4WOu70oPw0ZJfb5_MQykhzya1M_IO1yxoTHLffMNG7tByD58jww8qpBC9DdNPpzYvNsLa2QLBa428QhCEEXyEWI/w510-h640/1943-09-03%20New%20Tavern.jpg" width="510" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A full-page (and roughly handled) ad for the opening of Van’s southside tavern. September 3, 1943.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1945</u></b><br />In the early morning hours of Tuesday, November 13, masked gunmen rob the tavern. Bartenders Edward Carrick and Roman Langkau, who were closing the bar, were tied up by the gunmen who got away with $4,175. Later that morning one of the gunmen shot a Madsion police officer who attempted to pull them over. The men were apprehended later that week, and Vandenberg got most of his money back.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPog1eRvPVBXmEJ2MvscR7M2i8DnqRdt7X4UgbNkcc4ieHN3TGSG7C5BUsCJ12h6EB8KnwuYulWXvSqOWEj4cXG3PlVoBCJvv6LOz5eJF5F-uf00eW5xET0U3Zj7oiAJrxfoEOlqfw4k3CF6t5L4ZV4ef0JLnR6h9wZUWmZIXU0wU_KLNb77vGTAQa1n2/s1062/1945%20Robbery%20headline.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1062" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPog1eRvPVBXmEJ2MvscR7M2i8DnqRdt7X4UgbNkcc4ieHN3TGSG7C5BUsCJ12h6EB8KnwuYulWXvSqOWEj4cXG3PlVoBCJvv6LOz5eJF5F-uf00eW5xET0U3Zj7oiAJrxfoEOlqfw4k3CF6t5L4ZV4ef0JLnR6h9wZUWmZIXU0wU_KLNb77vGTAQa1n2/w434-h640/1945%20Robbery%20headline.jpg" width="434" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>; November 13, 1945.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1950</u></b><br />The tavern's exterior was remodeled during the summer of 1950. A wooden parapet over the front entrance was removed and the windows facing Merritt were reduced to the size they are today.<br /><br />Pep Steinhilber sells his tavern at Boyd and Merritt (that place is now known as Boots Saloon). Pep goes to work at Van’s shortly thereafter.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojCdcF76ReITTVhfdMsHWxoG60l6yKFXPQcaj_lrAw1M5k_WuJB4HSLDOYW_thr7jqk38YnmvFUMiEQ8T3Rks01OAdhNPfitWY43OVRRMDJOGa7eNTqMEtF2Htk9-HczGe8FiJkJWFIlOadzH_y1l_kIR7-WEwGoGTLoqvOqkL-LtZLl9fx1TPM41Tlgb/s1383/Pep's%20Tavern.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1383" data-original-width="1008" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojCdcF76ReITTVhfdMsHWxoG60l6yKFXPQcaj_lrAw1M5k_WuJB4HSLDOYW_thr7jqk38YnmvFUMiEQ8T3Rks01OAdhNPfitWY43OVRRMDJOGa7eNTqMEtF2Htk9-HczGe8FiJkJWFIlOadzH_y1l_kIR7-WEwGoGTLoqvOqkL-LtZLl9fx1TPM41Tlgb/w466-h640/Pep's%20Tavern.jpg" width="466" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Pep’s Tavern at Boyd and Merritt (now Boots Saloon) in the late 1940s. That might be Pep behind the bar.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1960</u></b><br />On May 26, 1960, the Oshkosh Brewing Company (via Gilt Edge Realty) sells the property to James R. Philipp on a land contract. Vandenberg then sells the tavern business to Philipp. Van’s Tavern becomes Trails End.<br /><br /><b><u>1963</u></b><br />On November 29, Philipp satisfies the land contract and now owns the property outright.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit92MU1oAzpWH2izNMbno6RykDl9MnazSygIqXG3rflr_D4-0rp7zsZ2lkQ8ohs8_BGeoFUGv45EZyyk0Y5ar2QAYG2I7fDq9fOlkDmNHnbqDKZezB3CFsGzAzQ36ixyITuLnQEXGG60K1MOOg0jXzTD39HI_UXc2jlGksdFPU2ABpYh-453gII7wTYtIl/s627/1972-03-25%20City%20Champ%20bowling%20team.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="578" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit92MU1oAzpWH2izNMbno6RykDl9MnazSygIqXG3rflr_D4-0rp7zsZ2lkQ8ohs8_BGeoFUGv45EZyyk0Y5ar2QAYG2I7fDq9fOlkDmNHnbqDKZezB3CFsGzAzQ36ixyITuLnQEXGG60K1MOOg0jXzTD39HI_UXc2jlGksdFPU2ABpYh-453gII7wTYtIl/w590-h640/1972-03-25%20City%20Champ%20bowling%20team.jpg" width="590" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Trails End keglers win the 1972 city bowling championship. May 25, 1972.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><u>1974</u></b><br />On July 1, Jim Philipp sells Trails End to Edmund J. Parada. Philipp retains a mortgage on the property for $10,000. This is the start of a rocky period for the tavern. <br /><br /><b><u>1975</u></b><br />Parada still owns the tavern but the liquor license is given to Marcel Hrnak. In October, the license was transferred to John R. Abraham.<br /><br /></div><div>On July 15, Eddie Parada sells the tavern to John R. Abraham and Edward K. John.<br /><br /><b><u>1981</u></b><br />In October the liquor license was transferred to Robert W. Gensler in preparation for the sale of the tavern.<br /><br />On November 3, Abraham and John sell the tavern on a land contract to J.C. Smith for $75,000. Smith is something of a notorious character. He’s involved in numerous real estate deals in Oshkosh during this time. Almost all of them go bad. Smith is forced to declare bankruptcy. The title to the property becomes clouded due to Smith’s ongoing financial troubles. The tavern spins through a series of proprietors over the next four years.<br /><br /><b><u>1982</u></b><br />May: The liquor license is transferred to James C. Jischke. Less than two weeks later it is transferred to Clifford A. Olsen. Olsen lives in the home next to the tavern.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidehHEQ0jte_1f9aTHBFwYu-7WqNrUomZXWBYCza6ZLCQ58HaHfmSNA3xodE55Dr4FF4_ZmsgFtNSdQir2nrqwQecF3EfPy9Np4mXJkIYRVY3iG_qAo6bv3RLNC5XmMqazWTGmnxK9frwKHRj0rz-IDV2CitN42QMS3XAnZjv8lyELh4BHaOWhraetrQo/s1181/1982-06-10%20AD.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="970" data-original-width="1181" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidehHEQ0jte_1f9aTHBFwYu-7WqNrUomZXWBYCza6ZLCQ58HaHfmSNA3xodE55Dr4FF4_ZmsgFtNSdQir2nrqwQecF3EfPy9Np4mXJkIYRVY3iG_qAo6bv3RLNC5XmMqazWTGmnxK9frwKHRj0rz-IDV2CitN42QMS3XAnZjv8lyELh4BHaOWhraetrQo/w640-h526/1982-06-10%20AD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />On December 23, a lawsuit is filed against J.C. Smith for defaulting on his land contract. The situation at Trails End is becoming increasingly chaotic.<br /><br /><b><u>1983</u></b><br />In April, the liquor license is transferred to Gary Basler, who had been running the Ohio Street Station tavern at 9th and Ohio.<br /><br />Throughout the spring and summer, the status of the tavern is in jeopardy. City Attorney John Pence schedules a hearing to have the liquor license revoked. The situation begins to resolve in September after J.C. Smith relinquishes his claim to the property. Gary Basler voluntarily surrenders the liquor license. Ownership of the property reverts to John Abrahm and Edward John. The liquor license is put back in John Abrahm’s name.<br /><br /><b><u>1985</u></b><br />April 19, 1985: John Abraham and Edward John sell the tavern to Robert C. Winkelman on a land contract. The liquor license is put in Winkelman’s name. The tavern reemerges as Bob’s Trails End. And so it remains.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgji56_zlPueg15AW6EyrpyiCB_WGuKsdIrIdbAHDauriYAjwu4fo1-fOPCjONyzrgWgUTVhzRJoA3OmODlmEUaOsIYVbDKXuyUnFa8MQrvFzRgcdCTVPWUqdVEwvunmjytMPjQ8A6ZbN0eI7ubXprABJTYdu66hYXfflA_PUQBZvvz7M7V-3DxZhyieHKV/s1296/Trails%20End%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1296" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgji56_zlPueg15AW6EyrpyiCB_WGuKsdIrIdbAHDauriYAjwu4fo1-fOPCjONyzrgWgUTVhzRJoA3OmODlmEUaOsIYVbDKXuyUnFa8MQrvFzRgcdCTVPWUqdVEwvunmjytMPjQ8A6ZbN0eI7ubXprABJTYdu66hYXfflA_PUQBZvvz7M7V-3DxZhyieHKV/w640-h358/Trails%20End%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob's Trail End, July 2023.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><i><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.69px;">If you’d like to receive an email notification when I release a new blog post, just drop me an email at </span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #2b00fe; font-size: 14.69px;">OshkoshBeer@gmail.com</span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.69px;"> and put Subscribe, or something similar, in the subject box. When I see your email, I’ll send a notification letting you know that you’ve been added.</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-56433093912736577242023-07-14T11:16:00.001-05:002023-07-14T11:16:50.138-05:00Kellerbier UpdateLast year, I won the Society of Oshkosh Brewers homebrew competition with a Kelleribier. And as I mentioned <a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2023/05/theres-kellerbier-coming.html" target="_blank">here</a> back in May, Bare Bones Brewery asked if I would share the recipe for that beer so they could brew it. I was happy to, and today that beer gets released at the Bare Bones Tap Room in Oshkosh. I haven’t had a chance to try the beer yet, but I’m hearing good things. If you stop by Bare Bones in the near future, just ask for a Helen and they’ll serve you one of these. Prost!<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBORCpfNEXTwJMbuW15i0g2WTUAc25wc1RoFLdrw6yF6TeXwQznGUsZZ29mewbbuvCLut_GDlpdfmVp05bWkO4wapnfKETzaUxF8r45V_QYeQ9VoFwwNZmW5U9zJkFBEAfjtyvPdRcmnhYavznyoafo1S5LeqOkyejyNEe76_JRZGK7HyNhQyL2FPZBlKh/s912/Helen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="719" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBORCpfNEXTwJMbuW15i0g2WTUAc25wc1RoFLdrw6yF6TeXwQznGUsZZ29mewbbuvCLut_GDlpdfmVp05bWkO4wapnfKETzaUxF8r45V_QYeQ9VoFwwNZmW5U9zJkFBEAfjtyvPdRcmnhYavznyoafo1S5LeqOkyejyNEe76_JRZGK7HyNhQyL2FPZBlKh/w504-h640/Helen.jpg" width="504" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-62512738611834727782023-06-20T11:11:00.003-05:002023-06-21T07:57:05.324-05:00Sin City Beer GardensThe first Brews on the Bay of the 2023 season is tonight in Menominee Park. A beer garden hosted in a city park is hardly unusual these days. But it wasn’t always this way. There was a time when the mere idea of it inspired fits of fear and trembling.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nHbpxkRAkCyJdNa7DBT9pH0NetMUnRnjhwCRqRlJID1VG4ozx45dWusJRMfTtsVMIcM82e914DbGEq__YUVB-L-ikqAJaIkNJKyWfp731_bzAL9XJlbalUs2Pyo-J7Mgdn5ISv6y-P0ySNQYIJANkSpR1tzjKBMeOymmV6t1l0I-qRP6U2qFyzX5vD_F/s1508/Old%20Fashioned%20Beer%20Garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1508" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nHbpxkRAkCyJdNa7DBT9pH0NetMUnRnjhwCRqRlJID1VG4ozx45dWusJRMfTtsVMIcM82e914DbGEq__YUVB-L-ikqAJaIkNJKyWfp731_bzAL9XJlbalUs2Pyo-J7Mgdn5ISv6y-P0ySNQYIJANkSpR1tzjKBMeOymmV6t1l0I-qRP6U2qFyzX5vD_F/w640-h466/Old%20Fashioned%20Beer%20Garden.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The sale of beer in Oshkosh city parks was illegal from 1889 until 1940. When the law changed, some folks lost their shit. Among them was William Beck, a fun-starved cynic with an overactive imagination. Beck protested long and loud about the Oshkosh parks being “desecrated” with beer. I thought today would be a good time to share a taste of his ranting.<br /><br /></div><div>Here are a few passages from a lengthy and delusional letter Beck wrote to the <i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i> in the summer of 1941. You won't see this sort of “fun” at Menominee Park tonight. <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">OPPOSES BEER IN PARKS</span></b><br /><i>Can the parks commissioners remember back to the days before we had city parks, when Sunday picnics and holiday celebrations were held in private parks and groves and were commercialized from the sale of beer and liquor? </i><br /><br /><i>Can they recall the disgusting sights of men and boys staggering about in all stages of intoxication? The frequent drunken brawls? The bloody fights with fists, clubs, and rocks, when knives and guns were drawn and used with serious and sometimes fatal effect? When women and children were terrorized, knocked down, trampled, and stampeded in all directions, and many families who had planned a pleasant outing for the day fled in panic for their homes in fear of being injured by drink-crazed men and rowdies? </i><br /><br /><i>It was to prevent such occurrences that the people wanted a city park where no intoxicating beverages would be sold. They demand a stop to such frightful, shocking, and disgraceful conditions for once and for good.</i><br /> – William R. Beck, June 21, 1940.<br /><br />Beck's vision of Oshkosh's private beer gardens is almost entirely divorced from reality. He didn't know a damned thing about them. Beck was born in 1878 and was a lifelong bachelor who spent most of his adult life raising chickens in the Town of Oshkosh. During Beck's time there, the township was under the thumb of anti-alcohol zealots. Beck and his ilk voted the Town of Oshkosh dry in 1911. <br /><br />Beck moved to sin city after he retired from his chicken farm. He planted himself in an apartment on Merritt Avenue, where he had to suffer the spectacle of fun seekers going to and from Menominee Park. Maybe that's what did him in. Beck died two years after penning his beer-garden letter. <br /><br />Poor William. If you get to the beer garden tonight, raise a glass to our nervous, gloomy friend. Prost!</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBSzS5JbWO_hOSGgmaF873Wpi25wKVbXS1l5XzAHedR1lpOX8AxopWblc8IKKxvSqq2PTBuCPKMW8p83pIO5zwDPffkqNWpqtpjfGZuwPVzIPCi3Kz0Xivr8G5Lmnc1_rwkMmOOzmyVU2K0siXJP2BnBT4J5Pi1-SoiUm-ERzYy1VG8N3_qkTVTbydlVs/s1080/Beer%20Garden%202021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="1080" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBSzS5JbWO_hOSGgmaF873Wpi25wKVbXS1l5XzAHedR1lpOX8AxopWblc8IKKxvSqq2PTBuCPKMW8p83pIO5zwDPffkqNWpqtpjfGZuwPVzIPCi3Kz0Xivr8G5Lmnc1_rwkMmOOzmyVU2K0siXJP2BnBT4J5Pi1-SoiUm-ERzYy1VG8N3_qkTVTbydlVs/w640-h468/Beer%20Garden%202021.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>... such frightful, shocking, and disgraceful conditions.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-89189548522890221262023-06-11T05:00:00.003-05:002023-06-11T05:00:00.145-05:00Fred Zielke Was a Bad ManFred Zielke was 17 when he got on a ship leaving Germany for America. What kind of young man was this? Fred would soon become known as a notorious grifter, a panderer, and a wellspring for violence. Was all that rancid ambition already boiling in him when he walked on that boat? Or was it something about Oshkosh that ignited the worst in him? Fred Zielke was on his way to prove just how bad he could be.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtfThZUXZtN2cQQ-N3XuMOi0a2oauZn7dWwlbYkXTEJhT0KsyAQJFAmaNs1qc5On3KobTkQp1HrcEEPGszmUvsZWnZwaPlGQXoTiV9iNTTuQNFM64VldymITHvVPblNH0ywTf-bv9XGeRPCZ-VPBAjjNsw2yRDqYEEng1SEFxHndPQf-Fk_AM8GTdsA/s1200/01-RMS-Baltic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtfThZUXZtN2cQQ-N3XuMOi0a2oauZn7dWwlbYkXTEJhT0KsyAQJFAmaNs1qc5On3KobTkQp1HrcEEPGszmUvsZWnZwaPlGQXoTiV9iNTTuQNFM64VldymITHvVPblNH0ywTf-bv9XGeRPCZ-VPBAjjNsw2yRDqYEEng1SEFxHndPQf-Fk_AM8GTdsA/w640-h334/01-RMS-Baltic.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Fred was born in 1844 in Danzig, a Prussian city on the Baltic Sea. In 1861 he left for America with his father and older brothers, Rudolph and Herman. The Zielkes first went to Milwaukee, where Fred’s father appears to have run a liquor store. But by 1865, the Zielke clan had left Milwaukee for Winnebago County. They settled on a farm in the Town of Nekimi. Fred’s brothers were there for the rest of their lives. But not Fred. Oshkosh was calling him.<br /><br />Fred borrowed money from his father, and on April 8, 1870, he purchased Joseph Mayer’s grocery store on the east side of Kansas Street (today it’s South Main Street) just above 8th. By the end of summer, the groceries were gone, and Fred had his saloon going there. He was 26 now.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mCtH5bu6xtunpakMQgALE_1fsNgvLfg_bHgorCgyBGU70peGJCoGV_eTccFG1Nk4uk_FuC-Dekj5605-Qg9fzY_Gj0W3LNvAR0r7P2EhsTeFhvhInNoTI76FIiIWWOIeYNFkXGor6iBz9_9fchtYYddjB-b4E38KgihdgbeoHqzvhQuK4Of5ulPv6g/s1200/02-1867%20Drawing%20Detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1200" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mCtH5bu6xtunpakMQgALE_1fsNgvLfg_bHgorCgyBGU70peGJCoGV_eTccFG1Nk4uk_FuC-Dekj5605-Qg9fzY_Gj0W3LNvAR0r7P2EhsTeFhvhInNoTI76FIiIWWOIeYNFkXGor6iBz9_9fchtYYddjB-b4E38KgihdgbeoHqzvhQuK4Of5ulPv6g/w640-h364/02-1867%20Drawing%20Detail.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A detail from an 1867 drawing. The red arrow points to the back of Fred’s saloon on what is now South Main Street north of 8th Avenue.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It took Fred a few years to fully establish his infamy. Unfortunately, there isn’t a complete list of his early-period mischief. There were the usual brawls and drunkenness, but that was hardly uncommon for an Oshkosh saloon in the 1870s. The devil was in the details that weren’t shared.<br /><br />As one newspaper article stated, the facts surrounding Fred’s exploits “would not look well in print.” At the same time, journalists never tired of hurling insults his way. In print, Fred was called disgusting, amoral, dishonorable, a brute… a bad egg even. <br /><br />He must have become all of that. In 1875, Fred was stripped of his liquor license; a rare occurrence in a city famous for scandalous saloons. Fred left town without a fight. He sold the property on Kansas Street and headed for Ripon.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Blood and Beer</span></b><br />The move was both bold and foolhardy. Ripon was not the sort of place that was going to open its arms to a guy like Fred. The Ripon of 1875 was a socially conservative town inhabited by 3,500 gentle souls.</div><div><br /><i>"Its inhabitants are largely composed of men retired from various occupations, and the place has therefore a clean, quiet, comfortable air, quite in contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of Western cities."</i><br /> – <i>History of Fond du Lac County</i>, 1880.<br /><br />Fred came in like a buzzsaw cutting straight to the heart. He planted his saloon on Ripon’s town square. There were brawls on a near daily basis and a constant series of calls to have his “dishonorable” dive closed by the city council. Fred came to be such an object of derision that after being attacked during a fight at his saloon, the <i>Ripon Free Press</i> reported that “Zielke got his head badly bruised, but not as badly as he deserved.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGQ3z3Z8LI26y7kj3pPR5e9UZB6LsKek-Pc9z0-nagWkaRJYEyFFQ_LbIyp1cfN_AAVNJdMmnjkKyX70P5y-uq5tFuu4GVsM5Oqhv8gKn1BzjJW47cSvehzZ9WW0Sd9BygxpWPoreF2cqWcg45OUbP_IW8g2HqxalwFsNWZ0xyT3645JC18-knGKEiQ/s1050/03-Ripon%20Town%20Square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="1050" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGQ3z3Z8LI26y7kj3pPR5e9UZB6LsKek-Pc9z0-nagWkaRJYEyFFQ_LbIyp1cfN_AAVNJdMmnjkKyX70P5y-uq5tFuu4GVsM5Oqhv8gKn1BzjJW47cSvehzZ9WW0Sd9BygxpWPoreF2cqWcg45OUbP_IW8g2HqxalwFsNWZ0xyT3645JC18-knGKEiQ/w640-h398/03-Ripon%20Town%20Square.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ripon’s Town Square, Fred’s stomping grounds.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It wasn’t just the fighting that upset the natives. Fred seems to have brought some Oshkosh “talent” with him to Ripon. Again, the newspapers were less than explicit, but the <i>Ripon Free Press</i> made it known that Fred was engaged in practices “which are licensed in St. Louis, but not in Ripon.” It was an obtuse way of saying that Fred was a flesh merchant.<br /><br />In the 1870s, St. Louis experimented with something akin to legalized prostitution. Brothels and prostitutes were licensed and regulated by the city. That was more hustle and bustle than Ripon was ready for.<br /><br />In February 1876, Ripon’s council voted to rescind Fred’s liquor license. Fred was irate. He said the revocation was unconstitutional. He said that Ripon had betrayed him. He said that a corrupt council member promised to reinstate his license in return for a payoff. Fred said his attorney told him to ignore the revocation. And that’s just what he did.<br /><br />The blood and the beer never stopped flowing. Six months after losing his liquor license, the <i>Free Press</i> reported that Fred was still running wide open and hosting more brawls than ever. “He can get up a row with his lager (beer) in the shortest possible time.”<br /><br />It went on this way for more than a year. Until Fred pulled the plug in May 1877. Ripon was happy to be rid of him. <br /><br /><i>“It will be glad tidings to all to know that Zielke, the saloon man, has sold and that the newcomer is tearing down the bar. Zielke was a bad egg and kept a bad house. His departure will please every lover of decency in this place.”</i><br /> – <i>Ripon Free Press</i>; May 10, 1877.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Oshkosh Encore</span></b><br />Ripon’s embarrassment might have gone on indefinitely if Fred hadn’t spotted an opportunity to return to the scene of his previous crimes on the Brooklyn side of Oshkosh. Before leaving Ripon, Fred struck a deal with Hypolite “Hyp” Dauben, an old, Kansas Street comrade. Hyp had launched a confectionery and restaurant just north of 8th Avenue in 1868. He’d been Fred’s neighbor during the turbulence of the early 1870s when Fred’s first Oshkosh saloon was going full tilt.<br /><br />Hyp was now looking to move his business north of the river. On May 2, 1877, he sold his South Main Street property to Fred. The bad man was back.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvO8wENRWJCH9ld1bEjzLFITHi78RkGHWX39Htxt9glFVSNBhbggodm5gyL6aMneMcPnj2F4iguGx5sGLVhsyqd1qOHBtJW8PL4BewulUoyQlBTCaj5Dg-werIj2Q7Qk9NpPeDzE89wRYfNCBncfUcH5gWlynNYKEETWTKKlioEhki52AZBxwzM9IAw/s1557/04-2013ish%20Rec%20Lanes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="1557" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvO8wENRWJCH9ld1bEjzLFITHi78RkGHWX39Htxt9glFVSNBhbggodm5gyL6aMneMcPnj2F4iguGx5sGLVhsyqd1qOHBtJW8PL4BewulUoyQlBTCaj5Dg-werIj2Q7Qk9NpPeDzE89wRYfNCBncfUcH5gWlynNYKEETWTKKlioEhki52AZBxwzM9IAw/w640-h344/04-2013ish%20Rec%20Lanes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both of Fred’s Oshkosh saloons were demolished long ago. They were located on lots that later became home to Recreation Lanes. His first saloon (1870) occupied the northern portion of the property, the second saloon (1877) was on the southern half.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Fred didn't get much of a welcome upon his return to Oshkosh. The <i>Northwestern</i> ran a story that rehashed his exploits in Ripon and described his new bar as “the toughest hole on the south side.” The trouble at the new place percolated for a year before boiling over in the summer of 1878.<br /><br />On the Friday afternoon of August 23, Fred’s saloon was visited by a trusting rube from Shawano named Post. After having a couple drinks, Post wished to close his tab and handed Fred a $20 bill (worth about $500 in today’s money). Post waited for his change. He didn’t get it. Fred pocketed the $20 and told Post to go to hell. The Shawano man went to the police.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSNgfxV8gw2mgVBt-Rr0FqDcoeMqw_kkSmuxxQ1uRvv_tZkOQwaxBPyq3vhROifYp34ZzcWwQwAQj4cT5ve69L1ryLChTqgKh6feUi2UOikgbQwLwRqMGfak9uolDDDP9ROTGhnHE3L8uzNZ9vWSLiaYZlSGDHTkf0CphorpdjyLsqgu7f9r11j0xLA/s1296/05-Oshkosh%20Cops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1296" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSNgfxV8gw2mgVBt-Rr0FqDcoeMqw_kkSmuxxQ1uRvv_tZkOQwaxBPyq3vhROifYp34ZzcWwQwAQj4cT5ve69L1ryLChTqgKh6feUi2UOikgbQwLwRqMGfak9uolDDDP9ROTGhnHE3L8uzNZ9vWSLiaYZlSGDHTkf0CphorpdjyLsqgu7f9r11j0xLA/w640-h480/05-Oshkosh%20Cops.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oshkosh Police in the 1880s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The desk sergeant dispatched a knuckle dragger named John “Jack” Merton to collect Fred and bring him to the station. Officer Merton was an unredeemed thug, the presiding skull cracker on the Oshkosh police force. Fred went along willingly. At the station, Fred told his side of the story. The cops didn’t buy it. Fred was arrested and charged with larceny. When Merton went to put Fred in handcuffs, the fighting began.<br /><br />It wasn’t much of a fight. A <i>Northwestern</i> reporter said that “Policeman Merton choked him and pounded him fearfully.” Fred retaliated by biting the cop. When Merton finally got the cuffs on him, he pulled out his revolver and hammered Fred’s skull with the butt of it. Merton got in a few more licks on the way to the holding cell. He punched and pistol whipped Fred until his head was mapped with welts.<br /><br />There would have been an indictment for police brutality if anyone other than Fred had been on the receiving end of that assault. But the best Fred could do was file a civil suit against the deputized sadist. The <i>Northwestern’s</i> coverage of the case mentioned the strong public sentiment against Merton, “not however from any sympathy with Zielke, who is much disliked and who stands in very bad repute on the South Side.”<br /><br /></div><div>In the courtroom the defense turned the tables on Fred, bringing in a fleet of witnesses “as to the character of Zielke and the place he keeps, the testimony of whom was not at all flattering.” In the end, Fred lost his civil suit and was convicted of resisting arrest.<br /><br />The wave of bad publicity helped tank his bar business. Struggling to stay afloat, Fred opened a clothing store in the saloon. Fred said he intended to close his saloon and concentrate on this new venture. But he never followed through. And by 1879, Fred was running a hybrid business that had never been seen in Oshkosh and hasn’t been replicated since. Fred created Oshkosh’s one and only clothing store/saloon.<br /><br />It was a total failure. But even Fred’s failures had panache. In October 1878, he managed to secure a loan for $2,000 (about $43,000 in today's money) from Max Landauer, Wisconsin’s leading clothing wholesaler. As part of the deal, Fred would carry Landauer’s line of goods. This Landauer was famous for his business savvy. How Fred, with all his squalid notoriety, managed to hoodwink Landauer into backing him is a mystery that passeth all understanding.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmMH4J91vVgA7_KfetNiGoMKeDZ9mkO-svh8JL9boh5EkgzHIiqLGieACnDhCV3SqqBEYsHBeL8tOOnXr4vKIA0nTMHmvX_5kzW3dBNGhwNAPpwWsz6FYLdWzgsZemxOsYpH7HIQji_fxWRqWaR6fDz_U0RhRVwIASm44kW6F9X84RTub4DUrMQJAvQ/s339/06-Max%20Landauer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="292" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmMH4J91vVgA7_KfetNiGoMKeDZ9mkO-svh8JL9boh5EkgzHIiqLGieACnDhCV3SqqBEYsHBeL8tOOnXr4vKIA0nTMHmvX_5kzW3dBNGhwNAPpwWsz6FYLdWzgsZemxOsYpH7HIQji_fxWRqWaR6fDz_U0RhRVwIASm44kW6F9X84RTub4DUrMQJAvQ/w552-h640/06-Max%20Landauer.jpg" width="552" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever dapper Max Landauer.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />If Fred ever intended to repay Landauer, he soon nixed that idea. Fred stiffed him. Landauer could at least console himself in the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one taken in. Fred spent a good part of 1879 in courtrooms facing his creditors. Judgements were rendered, and he still never paid up. His family, though, knew better than to seek satisfaction from Fred in a courtroom.<br /><br />On the Tuesday afternoon of May 25, 1880, Fred’s father and brothers rode in from Nekimi on their horses to visit with their wayward kin. The Zielkes weren’t there to talk with Fred. According to the police report, they went straight to “violently assaulting and beating him and doing him serious personal injury.” One of the witnesses remarked that “Fred got pretty badly pounded.” He got beat, but he was not broke.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwz1QmHIbrruRTcH5gy-JJJJYAo1Odo7pAY4S7UN1RrSMZshEOAGZNu5K78TA_TFZWZfU2ZqaNMeZX-4hC6khFDIia5XCb_fZxyhPDfS1i08Mj-QGsoAMKhsjRA7E90HPS8JjMpHtUreOm4_s8taPjNeny2SbNbQgUK0_t-l7oK8haraS9Ek9HrOGAg/s1152/07%20South%20Main%20at%208th%20Today.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="1152" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwz1QmHIbrruRTcH5gy-JJJJYAo1Odo7pAY4S7UN1RrSMZshEOAGZNu5K78TA_TFZWZfU2ZqaNMeZX-4hC6khFDIia5XCb_fZxyhPDfS1i08Mj-QGsoAMKhsjRA7E90HPS8JjMpHtUreOm4_s8taPjNeny2SbNbQgUK0_t-l7oK8haraS9Ek9HrOGAg/w640-h332/07%20South%20Main%20at%208th%20Today.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The east side of South Main Street north of 8th Ave. where there’s not a trace left of Fred’s Oshkosh saloons.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Omro Infested</span></b><br />Fred had tucked away enough cash to finance his flight from the debt bomb he dropped in Oshkosh. In March of 1880, he used part of that money to purchase a small store in Omro under his wife’s name. By the close of 1880 he had converted the property into a saloon. Fred's occupancy of Omro was as lively as his residency in Ripon.<br /><br />Omro in 1880 was a village at war with itself. The conflict was over alcohol and pit Omro’s temperance fanatics against anyone who liked to take a drink now and then. The temperance brigade was agitating to make Omro dry and force the village board to stop issuing liquor licenses. The dries would eventually win their battle in Omro. Fred's antics helped fuel their fire.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVqoG_XYkpnlPQKpXztJjvGggYUos8zEXw0ssGjZ0TBCWidLwpOw9LJG7zuovn-MaQBRyl2WvyD6b6j7qf_qRXviqlx_tK9HnpgRy0eQdQu1YBUGaSCCmKetAJQMaXmnAm_AODWlzxtjo2TglVGNLWzkUxSwJGF5fiG-p8eFbmhqbs1YvuG4axMwLYQ/s1461/08%20Omro%20circa%201900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="914" data-original-width="1461" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVqoG_XYkpnlPQKpXztJjvGggYUos8zEXw0ssGjZ0TBCWidLwpOw9LJG7zuovn-MaQBRyl2WvyD6b6j7qf_qRXviqlx_tK9HnpgRy0eQdQu1YBUGaSCCmKetAJQMaXmnAm_AODWlzxtjo2TglVGNLWzkUxSwJGF5fiG-p8eFbmhqbs1YvuG4axMwLYQ/w640-h400/08%20Omro%20circa%201900.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking west down what is now E. Main St. in Omro. Zielke’s saloon stood one lot west of where the bell tower was later constructed. The saloon was on the eastern portion of the lot that is now addressed as 136 E. Main Street, in Omro.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It didn’t take long for Fred to make an impression. In June of 1881, he was called into court to testify on behalf of a troublesome Omro saloon operator named Henry Jassen. Jassen had recently been beaten up by Oshkosh brewery owner Charles Rahr. Jassen sued. Now the two men were battling one another in front of a judge.<br /><br />Fred delivered his testimony on behalf of Jassen, and was then cross-examined by attorney Menzo Eaton. The Oshkosh lawyer knew all about Fred. Eaton grilled Fred about his lack of character, his vile reputation, and his penchant for lying. Fred grew enraged. When the court adjourned, “Zielke followed Eaton into the street and made a rush for him; Eaton’s friends grabbed Zielke and quite a contest ensued.” Once again it wasn’t much of a fight. Fred took yet another drubbing.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SE9484DmuwGkP0AkD4j27snXT3GCWTmqeeiSrh1wjSKavnhDOOTB5ziIjLqeshOgMPuBWGCWrT0auzBrnnO9zD2eL_7Fu_smB2udxlMvsVd-do9U1pDtlrYHaTGmlRKb8LLdfvr_HRf4huF3wTeer77NWoZh_E5GNTFWtIfTonA7_rI7kLkyWCYhew/s582/09%20Menzo%20Eaton.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="430" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SE9484DmuwGkP0AkD4j27snXT3GCWTmqeeiSrh1wjSKavnhDOOTB5ziIjLqeshOgMPuBWGCWrT0auzBrnnO9zD2eL_7Fu_smB2udxlMvsVd-do9U1pDtlrYHaTGmlRKb8LLdfvr_HRf4huF3wTeer77NWoZh_E5GNTFWtIfTonA7_rI7kLkyWCYhew/w472-h640/09%20Menzo%20Eaton.jpeg" width="472" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Menzo Eaton</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Fred seems to have made at least one concession to his neighbors in Omro. There were no intimations of his involvement with prostitution during his time there. But Fred’s lust for mayhem remained unquenched. As in all his saloons, brawling was a feature of his Omro dive. And as usual, Fred took his share of the blows. During a melee in January 1884, a patron went at Fred with a club beating him to the floor and breaking his arm.<br /><br />Then there were the arrests. First, for selling liquor to minors and then for selling booze to “posted” men – helpless alcoholics forbidden by law to purchase liquor in Omro. When the village refused to grant Fred a continuation on his liquor license, he took a page from his Ripon days and refused to close. Like the officials in Ripon, the folks overseeing the Omro saloons couldn’t seem to stop him.<br /><br />A newspaper screed published in the fall of 1884, summed up Fred’s position in the village. His saloon was called a “low den” and Fred was condemned as one “of the worst nuisances that ever infested Omro.” <br /><br />Maybe all that hate finally got to him. In February of 1885, Fred sold his Omro saloon and then moved away. He went to a place where there were no saloons. A place unstained by the urban debaucheries that had been his stock in trade for the past 15 years. Fred moved to rural Fentress County, Tennessee.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgb9zvq8xqTUm5rWx9riXZg0kt7dFIvQN4sbqqo6An_GP9NRVl9Ht9tcGJ2NqxYRSCC8wG7cb9_HZ5OQUJO0R9E0Oc7HMLZPsiey2Jdc358OMwa2i9uQEmmfCPTAK1bKUquOOM3cvZ30fiM1rNIzJVFEQmB18dx9PmZN_6frL2dBwWuJGTc1h91enHQ/s592/10%20Fentress_County_TN_1942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="592" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgb9zvq8xqTUm5rWx9riXZg0kt7dFIvQN4sbqqo6An_GP9NRVl9Ht9tcGJ2NqxYRSCC8wG7cb9_HZ5OQUJO0R9E0Oc7HMLZPsiey2Jdc358OMwa2i9uQEmmfCPTAK1bKUquOOM3cvZ30fiM1rNIzJVFEQmB18dx9PmZN_6frL2dBwWuJGTc1h91enHQ/w640-h434/10%20Fentress_County_TN_1942.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The simple life in Fentress County, Tennessee was still intact more than 50 years after Fred moved there. This photo is from 1942.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Fentress County was nothing like Oshkosh, Ripon, or Omro. Fred went there seeking something else. And this time, his neighbors welcomed him.<br /><br /><i>"Mr. Zielke, one of our farmers, has his new barn finished. It is 28x50 feet, and is the best barn on the mountain, at least around here. He has the foundation of his new house laid, which, when completed, will be a splendid building. He also has twenty acres cleared up, grubbed and ready to plow.”</i><br /> – <i>Rugby Gazette and East Tennessee News</i>; October 23, 1886.<br /><br /></div><div>Fred was 42 then. He had another 33 years ahead of him. Fred was a gentleman and a farmer for the rest of his days.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7iKYsZEAAv0SfbrQhabn5YUsYY1S-RrUZ8FDwdk8Tldg9I8T9rNjJ_CPazar2R2W5E-pWhZXrnFBXxZYeiN5N-bUzAXKeIXyGQhwHCWuyLuaudy-9Ow-cW4VctLCNLF1eoff6ZPD1K0aMW-bJTm-qJw_M-WUNrjz9Si3-vDNSDHlU__oU49PQDijjQ/s427/11%20Fred's%20Head%20Stone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="427" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7iKYsZEAAv0SfbrQhabn5YUsYY1S-RrUZ8FDwdk8Tldg9I8T9rNjJ_CPazar2R2W5E-pWhZXrnFBXxZYeiN5N-bUzAXKeIXyGQhwHCWuyLuaudy-9Ow-cW4VctLCNLF1eoff6ZPD1K0aMW-bJTm-qJw_M-WUNrjz9Si3-vDNSDHlU__oU49PQDijjQ/w640-h422/11%20Fred's%20Head%20Stone.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-61074858133953746502023-06-09T20:13:00.001-05:002023-06-09T20:19:53.166-05:00Oshkosh Beer Mail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglT5KYLxsmsFfosmATCq6q0M-MsjFkFiV5Hbae-FmMt-qvvqebwL-3nsZ-ME4FjekPz-ngBM7y46EGSCtix5LaQ3KzP4PQg_OvAbVNmcdiKEPBtZo1KA3vuHNBX6Y5wFpJ8Lk5z9xF_QeKCZSJ28iX5QB-HFBObuZ_Gy37r_b0ReW_F8xCXZd6mzXiHw/s524/beer%20stamp.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="524" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglT5KYLxsmsFfosmATCq6q0M-MsjFkFiV5Hbae-FmMt-qvvqebwL-3nsZ-ME4FjekPz-ngBM7y46EGSCtix5LaQ3KzP4PQg_OvAbVNmcdiKEPBtZo1KA3vuHNBX6Y5wFpJ8Lk5z9xF_QeKCZSJ28iX5QB-HFBObuZ_Gy37r_b0ReW_F8xCXZd6mzXiHw/w320-h318/beer%20stamp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>If you’d like to receive an email notification when I release a new blog post, just drop me an email at <span style="color: #2b00fe;">OshkoshBeer@gmail.com</span> and put Subscribe, or something similar, in the subject box. When I see your email, I’ll send a notification letting you know that you’ve been added.</div><br />As some readers already know, I used to have an email client setup on the blog, but unfortunately, that widget bit the dust. I’ve been trying to replace it, but I’ve been unhappy with the options that are out there. Most of them seem too susceptible to third-party interlopers. <br /><br />So I’ve made my own. This way I can assure you that your email will never be shared and that only I will see your email address. And I promise not to fill your inbox with junk. Prost!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-84940189830198343712023-05-31T11:29:00.004-05:002023-05-31T11:30:12.918-05:00There's a Kellerbier Coming<p>Last summer, I was lucky to win the Society of Oshkosh Brewers club competition with a Kellerbier I brewed. Jody at Bare Bones is brewing that recipe today. I’ll send a shout out when the beer gets released…</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmaMpS2v9iK2iBHjJUXa3q5OTo7rqlz8I8GjaYX9QW5aWrJFYaqqsmR31BLas7TV0x1LyqCJbRebx5rGfkvM-3su1JrtU2-Hv_R135NAQkNoXPbH2jEgY0DG_ig4URJqKR2oblHekeIIV9oc6KoAQWn9yD5UfkLxfkmn8PC6dREQ8dJfdYCJidQsrVg/s1034/Kellerbier.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="893" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmaMpS2v9iK2iBHjJUXa3q5OTo7rqlz8I8GjaYX9QW5aWrJFYaqqsmR31BLas7TV0x1LyqCJbRebx5rGfkvM-3su1JrtU2-Hv_R135NAQkNoXPbH2jEgY0DG_ig4URJqKR2oblHekeIIV9oc6KoAQWn9yD5UfkLxfkmn8PC6dREQ8dJfdYCJidQsrVg/w552-h640/Kellerbier.jpg" width="552" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kellerbier recipe prep at Bare Bones.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-59778054230675673452023-05-29T16:43:00.002-05:002023-05-29T16:43:26.216-05:00The 1943 Beer Roll In 1943, the Oshkosh Brewing Company’s “beer roll” returned to deliver kegged beer to taverns in the city. The move was made out of necessity. Almost two years earlier, America had entered World War II. The extensive rationing that followed made it difficult for OBC to source gasoline and tires for the brewery’s fleet of delivery vehicles. The old-fangled beer roll was reintroduced to help stretch those limited resources. <div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs71S1bwcFAMnicBGA0S8tovFM3i_UjzQ2jjYdktHGdhj26F75VBaVRwnvCIC55_TiWn0o87HaQ8F1uhbFzlu62naY3PrUJ_A_U09TC09hnZDhAQ4lg9hyEIfl2Pyis4CwH5ceE-rV-Fbhc-bewzHQlLdBRqlsJ--h7DvM7diWitgZP1F33uPI1MEOSw/s1124/OBC%20beer%20roll%20June1944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1124" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs71S1bwcFAMnicBGA0S8tovFM3i_UjzQ2jjYdktHGdhj26F75VBaVRwnvCIC55_TiWn0o87HaQ8F1uhbFzlu62naY3PrUJ_A_U09TC09hnZDhAQ4lg9hyEIfl2Pyis4CwH5ceE-rV-Fbhc-bewzHQlLdBRqlsJ--h7DvM7diWitgZP1F33uPI1MEOSw/w640-h374/OBC%20beer%20roll%20June1944.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1944</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>The wagon wasn’t the only part of this picture brought out of retirement. John Pahlow is the man holding the reins. He had been a teamster for OBC during the early 1900s. That occupation was lost to a truck. Pahlow was 61 when he got his old job back. For the next couple of years, it wasn’t unusual to see him driving his team through the city streets with a wagon full of kegged beer.</div></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-63698716693401011142023-05-21T05:00:00.007-05:002023-05-21T05:00:00.138-05:00The Legend of Tin Horn BillWilliam Carlson made a lot of noise. He would sing at people through a tin megaphone. He seemed not to care whether or not his audience wanted to hear him. And he liked to drink too much. He was enamored with Oshkosh, but came to be known across the state. William Carlson. People knew him as Tin Horn Bill.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGhC2mIJMgB-8B00XXpWONRA4QY4A0aslgHquj_Bu51k2H14ySpA8qLXM3E-4M-nUz-uDrVHoQm0rSeD0xsuZXqSUTbWjqm1mvXdrO05hlBEG0SJtfLabOixfWu5Jgbjh0_sHkAV_HyiceUH97X5lPWD9d7ChgLALoHRNRocgG8gl8dY4CSoKSH3qmQ/s2050/01-Tin%20Horn%20Barker.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="2050" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGhC2mIJMgB-8B00XXpWONRA4QY4A0aslgHquj_Bu51k2H14ySpA8qLXM3E-4M-nUz-uDrVHoQm0rSeD0xsuZXqSUTbWjqm1mvXdrO05hlBEG0SJtfLabOixfWu5Jgbjh0_sHkAV_HyiceUH97X5lPWD9d7ChgLALoHRNRocgG8gl8dY4CSoKSH3qmQ/w640-h400/01-Tin%20Horn%20Barker.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Tin Horn Bill emerged in the summer of 1905 when a new, semi-pro baseball association called the Wisconsin State League latched onto him. The WSL hired Bill to be something like a carnival barker. He was to travel around the state as a lead man promoting the league’s games. Bill would take to the street with his megaphone and begin inflicting his music. Between numbers, he’d publicize the upcoming game. Like an ear infection, Bill was impossible to ignore. <br /><br />Bill grew infatuated with the Oshkosh Indians of the WSL. There was something about the city and its baseball team that he found irresistible.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrEqkIu5IJgppecoTNFDVjrZA2oGlPvx_kf3hAXMcC2VC8BFFOAVirH_vOOt7NTvDT4_5npzK5m2_Ze48aTmeGXCTxZ_4oYoqgCm7sDLir1nVvYMnlprwFXRO3mqL1nDozM6jSD4l2Zj3I7yDl2gKVGpFPPyQ323GJ6NJBi9aY1AsJzxEM0BB45aAhA/s1005/02-1905%20Oshkosh%20Indians.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="1005" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrEqkIu5IJgppecoTNFDVjrZA2oGlPvx_kf3hAXMcC2VC8BFFOAVirH_vOOt7NTvDT4_5npzK5m2_Ze48aTmeGXCTxZ_4oYoqgCm7sDLir1nVvYMnlprwFXRO3mqL1nDozM6jSD4l2Zj3I7yDl2gKVGpFPPyQ323GJ6NJBi9aY1AsJzxEM0BB45aAhA/w640-h472/02-1905%20Oshkosh%20Indians.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 1905 Oshkosh Indians</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Tin Horn Bill became a familiar site on Main Street. Before home games, he’d head downtown and break into song. What was initially amusing had turned absolutely annoying by the close of the 1905 season.<br /><br /></div><div>Perhaps as a twisted joke, Bill was invited to the Oshkosh Yacht Club’s year-end “stag” party in September 1905. Bill brought his tin horn. He bellered one of his numbers and then began telling a story too repulsive for even a stag party. The yachtsmen didn’t allow their guest to finish his anecdote. Bill was led away.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFx5PUCCXDmPUnuZEho7jHU9jZDvvwWHIe4BCYYobETFy7i_HI9RHHa8RnOVlpsFJ-jDLNKEL460Uo7DpdOlnRFpi0hKa9jjVhPZ8bJq3cl7-m5Ohq-DxB277cgzOPfcn11zHLAjERToYv8FRzuCPu_8UC74VXjdbnmCm4Jk9cf-A9cGHTgK6rWZeEw/s1000/03%20Oshkosh%20Yacht%20Club.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFx5PUCCXDmPUnuZEho7jHU9jZDvvwWHIe4BCYYobETFy7i_HI9RHHa8RnOVlpsFJ-jDLNKEL460Uo7DpdOlnRFpi0hKa9jjVhPZ8bJq3cl7-m5Ohq-DxB277cgzOPfcn11zHLAjERToYv8FRzuCPu_8UC74VXjdbnmCm4Jk9cf-A9cGHTgK6rWZeEw/w640-h426/03%20Oshkosh%20Yacht%20Club.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Built in 1903, the clubhouse of the Oshkosh Yacht Club. William Waters, architect.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bill needed a new gig now that the baseball season had ended. His insatiable need for attention led him to the circus. Bill joined Carl Hagenbeck’s Wild Animal Circus. He co-starred in a feeding stunt with a massive lion named Nero.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCKDw5yMKhrSy6uswOeAV0PVUsRcGLHir-wMc7nk-mzkjjShR6zgSZFYtM0kk3W6FGz85gQCc1XtZtKGPp-74HmDAmrYQGltjZebN8BXribMhVQOu1rfkxAzBA7LYbzE0lTIqISVTG1_dZfktfq-rM2VqBfjayCEmEeAE0MTCpnc6Oy_8_BjaKfsNXw/s1174/04%20Hagenbeck.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="1174" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCKDw5yMKhrSy6uswOeAV0PVUsRcGLHir-wMc7nk-mzkjjShR6zgSZFYtM0kk3W6FGz85gQCc1XtZtKGPp-74HmDAmrYQGltjZebN8BXribMhVQOu1rfkxAzBA7LYbzE0lTIqISVTG1_dZfktfq-rM2VqBfjayCEmEeAE0MTCpnc6Oy_8_BjaKfsNXw/w640-h520/04%20Hagenbeck.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxtxn_CTRah4WKYJ_xyV1fE20-cO-zmIOMQxjZ0EboUjJJi5EDpWOumb947fvmfkcCfYiXmkv-TGjbXueF91MoJZ8m0o3bFQrbDUCoVQaj6Dp5YhDDt8SKwIWejEVk6DDGMV87XnF0dWrNeF7TeJTqBVMFUl4qAZroymC-m8d01LgZ3HWIjFMO8KgTw/s1464/05-%201906-06-09%20Hagenbeck%20Circus%20Oshkosh.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1464" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxtxn_CTRah4WKYJ_xyV1fE20-cO-zmIOMQxjZ0EboUjJJi5EDpWOumb947fvmfkcCfYiXmkv-TGjbXueF91MoJZ8m0o3bFQrbDUCoVQaj6Dp5YhDDt8SKwIWejEVk6DDGMV87XnF0dWrNeF7TeJTqBVMFUl4qAZroymC-m8d01LgZ3HWIjFMO8KgTw/w350-h640/05-%201906-06-09%20Hagenbeck%20Circus%20Oshkosh.jpg" width="350" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill was part of the Hagenbeck Circus when it came to Oshkosh on June 22, 1906.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />It did not go well. Shortly after the Oshkosh show, Bill was mauled by Nero. He lost part of a thumb and was left with webs of ragged scars across his arms, shoulders, and back. <br /><br />Bill returned to Oshkosh. He found work trying to drum up crowds for the White City Amusement Park at the south end of town. His beloved Indians were also playing there now. Bill was back on his horn singing and barking.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBtYgGZBXnwvxnVPwZTIwstbuMR5zbfPwG24-Z3S_xs4PUAnixPZLyzhQ7DL7bkHi9vgdgp9jsaruzXkUWcEkst5sAfxhFFuvTpG2GROJiWiqiIV_eiqi90Lq6DkN4E5FPRQAwOBSp-hHl1_XAEzOmsvT-rFHRpkk4I9Mw6semL1ejaUULv8gOeXAvA/s800/06%20White%20city%20midway.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="800" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBtYgGZBXnwvxnVPwZTIwstbuMR5zbfPwG24-Z3S_xs4PUAnixPZLyzhQ7DL7bkHi9vgdgp9jsaruzXkUWcEkst5sAfxhFFuvTpG2GROJiWiqiIV_eiqi90Lq6DkN4E5FPRQAwOBSp-hHl1_XAEzOmsvT-rFHRpkk4I9Mw6semL1ejaUULv8gOeXAvA/w640-h424/06%20White%20city%20midway.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A postcard showing the White City midway.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cAJDaijsSyT_N-pmgqoy7_OuzLSczaYD9DS_zhGf0LQB98fL1UjQgg1o2Ljx_IonTswqypPQhQsX8HCylf7hVxeZr1UCBAwMdAINZgvLr2jRamTheiWW1vsm5Ltrce7OdbrlCSPFUecfu9ooSsUlObkVlAuzI9GRCMDrY1tuy_oNtx7b5lmsWPTkTg/s1080/07%20Indians%20at%20White%20City.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1080" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3cAJDaijsSyT_N-pmgqoy7_OuzLSczaYD9DS_zhGf0LQB98fL1UjQgg1o2Ljx_IonTswqypPQhQsX8HCylf7hVxeZr1UCBAwMdAINZgvLr2jRamTheiWW1vsm5Ltrce7OdbrlCSPFUecfu9ooSsUlObkVlAuzI9GRCMDrY1tuy_oNtx7b5lmsWPTkTg/w640-h408/07%20Indians%20at%20White%20City.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Oshkosh Indians on the White City Diamond.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bill’s routine had not improved during his time away. He added a couple of new tunes, but the gimmick was played out. Even the newspapers were taking shots at him. The journos mocked Bill’s “fog-horn voice” and joked about his misadventure with Nero.<br /><br />Bill’s undoing began in the fall of 1906. He was arrested on Main Street on the Monday morning of October 1. He was very drunk. Bill tended to get increasingly “strenuous” at such times. Oshkosh Patrolman Henry Frohib, pinned to his Main Street beat, couldn’t take it anymore. Frohib dragged Bill to the station and locked him up.<br /><br />By noon, Bill had sobered to a state of semi-coherency. Chief of Police Henry Dowling came to visit Bill in his cell. Dowling told him that he’d let him go if Bill would leave town immediately. Bill agreed. He was escorted to the station and put on a train to Fond du Lac.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXSHJLTsqBGP--9wGns4pYHW6CeLOONuV62Ae61bAnG3qpS3v__lZk8noM9x6rItOvE2_Zzuh3dD6JUBRtb6oDeLgTIZl9TtksKv8s_OcCO80qQU53AWwbwpx9ASHdchE55YRbXCyjs5I6SQrAtLiAXRSEAp9bs5hTnFcBftr1oQT38Kj_YAd9W5Jkw/s1330/08%20Dowling-Frohib.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1175" data-original-width="1330" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXSHJLTsqBGP--9wGns4pYHW6CeLOONuV62Ae61bAnG3qpS3v__lZk8noM9x6rItOvE2_Zzuh3dD6JUBRtb6oDeLgTIZl9TtksKv8s_OcCO80qQU53AWwbwpx9ASHdchE55YRbXCyjs5I6SQrAtLiAXRSEAp9bs5hTnFcBftr1oQT38Kj_YAd9W5Jkw/w640-h566/08%20Dowling-Frohib.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chief of Police Henry Dowling (left) and Patrolman Henry Frohib.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bill couldn’t find another town he liked as much as Oshkosh. He tried Fond du Lac, Green Bay, Menasha, La Crosse. The reaction was always the same. In 1907, the La Crosse police ordered Bill to leave town. He went back to Oshkosh.<br /><br />Bill had been in Oshkosh just a few hours before he was arrested again. He was very drunk. He'd been kicked out of several Main Street saloons prior to stepping into Frank Thielen’s place. Bill got loud and got ejected. As he left, Bill kicked a panel out of Thielen’s front door. He was arrested minutes later. The following morning, Tin Horn Bill was sentenced to twenty days in the county workhouse.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyvy65g5lECawZer1z_CoIHvrdjh8XGlpjg_h4dNeZzqTr-rNOQY07wIwFWWUwM0iucp_KY1OcmZU3pnV_kxvVyx1AEusAG9P_oZv5yvHb3f5-wuUjY6u2U73Fh_Mkx_wK_1mUkzPpQDIH_0a4MNyA0BF2HuRDiNRCSOkOkxcup0H9G7ycXZU5621Xg/s1280/09-420%20N.%20Main%20Frugal.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="1280" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyvy65g5lECawZer1z_CoIHvrdjh8XGlpjg_h4dNeZzqTr-rNOQY07wIwFWWUwM0iucp_KY1OcmZU3pnV_kxvVyx1AEusAG9P_oZv5yvHb3f5-wuUjY6u2U73Fh_Mkx_wK_1mUkzPpQDIH_0a4MNyA0BF2HuRDiNRCSOkOkxcup0H9G7ycXZU5621Xg/w640-h420/09-420%20N.%20Main%20Frugal.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Formerly Frank Thielen's saloon, 420 N. Main is now home to Frugal Fashion.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Bill was arrested again about a month after the incident at Thielen’s place. This time he was charged with vagrancy. Bill finally gave up. When he went before the judge, he promised that he’d leave town forever if they’d just let him go. The judge released him. Tin Horn Bill Carlson was never seen here again.<br /><br />Bill went south. The last known sighting of Tin Horn Bill occurred near the end of the baseball season in 1908. He was heading to Freeport, Illinois.<br /><br /><i>Wm. Carlson, better known as “Tin Horn Bill” will be here next week to sing for the baseball teams, which will play in this city.</i><br /> – Freeport <i>Daily Bulletin</i>; September 8, 1908. <br /><br />Bill was never heard from again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3rc6xbDya7YWIgsf3gzNXo01grqLASJbz3yVd3RzYIPFxkvMnWoLs7HEjyuhjtUmAsqLZvXDA4a98LLgMh3pf-Kq6TigyUrqIsvEfUI3MfEeffw-lArKpkrgjEGF8vH734RKz77k3fvv9Z0LZCV8YIr9dDPqSODytH5FspdVNctlojdskb4f1WCr0Q/s569/Megaphone-01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="569" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3rc6xbDya7YWIgsf3gzNXo01grqLASJbz3yVd3RzYIPFxkvMnWoLs7HEjyuhjtUmAsqLZvXDA4a98LLgMh3pf-Kq6TigyUrqIsvEfUI3MfEeffw-lArKpkrgjEGF8vH734RKz77k3fvv9Z0LZCV8YIr9dDPqSODytH5FspdVNctlojdskb4f1WCr0Q/w640-h266/Megaphone-01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-551670954623097152023-05-14T06:00:00.001-05:002023-05-14T06:00:00.141-05:00Blanche Rahr’s Beer LifeBlanche Rahr was not the first woman to take ownership of an Oshkosh brewery. But she was definitely the woman most identified with the beer business here. Blanche was part-owner and secretary-treasurer of Rahr Brewing from 1917 until 1956. She was the public face of Oshkosh’s longest-lived, family-owned brewery.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTXlwrpWwoab7dK_Ehb-dj8llgjH3xhmBEUzx9mQx77YFTtJ2eJUx7FfXe5JU0NOCE3Of03iChnjsR2fXK8Rsf7RUijTsbkTGVv554lxqTRJnTlB7pL1eyhqsOF-sL6Ewz6WhJO56oGDOGk9pqANbbagd9cOYGr7UJUQQfseyxtpZtDWjz3QDzf5uNA/s874/01%20Blanche%20Rahr.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTXlwrpWwoab7dK_Ehb-dj8llgjH3xhmBEUzx9mQx77YFTtJ2eJUx7FfXe5JU0NOCE3Of03iChnjsR2fXK8Rsf7RUijTsbkTGVv554lxqTRJnTlB7pL1eyhqsOF-sL6Ewz6WhJO56oGDOGk9pqANbbagd9cOYGr7UJUQQfseyxtpZtDWjz3QDzf5uNA/w474-h640/01%20Blanche%20Rahr.jpg" width="474" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blanche Rahr</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Rahr brewery at the foot of Rahr Avenue was established in 1865 by Charles Rahr, Blanche’s grandfather. Blanche was born in 1892 and was four when her father, Charles Rahr Jr., became head of the brewery. The business of making and selling beer was a constant presence throughout her life.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWekbEw3L6NHw9NQhqcaYcI1aAx3AMqHyr1UYbarY-89Xe_dC3jivXB-ILOCDGHXfnvDyM8hOGsZnSGCVbEGE95j1QJmmA60tr85lkzl0Bakfka1gf-ZV7ssal0FukMKGyekjIpiaLW87ZDkSwCs2CXjhQnhtf0I5c419qIBWKgB41NxzLMd1c656DA/s1402/02%20Rahr%20Brewing%201890s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1402" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWekbEw3L6NHw9NQhqcaYcI1aAx3AMqHyr1UYbarY-89Xe_dC3jivXB-ILOCDGHXfnvDyM8hOGsZnSGCVbEGE95j1QJmmA60tr85lkzl0Bakfka1gf-ZV7ssal0FukMKGyekjIpiaLW87ZDkSwCs2CXjhQnhtf0I5c419qIBWKgB41NxzLMd1c656DA/w640-h326/02%20Rahr%20Brewing%201890s.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rahr Brewing, late 1890s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Blanche grew up doing the simple brewhouse chores that every child named Rahr had been performing since the brewery’s founding. It turned out she was good with numbers, and by the age of 14 worked her way into managing the brewery’s accounts. Blanche was 17 and still in school when her name went on the brewery’s ledger as its bookkeeper.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpCsNgfXwKz2osrFiILB_9PN0wlnf7cRFcV1D-mLdsDQBz6g33h0xybP1tCYlX3nD32rnkRVEagmtJvk1wJ3Ok4J9LlakD8tH948SnEeTEOgvFU26C_3iTl1qiOAzF3dSaN7J0wcTKJAZkrIldnLAPe8mga2LhCDqglehXhVKydZGaZ4Nz1ePO9fWBw/s757/03%20Blanche%20Rahr.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="757" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpCsNgfXwKz2osrFiILB_9PN0wlnf7cRFcV1D-mLdsDQBz6g33h0xybP1tCYlX3nD32rnkRVEagmtJvk1wJ3Ok4J9LlakD8tH948SnEeTEOgvFU26C_3iTl1qiOAzF3dSaN7J0wcTKJAZkrIldnLAPe8mga2LhCDqglehXhVKydZGaZ4Nz1ePO9fWBw/w640-h586/03%20Blanche%20Rahr.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An undated photo of Blanche Rahr.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />She was outspoken and determined. She had to be. Part of her job was to bring to account delinquent saloon keepers, men twice her age who were unaccustomed to receiving ultimatums from a woman. But Blanche often held the trump card. Her family owned many of the saloons that sold Rahr’s beer. The young lady could put you out of business if she cared to.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxe5ytWpj_BjeorqbcvI6l5aWbocexu5qsBaJ2wnQg8ic-MEh3XRdk-Udvtd4J8jUIJPGsHZArYSfHywtRnjIaR1NNEgZpkpjSy75-7pGR2buYxc8By4tp0AZIOtsCeYdOD59eJDBR7OyudNs5h9sQKpnqApXA33hqXoyuera-cjPU-2rTa-90Rs9uw/s1296/Ratch%20&%20Deb's.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1296" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxe5ytWpj_BjeorqbcvI6l5aWbocexu5qsBaJ2wnQg8ic-MEh3XRdk-Udvtd4J8jUIJPGsHZArYSfHywtRnjIaR1NNEgZpkpjSy75-7pGR2buYxc8By4tp0AZIOtsCeYdOD59eJDBR7OyudNs5h9sQKpnqApXA33hqXoyuera-cjPU-2rTa-90Rs9uw/w640-h360/Ratch%20&%20Deb's.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is now Ratch and Deb's Pizza at the corner of Merritt and Bowen was once a saloon owned by the Rahr family.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Her influence increased in 1917 when her father retired from the brewery. He transferred ownership of the business to Blanche and her two younger siblings; her brother, Charles, and her 17-year-old sister Lucille. Charles, three years younger than Blanche and fresh off his service in World War I, became the brewmaster at Rahrs. Blanche, all of 24-years-old, managed the brewery’s day-to-day business affairs.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvKROhxU3WPdUaDHiJT5bmCIGTqZ7VBKBsdA_UuCZqIIIPAttqaN3gJT6UChdf3qju2Nf8B8ywMdnx8LqXyrjU8iyqG2obbCXUoVUHNYu8pL_jzVWl4MsYhfmM0pqCqxRcy0FTJpH526N3fIODM5kH9QnN-XlqYt-NFrbx4vF4Y5gzR1PLqQwba0sNg/s868/05%20Carl%20&%20Lucille.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="868" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvKROhxU3WPdUaDHiJT5bmCIGTqZ7VBKBsdA_UuCZqIIIPAttqaN3gJT6UChdf3qju2Nf8B8ywMdnx8LqXyrjU8iyqG2obbCXUoVUHNYu8pL_jzVWl4MsYhfmM0pqCqxRcy0FTJpH526N3fIODM5kH9QnN-XlqYt-NFrbx4vF4Y5gzR1PLqQwba0sNg/w640-h374/05%20Carl%20&%20Lucille.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blanche's brother and sister, Carl and Lucille.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Blanche's plucky reputation preceded her. She was a fitting choice for a role in a 1921 promotional film that called for a woman to take an unusual drive with an Oshkosh Motor Truck Company vehicle.<br /><br /><i>Miss Blanche Rahr of this city at the wheel, piloted the big machine up the steps of the Oshkosh High School in a fashion that won the approval of the spectators who had gathered to witness the stunt. That a young woman could handle so heavy a machine under such trying circumstances was considered a real feat.</i><br /> – <i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>; March 26, 1921.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRY6TK_Gys5AMfmv1rt60UVdR9cCukY1XpmRhytAvcEkiI24WlKZ-kxyGOvB-BeYqlc8F7YUlHfErScqiFWwGzAMweQH3mq1u0WrQLzQDZZQt9di_526PnGSTAhc9Ec9TV5LcvwUdU_B_-vLKh3ZxxOamu45vQFduJ_CLifcMGK8k6P3wGJ1wCW9roQ/s551/06%20Blanche%20-Oshkosh%20Truck.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="551" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRY6TK_Gys5AMfmv1rt60UVdR9cCukY1XpmRhytAvcEkiI24WlKZ-kxyGOvB-BeYqlc8F7YUlHfErScqiFWwGzAMweQH3mq1u0WrQLzQDZZQt9di_526PnGSTAhc9Ec9TV5LcvwUdU_B_-vLKh3ZxxOamu45vQFduJ_CLifcMGK8k6P3wGJ1wCW9roQ/w640-h522/06%20Blanche%20-Oshkosh%20Truck.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blanche behind the wheel.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />To prove it wasn’t a fluke, she let the truck roll back down the steps, shifted into gear, and then drove it up again. Four months later, she was crowned Queen of the Mardi Gras by the American Legion at their 1921 summer frolic.</div><div><br /></div><div>But back at the brewery, there wasn’t much to celebrate. Blanche and her siblings were stripped of their livelihood when Prohibition arrived in 1920. They scrambled to keep the business afloat and began producing and bottling fruit juices, soda, and malted milk.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_aKdF5o4Buqy-KKsw_TfUiYefYAnnUbZjuWuTvxaq7OqG4O4NB4EcL_SKFX6etoWSWRSgeJlz1ru9Oy_G3eGtc-uQIr1nJ3yQ1ALXGPPc-tTZL6C1hv2GqacrwiHtpu3EbZGdYd5ad08B9O2wpI4iewq7aIe9xgqNuCRdj77BAOtwsDzO4fn8P9yYw/s1058/07%20Lemon%20Soda.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="1058" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_aKdF5o4Buqy-KKsw_TfUiYefYAnnUbZjuWuTvxaq7OqG4O4NB4EcL_SKFX6etoWSWRSgeJlz1ru9Oy_G3eGtc-uQIr1nJ3yQ1ALXGPPc-tTZL6C1hv2GqacrwiHtpu3EbZGdYd5ad08B9O2wpI4iewq7aIe9xgqNuCRdj77BAOtwsDzO4fn8P9yYw/w640-h406/07%20Lemon%20Soda.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The Rahrs also made non-alcoholic beer. The other Oshkosh breweries – Peoples and the Oshkosh Brewing Company – followed a similar path. But to a unique degree, the Rahr brewery became the subject of persistent rumors that some of its production bypassed the dealcoholization process. According to the gossip, that beer got funneled to bootleggers. <br /><br />Blanche heard those rumors for the rest of her life. She consistently denied them. In any case, Rahr Brewing of Oshkosh was among just a handful of breweries of its size to survive the dry years.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbbDpRDDqPHg_F7_S1_t-a-wxp9frHvCUcHlBxS0GQnM-CDf3T7NnbHxFoaD5sgs-FfUURqUlM6lUrDATJLfolET6OHg0yf4ZTNuEaj7hHlA8ZMoFHSuUfHUpLNDA2h0rSxnpxsjiKRmSbDlbpDp7w0F2qY4xetmqsW0fsMIJMIkdrZtLkCoU76gv9Q/s996/08%20Blanche%20&%20Carl.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="996" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbbDpRDDqPHg_F7_S1_t-a-wxp9frHvCUcHlBxS0GQnM-CDf3T7NnbHxFoaD5sgs-FfUURqUlM6lUrDATJLfolET6OHg0yf4ZTNuEaj7hHlA8ZMoFHSuUfHUpLNDA2h0rSxnpxsjiKRmSbDlbpDp7w0F2qY4xetmqsW0fsMIJMIkdrZtLkCoU76gv9Q/w640-h428/08%20Blanche%20&%20Carl.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blanche and her brother Carl outside the brewery.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Beer became legal again in 1933. But things didn’t get a lot easier. Rahr was Oshkosh’s smallest brewery, producing up to 20,000 barrels of beer annually – about half as much beer as their cross-town competitors made. <br /><br />Especially troubling was a new set of laws that forbid the Rahrs from operating their brewery in conjunction with the saloons they owned. Before Prohibition, the Rahr family had used their tied-house saloons to insulate themselves from their larger competitors. But that arrangement was made illegal in the aftermath of repeal. The struggle to survive became a never-ending ordeal.<br /><br />You wouldn’t have known that if you were following Blanche. When she wasn’t at the brewery, she led a social life that was a regular feature of the Daily Northwestern’s “Women’s World” page. She participated in civic groups, became an excellent bowler, and was fanatic about the local baseball scene.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95lMNq9w7f0hjvJ4XCUXAnOxywUBW0spIUqFn9dRmznQ0zsS4RgW_ceTbL9T_CxxqNvpLyCjYZaJa9-belA_WdCVDbpYJwHgahGJL_OOXpny5NsN0b4bD3LOXTPdCQ2q7xPxKkfCp_8AQuYbsPWhiGMzv-3uIHfc4j7srZQbqBtynYxwifSWIoQNElg/s1842/09%20Baseball%20Headline.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="1842" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95lMNq9w7f0hjvJ4XCUXAnOxywUBW0spIUqFn9dRmznQ0zsS4RgW_ceTbL9T_CxxqNvpLyCjYZaJa9-belA_WdCVDbpYJwHgahGJL_OOXpny5NsN0b4bD3LOXTPdCQ2q7xPxKkfCp_8AQuYbsPWhiGMzv-3uIHfc4j7srZQbqBtynYxwifSWIoQNElg/w640-h172/09%20Baseball%20Headline.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A headline from the <i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>, May 3, 1952.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Blanche had far-flung friends and she traveled to be with them. Among her better-known confidants were Hollywood actress Edna Bennett and Broadway stage actress Beth Merrill.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuBJZfrR2rpv7hOrETv_qxzXFbCGln0A7197SxJaNDhWv5yG9ksuXSwgxaIZBI1XQwpGga2pnP6Kgh4KOo2DdZROxRcH3tSzOdBe5pURRR45bnGl4nCZk99pVyZN1QWJL0Ftu9ez5rs5UeJ4-LocACrJvV96ntuTFQdUdU7k-t5geBsWMOJcThHBaIQ/s844/10%20Beth%20Merrill.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="670" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuBJZfrR2rpv7hOrETv_qxzXFbCGln0A7197SxJaNDhWv5yG9ksuXSwgxaIZBI1XQwpGga2pnP6Kgh4KOo2DdZROxRcH3tSzOdBe5pURRR45bnGl4nCZk99pVyZN1QWJL0Ftu9ez5rs5UeJ4-LocACrJvV96ntuTFQdUdU7k-t5geBsWMOJcThHBaIQ/w508-h640/10%20Beth%20Merrill.jpeg" width="508" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actress Beth Merrill, a longtime friend of Blanche.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Blanche was also the person reporters went to when they were looking for news about the brewery. But her typical bluntness began to wane as the fortunes of her brewery declined. She was evasive when asked for a summary of Rahr’s 1953 business. “About the same as 1952,” She said and then went on to complain about the tax on beer.<br /><br />In fact, the brewery was coming undone. Annual production had fallen well below the 10,000 barrel mark. 1954 was worse. By 1955, production had dropped to just 3,660 barrels. And in the summer of 1956, the Rahrs closed their brewery. Again, it was Blanche who shared the news. She said that, if nothing else, they could be proud that even through the leanest of years there was never a layoff.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6n58dVMxIxsr83-Ap9VRetYQ5j7e2W68fXcs6IsOE9RxzcjdJL7SrQHiXKWWDkRWkBUKzPmEgl8NOMMdvMp2EikERfvLy8CrqJ3vQxmjgJLc3UlQVZ6-aU6hQ4q3eSYN1K8sHA2vxDOTqIdITHj-K5YrFY2nXeg0BQ86fcw5Tlgaok3BX1r3qYBKqg/s1048/11%20Jerry's%20Bar%20sign.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="1048" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6n58dVMxIxsr83-Ap9VRetYQ5j7e2W68fXcs6IsOE9RxzcjdJL7SrQHiXKWWDkRWkBUKzPmEgl8NOMMdvMp2EikERfvLy8CrqJ3vQxmjgJLc3UlQVZ6-aU6hQ4q3eSYN1K8sHA2vxDOTqIdITHj-K5YrFY2nXeg0BQ86fcw5Tlgaok3BX1r3qYBKqg/w640-h410/11%20Jerry's%20Bar%20sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rahr's Beer sign coming down at Jerry's Bar on Ceape Avenue.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>Blanche was 63 when the brewery shut down. She had lived all her life in a home two doors west of the brewhouse. And there she remained.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibc8dLIpuhLGSoiCNW-HVhURJHh9hnthmahQmA9d8lsEOzTMXBI-Iwy_jssDoBUVFQVFPQ6IhYbOZf_aBhGAQAvaZhNiedYWxeVF0jHKjP3houfLT2fAHT_zE0cAUj54u6tYMpJlHFOn-9624LD511ZEz-IlrL4Idk3O845Ty8mkGLKONwwBdHzqixew/s1440/12%20-%201348%20Rahr%20Ave.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1128" data-original-width="1440" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibc8dLIpuhLGSoiCNW-HVhURJHh9hnthmahQmA9d8lsEOzTMXBI-Iwy_jssDoBUVFQVFPQ6IhYbOZf_aBhGAQAvaZhNiedYWxeVF0jHKjP3houfLT2fAHT_zE0cAUj54u6tYMpJlHFOn-9624LD511ZEz-IlrL4Idk3O845Ty8mkGLKONwwBdHzqixew/w640-h502/12%20-%201348%20Rahr%20Ave.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blanche's former home on Rahr Avenue.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Her life seems to have narrowed after the brewery went under. She became somewhat infamous for her severity when driving off wandering children attracted by the prospect of sneaking into a dormant brewery. Other explorers remembered her gruff demeanor giving way to a smile and a piece of candy.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXFFZuX_1BDerMehWa4-8ET_twfIpXvBoBzxqxV9NGW-tijDRsze-Fgf79yYHIfCd-DJeZif5fHpS0_52RPOtFE8996eNf1tD1bhKbFa_8h0fLO8neFb8hAfCX7TiP9p1hxFr0eBUHNpt__X5-5nhyJbOHF1rGf63GA1xbW0urOF-BiDM0KMeWy1_Zg/s2011/13%20Rahr%201964%20ish.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1623" data-original-width="2011" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXFFZuX_1BDerMehWa4-8ET_twfIpXvBoBzxqxV9NGW-tijDRsze-Fgf79yYHIfCd-DJeZif5fHpS0_52RPOtFE8996eNf1tD1bhKbFa_8h0fLO8neFb8hAfCX7TiP9p1hxFr0eBUHNpt__X5-5nhyJbOHF1rGf63GA1xbW0urOF-BiDM0KMeWy1_Zg/w640-h516/13%20Rahr%201964%20ish.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The abandoned Rahr Brewery office.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Demolition of the brewery began in 1964. Blanche was 72 then and still living in the house two doors down. She stayed there until the summer of 1979 when she fell ill and was moved to Evergreen Manor. Miss Blanche Rahr, aged 86, died there on the Monday morning of August 13, 1979.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGdsCGmz5GDfUXgVrs-6OCBlJE1kU3qO6PDpfwoPIQ8DdNyNk8Q271mVJqTabrolNOUHvtxRNKMNU7c5we88QxXP8yzNROgsSVuLrVHLC4z0cddivvVN1ankPvU6pXBPsMorc0ELz2CSkAKonoPOKIfahen9UifGbFFs-ICbao_ilQ5qU1_ro6wkBYQ/s1041/14%20Marker.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="1041" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGdsCGmz5GDfUXgVrs-6OCBlJE1kU3qO6PDpfwoPIQ8DdNyNk8Q271mVJqTabrolNOUHvtxRNKMNU7c5we88QxXP8yzNROgsSVuLrVHLC4z0cddivvVN1ankPvU6pXBPsMorc0ELz2CSkAKonoPOKIfahen9UifGbFFs-ICbao_ilQ5qU1_ro6wkBYQ/w640-h416/14%20Marker.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riverside Cemetery.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><i>If you'd like to know more about the story of Rahr Brewing, here's a short video I made that gives an overview of that history.</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="358" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tLqPFvVzF3w" width="431" youtube-src-id="tLqPFvVzF3w"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4Oshkosh, WI, USA44.0247062 -88.542613615.714472363821152 -123.6988636 72.334940036178835 -53.386363599999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-61759902295158380332023-05-03T05:30:00.001-05:002023-05-03T05:30:00.149-05:00Oshkosh Breweriana with Jared SanchezJared Sanchez, who launched the bi-annual B’gosh It’s Good Breweriana show in Oshkosh back in 2020, was recently featured on the Beer Collector YouTube channel. It’s a nice spot and gives a good look at the collection of Oshkosh breweriana Jared is building. Here is the video…<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="398" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5RFct9pHI20" width="534" youtube-src-id="5RFct9pHI20"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-77400494414628192892023-05-02T09:30:00.005-05:002023-05-07T08:38:19.945-05:00Oblio's Has Been SoldOn April 27, Oblio’s Lounge was sold. Mark Schultz and Todd Cummings, who have operated Oblio’s for the past 44 years, sold their tavern at 434 N. Main Street to Cory Krolczyk and Blake Kieler (I hope to have more about the new owners in the near future).<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPEX-QwISLgwuQMsjlh2kBNhVPIeI1cxLyXZw-f9xOKXoejzKax7DUtL7jELZm3JCgHGqUfMeeFRgSmmPXHr3uQqpAAInvvNzOW4EOib7HKOXfDQ0y3gVWeCkhwpg2_KRSUXU1XjY83H7bg6FrPGORHmxnF8Jx3iC4Wa76yIOgEhxgkSvBXhydmjJng/s1721/Mark%20&%20Todd%20Annouce%20Sale.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1721" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPEX-QwISLgwuQMsjlh2kBNhVPIeI1cxLyXZw-f9xOKXoejzKax7DUtL7jELZm3JCgHGqUfMeeFRgSmmPXHr3uQqpAAInvvNzOW4EOib7HKOXfDQ0y3gVWeCkhwpg2_KRSUXU1XjY83H7bg6FrPGORHmxnF8Jx3iC4Wa76yIOgEhxgkSvBXhydmjJng/w402-h640/Mark%20&%20Todd%20Annouce%20Sale.jpg" width="402" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Todd Cummings (left) and Mark Schultz.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />On April 25, Cummings and Schultz announced the sale and that they would be departing the business. Here’s the farewell message they posted on Facebook.<br /><br /><i>In 1979, the two of us made a somewhat rash decision. We stepped into a role that neither of us was totally prepared for. We became the proprietors of Oblio’s, a space that has been central to the social life of Oshkosh since 1885. Our plans for the future of this place were less than clear. But those vague aspirations were given shape by you, the people who came through the door year after year to encourage us, support us, and befriend us. Along the way, we’ve learned that our job wasn’t just about running a bar. You’ve entrusted us with something more; the privilege of taking part in a welcoming tradition that makes all of us closer to one another. The time has come for us to pass that torch. The institution of Oblio’s will endure. This place is not about the two of us. It is about all of us together. And that is more important now than ever. We cannot find the words to express the depth of our gratitude, so these will have to do. Thank you.<br /><br />Please join us May 6th 3pm-8pm for the passing of that torch.</i><br /><br />This marks a new phase for what is perhaps Oshkosh’s most storied bar. <br />Here are a few links that lead to some of those stories...<br />The history of what is now Oblio’s from 1884 through the modern era: <a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2010/11/lineage-of-oblios-part-1_16.html" target="_blank">Part 1</a> & <a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2010/11/lineage-of-oblios-part-2.html" target="_blank">Part 2.</a><br />Oblio’s when it was <a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-night-they-raided-oblios.html" target="_blank">the Annex, a speakeasy.</a><br />And here’s <a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/search/label/Oblio%27s%20Lounge" target="_blank">a general link</a> to every post I’ve written tagged as part of the Oblio’s story.<br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-5386375217608996222023-04-30T05:30:00.009-05:002023-04-30T05:30:00.147-05:00An Illustrated History of the Oshkosh Brewing CompanyThe Oshkosh Brewing Company remains the largest brewery this city has ever had. At its peak in the late 1950s, OBC produced over 60,000 barrels of beer annually. To put that in perspective, last year’s combined production of the three breweries currently operating in Oshkosh was less than 3,000 barrels. OBC was one of Wisconsin’s great, regional breweries.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEbfXL_TINRj6lpz8Yba0j2pAo0un1fWfuGpdVNGRp9eu46vEJ6zliYSX9PKLOssvQo5Aek2WjVkFGtPjp9InhRIDKelU0riXfV-f_T1_bVvpu1mobelhKWyq1YGUnAZW-DXWQGcwhD2I3elPSLGQ4chszWrbNiSP7rHdx0h8u1Gosd_KA_IiR1QtaA/s1296/01%20OBC%20Postcard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="1296" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEbfXL_TINRj6lpz8Yba0j2pAo0un1fWfuGpdVNGRp9eu46vEJ6zliYSX9PKLOssvQo5Aek2WjVkFGtPjp9InhRIDKelU0riXfV-f_T1_bVvpu1mobelhKWyq1YGUnAZW-DXWQGcwhD2I3elPSLGQ4chszWrbNiSP7rHdx0h8u1Gosd_KA_IiR1QtaA/w640-h382/01%20OBC%20Postcard.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Formation of a Brewery</span></b><br />In the late 1880s, Oshkosh became a distribution hub for some of America's largest breweries. Pabst, Schlitz, Anheuser-Busch, Miller, and others came here. They established beer-bottling plants, distribution warehouses, and saloons.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEHAjmFCBD4i9I5RtJAaBBDtulT22HaIf3Qhq84u1hhVtFuU-IO8S_IoBiVNRffjrv1isAWeeHqopiSHVherludAbzq7j1AWX1ACFevfOXlFMXgaFQxHStExGo_1cKcucBpr_cDwtKGxZAtDAVj48IaqxQTC3yojIeYEhB9Xmlk0AXeK_Az5QZLN7xw/s544/02%20Schlitz%20Hall%20washington.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="461" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEHAjmFCBD4i9I5RtJAaBBDtulT22HaIf3Qhq84u1hhVtFuU-IO8S_IoBiVNRffjrv1isAWeeHqopiSHVherludAbzq7j1AWX1ACFevfOXlFMXgaFQxHStExGo_1cKcucBpr_cDwtKGxZAtDAVj48IaqxQTC3yojIeYEhB9Xmlk0AXeK_Az5QZLN7xw/w542-h640/02%20Schlitz%20Hall%20washington.jpg" width="542" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Schlitz Hall at the corner of Washington and State was one of several properties owned by Schlitz in Oshkosh.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>At the same time, Oshkosh was home to four breweries. The local breweries had controlled the city's beer market for decades. But that control began slipping away after the larger, “shipping” breweries established a presence here.<br /><br />The smallest of the four Oshkosh breweries was the Rahr Brewing Company at the foot of Rahr Avenue.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uoWCgobEJMV0s6HEa-iSbC89vvsoPVDcguya1_P032DXtmVwB61Epc4pZ-VUrpqMNf7mLdlDDQDC2HHvynQSJ0PgO-YvL_J79Q3vQkYfsVNjj5Me2PXhGX-08ExcEoIwjc2ZDoJRzQkCK3LEu8rFUhC6bKCzX_VU3T-_epHi6i_Z4fY8sL0vPZhK0g/s1402/03%20Rahr%20Brewing.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1402" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uoWCgobEJMV0s6HEa-iSbC89vvsoPVDcguya1_P032DXtmVwB61Epc4pZ-VUrpqMNf7mLdlDDQDC2HHvynQSJ0PgO-YvL_J79Q3vQkYfsVNjj5Me2PXhGX-08ExcEoIwjc2ZDoJRzQkCK3LEu8rFUhC6bKCzX_VU3T-_epHi6i_Z4fY8sL0vPZhK0g/w640-h326/03%20Rahr%20Brewing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rahr Brewing Company.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Next in size was the Gambrinus Brewery on Harney Avenue.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB_j9zaYmANonyTO39C9jqEgrPTfGaxn-Y04N3S0ADTmJN41nKAMOWrsPyo4z3xwORZQ7fXqHSghe95qMhYh_O3-KJVDPi4uzC3qRpnVqBqVfaoKq__o9WJcSMbzmCFkXC6KtdDK1vUpnCbMF4OUKbHqm0lOdc3xIn2ppjQ9fzNENDt8yhP55X2MxkA/s1207/04%20Gambrinus.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="1207" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB_j9zaYmANonyTO39C9jqEgrPTfGaxn-Y04N3S0ADTmJN41nKAMOWrsPyo4z3xwORZQ7fXqHSghe95qMhYh_O3-KJVDPi4uzC3qRpnVqBqVfaoKq__o9WJcSMbzmCFkXC6KtdDK1vUpnCbMF4OUKbHqm0lOdc3xIn2ppjQ9fzNENDt8yhP55X2MxkA/w640-h356/04%20Gambrinus.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kuenzl's Gambrinus Brewery</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>The John Glatz and Son Union Brewery at the foot of Doty Street was the second largest of the four breweries.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmOYTfWjOmg7qgS8chqOAfG26UvIGMnic4VcBJPUUFErCyRHvRs1YHa9O1egXpaZCXcMofGcmeXnXiLKg8l2Duvsy46P1Bv6ZLxbzadCOrxDNiJz1QsEV7ZeqZfHZIigi1hu9No7qRuEyBIgC3hEAsch0Txv6a4_mQVOBs9dgx2mmcK4OHTn-rMghdg/s640/05%20Glatz.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="640" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmOYTfWjOmg7qgS8chqOAfG26UvIGMnic4VcBJPUUFErCyRHvRs1YHa9O1egXpaZCXcMofGcmeXnXiLKg8l2Duvsy46P1Bv6ZLxbzadCOrxDNiJz1QsEV7ZeqZfHZIigi1hu9No7qRuEyBIgC3hEAsch0Txv6a4_mQVOBs9dgx2mmcK4OHTn-rMghdg/w640-h420/05%20Glatz.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glatz and Son's Union Brewery.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The largest Oshkosh brewery was Horn & Schwalm’s Brooklyn Brewery on the east side of Doty Street south of 16th Avenue.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9tIpU40dSFq9S6872srvMA4XeqtNr1e4eROdoqiGMi77yL4kFD1Z11E2htVwFZ4aeazkXyr_mCJVfTdYqce5Hcv_jNz5XCKVcdhC0Phj8PGSjfbKfy9euxiOetE8G0gP6wK9J8mttrX_jAzgKsdm_e-MgX908471IK7O89ACo-sLLQkosyy-Ozhr-A/s1008/06%20Horn%20and%20Schwalm%20Brooklyn%20Brewery.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1008" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9tIpU40dSFq9S6872srvMA4XeqtNr1e4eROdoqiGMi77yL4kFD1Z11E2htVwFZ4aeazkXyr_mCJVfTdYqce5Hcv_jNz5XCKVcdhC0Phj8PGSjfbKfy9euxiOetE8G0gP6wK9J8mttrX_jAzgKsdm_e-MgX908471IK7O89ACo-sLLQkosyy-Ozhr-A/w640-h446/06%20Horn%20and%20Schwalm%20Brooklyn%20Brewery.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horn & Schwalm’s Brooklyn Brewery.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />By 1893, the “foreign” competition had grown so intense that the Oshkosh breweries planned for a merger in hopes of reasserting control over the local market. The Rahr Brewing Company, determined to maintain its independence, bowed out of the discussions. On March 21, 1894, the Gambrinus, Glatz and Son, and Horn & Schwalm breweries merged to form the Oshkosh Brewing Company.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8K5MXRu7uLWPYXGcp52U_hnGkpcJl57OFfRxEGqXd0wfZrN5WyrPiAO6g_rC2F_Lga6ypL3gwGvOGNkGtmgULHzad44nkzvdKnvzBxCzdGZ7wYxFRkwwmAATZhMnirqoHbvB0GtXHkaPmiAwjzzM95E4vL5ECsi-RWvv-jmJRSEMo12zBWlUHZAqx7g/s962/07%20Oshkosh%20Brewing%20Company%20Lithograph.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="962" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8K5MXRu7uLWPYXGcp52U_hnGkpcJl57OFfRxEGqXd0wfZrN5WyrPiAO6g_rC2F_Lga6ypL3gwGvOGNkGtmgULHzad44nkzvdKnvzBxCzdGZ7wYxFRkwwmAATZhMnirqoHbvB0GtXHkaPmiAwjzzM95E4vL5ECsi-RWvv-jmJRSEMo12zBWlUHZAqx7g/w640-h460/07%20Oshkosh%20Brewing%20Company%20Lithograph.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A composite rendering of the three breweries of the Oshkosh Brewing Company. The proximity shown here is an artistic fantasy. The three facilities were in separate locations.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1894-1899: All Together Now</span></b><br />OBC continued to operate the three breweries that had existed prior to the merger. Lager beer production was split between the Horn & Schwalm and Glatz breweries. The Gambrinus Brewery was converted into a bottling plant, and was later used for the production of Berliner Weisse.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbHjgwdNea96XFJoBWtKo50anWYlzw-8q3a3yRt-5cZkZqaeGffsLjbEKJxDf0Anx_ipzo0wiOCmlejZNegP8-fcsH0ySvm1dMePNPC4BYeraFvJimKLFvqqU92H5PM1MBWk2Ox1zcRMz-EOCWzJ3On8r24hua2PfBjCMzhbvvZNN9DNX32FV1TrZ1Q/s1600/08%20Glatz%20as%20OBC.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbHjgwdNea96XFJoBWtKo50anWYlzw-8q3a3yRt-5cZkZqaeGffsLjbEKJxDf0Anx_ipzo0wiOCmlejZNegP8-fcsH0ySvm1dMePNPC4BYeraFvJimKLFvqqU92H5PM1MBWk2Ox1zcRMz-EOCWzJ3On8r24hua2PfBjCMzhbvvZNN9DNX32FV1TrZ1Q/w640-h476/08%20Glatz%20as%20OBC.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The former Glatz and Son Brewery rebranded as the Oshkosh Brewing Company.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />An image of Chief Oshkosh was adopted as the brewery’s trademark. The illustration was based upon an 1855 daguerreotype of the Menominee leader. Oshkosh died in 1858.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisM3SWSkK3DNxwnLy2xt0eq_n0k6J1uJlCgeE_SZxua9Hr_-PVen1pJ8oaU6Y7NzEtsnGraup4Re9CUS2X2IOHS_HUouvXfKiiHLSWx2FnNLvYOGM2srQ4x5PzXBtKDWM4ZnYy7uLNM0cBwOY7S-q0XACkhFKZVfOug55iLjNhZ3o2d_GLA1Lsttd_Q/s640/09%20Buisness%20Card.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="640" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisM3SWSkK3DNxwnLy2xt0eq_n0k6J1uJlCgeE_SZxua9Hr_-PVen1pJ8oaU6Y7NzEtsnGraup4Re9CUS2X2IOHS_HUouvXfKiiHLSWx2FnNLvYOGM2srQ4x5PzXBtKDWM4ZnYy7uLNM0cBwOY7S-q0XACkhFKZVfOug55iLjNhZ3o2d_GLA1Lsttd_Q/w640-h394/09%20Buisness%20Card.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Through the 1890s, OBC produced a wide-range of beers that reflected the European heritage of its founding breweries. Among the early OBC brews were a Bohemian-style Pilsner, a Vienna-style lager, and a dark, “Culmbacher” type bier. The brewery’s most popular beer was its Stock Lager dispensed from wooden kegs. This was a deep, amber brew sold at most Oshkosh saloons for five cents a mug.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUPLcsegFIU7qjLgZKhPuLlPPV__hIKYKvN35J57BQYVzyfl12nW81h34-rSdg3Xc4B7QVjvO4jUyYlv0P_30XG7DGGVSQW5krSZ31szuSNn9CZ5CuXiAQxoZZwSo-TModIKxS7Gh8t_3cPY0qTCWDJBt0so-HdiT_-Cuxn7F64qrMRFMXDSbc6Yb5Q/s1488/10%201895%20OBC%20Beers.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="1488" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUPLcsegFIU7qjLgZKhPuLlPPV__hIKYKvN35J57BQYVzyfl12nW81h34-rSdg3Xc4B7QVjvO4jUyYlv0P_30XG7DGGVSQW5krSZ31szuSNn9CZ5CuXiAQxoZZwSo-TModIKxS7Gh8t_3cPY0qTCWDJBt0so-HdiT_-Cuxn7F64qrMRFMXDSbc6Yb5Q/w640-h182/10%201895%20OBC%20Beers.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The brewery’s line-up for winter of 1895. <i>Oshkosh Labor Advocate</i>, January 25, 1895.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />OBC sourced nearly all of the barley and corn for its beer from local farmers. The barley was converted into brewer’s malt at the malting facilities within the Horn & Schwalm and Glatz breweries. By the close of the 1890s, OBC was producing almost 16,000 barrels of beer annually from locally-grown cereal grains.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1900-1920: Years of Triumph</span></b><br />The Oshkosh Brewing Company succeeded in overcoming its larger competitors. By 1900, OBC was the source for 75 percent of all beer sold in the City of Oshkosh. The brewery’s thundering, horse-drawn beer wagons were a common sight here. OBC employed five teams delivering beer to every part of the city and much of the surrounding area.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEvwSHN6A3APFyzjxqb2CLfX9-VKXOyumskeAx9-akDinU2jkgwetiZK3I70WELNp7ep0a7vXpRyVdpOfmGuB1i5Bwg8XpagjjpoVXIFJMBpRo3L3UbUbUIcpa3JKPfit2FaiFPfNxRcN_14gEohOrhRlEMHr1qU1Da3f9yDpFz00asqSvoxPf7wb1w/s640/11%20OBC%20at%20Glatz%20Brewery2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="640" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEvwSHN6A3APFyzjxqb2CLfX9-VKXOyumskeAx9-akDinU2jkgwetiZK3I70WELNp7ep0a7vXpRyVdpOfmGuB1i5Bwg8XpagjjpoVXIFJMBpRo3L3UbUbUIcpa3JKPfit2FaiFPfNxRcN_14gEohOrhRlEMHr1qU1Da3f9yDpFz00asqSvoxPf7wb1w/w640-h386/11%20OBC%20at%20Glatz%20Brewery2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />In the early 1900s, OBC began acquiring saloon properties and converting them into tied-houses that sold no beer other than that brewed by the Oshkosh Brewing Company. A number of those OBC taverns remain, including Nigl’s and Jeff’s on Rugby. The well known Witzke Tavern at the corner of 17th and Oregon was built by OBC in 1902.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsHNIT5OYg_phM93291toL4KrwyynFMX4OhLyYhMgkYLl2Zn4aIMrWH8IEhmouTvLn3EQCpR8okTjiU1GfWbAheuE_tmLmT9g3Cq07VOAWRR3rLsBHhgz2SioBGWtISSozJJpZaDg02GUkOPjy0BfnD5GQGwvu0cq2d45PlTwYXyP4FUqelgqqrP1aw/s626/12%20Witzke.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="626" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsHNIT5OYg_phM93291toL4KrwyynFMX4OhLyYhMgkYLl2Zn4aIMrWH8IEhmouTvLn3EQCpR8okTjiU1GfWbAheuE_tmLmT9g3Cq07VOAWRR3rLsBHhgz2SioBGWtISSozJJpZaDg02GUkOPjy0BfnD5GQGwvu0cq2d45PlTwYXyP4FUqelgqqrP1aw/w640-h430/12%20Witzke.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Witzke’s, early 1900s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />By 1910, OBC was producing 30,000 barrels of beer annually. The rising output tested the limits of the brewery's aging facilities. OBC began construction of a new brewery in 1911. When completed in 1912, it was described as "one of the most modern and up-to-date establishments in the entire middle west.” It was built adjacent to the former Horn & Schwalm Brewery on the east side of Doty Street. The facility was six stories at its peak. The red-brick brewery became a southside landmark.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Xu-codVRwegSYQJ3Dpv5eCjmjrC41qdriCa4oLTVVZJmXtfldM8kDn0Qtp9awPjx9ZGmx9yKyPl1fVt3JMjR9N4ghG94MIseVtrfIii-skUwxeUep3PxdzyslgV4qa83M4dxnLRDILI-5JFFSQM6ipwwV-TCJphdNPMessJ8weC-FTtI-D0JOhwKNw/s565/13a%201915%20OBC.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="565" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Xu-codVRwegSYQJ3Dpv5eCjmjrC41qdriCa4oLTVVZJmXtfldM8kDn0Qtp9awPjx9ZGmx9yKyPl1fVt3JMjR9N4ghG94MIseVtrfIii-skUwxeUep3PxdzyslgV4qa83M4dxnLRDILI-5JFFSQM6ipwwV-TCJphdNPMessJ8weC-FTtI-D0JOhwKNw/w640-h502/13a%201915%20OBC.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A new brewery and a new mode of delivery. This photo, circa 1915, shows the brewery at a time when it was transitioning from horse-drawn wagons to motorized vehicles.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The variety of beer offered by OBC contracted as the brewery expanded. Pale, light-bodied lager became the norm during the first two decades of the 1900s. The lighter beers appealed to a younger generation of drinkers. Just as Oshkosh's foreign-born population was giving way to their American-born offspring, these pale beers supplanted the traditional, European-styles of lager beer that had been favored in Oshkosh since the 1850s. Gilt Edge was OBC’s premium, pale beer during the early 1900s. Here are a couple of advertising pieces for Gilt Edge that indicate the sort of audience the brewery was pursuing.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdffeJuwR9QJpQ1kvbQMWM27nOmAg5-Mn6nbTsJpS9V_llPhQthgdoS74PdLXxJ8JcTkMKs4FWEZ2BARtyFjVjnAINM02AESxtL5eoL9zt4PSKy3porRTUAUQcHQjEUofhSVtB9127722TVhpMm00rvjPgkUy4KZLZOcZmdHTp8v3IGyKlIOLJYvR5gQ/s640/13b%20Gilt%20Edge%20Drinkers.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="640" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdffeJuwR9QJpQ1kvbQMWM27nOmAg5-Mn6nbTsJpS9V_llPhQthgdoS74PdLXxJ8JcTkMKs4FWEZ2BARtyFjVjnAINM02AESxtL5eoL9zt4PSKy3porRTUAUQcHQjEUofhSVtB9127722TVhpMm00rvjPgkUy4KZLZOcZmdHTp8v3IGyKlIOLJYvR5gQ/w640-h510/13b%20Gilt%20Edge%20Drinkers.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gilt Edge drinkers in the early 1900s.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiay0-NK4m0djsT7iH9z_GLE2icxVX2iX4gyJLyBytU-gBKwZ_4yOaz7-hxwL2Z9nGrIIPtDJTEQzc93fv-YTHrHssv4uozm5yzozV5htQEM8jmi5iMEzkUvnlsvqJbA2023SLne-ZRhuMA1RsHak0mJ_cNLu8BTsGo_CbCtw2GEfIdx5knp6BCwD_dWw/s640/14%20Gilt%20Edge%20Tin%20Lithograph.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="640" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiay0-NK4m0djsT7iH9z_GLE2icxVX2iX4gyJLyBytU-gBKwZ_4yOaz7-hxwL2Z9nGrIIPtDJTEQzc93fv-YTHrHssv4uozm5yzozV5htQEM8jmi5iMEzkUvnlsvqJbA2023SLne-ZRhuMA1RsHak0mJ_cNLu8BTsGo_CbCtw2GEfIdx5knp6BCwD_dWw/w640-h504/14%20Gilt%20Edge%20Tin%20Lithograph.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The most dramatic change in the brewery's beer was yet to come. OBC began preparing for the inevitable as the country blundered its way towards National Prohibition. The brewery’s first non-alcoholic beer, named PEP, was released in 1919. PEP enjoyed a brief phase of popularity after Prohibition arrived in 1920. It was purchased in volume by “beer doctors” who would "needle" the non-intoxicating beer with moonshine, giving it the PEP promised by the advertising.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaSXRcPQ4UCS85dGz_SxbszxaAAUl38I0UPmgW_LUR0hzfJW6alVwviRe4SZnFPBTuoJrBuUQBfoIlgVsxeOKCuq-jJ_4fT5FvEHArv_Dk7jwl8mhWkbeh21YokSDZsea4Hmgv_s9QjqJWcbM4-Cp7w3l32-EYQ6OIcQIYr0-FanoDnZPoQIDj46FYg/s1111/15%20Pep.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="1111" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaSXRcPQ4UCS85dGz_SxbszxaAAUl38I0UPmgW_LUR0hzfJW6alVwviRe4SZnFPBTuoJrBuUQBfoIlgVsxeOKCuq-jJ_4fT5FvEHArv_Dk7jwl8mhWkbeh21YokSDZsea4Hmgv_s9QjqJWcbM4-Cp7w3l32-EYQ6OIcQIYr0-FanoDnZPoQIDj46FYg/w640-h394/15%20Pep.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b style="color: #cc0000;">1920-1932: Curse of the Dry Years</b></div><div>With the dawn of Prohibition in 1920, Oshkosh Brewing was forced to find alternate revenue streams to keep the business afloat. At OBC they were up for just about anything.<br /><br />Among the more curious ventures was the Oshkosh Colytic Egg and Storage Company. The less than successful enterprise saw part of the brewery converted into a facility for pasteurizing and processing eggs. Another section of the brewery was leased to local farmers for grain storage. And then there was root beer. OBC made rivers of root beer during Prohibition.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqW7CwGs-qVjc8UUqTja1gnoU2UMVVMQNisI6vgEyAANRAvG3kfKHPV-lHfmlATjci2K-8d3KbmtciMx7BhSVhT6P7rFfoloW8yAxZ88G88pHSTyX82D_Fva-azoAWWlFtNDgMXytrLcuYedgm4otFQ_DpjV-ZzHBc000d2eC--DkexgPU8pCtT7ywXw/s1135/16%20OBC%20Root%20Beer%201920-07-13%20.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1135" data-original-width="948" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqW7CwGs-qVjc8UUqTja1gnoU2UMVVMQNisI6vgEyAANRAvG3kfKHPV-lHfmlATjci2K-8d3KbmtciMx7BhSVhT6P7rFfoloW8yAxZ88G88pHSTyX82D_Fva-azoAWWlFtNDgMXytrLcuYedgm4otFQ_DpjV-ZzHBc000d2eC--DkexgPU8pCtT7ywXw/w534-h640/16%20OBC%20Root%20Beer%201920-07-13%20.jpg" width="534" /></a></div><br />But the heart of the brewery remained dedicated to something closer to beer. OBC continued to produce non-alcoholic beer throughout the dry years. The label below was used during the 1920s for the beer-like Oshkosh Beverage. It weighed in at a dispirited one-half of one percent alcohol by volume.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAg4dByHkEiHW5bHEOhrGy8JiAL-tGwFUjx01muSZ_6LFoShP1AUPjX2kLuq75yZbXqwCn6ZCGXzPNLb4L_wwkUSkIrQJzCSb5ugZkFVJ7myc-hsRoik_dpZ1xePNIGOA2pULMN9S4j3uBUIQ4veRcZVKbneXo2sSoNVMAbBtdJ3bp-qPmVAGhOgj61w/s833/17%20Prohib%20era%20label.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="833" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAg4dByHkEiHW5bHEOhrGy8JiAL-tGwFUjx01muSZ_6LFoShP1AUPjX2kLuq75yZbXqwCn6ZCGXzPNLb4L_wwkUSkIrQJzCSb5ugZkFVJ7myc-hsRoik_dpZ1xePNIGOA2pULMN9S4j3uBUIQ4veRcZVKbneXo2sSoNVMAbBtdJ3bp-qPmVAGhOgj61w/w640-h508/17%20Prohib%20era%20label.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />In 1928, OBC introduced its Chief Oshkosh brand. The first iteration of Chief Oshkosh was a non-alcoholic beer.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoW_TY9uhO-EKORywI-WQ090iQgq7zeLv0aTjDd4TIjS6CNmWeUYBTNcuYYmiiLoFisI0-FbKo32_bFeiAlZf2L6j8oWOUu-tNdV_3ZdS9-FBCiR6iLyZubw9X7qwoycwFzzCxDHqy8dIkVaE-sSJKEu9KArm1uu6oWFuN1hJLwjlQIOImcvxc2F6WwQ/s640/18%20Chief%20Oshkosh%20Special.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="640" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoW_TY9uhO-EKORywI-WQ090iQgq7zeLv0aTjDd4TIjS6CNmWeUYBTNcuYYmiiLoFisI0-FbKo32_bFeiAlZf2L6j8oWOUu-tNdV_3ZdS9-FBCiR6iLyZubw9X7qwoycwFzzCxDHqy8dIkVaE-sSJKEu9KArm1uu6oWFuN1hJLwjlQIOImcvxc2F6WwQ/w640-h512/18%20Chief%20Oshkosh%20Special.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The “near” beers floundered as Prohibition dragged on. By the early 1920s, the City of Oshkosh was inundated with real beer produced by wildcat breweries and homebrewers. OBC served that market by supplying the black-market brewers with pre-hopped malt syrups that could be used to produce real beer. Malt syrup was key to the brewery's survival and continued being produced by OBC until beer was legalized in 1933.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJxndvwsE_jXc9BsenrDkjgagBFB4jiNaabmiBZsw4424djPqXXaqjALVQm9I8I2dpBwk9umT0C9xHO-n4WCa7mVYhwEvrNQyXsa4wt3eUYO90mZx22ZKOHZixrG8lCDkcXYGCrxYYFg7hDjrDxDNntp7iVJv22mMwoS050pqIGp7nsAHZ8DsgtmkAA/s1822/19%20Oshkosh%20malt%20syrur.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1822" data-original-width="1112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJxndvwsE_jXc9BsenrDkjgagBFB4jiNaabmiBZsw4424djPqXXaqjALVQm9I8I2dpBwk9umT0C9xHO-n4WCa7mVYhwEvrNQyXsa4wt3eUYO90mZx22ZKOHZixrG8lCDkcXYGCrxYYFg7hDjrDxDNntp7iVJv22mMwoS050pqIGp7nsAHZ8DsgtmkAA/w390-h640/19%20Oshkosh%20malt%20syrur.jpg" width="390" /></a></div><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1933-1940: Beer is Back</span></b><br />At midnight on Friday, April 7th, 1933, the steam whistle atop the Oshkosh Brewing Company let out a long cry of relief. Beer was legal again, though Prohibition had yet to be repealed. But the signing of the Cullen–Harrison Act subverted the intentions of the dry law by declaring that beer containing 4% alcohol by volume or less was too mild to intoxicate and, thereby, not subject to the strictures of the 18th Amendment. OBC was back in business.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxUQyGVPTFzFmU92i1bkF8bV6vBmXkaGFauYHUdBqyDsWAEU8AbabfS4x0oudzn4iTp_Ur9iuDi2rbz20M3zbhAfQ9TtjxWeWyucQlLMua56pubDK6iTvXpG1HYX65uEBKrbLsoeZtr-en3wy4x_dbJs_yN53V3u_9ecwAfs8JY3tURwN8skz6cWzqQ/s640/20%20OBC%20New%20Brewery.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="640" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxUQyGVPTFzFmU92i1bkF8bV6vBmXkaGFauYHUdBqyDsWAEU8AbabfS4x0oudzn4iTp_Ur9iuDi2rbz20M3zbhAfQ9TtjxWeWyucQlLMua56pubDK6iTvXpG1HYX65uEBKrbLsoeZtr-en3wy4x_dbJs_yN53V3u_9ecwAfs8JY3tURwN8skz6cWzqQ/w640-h468/20%20OBC%20New%20Brewery.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The brewery rushed the initial run of 4% ABV Chief Oshkosh Beer onto the market in bottles bearing a hastily designed and printed label. Nothing fancy, just the facts.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEd2Yt0dFnAl56sIOcodqj7iSNwXIhcu3t1diBJKx_UcPGcGih8h-Tk6iNg7FJKPYYs1aDXpbgyxgSm0GQxNyX05X--R6pib6rMcDDnoe_IDips6o5LGHa3w1nr9h6Uuks57ag4QOcpQqtMX3mxYiG-nMw9P74ujQc71__exurzpfWcfsLxT2IvE14Q/s1188/21-Chief%201933.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="1188" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEd2Yt0dFnAl56sIOcodqj7iSNwXIhcu3t1diBJKx_UcPGcGih8h-Tk6iNg7FJKPYYs1aDXpbgyxgSm0GQxNyX05X--R6pib6rMcDDnoe_IDips6o5LGHa3w1nr9h6Uuks57ag4QOcpQqtMX3mxYiG-nMw9P74ujQc71__exurzpfWcfsLxT2IvE14Q/w640-h472/21-Chief%201933.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Prohibition was fully repealed eight months later on December 6, 1933. At OBC they responded by kicking up the strength of Chief Oshkosh to 4.5% ABV. The stronger Chief was an immediate hit. By 1934, OBC’s annual production had spiked to over 45,000 barrels.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yv2ZLVD9vhYjzXVEhCQ5bY_hJsCxibRHe_QJB_iutCQp1aRKsgRNI4Rs6BUVzHFUJPnQpLaH9JGcvAQnT7Vx5nN6Fu74WqCUgMEqGt9imwQgFXDE6ngtMQJJ2Qn7zNg3bEP3zUbi7ICD1nDgogQGV0GqVikLEul0v1qywjxJ6hA5rMdxExDmw7PysA/s622/22%20Special%20Old%20Lager.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="622" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yv2ZLVD9vhYjzXVEhCQ5bY_hJsCxibRHe_QJB_iutCQp1aRKsgRNI4Rs6BUVzHFUJPnQpLaH9JGcvAQnT7Vx5nN6Fu74WqCUgMEqGt9imwQgFXDE6ngtMQJJ2Qn7zNg3bEP3zUbi7ICD1nDgogQGV0GqVikLEul0v1qywjxJ6hA5rMdxExDmw7PysA/w640-h630/22%20Special%20Old%20Lager.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Chief Oshkosh Beer lighted sign, Circa 1935.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />More and more of OBC’s beer was being packaged in bottles. Since the founding of the brewery, the majority of its beer had been sold in wooden kegs at saloons. But Prohibition had changed America’s drinking habits. Increasingly, people were drinking beer served out of their ice boxes and refrigerators at home. Over the next decade, bottled beer sales would surpass the sales of OBC’s keg beer.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1f1fVG_ij76k_n3OAQRs95Qqrq_guQwGWjFCAAhJlHcMoHDiKV5KENGav9YMFOpXxOzYKRN0iNwQflAd-eY6oFFGqnMYfIK8ZLnUJKteErQhiaUgZjntjB1dGQBq76XrQcUXlIIVfxT9AD_FQRQosEf1NOElRHU_ul6vCeXn-TO6SNemuhByPGkLiA/s1222/23%20take%20home%20beer%201933-08-16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="1222" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1f1fVG_ij76k_n3OAQRs95Qqrq_guQwGWjFCAAhJlHcMoHDiKV5KENGav9YMFOpXxOzYKRN0iNwQflAd-eY6oFFGqnMYfIK8ZLnUJKteErQhiaUgZjntjB1dGQBq76XrQcUXlIIVfxT9AD_FQRQosEf1NOElRHU_ul6vCeXn-TO6SNemuhByPGkLiA/w640-h298/23%20take%20home%20beer%201933-08-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Beer was back, but the 1930s remained difficult. Oshkosh was devastated by the Great Depression of the 1930s. The city’s population decreased for the first time. Oshkosh lost 40% of its manufacturing jobs and overall unemployment was estimated to be near 50%. The bleak economy led to stagnating beer sales. By the end of the 1930s, OBC’s production slumped to pre-Prohibition levels.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlWtyQWy0qqM9PUEGJRbA_9WhzOM3mHeoLOTbOo8x4L0nWB50XPXzwcm3nTYF8CHwe2ft9p0j4_ipm6n9eqBclPmTbjat3Ba__RWJ8R1Rn9ELU0-rqM4ys3wCINh9YUdFRb_HIrexScwKmYKF1inNdt-E59aG52cucU0EKhJoTTLdjCB5fcbx5l75sQ/s1382/24%20OBC%20Circa%201940.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1090" data-original-width="1382" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlWtyQWy0qqM9PUEGJRbA_9WhzOM3mHeoLOTbOo8x4L0nWB50XPXzwcm3nTYF8CHwe2ft9p0j4_ipm6n9eqBclPmTbjat3Ba__RWJ8R1Rn9ELU0-rqM4ys3wCINh9YUdFRb_HIrexScwKmYKF1inNdt-E59aG52cucU0EKhJoTTLdjCB5fcbx5l75sQ/w640-h504/24%20OBC%20Circa%201940.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OBC, circa 1940.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1940s: Wartime Beer</span></b><br />The economy slowly rebounded and a new set of troubles arose. Rationing became a way of life after America entered World War II in December 1941. Shortages of everything from grain to bottle caps forced brewers to get by with less of what they needed to produce and transport beer. The brewery began to rely heavily on quart and half-gallon “picnic-size” bottles to reduce the number of caps needed to package beer.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPgVuDPiehaIMPKvlL4-aTwrMPGF1fS9UzYjKlado6AQuzYLxPBqDNa6960LW63bYNUwQv3aKV8GRbMTM-Rt_UqiauILnrbvmYByPxiqv_N4zqA_DSBDsDwe1G-1T7uFR7oOiiiMdzhFfhsizcBC79U1DGttK8syJAjpxjXj1Kah0GcpFWDRvl9iV8Q/s1169/25%20Picnic%20&%20Quart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="665" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPgVuDPiehaIMPKvlL4-aTwrMPGF1fS9UzYjKlado6AQuzYLxPBqDNa6960LW63bYNUwQv3aKV8GRbMTM-Rt_UqiauILnrbvmYByPxiqv_N4zqA_DSBDsDwe1G-1T7uFR7oOiiiMdzhFfhsizcBC79U1DGttK8syJAjpxjXj1Kah0GcpFWDRvl9iV8Q/w364-h640/25%20Picnic%20&%20Quart.jpg" width="364" /></a></div><br />The war ended in 1945, but the after-effects lingered. OBC was rationing its beer well into 1946.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsigXD2hg8IJq6QNaG9FDYc0bXo38RrD4eX2-aUeX3NE0JLtxFFTDp4SgRcVnEu8FfdeHqVfaPY34pKk7V1VxVCZhpo9SKxyB5E4GGLxYndfEW_UMSEslFQldeZLoFISDCn8OIRGlhLdu9zI9KE7SVYX8GYHyDj583UZzqGwFOl-P7I8AzmZzsAZ_Wtg/s1224/26-1946-05-15%20OBC%20grain%20shortage.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="1224" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsigXD2hg8IJq6QNaG9FDYc0bXo38RrD4eX2-aUeX3NE0JLtxFFTDp4SgRcVnEu8FfdeHqVfaPY34pKk7V1VxVCZhpo9SKxyB5E4GGLxYndfEW_UMSEslFQldeZLoFISDCn8OIRGlhLdu9zI9KE7SVYX8GYHyDj583UZzqGwFOl-P7I8AzmZzsAZ_Wtg/w640-h138/26-1946-05-15%20OBC%20grain%20shortage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oshkosh Daily Northwestern</i>; May 15, 1946.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />At the close of the decade, the brewery had regained its footing and was looking to the future. In June of 1949, OBC became the first Oshkosh brewery to package its beer in cans. The 1949 canned version of Chief Oshkosh Beer came in a silver crowntainer.</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXU6Qn2jTg3OYaXHdsxIevWl19fAURHmPtnw8RbmJQl3OHG4ndCeaPEwoRkLTA_wlD00SfAqOQoZN_P8RZqZ1OZ78-vH-C21YGcZlBmbRRdVq9x1yin3q4vfw5cOvy8mpBkGoevqUS__bNxeQwUh5SKxUcbT--N9ObJD99wR1a9a8sMs9wZoGVrZbY7g/s1350/27%20Can%20and%20Case%20and%20Crown.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="1350" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXU6Qn2jTg3OYaXHdsxIevWl19fAURHmPtnw8RbmJQl3OHG4ndCeaPEwoRkLTA_wlD00SfAqOQoZN_P8RZqZ1OZ78-vH-C21YGcZlBmbRRdVq9x1yin3q4vfw5cOvy8mpBkGoevqUS__bNxeQwUh5SKxUcbT--N9ObJD99wR1a9a8sMs9wZoGVrZbY7g/w640-h410/27%20Can%20and%20Case%20and%20Crown.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <br /><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1950s: A Brewery at its Peak</span></b><br />At mid-century, OBC hit its stride. The 1950s began with the reformulation of the Chief Oshkosh Beer recipe. Sales Director Lorenz “Shorty” Kuenzl described it as a “Pilsener beer that would appeal to all kinds of beer tastes in people.”</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPsWZiklalBkzlaIR1fkIkKvGkNwP3W8-rTUc6Tzrxx__6CIyExA2bOzguujpRWWwYhK0VL27ZkDgVJ2hVnl6z458XQaWeqiAncsywN1Jj21fdEuu2ZfjVBndgdSfV09HajWaW6Ci5DHRfWfzDhR_H4yE4JvFl8sxXPepDJUZFT97lvCkDQKS3KPBKw/s1075/28%20Shorty%20Kuenzl.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="1075" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPsWZiklalBkzlaIR1fkIkKvGkNwP3W8-rTUc6Tzrxx__6CIyExA2bOzguujpRWWwYhK0VL27ZkDgVJ2hVnl6z458XQaWeqiAncsywN1Jj21fdEuu2ZfjVBndgdSfV09HajWaW6Ci5DHRfWfzDhR_H4yE4JvFl8sxXPepDJUZFT97lvCkDQKS3KPBKw/w640-h472/28%20Shorty%20Kuenzl.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lorenz “Shorty” Kuenzl at his office desk drinking a glass of 1950s Chief Oshkosh.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>Kuenzl was right. Sales of the new Chief Oshkosh Beer rose rapidly; from less than 40,000 barrels in 1949 to more than 58,000 barrels in 1953. It would become the best selling, most widely distributed beer ever produced by an Oshkosh brewery.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimT38eo_LPfGd2pss2HGI3XG_hK94rRpQZF8tohN4lY5LlZZ2mvnQVYZpkBSN6qvI2ncvIZbzlyLESLPbzcledl0EGlolya0sWPc_HuHRUjoPqwICNvfom9QAaEPplO_QtEIg76W9dmidQqfu-bZPUQggaplB03IJXIr8r3PEUYSc0JsbKyieUBtzXvg/s1082/29-50s-ChiefAd.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="914" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimT38eo_LPfGd2pss2HGI3XG_hK94rRpQZF8tohN4lY5LlZZ2mvnQVYZpkBSN6qvI2ncvIZbzlyLESLPbzcledl0EGlolya0sWPc_HuHRUjoPqwICNvfom9QAaEPplO_QtEIg76W9dmidQqfu-bZPUQggaplB03IJXIr8r3PEUYSc0JsbKyieUBtzXvg/w540-h640/29-50s-ChiefAd.jpg" width="540" /></a></div><br />OBC celebrated its 90th anniversary in 1956, despite having been launched just 62 years earlier. Nobody seemed to notice the discrepancy. Afterall, there was plenty of free beer to be had. Beginning on May 22, 1956, the brewery invited the entire city to the brewery for a look around, a bite to eat, and a few beers on the house. Thirsty Oshkoshers turned out in droves.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtVmWeHQY4IHLrWYp0bRTQkNsZTeFnADtDSxswb-sQybnEPsAyEyesVlhl_wxSue9dtrkflzMqfUnoaZiAq2HwjgRhyCNmqLXtgtUcXygBLqQTcEZkdeZUI0DKsxCKTPlzdCfAQoZQZlPqQXzluidLP8C_R09GB10t_5mjvP4nUo6yGSNNGu5dp7qdA/s1855/30b%20-%201956%20Party.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1460" data-original-width="1855" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtVmWeHQY4IHLrWYp0bRTQkNsZTeFnADtDSxswb-sQybnEPsAyEyesVlhl_wxSue9dtrkflzMqfUnoaZiAq2HwjgRhyCNmqLXtgtUcXygBLqQTcEZkdeZUI0DKsxCKTPlzdCfAQoZQZlPqQXzluidLP8C_R09GB10t_5mjvP4nUo6yGSNNGu5dp7qdA/w640-h504/30b%20-%201956%20Party.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Party at the brewery, 1956.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>In 1957, there were 42 breweries operating in Wisconsin. OBC was the 10th largest, producing 57,541 barrels of beer. The brewery’s peak came in 1959 when its production rose to 63,165 barrels. The regional powerhouse from Oshkosh appeared unstoppable.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhcRXCcPJfx9aEFWIK3eiy8lLm7m5RihIoJJLJNOthxvz8fBVViTA7gM6aq170R88LtWm3lxqUtoAVvL8W74jZSyqQYrXYtKZ2F2qWd_l0yS3XtH06_RDEpFkZsPLq9_mR-bOhLwjUEW6d1SVbJdsc_tMJvxu9DYQrOdE_zWZ78W0xUSmf9oxuEcBOA/s1406/30c%20OBC%20delivery%20fleet.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="1406" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhcRXCcPJfx9aEFWIK3eiy8lLm7m5RihIoJJLJNOthxvz8fBVViTA7gM6aq170R88LtWm3lxqUtoAVvL8W74jZSyqQYrXYtKZ2F2qWd_l0yS3XtH06_RDEpFkZsPLq9_mR-bOhLwjUEW6d1SVbJdsc_tMJvxu9DYQrOdE_zWZ78W0xUSmf9oxuEcBOA/w640-h420/30c%20OBC%20delivery%20fleet.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During the brewery’s peak years, OBC’s delivery fleet traveled throughout the state.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1960-1986: The Fall of OBC </span></b><br />In the 1960s, the American brewing landscape was remade. A wave of consolidation saw the industry being taken over by massive corporations such as Anheuser-Busch, Schlitz, Miller, and Pabst. Regional breweries like the Oshkosh Brewing Company were being squeezed out. Yet some of the smaller players survived. OBC with its robust growth, appeared uniquely poised to endure the culling. But there was one thing missing: the family-run business had run out of family.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGfGOW7ps8csH434_VHNCy9N5OGgkJ9ZrPdv8Tp4rWJpw5oRURtRMNaGo4bMS-gvYnHvzaCjk11DgQI-n_XP2qvepff_z7llurl8YxWuDfB9SFyRMbJHPTrsTYPd4Cp-vLSna5EQwM2ZSBOq0Z6J7SqOBMzQNdjihrU9MGsMC6FF9KV8rVekCE36vlQ/s939/31-OBC%20Horn-Kunezl-Scwalm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="939" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGfGOW7ps8csH434_VHNCy9N5OGgkJ9ZrPdv8Tp4rWJpw5oRURtRMNaGo4bMS-gvYnHvzaCjk11DgQI-n_XP2qvepff_z7llurl8YxWuDfB9SFyRMbJHPTrsTYPd4Cp-vLSna5EQwM2ZSBOq0Z6J7SqOBMzQNdjihrU9MGsMC6FF9KV8rVekCE36vlQ/w640-h506/31-OBC%20Horn-Kunezl-Scwalm.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing from left to right, OBC treasurer Earl Horn, president Arthur Schwalm, and secretary Lorenz “Shorty” Kuenzl.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />OBC was still directed by members of the Horn, Kuenzl, and Schwalm families. Those families had been at the helm since the inception. But the next generation of Horns and Schwalms, who together held the controlling shares of the brewery’s stock, wanted no part of the beer business. In August 1961, the two families sold their stake in the Oshkosh Brewing Company. The buyer was a man from Milwaukee named David Uihlein.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6pQmVr3OV3kYo9yVStFTGoGzm7LpRAwNbOmI8qtVNdtYg7yGcbFfelWHSbfBG68Nv3A1DlG8H-kkX_v8HhKROzLbtN6zfGOVsQzawgd_twB3_bsevH_cZOeXu9Ho4VMAkhllLVbwbPQi23RxkjYVrWoibdEu4uLg_wU3iogIzw1wnmRBzljExsml-6w/s970/32%20David%20V.%20Uihlein.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="970" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6pQmVr3OV3kYo9yVStFTGoGzm7LpRAwNbOmI8qtVNdtYg7yGcbFfelWHSbfBG68Nv3A1DlG8H-kkX_v8HhKROzLbtN6zfGOVsQzawgd_twB3_bsevH_cZOeXu9Ho4VMAkhllLVbwbPQi23RxkjYVrWoibdEu4uLg_wU3iogIzw1wnmRBzljExsml-6w/w640-h510/32%20David%20V.%20Uihlein.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David V. Uihlein</td></tr></tbody></table><br />David Uihlein was no ordinary man from Milwaukee. His family owned the controlling interest in Schlitz Brewing. Schlitz was then the second largest brewery in the nation. Uihlein’s vision for OBC had nothing to do with overseeing its continued success. He had purchased the brewery with the intention of selling it to Schlitz; at a handsome profit, presumably. That plan fell apart when Schlitz president Robert Uihlein rejected his cousin’s offer. David Uihlein was left stranded in Oshkosh with a brewery he didn’t want.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCJ5qsrjYi6G1TKgDGfgCNLtqzNzboMP1i_b9_NKqVrBa1UPS9EprpXTdbxGorPn5E-TnNEQOrY2lMEB40V3N-AjDZDszywhHar7Lc3EulCJDo42mPzcx_iTIvAhV4mEOVU28B1NutBS2lp5-pBG4ynbriujoXpC2qyXFJV98m96WP4w-h6nlFjNf4g/s1312/33-Strottman-Uihlein%20in%20OBC%20brewhouse.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="1312" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCJ5qsrjYi6G1TKgDGfgCNLtqzNzboMP1i_b9_NKqVrBa1UPS9EprpXTdbxGorPn5E-TnNEQOrY2lMEB40V3N-AjDZDszywhHar7Lc3EulCJDo42mPzcx_iTIvAhV4mEOVU28B1NutBS2lp5-pBG4ynbriujoXpC2qyXFJV98m96WP4w-h6nlFjNf4g/w640-h340/33-Strottman-Uihlein%20in%20OBC%20brewhouse.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OBC Brewmaster Wilbur Strottman (left) and David Uihlein in the OBC brewhouse.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Initially at least, Uihlein seemed interested in making the best of his unenviable situation. He invested in new equipment, initiated an aggressive marketing campaign, and tried to expand the brewery’s distribution. But those efforts were accompanied by crucial errors. The most glaring was his change to the recipe for Chief Oshkosh Beer. Uihlein’s version of Chief Oshkosh was cheaper to brew. But the reformulated beer fell out of favor with long-time drinkers of “Oshkosh.” Sales plummeted.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8c_u0uN9H8mD29mXvbeG593T3P6YdEsxJeBMu8UnEhaw7rZLFScSehJUjzL-C-ZFaDwISL1tUH7I2HU9p5OHHg-QeRN61lQ5pGyDIcbHBTfk1Z7wausjCeeoZe55AIGwo3KFkKQOwUGAmoar0cFKWxeX3AOf_yhWKn_Qi3eM6TRTgVAqrHJII6PlFw/s1583/34%20the%20revised%20can.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1146" data-original-width="1583" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8c_u0uN9H8mD29mXvbeG593T3P6YdEsxJeBMu8UnEhaw7rZLFScSehJUjzL-C-ZFaDwISL1tUH7I2HU9p5OHHg-QeRN61lQ5pGyDIcbHBTfk1Z7wausjCeeoZe55AIGwo3KFkKQOwUGAmoar0cFKWxeX3AOf_yhWKn_Qi3eM6TRTgVAqrHJII6PlFw/w640-h464/34%20the%20revised%20can.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reformulated and redesigned. Chief Oshkosh cans from the Uihlein era.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Under Uihlein, OBC expanded its portfolio in an attempt to reverse the slide. In 1966, the brewery purchased the brand rights to three beers that had been left for dead by failed breweries: Badger Brew from Effinger Brewing in Baraboo, Liebrau of Two Rivers Brewing, and Rahr’s of Green Bay.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCm_udGF8z9xs_0KkuwNacUtGOmJivrkcl7wmdSXd_ECYDmtfSMRqkJNz2WYOm0XIaEvSOppwLylz9z6iZ0k0Jacprxw9FKX2oGPFIitX5RlcY1_Fn_JgAQ9PDRc8zEK-jlmjxeG8Wx5RXqQBHtU0RRyWL6-Na0XZcx3E7ZfhqzC1E_pOYyC9Blii1w/s1600/35%20Labels.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="1600" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCm_udGF8z9xs_0KkuwNacUtGOmJivrkcl7wmdSXd_ECYDmtfSMRqkJNz2WYOm0XIaEvSOppwLylz9z6iZ0k0Jacprxw9FKX2oGPFIitX5RlcY1_Fn_JgAQ9PDRc8zEK-jlmjxeG8Wx5RXqQBHtU0RRyWL6-Na0XZcx3E7ZfhqzC1E_pOYyC9Blii1w/w640-h168/35%20Labels.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div>The resuscitated beers didn't help. OBC's losses continued piling up. By the end of 1969, annual production had fallen to just 34,000 barrels; a 40% drop since Uihlein had taken ownership. David Uihlein sold his stake in OBC in 1969. He returned to Milwaukee where he took a seat on the board of directors of Schlitz. There he helped guide Schlitz to its ultimate demise.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ZsXsTyd23SY-477W20jASUbWc991OpAvZ5GB37jJjhPz_ZsGF8BNQ0V9qUPQiIDBTxi8MCtHQi9MNRFpLtiYoJQDPcv4QC_MyNPcunHX_33j0vmvn5pu6GCV5fAixoLxVnRN0ycqo4TzIRCX7bkZBOJ6X2DCrEHatnl_VvKLp8Y23zMFBmFkxpVgnw/s438/36%20Harold%20Francis%20Kriz.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="286" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ZsXsTyd23SY-477W20jASUbWc991OpAvZ5GB37jJjhPz_ZsGF8BNQ0V9qUPQiIDBTxi8MCtHQi9MNRFpLtiYoJQDPcv4QC_MyNPcunHX_33j0vmvn5pu6GCV5fAixoLxVnRN0ycqo4TzIRCX7bkZBOJ6X2DCrEHatnl_VvKLp8Y23zMFBmFkxpVgnw/w418-h640/36%20Harold%20Francis%20Kriz.jpg" width="418" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harold Kriz, who had been with the brewery since 1952, became president of OBC upon Uihlein’s departure in 1969.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />OBC was purchased by a coalition of Oshkosh residents and brewery employees doing business as Hometown Brewery, Inc. But there was little left to redeem. Chief Oshkosh was now a bargain-bin beer. The brewery that produced it had fallen into disrepair. The last batch of Chief Oshkosh was brewed on September 9, 1971. The following month, the Oshkosh Brewing Company announced its closing.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLenKJBYq3H-SYHbT-E21Bu9DJXWd1NPLv29qBykwkAPvM3ln4Wk9aPFcwatfSSwODXCHDAtogGsdzJHQjxP5rXuUuiUqix10HdIV9s8pONvOhWW_yeSFYaENDEkQAnEstHy-Bri3Xmi_MvC0z4TEk0YvnhjXDNf-jKPBxeVdPpAiTLXdgxr9dkzMXw/s842/36b%20Home%20of%20Chief.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="842" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLenKJBYq3H-SYHbT-E21Bu9DJXWd1NPLv29qBykwkAPvM3ln4Wk9aPFcwatfSSwODXCHDAtogGsdzJHQjxP5rXuUuiUqix10HdIV9s8pONvOhWW_yeSFYaENDEkQAnEstHy-Bri3Xmi_MvC0z4TEk0YvnhjXDNf-jKPBxeVdPpAiTLXdgxr9dkzMXw/w640-h520/36b%20Home%20of%20Chief.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />In November 1971, the brands of the Oshkosh Brewing Company were purchased by Peoples Brewing Company of Oshkosh. Chief Oshkosh Beer was brewed at Peoples until that brewery closed in 1972.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dwI5cNYGHXc-qscTRRZtto6hoeeCe3n2GJhhXzFsWTyeaspc8KjQ39lF3l6k9h0jgDrPuTmWGibXPoS7XFIiAdo0rtB0bz550Z0Omgn77Ux-lsX1sDr5_op6qGlX86DXx-Syt6TSK0ACZe0HY8sj-hLjUyctCRjTRbsFVSvCBr0hz7mViRxxdriMjA/s855/37%201971%20Chief%20Oshkosh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dwI5cNYGHXc-qscTRRZtto6hoeeCe3n2GJhhXzFsWTyeaspc8KjQ39lF3l6k9h0jgDrPuTmWGibXPoS7XFIiAdo0rtB0bz550Z0Omgn77Ux-lsX1sDr5_op6qGlX86DXx-Syt6TSK0ACZe0HY8sj-hLjUyctCRjTRbsFVSvCBr0hz7mViRxxdriMjA/w444-h640/37%201971%20Chief%20Oshkosh.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><div><br /></div>In 1986, the Oshkosh Brewing Company’s towering brewhouse was demolished after years of neglect.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_3Aq22Wo3AHsm_Bxu6iox-oe-Kjft1xcfyADQaTW6hl-5BSesANrqp1ntcC7wI8vUQXOaMV0QEQijox1lTGkKCjW85hhAPvAIEWfG7VzJQIKF3UVakLgvt7HV0OUtoK_muLhD7vFpi27hYnaML_aOwdTV1o3b44XwgHRJzgZ-CaLqsTO-_BkMY31QA/s640/38%20Demo01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_3Aq22Wo3AHsm_Bxu6iox-oe-Kjft1xcfyADQaTW6hl-5BSesANrqp1ntcC7wI8vUQXOaMV0QEQijox1lTGkKCjW85hhAPvAIEWfG7VzJQIKF3UVakLgvt7HV0OUtoK_muLhD7vFpi27hYnaML_aOwdTV1o3b44XwgHRJzgZ-CaLqsTO-_BkMY31QA/w640-h400/38%20Demo01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The Chief Oshkosh emblem that was attached to the face of the brewery now resides at the Oshkosh Public Museum. The 800-pound, terra cotta piece went on permanent display at the museum in 2009.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_PMIOyMIpHPK0r3jbD4u6TUtR4xekrepfMrEoVLT7_fU5ZZ1W42y7Yc1Uh6BbolsoZbQpLliyYuUNpiRV4yom7D-qK59xseQpBqTe_sLLKCjq13PzXZBgb36-Vt4ZCfcL3OGAv1vMtzE89e9tHASIBsvtnOgG0EkwDpQg1kvHkwAHVC483KeiVGQHg/s1296/39%20OPM%20Emblem.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="986" data-original-width="1296" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_PMIOyMIpHPK0r3jbD4u6TUtR4xekrepfMrEoVLT7_fU5ZZ1W42y7Yc1Uh6BbolsoZbQpLliyYuUNpiRV4yom7D-qK59xseQpBqTe_sLLKCjq13PzXZBgb36-Vt4ZCfcL3OGAv1vMtzE89e9tHASIBsvtnOgG0EkwDpQg1kvHkwAHVC483KeiVGQHg/w640-h486/39%20OPM%20Emblem.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><u>Further Reading</u></b><br />And if that wasn’t enough… Here is a selection of links leading to articles that go deeper on aspects of the Oshkosh Brewing Company's history covered in this post. <br /><br /><i><u>The Formation of a Brewery</u></i><br /><br /></div><div><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2016/04/when-big-breweries-converged-on-oshkosh.html " target="_blank">In the late 1880s, Oshkosh became a distribution hub for some of America's largest breweries.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2011/02/beginning-of-oshkosh-brewing-company.html" target="_blank">On March 21, 1894, the Gambrinus, Glatz and Son, and Horn & Schwalm breweries merged to form the Oshkosh Brewing Company.</a><br /><br /><i><u>1894-1899: All Together</u></i><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2020/06/chief-oshkosh-and-beer.html" target="_blank">An image of Chief Oshkosh was adopted as the brewery’s trademark</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2015/11/lets-ask-brewmaster.html" target="_blank">Through the 1890s, OBC produced a wide-range of beers that reflected the European heritage of its founding breweries.</a><br /><br /><i><u>1900-1920: Years of Triumph</u></i><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-oshkosh-brewing-company-in-1900.html" target="_blank">The Oshkosh Brewing Company succeeded in overcoming its larger competitors.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2010/07/pep-and-prohibition-solution-in-oshkosh.html" target="_blank">The brewery’s first non-alcoholic beer, named PEP.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2015/05/an-oshkosh-beer-doctor.html#:~:text=Wiese-,Harry%20E.,with%20a%20measure%20of%20moonshine" target="_blank">It was purchased in volume by “beer doctors” who would "needle" the non-intoxicating beer with moonshine.</a><br /><br /><i><u>1920-1932: The Curse of the Dry Years</u></i><br /><br /><a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-story-of-chief-oshkosh-beer-and-how.html" target="_blank">In 1928, OBC introduced its Chief Oshkosh brand. The first iteration of Chief Oshkosh was a non-alcoholic beer.</a><br /><br />By the early 1920s, the City of Oshkosh was inundated with real beer produced by <a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2020/04/rounding-up-wildcats.html" target="_blank">wildcat breweries</a> and <a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2010/06/homebrewing-in-oshkosh-during.html" target="_blank">homebrewers</a>.<br /><br /><i><u>1933-1940: Beer is Back!</u></i><br /><br /><a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2022/04/beer-bash-1933.html" target="_blank">At midnight Friday, April 7th, 1933, the steam whistle atop the Oshkosh Brewing Company let out a long cry of relief.</a><br /><br /><i><u>The 1940s: Wartime Beer</u></i><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2017/02/an-illustrated-history-of-oshkosh-beer.html" target="_blank">In June of 1949, OBC became the first Oshkosh brewery to package its beer in cans.</a><br /><br /><i><u>The 1950s: A Brewery at its Peak</u></i><br /><br /><a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-story-of-chief-oshkosh-beer-and-how.html" target="_blank">The new Chief Oshkosh Beer.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2010/05/oshkosh-brewing-company-and-90th.html" target="_blank">OBC celebrated its 90th anniversary in 1956, despite having been launched just 62 years earlier.</a><br /><br /><i><u>The 1960-1986: The Fall of OBC </u></i><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2016/10/when-david-uihlein-came-to-oshkosh.html" target="_blank">In August 1961, the two families sold their stake in the Oshkosh Brewing Company.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2017/07/a-beer-by-any-other-name.html" target="_blank">Under Uihlein, OBC expanded its portfolio in an attempt to reverse the slide.</a><br /><br /><a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2016/10/death-of-hometown-brewery_17.html" target="_blank">OBC was purchased by a coalition of Oshkosh residents and brewery employees doing business as Hometown Brewery, Inc.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2016/10/when-peoples-brewing-made-chief-oshkosh.html" target="_blank">In November 1971, the brands of the Oshkosh Brewing Company were purchased by Peoples Brewing Company of Oshkosh.</a><br /><br /><a href="https://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2021/03/the-second-death-of-oshkosh-brewing.html" target="_blank">In 1986, the Oshkosh Brewing Company’s once majestic brewhouse was demolished.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2021/03/the-wanderings-of-800-pound-chief.html" target="_blank">The emblem bearing the image of Chief Oshkosh is now at the Oshkosh Public Museum.</a><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-53698869631700300192023-04-24T19:20:00.003-05:002023-04-24T19:20:33.043-05:00B'Gosh It's Good Again<p>The B'Gosh It's Good Breweriana Show hits Fifth Ward Brewing again this Saturday. It's always a fun event. Grab a beer and go strolling through the brewery to see an incredible array of historic brewery collectibles.</p><p>The event runs from noon until 4pm, <a href="https://fb.me/e/3Byp6QTja" target="_blank">Check out the event page</a> for details.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ORXcSqPi0iCB0xb6JcwmBbGe8E7TeS56A4UYj4CA1PzUthf1nUWMh3sA0IWTXksvekCLw3X7nZQ1Yd8y7visn1j3vTPWjUir2cXTEhTZW8ecUla-qEHaYSoO1B_9FgL1PAXunHOBuBE6ZO9CFokB-x1sZQzjkycTZmysWCHcwAuX3KIsG-aXYtL-VA/s1440/bgosh%20its%20good.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="755" data-original-width="1440" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ORXcSqPi0iCB0xb6JcwmBbGe8E7TeS56A4UYj4CA1PzUthf1nUWMh3sA0IWTXksvekCLw3X7nZQ1Yd8y7visn1j3vTPWjUir2cXTEhTZW8ecUla-qEHaYSoO1B_9FgL1PAXunHOBuBE6ZO9CFokB-x1sZQzjkycTZmysWCHcwAuX3KIsG-aXYtL-VA/w640-h336/bgosh%20its%20good.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-44089969373157214362023-04-23T02:06:00.002-05:002023-04-23T02:06:00.214-05:00Grady's New Sign<div class="separator">In 1902, Billy “Irish” Grady mounted a new sign over the door to his Cabinet saloon on Main Street. The sign extended from the doorway to the curb. And it glowed with incandescent bulbs that flashed CABINET all night long.</div><div class="separator"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEINZC4GC5hbYI957Y8EK_XdWU68guC_GxVEO7teZcaX-u_KA7u6o4inSDOoWY6hBMyjX54B-AcVBQMFJHT80z4aPbsnzmmMACDFZx3a3tsPXVxule2M91Nov9o9YCd-F-tPZp2H2uEsxazQpCdbbJvXvnSkXiJysfNy8EOQ3A2ef7NWNbsZ0-UZycA/s1514/Cabinet%201902.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEINZC4GC5hbYI957Y8EK_XdWU68guC_GxVEO7teZcaX-u_KA7u6o4inSDOoWY6hBMyjX54B-AcVBQMFJHT80z4aPbsnzmmMACDFZx3a3tsPXVxule2M91Nov9o9YCd-F-tPZp2H2uEsxazQpCdbbJvXvnSkXiJysfNy8EOQ3A2ef7NWNbsZ0-UZycA/w640-h354/Cabinet%201902.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grady's Cabinet near the corner of N. Main and Otter.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Grady’s friends were impressed. His enemies were repulsed. Grady was a lightning rod for the anti-saloon crowd in Oshkosh. They said the Cabinet was a hub for gambling and prostitution. Grady reveled in their indignation. He seemed to enjoy living up to his infamous reputation. The lurid sign only added to the Cabinet’s notoriety. What was The Cabinet saloon is now 206 N. Main Street. <div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAfP7tBRUF20JjTW8SOa-jWEeTU6MVBEwNf3hgxib1NIWlH18KEGi2GUfvD9rIdbDKMLORmSV7hzHfrgeq6Oy_LQNpEbIqwbqudXf2uXp3ZDuBJCE8pLO5X_NaDH2y4bAloEOHS_irD843Pq9K7AupN9G91l-0vUcqEjUkPGyszRnRdgpwUlixyzvQg/s2190/206%20Main.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1737" data-original-width="2190" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAfP7tBRUF20JjTW8SOa-jWEeTU6MVBEwNf3hgxib1NIWlH18KEGi2GUfvD9rIdbDKMLORmSV7hzHfrgeq6Oy_LQNpEbIqwbqudXf2uXp3ZDuBJCE8pLO5X_NaDH2y4bAloEOHS_irD843Pq9K7AupN9G91l-0vUcqEjUkPGyszRnRdgpwUlixyzvQg/w640-h508/206%20Main.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">206 N. Main Street.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>When Grady was there, this place was three doors up from the northeast corner of Otter and Main. But that corner has been reshaped. The property that was on the corner was shaved away and made part of Otter Avenue. Now Grady’s old place occupies what has become the corner lot.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJWm7ijLjaWJIYZzr8zUjdwXkiCV4LKEx6xNWelBX0c8dWGZ6DE7YPv7XpJschzHxOzZQialQI_o43F2xkF13ZfPoVjmghhZ2zL7oE3dPJyfV5pbWa4dG49ztTzH6zR2XmwJ0AN5Ay6uxx2_5sdHUeDDlZ2TKLmgOPACuxikyzAXtKDdOXpwgRFPezA/s1500/206%20main%20mash%20up.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1500" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJWm7ijLjaWJIYZzr8zUjdwXkiCV4LKEx6xNWelBX0c8dWGZ6DE7YPv7XpJschzHxOzZQialQI_o43F2xkF13ZfPoVjmghhZ2zL7oE3dPJyfV5pbWa4dG49ztTzH6zR2XmwJ0AN5Ay6uxx2_5sdHUeDDlZ2TKLmgOPACuxikyzAXtKDdOXpwgRFPezA/w640-h328/206%20main%20mash%20up.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-53108537892295662392023-04-18T08:58:00.002-05:002023-04-18T08:58:44.270-05:00Neenah, 1873<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1Wmrok5uYgZMnR-9vzYA0aAMfjkzD7wrISja75ntRu5xIkgo6bTilRA5BDx3KRYYNSEg4PCpE9lSsLuJp7to_5Dbrz91qS0btLeYWLltBDXAOtPcuZIwlqwV65M-5JE85MLIMAxfAqcFu2EcxVmH4fzmz1vIeOJO1_VfYGT2ETPkYvz6lH85Yp6MBg/s1296/1873can.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1296" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1Wmrok5uYgZMnR-9vzYA0aAMfjkzD7wrISja75ntRu5xIkgo6bTilRA5BDx3KRYYNSEg4PCpE9lSsLuJp7to_5Dbrz91qS0btLeYWLltBDXAOtPcuZIwlqwV65M-5JE85MLIMAxfAqcFu2EcxVmH4fzmz1vIeOJO1_VfYGT2ETPkYvz6lH85Yp6MBg/w640-h528/1873can.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>Lion’s Tail recently released this beer as part of Neenah’s Sesquicentennial Celebration. It’s definitely worth seeking out. This was brewed to replicate the sort of beer that Frank Ehrgott was making at the Neenah Brewery back in 1873. I think it pretty much nails it. Full disclosure: I had a part in formulating the recipe for 1873.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaCzQJZjRI4mmbsLfFg20PHrbp_YzBIUY2rt4YaXZO1-I_Lxa09KfHqXrMxcuOF2JLKVSztCuAm0NbnBIE169EUKBL2hMY-T4z1VHMy1Pd-dIgZslgXAlkg4ZlyG8OHadYX1kBFOjzxyY67a1ftWPJuJU3HqcDKnBMI8MPwqhk4Z6gDxQwC5t-fz3dQ/s595/Frank%20Ehrgott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="552" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaCzQJZjRI4mmbsLfFg20PHrbp_YzBIUY2rt4YaXZO1-I_Lxa09KfHqXrMxcuOF2JLKVSztCuAm0NbnBIE169EUKBL2hMY-T4z1VHMy1Pd-dIgZslgXAlkg4ZlyG8OHadYX1kBFOjzxyY67a1ftWPJuJU3HqcDKnBMI8MPwqhk4Z6gDxQwC5t-fz3dQ/w594-h640/Frank%20Ehrgott.jpg" width="594" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVqiDAUjduXmyqYLkvoXGkG2xF2TSfcwcbSkBwro3JH-QiemTiCN1IXoD93rl0fnvHEONhbi4wOt8Hcpb7tQmPU15i0FMSHPvSiEPjCQFdfYeeTf5ukI66Pmk5_UHjJFXJ6M0V2MIsk67AuyG3ak6C2Zhdl9lBfeertgzegHeZRKt7V2u7TBp7wfUcw/s720/Neenah%20Brewery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="720" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVqiDAUjduXmyqYLkvoXGkG2xF2TSfcwcbSkBwro3JH-QiemTiCN1IXoD93rl0fnvHEONhbi4wOt8Hcpb7tQmPU15i0FMSHPvSiEPjCQFdfYeeTf5ukI66Pmk5_UHjJFXJ6M0V2MIsk67AuyG3ak6C2Zhdl9lBfeertgzegHeZRKt7V2u7TBp7wfUcw/w640-h448/Neenah%20Brewery.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />You can get the full story on the history of brewing in Neenah <a href="http://oshkoshbeer.blogspot.com/2016/03/from-lachmann-to-lions-tail-history-of_28.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Or you could check out my book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Winnebago-County-Beer-History-American/dp/1467140066" target="_blank">Winnebago County Beer, a Heady History</a>.<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012178744119952612.post-82382082224727857292023-04-16T05:30:00.001-05:002023-04-16T05:30:00.201-05:00A Blind Pig on ParkwayA blind pig was a low-profile, low-end place that sold liquor during Prohibition. This house on Parkway was a blind pig.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1IUdvhdIU_UxI_fH0v_m75t4ohuWLfIMGRZ6V4eLUkdTwbTG_4SThTxEvm4EaUsgn9PLPWN9ioach58fe13wv3GnIp-o-tzD-zoulzWPUXThH2ISyXQEQdjBF_tzF2aPiN4pyxfD2KEKAP-FHWWuvbhzhpzzfePmpAesQqNk9jrzciia0ydzpAUd8g/s2048/225%20E%20Parkway%20Ave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1IUdvhdIU_UxI_fH0v_m75t4ohuWLfIMGRZ6V4eLUkdTwbTG_4SThTxEvm4EaUsgn9PLPWN9ioach58fe13wv3GnIp-o-tzD-zoulzWPUXThH2ISyXQEQdjBF_tzF2aPiN4pyxfD2KEKAP-FHWWuvbhzhpzzfePmpAesQqNk9jrzciia0ydzpAUd8g/w640-h480/225%20E%20Parkway%20Ave.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">225 E. Parkway Ave.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>This was the home of Richard and Marie McCombs and their two young boys. The McCombs were doing well when they bought that house in the summer of 1929. Richard sold cars for a living. Marie kept the home and tended to the boys. But the comfortable times didn’t last.<br /><br />In October 1929, the stock market crashed. Then came the Great Depression. Oshkosh was hit especially hard. Car sales tanked and Richard McCombs had to scuffle to make ends meet. By 1932, they had grown desperate. Running out of options, the McCombs converted their home into a blind pig.<br /><br />They were late to the illicit booze business. Prohibition was on its way to being repealed. Once liquor was legal again, there'd be no need for blind pigs. But until then...</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8oHDzO44mc8mKHzvg73IY_iJkZsG2WfyW8EtaVJlC-b7SVJChgXCNXFuuqYEVMSUMPfq0zEYk4Pl1GlzRjRotG6YrXl2kagbuDF0I5LTECU32AS6yIygAEeG5okoz1xg_oGJFWSzq3lTUMR1lBnV8FVW5RGKfNMPPcrG8E6ViDEtK5yKgDSJPkBZQ2A/s1962/Bayfield%20Still.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1208" data-original-width="1962" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8oHDzO44mc8mKHzvg73IY_iJkZsG2WfyW8EtaVJlC-b7SVJChgXCNXFuuqYEVMSUMPfq0zEYk4Pl1GlzRjRotG6YrXl2kagbuDF0I5LTECU32AS6yIygAEeG5okoz1xg_oGJFWSzq3lTUMR1lBnV8FVW5RGKfNMPPcrG8E6ViDEtK5yKgDSJPkBZQ2A/w640-h394/Bayfield%20Still.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A moonshine still in a bootleg distillery operating in Bayfield, Wisconsin during Prohibition.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Richard McCombs sourced his booze from an outlaw distillery operating somewhere in northern Wisconsin. He'd bring moonshine back to Oshkosh in barrels and gallon cans and then bottle it in pints that he sold for 50 cents (about $11 in today's money). He wasn't choosy about his clientele. McCombs was known for his willingness to sell booze to minors. <br /><br />The cops in Oshkosh had tended to look past this kind of thing, as long as the neighbors weren't complaining. But that, too, was changing. On April 7, 1933, low-alcohol beer was legalized in what would be the first step towards the dismantling of Prohibition. Oshkosh taverns began reopening as beer bars. And with that, Chief of Police Arthur Gabbert served notice that he would now begin “A drive against all speakeasies, or establishments where drinks are sold without the proper license.”<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0VVGHpJ7eHoFqaSdm9SI5ovoICqJHzKIyR5tvi5jTfD9eBVqQnPddRfRPiJ2FukYumTaOA9EvlyC9_q_pdY1xMr7usoMpSA8yIiKXd7JNIqwZ6o34l0cf-XrvoNa7b_y4D_s5JZnLmemAWnaEipMLQUpK1WAdfcqf9Y0aoAzaeNvd6pviaeCMvk9VA/s640/OPD-Arthur%20Gabbert%20Oshkosh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="519" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0VVGHpJ7eHoFqaSdm9SI5ovoICqJHzKIyR5tvi5jTfD9eBVqQnPddRfRPiJ2FukYumTaOA9EvlyC9_q_pdY1xMr7usoMpSA8yIiKXd7JNIqwZ6o34l0cf-XrvoNa7b_y4D_s5JZnLmemAWnaEipMLQUpK1WAdfcqf9Y0aoAzaeNvd6pviaeCMvk9VA/w520-h640/OPD-Arthur%20Gabbert%20Oshkosh.jpg" width="520" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oshkosh Chief of Police Arthur Gabbert.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>A week after Gabbert made his announcement, an Oshkosh cop arrested a drunk on Washington Avenue. The guy was stewed to a degree unachievable through the application of the newly legal 3.2% ABV beer. The cops grilled the drunk. He ratted on Richard McCombs. On Monday April 17, Oshkosh police were at McCombs’ door with a search warrant.<br /><br /></div><div>Richard McCombs wasn’t home. Marie McCombs told the cops that her husband was away visiting his mother in Appleton. His mother lived nowhere near Appleton. The police had known they wouldn’t find McCombs at home. They knew that he was out of town on another moonshine run. <br /><br />The cops raided the McCombs’ home and found all the evidence they needed. In the cellar were two barrels and several gallon-sized cans containing moonshine, a clutter of empty barrels and cans, and scores of pint bottles. <br /><br />Richard McCombs returned to Oshkosh and turned himself in. In court, he pleaded guilty. He told the judge he’d been operating his blind pig for just a short time. That he’d been driven to it by financial need. The judge showed a degree of pity. He fined McCombs $50 (about $1,100 in today’s money) and allowed him to go free.<br /><br /></div><div>Six months later McCombs was in jail. He didn’t have enough money to cover his fine, so he was given a plan to pay it off in installments. But McCombs couldn't keep up with the payments. He was arrested and on November 1, began serving a 30-day sentence in the county jail. <br /><br />While McCombs sat in jail, the dry law was being undone as the 21st Amendment to the United States Constitution made its way through the final phase of ratification. Prohibition was finally repealed just days after McCombs was released.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvMLBfhIYEcyH2YonvYDvcSOB-gqN59OcBq_KPaAFSOZfPQ7sFgCmbD1k1v6nhtp-yyelKfhH5e4C7vPQwxWkSvHIj7M-KVbCLj1EK1pwlm8d4T6MfiQdRazw4dLpcors3zuIwgAtCCLPBlvEPrnfWts_ZBYpJ71aVgUfNsLNftrXxNgbNJ0vUVN8qg/s812/Farewell%2018%20amend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="812" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvMLBfhIYEcyH2YonvYDvcSOB-gqN59OcBq_KPaAFSOZfPQ7sFgCmbD1k1v6nhtp-yyelKfhH5e4C7vPQwxWkSvHIj7M-KVbCLj1EK1pwlm8d4T6MfiQdRazw4dLpcors3zuIwgAtCCLPBlvEPrnfWts_ZBYpJ71aVgUfNsLNftrXxNgbNJ0vUVN8qg/w640-h472/Farewell%2018%20amend.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 5, 1933.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0