Sunday, February 28, 2021

Winter Beer Deliveries…

In the early 1900s, Rahr Brewing in Oshkosh made its deliveries by horse-drawn sleigh. Notice those wooden beer kegs that are about to be hauled from the brewery. 


Circa, 1914.

And now we have this... The newest Oshkosh beer truck belongs to Fifth Ward Brewing. It's not quite as romantic as the Rahr sleigh, but it's got a lot more horsepower.


Thursday, February 18, 2021

The Native Grisette at Bare Bones

Here's the first beer made by a commercial brewery that's fermented entirely with native Oshkosh yeast.


That's the Grisette that will begin pouring when Bare Bones opens its taproom Friday, February 19.

What's a Grisette? It's an almost lost style of Belgian table beer closely related to Saison. Historically, it was brewed to be lower in alcohol than Saison and with a cleaner, more refreshing character. The Grisette at Bare Bones hits the style perfectly. But that's not the surprising part.

What's surprising is that the bright, refreshing character of this beer was produced from a yeast found floating through the air near the south side of Oshkosh. The journey from airborne microbe to beer in a glass took two years.

It began when Jody Cleveland, head brewer at Bare Bones, started harvesting yeast that was lingering about the flora in his yard; which is downwind of the old Glatz Brewery. After capturing what looked like a suitable candidate, he isolated a single cell and then began the process of culturing it. Technically, this is a wild yeast, but don't get the wrong idea. The beer it produced has none of the sourness often associated with American ales made from wild fungi.

The beer itself has all the traits of a fresh, farmhouse ale. There's a distinct pepper note in the nose backed with a hint of clove. It's light-bodied with a crisp, dry finish that's accentuated by an earthy note of Saaz hops. If I had tasted this blind and been told it was made by a Belgian brewery I wouldn't have doubted it for a moment. This is an exceptional ale.

There's one problem here. Because of its genesis, this was brewed as a small batch. There were only two quarter-barrels produced. It will be available only on draft at the Bare Bones Brewery taproom in Oshkosh. No growlers, no crowlers, no cans. Fresh from the tap is the only way to get it. Which, when you think of it, is exactly how a beer like this should be enjoyed.

Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Oshkosh Can Lines

In today's Oshkosh Herald I have an article about how our local breweries are increasingly favoring cans over bottles when it comes to packaging. I'll post the full article below for those who don't live in the Herald's delivery area.

But before we get to that, here's a look at just how different today's canning equipment is from that used by Oshkosh breweries in the 1950s. The video begins with footage of the Oshkosh Brewing Company's can line in 1956. That's followed by a recent clip of beer being canned at Bare Bones Brewery (NOTE: if the video does not appear in the space below you can access it here).



That Oshkosh Brewing Company clip is taken from a longer, video tour of the brewery. You can view that video in its entirety here. Now, onto the Herald article...

Breweries freshly embrace canning option
Oshkosh Herald, February 17, 2021
If you went to buy a six-pack of local beer a year ago, you would have come home with glass bottles nested in a cardboard carrier. Today that story would probably have a different ending. Though brewers in Oshkosh haven't entirely abandoned glass bottles, aluminum cans have become their packaging vessel of choice. The benefits of canned beer are many, but for brewers like Jody Cleveland of Bare Bones Brewery, it all comes down to quality. "Cans are so much better at preserving flavor and freshness," he says. "There's just no way around that."

In May of 2020, Bare Bones became the first Oshkosh brewery in almost 50 years to package beer on its own automated canning line. The canner had arrived in the nick of time. State restrictions following the COVID-19 outbreak had resulted in the closure of bars and taprooms which curtailed the on-premise sale of draft beer. "I think being able to can beer at that point saved us," says Cleveland, "Having that option with to-go sales helped us a ton, there's no doubt about that."

Fifth Ward Brewing took delivery of its canning line this past December. Since then the brewery has packaged a dozen different beers in cans. That would have been impossible to do in such a short time with a bottling line. "Printing six-pack holders for bottles is very expensive and it's a stupid amount that you have to buy to make it cost-effective," says Zach Clark co-owner of Fifth Ward. "With cans, all we have to do is design and print a new label. We can do that quickly. It allows us so much more flexibility. It gives us the ability to offer more variety and get beers into the retail market that we could only have sold on draft before."

Getting consumers to embrace canned beer hasn’t always been so easy. The Oshkosh Brewing Company was the first brewery here to can beer. When those cans were released in 1949, the reception was lukewarm at best. Some customers complained of a metallic flavor. The issue was soon resolved, but the prejudice lingered on.

Brewery owners Ian Wenger (left) and Zach Clark, canning beer at Fifth Ward.

In 1991, the Mid-Coast Brewing Company of Oshkosh released a new brand named Chief Oshkosh Red Lager in cans. That beer, brewed and packaged on contract at the Stevens Point Brewery, is considered by many to have been the first American craft beer offered in cans. Though the beer itself was highly regarded, the package was a hard sell. “The idea that great beer doesn't come in a can hurt me,” says Jeff Fulbright, president of Mid-Coast Brewing Company. Mid-Coast closed in 1995.

Those old misconceptions are finally giving way. "We initially heard from a couple of people who were disappointed when they saw we were going in this direction," says Jody Cleveland where at Bare Bones they no longer package any beer in glass bottles. "But that went away almost immediately. It's been all positive ever since." Drew Roth, the head brewer at Fox River Brewing, says the reaction among their customers has been much the same.

Roth still recalls his own aha moment. "Back when I first got into beer, one of the marks of a craft beer was that it always came in a bottle," he says. "But that's only because no craft breweries had canners. Once they started putting beer in cans, especially IPAs, it was eye-opening. It was way fresher tasting than anything I've ever had out of a bottle."

Roth estimates that Fox River currently puts about 20 percent of its total packaged product into cans despite the brewery not having a canner of its own. Fox River has been using the canning unit at Bare Bones along with mobile canning businesses that service craft breweries across the Midwest. Among Fox River's most recent canned offerings is BLU Bobber in tall, 19.2-ounce cans. "Ideally, I would put everything in cans," Roth says, "but the aluminum can shortage is making that harder to do."

Breweries began feeling that pinch last summer after there was a spike in demand for aluminum cans. In addition to craft brewers leaning into aluminum, there has been explosive growth in the sales of canned hard seltzer and sparkling water. But according to the Can Manufacturers Institute, the shortages should begin to ease this summer.

"I'm excited to see what happens coming into April," says Zach Clark at Fifth Ward. "We're going to be able to have our new releases here in the taproom and at the stores around the same time. We're only able to do that because of the flexibility we get from cans. The entire market has changed over the last couple of years and cans are a big part of that. People are always looking for the new thing. This is what people are looking for now."

Sunday, February 14, 2021

The Blue Label Sample Room

Here we have Oshkosh's Blue Label Sample Room in a photo taken sometime between 1902 and 1905. We're looking at the west side of North Main in what is now the 100 block.


The proprietor, Leonard Michels, is the man on the left. He was born in Fond du Lac County in 1875, the son of German immigrants. Michels' saloon was tied to the Oshkosh Brewing Company. Signs for the brewery's beer fill the entranceway.


Michels died in Oshkosh in 1959. His saloon, and all the other older buildings along this stretch, was demolished in the early 1970s.

The 100 block of the west side of N. Main today.

Tuesday, February 9, 2021

Wookie Rye Roggenbier

Here's a rare style of ale that went on tap last week at Fox River in Oshkosh.


Wookie Rye is a Roggenbier, otherwise known as a rye beer. This one was made from a mash composed of 60% rye malt. All that rye comes across in a pronounced way. The malt flavors edge their way toward chocolate. People often talk of getting a spicy character from rye but to me, the flavor is closer to that sweet, molasses bite you find in brown sugar. 

The beer has a silky texture and plenty of mouthfeel. At 17 IBUs there's just enough bitterness for balance without it getting in the way. Wookie is 4% ABV, though you'd never guess that. It's a nice beer for this time of year when you want something a little more satisfying without having to down too much alcohol. Definitely a beer worth checking out.

A Bit of Back Story
There's a reason you don't see brewers producing a lot of rye beer. It's because modern brewing equipment doesn't favor the gummy, protein-rich wort that results from mashing rye malt. It makes for a long brew day.

"Runoff was problematic, as you might expect," says Drew Roth, head brewer at Fox River. "The sheer amount of syrup it produced from the proteins was truly impressive, both in the kettle and in the mash tun. The wort could only be described as slick."

That's the modern dilemma of brewing with rye. The flavors produced are rich and complex, but it's just so much damned work.

Prior to the 15th century – when European country brewers were still using wooden tubs for mashing – beers made from rye were common, especially in Bavaria. roggenbier was among the last of the Bavarian ales to have a place at the table in southern Germany. They were almost washed, however, by the 15th-century tsunami of South-German lager. The death knell for Bavarian roggenbier came with the Reinheitsgebot of 1516, which prohibited the use of rye malt in beer (long story short, they wanted to reserve rye as a food source).

So here you have it once again, a true rye ale in Oshkosh. Get it while you can. Oh, about that name, Wookie Rye. It's a hat tip to the Star Wars exhibit now at the Oshkosh Public Museum. Here are Drew Roth's notes on the beer. Prost!


Sunday, February 7, 2021

Mamie Seymour and the North-Side Wildlife

Saturday, March 31, 1894
Chief Rudolph Weisbrod left the station and drove his buggy up to the north side. He was almost to the city limit when he stopped, tethered his horse, and entered the house where Mamie Seymour lived. Weisbrod arrested her for selling beer without a license. Then he went to the house next door and arrested Frankie Harris on the same charge. Weisbrod could have gotten both women for crimes more severe than selling beer. But that was not the point.


Seymour and Harris went before Judge James Hamilton Merrill. The Judge was a Civil-War vet and had long been an influential figure in Oshkosh (Merrill Middle School still bears his name). Judge Merrill knew what was being asked of him. He gave both women a meager, $1.50 fine. Seymour and Harris paid up and went back to the north side. Nobody took this shit seriously.

James Hamilton Merrill

Mamie Seymour and Frankie Harris lived on the east side of Ashland Street just south of Murdock. It was the north end of the old Fourth Ward. If you crossed over Murdock you were into Nordheim. This was the outskirts of town where city laws were treated more like suggestions. What thrived there in the 1890s is all gone. It's now another of those quiet Oshkosh neighborhoods that betrays none of its secrets. This was a neighborhood that once spawned scores of secrets.

The southeast corner of Murdock and Ashland streets.

During the 1890s there was a redlight district along the east side of Ashland Street (named Fremont Street until 1896). There were at least five brothels doing business there. They were all conducted by women. There was the house of Anna Adams, there was Nellie Franklin’s, Frankie Howard’s, Frankie Patterson’s, and near the north end of the street was Mamie Seymour’s. Mamie’s place was the best known. Mamie was a local celebrity; the belle of the Oshkosh underworld.

She was born Mamie Smith in Michigan in the summer of 1864. Her parents were Irish immigrants. Her early life remains an enigma. By 1885 she was living in Oshkosh. About this same time she began selling sex and using Seymour as her last name. She had arrived in the right town at just the right time. Rudolph J. Weisbrod was about to be named Oshkosh’s chief of police. The new chief took a broad-minded approach in dealing with the city's professional merchants of vice.
Rudolph Joseph Weisbrod

Mamie Seymour had her place on Ashland Street up and running by 1890. The first brothels along that strip had opened about five years earlier. They were referred to as resorts. That was a more fitting label. After all, flesh wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Mamie’s resort was part saloon, part restaurant, part music lounge. Of course, none of it was licensed or legal. But it was more or less accepted.

Mamie usually had five or six other women working out of her place. She also employed a maid, a cook, and a hack driver to taxi her around town and cart customers up from the downtown saloons. Mamie kept a piano player in residence named Philip Oberdorfer. They called Oberdorfer the Professor; an honorific frequently conferred upon whorehouse pianists.

If you could afford it, you could drink there. Mamie sold beer for 50 cents a bottle (about $16 in today's money). The price of sex ranged from $5 to $15, depending on your pleasure. Nothing there was cheap. A good paying job in Oshkosh at this time might bring home $12 a week. That wouldn’t go far at Mamie’s place. She catered to free-spending sports and wealthy hedonists.

Chief Weisbrod handled Mamie with kid gloves. He’d tag her every now and then with some menial liquor offense. It was just to show he was keeping an eye on things. "The periodical arrest of the keepers of disreputable resorts in this city took place this morning," was how the Northwestern described it after Mamie had been arrested in 1899. Once again, it was for selling beer without a license.

1887

Mamie ran an orderly resort. An anonymous Oshkosh cop told the Northwestern, "There was never a woman of her class in Oshkosh who caused them less trouble." That didn't mean there wasn't trouble. There was plenty of it. And despite her standing, Mamie and Chief Weisbrod had a falling out in the summer of 1895. Neither would say why.

Mamie was forced to vacate the house on Ashland. It was rumored she would move to an old farm owned by the Gratten family that was just over the city line in Nordheim. It never came to that. Mamie remained in Oshkosh and built a new house on the east side of Ashland Street about a half-block south of Murdock. She would run her business there for the next decade.

The red dot indicates the approximate location of Mamie's Harrison Street resort.

At the turn of the century Mamie was 35, fairly wealthy, and so well known that when she appeared at the Turner Hall fashion ball – where she was awarded first prize for best costume – the Northwestern referred to her simply by her nickname: Reddie. No other name required.

The other women working at her resort tended to be in their early or mid-20s. In polite society, they were referred to as "Inmates" or "White Slaves" as if their residency were involuntary. That was not the case. The women at Mamie's resort tended to come and go. Although there were those, like Bessie Mengel, who by the time she was 26 had been working out of Mamie's house for five years. The papers wrote of their "life of shame." That sort of knee-jerk chatter didn't count for much among the working girls.


In 1895, members of Oshkosh's Ladies Benevolent Society went to Chief Weisbrod with an allegation that one of the resorts on Ashland was holding a woman named Minnie Boyd against her will. Weisbrod told them he didn't believe it, but he sent a detective to check it out. When Boyd was interviewed she said it was a lie; that she could leave any time she cared to. Laughing, she told the detective "I'm not through sporting yet."

It wasn't all joy riding. The charged atmosphere attracted more than its share of violence. Hardly a year passed without some grim eruption. In 1898, Mamie "pounded" another woman in an alley behind an Oshkosh saloon. She pled guilty to an assault and battery charge and was fined $23.80. "Good deal of money for licking her," Mamie muttered to the clerk as she paid the fine.

The following week, a rival prostitute named Birdie Fox was shot to death by the man she loved, Oshkosh florist George Miles. Their drunken fight began after Fox discovered that Miles had been having a relationship with Mamie. Miles was charged with murder. Mamie was supposed to be the prosecution's star witness. But when she took the stand, Mamie went mum. Miles went free.

Most of the trouble was started by the customers. They'd come in drunk and bust up furniture and abuse the women. For example...

Henry Freeman, a well-known sport about town, is in the city lockup for raising a row in a sporting house. Last night he went to the resort of Mamie Seymour. He threw a beer glass at a girl known as Clara Beth. She dodged the glass and he picked up a spittoon and threw that at her. It struck her head and cut an ugly gash over her right eye… On his way to the station, he told the officer that he meant to kill her and that if she did not die he would finish the job as soon as he was free.
   – Oshkosh Daily Northwestern; July 20, 1891

Clara Beth refused to press charges. But that was the end of Freeman in Oshkosh. The next morning, Chief Weisbrod fined Freeman and ordered him to leave the city and never return.

The worst of the trouble occurred in 1903. Mamie had a full house on the Saturday night of May 9th. At 9:30 pm four more men arrived. One of the newcomers immediately pulled the phone out by the wire and smashed it. Then their guns came out and the plunder began.

There were 11 people at Mamie's place that evening. They were each stripped of whatever valuables they had on their person. "They had taken everything in sight except the heavy silverware," The Northwestern reported. "The men then proceeded to hold high carnival."

The gangsters spent the next two hours at the resort. Between the four of them, they drained 19 bottles of beer and a quart of whiskey. The Professor worked the piano all the while. Every now and then one of them would take a potshot at one of the captives to keep them in line. At least a half-dozen shots were fired. Around midnight they finally left.

Mamie had two alarms in her private room. One went directly to the police station. The other to the Phoenix Fire House on North Main. In her haste, Mamie pulled the wrong alarm. The Phoenix brigade passed by the robbers on the way to Mamie's resort.

The ringleader of the gang was a roving, 5'4" career criminal named Archie McMillan (alias Edward Gray). Oshkosh police caught up with McMillan the following day. He was found in the bed of a prostitute at a resort near the corner of 8th and South Main. Emma Graves, who ran the house, had tipped off police that her new customer might be someone they were looking for. When the cops burst in, McMillan tried going for his gun. He was immediately subdued, cuffed, and taken naked to the police station. McMillan was swiftly convicted and sentenced to 12 years in the state penitentiary at Waupun.

Archie McMillan

Newspaper reports of the crime were extensive. But it was left out that Mamie had been assaulted that night. Her assailant, James McCary, evaded police for three years. He was caught in Menasha in 1906 and brought back to Oshkosh. Along with his other crimes, McCary was charged with felonious assault “upon the person and body of one Mamie Seymour.” Mamie was gone by the time that came to pass.

Around 4 a.m. on the Saturday morning of February 10, 1905, Mamie suffered a stroke at her Harrison Street home. She died within a half-hour. Mamie Seymour was 40 years old.

Her name had been danced across the pages of the Daily Northwestern for years. Always with something sensational or depraved attached to it. The report of her death began like most other stories about her: with an obligatory mention of her presumed moral corruption. But this time, even the Northwestern gave Mamie her due.

"She was generous to a fault and even those who condemned her life admitted that she has done much for charity. No hungry person was turned away from her place and many poor families have been assisted by her. Many times in charitable work her large contribution would be given under the anonymous name of ‘A Friend’ and it was known that if one only be secured to approach her and ask for money for a charitable purpose a refusal would not result. As a consequence, she aided many people who were never aware of it."
   – Oshkosh Daily Northwestern; February 11, 1905.

The funeral was held two days later at Mamie's home. The service was conducted by Rev. E.H. Smith of Oshkosh's First Congregational Church. Mamie had kept family in Michigan unaware of her life in Oshkosh. They were told of her death by Mamie's longtime confidant John Larie, who ran the White Seal Saloon on North Main.

Mamie's estate was valued at over $10,000 (or about $325,000 in today's money). She left her brother Frank Smith $1,500. All the rest went to Larie.

John Larie

The death of Mamie Seymour coincided with another round of calls to have Oshkosh cleaned up once and for all. The clamor, as usual, came mostly from elites embarrassed by the city's reputation as a place of mythic libertinism.

"It is high time that the independent voters assert themselves and demand reform in the moral atmosphere of this city," wrote an anonymous Oshkosh business owner to the Northwestern in 1905. "When we go away from home we soon learn of the reputation that Oshkosh has. It is a state of affairs tolerated only in some of the wide-open western towns, where vice rules for twenty-four hours a day."

Most Oshkoshers would never embrace the kind of reform the gentry hoped to foist upon them. But the old guard, which had fostered the city's "wide-open" atmosphere, was giving way. Judge Merrill, who had been elected mayor of Oshkosh, died in office in 1900. His successor was the Progressive John Mulva, who in 1902 led a movement to have Rudolph Weisbrod removed as Chief of Police. The esteemed Civil-War vet fought off the challenge only to die later that year.

Rudolph Weisbrod, (left) in a photo taken during the Civil War, and Mayor John Mulva.

A new generation was coming to power. Their vision for the city wasn't expansive enough to include the likes of another Mamie Seymour. For 20 years she had flourished here in her own extravagant way. Mamie was utterly of her time. But that time had come to an end in Oshkosh.

Notes
The quotes used in this story were sourced from either Oshkosh newspapers or court reports.

I've mentioned Nordheim a couple of times here. This is a neighborhood that is now part of the City of Oshkosh. It's bounded by Libby Street to the north, Harrison Street to the east, Murdock Street to the south, and Jackson Street to the west. Nordheim was annexed by the City in the 1950s.

I first came across the name of Mamie Seymour in 2012 in an Oshkosh police ledger from 1894. Prior to this I knew nothing of her, but her name became stuck in my head. Over the years I came across her name again and again while doing research on other topics. I recently realized just how much information I had inadvertently gathered on her. This story is a bit off topic for this blog, but I felt compelled to share it here.

The 1894 police ledger.


Sunday, January 24, 2021

The Saloons, The Reverend, and the Wicked City of Oshkosh

Sunday, September 30, 1900... 
Rev. George D. Lindsay mounted the pulpit and began preaching on the wickedness of Oshkosh. Lindsay was the pastor of Oshkosh's First Presbyterian Church. His sermon was nothing the congregation hadn't heard before. Outsiders had been spewing this sort of drivel at Oshkoshers for close to 50 years.

Rev. George D. Lindsay

Lindsay had come to Oshkosh two years earlier from Galena, Illinois having served as a pastor there. Upon leaving Galena, Lindsay wrote that his "call to Oshkosh is attended by so many indications of divine Providence that I could not refuse it."

His messianic zeal may have been coming across a little too harsh on this particular Sunday. Lindsay eased up for a moment on the talk of wickedness. He told his parishioners that he had never lived in a more beautiful place than Oshkosh or in a city more pleasantly situated. He said he would be content to spend all the days of his life here.

Home base for Lindsay in Oshkosh, the First Presbyterian Church
at the corner of Church and Division streets.

But Lindsay hadn't been delivered onto Oshkosh to indulge in its beauty. "Oshkosh has a reputation for wickedness," he said, getting back on track. "Manufacturers do not care to remove their institutions here when they know that their mechanics will be subject to temptations that can be avoided in other places. Men do not wish to remove to Oshkosh with their families when they know that their sons and daughters will be tempted in ways that are not open in some cities."

Oshkosh’s population grew by 50% during the city’s peak saloon years of 1885-1912.

Where others saw a thriving city, Lindsay saw an infestation of rot. And the source of Oshkosh's rot was obvious to him. It was the saloons.

Ironically, this is where Lindsay’s sermonizing finally makes contact with reality. Amidst the jumble of his raving, he delivered a nice, concise description of how the typical Oshkosh saloon of 1900 was laid out. The Reverend will now lead us on a saloon tour. His words come to us via the Oshkosh Daily Northwestern of October 1, 1900. Imagine yourself stepping off Main Street and passing through the swinging doors...

MODERN OSHKOSH SALOON
"Mr. Lindsay described the modern Oshkosh saloon. First, he said, there is the place where cigars are sold."

Cigars and bottled goods for sale in the anteroom of the
Oasis Sample Room, at what is now 416 N. Main.

 "Then a partition behind which is the bar."

The barroom at the Zayat Saloon at what is now 224 N. Main.

"After that, behind another partition, is a place where men may sit and play cards and drink."

The club room in the Little Cozy Sample Room, a former saloon at what is now 216 N Main.

 "After that, comes another place where men may meet women and drink wine and liquor."

The gathering room with a back entrance at
the White Seal Saloon, in what is now the 300 block of N. Main. 

The partitioned saloons Lindsay describes were cased in long, narrow spaces. You had to pass through the length of one room to reach the next. The map below is from 1903 and illustrates the shape of Nic Stein's saloon at what was then 138 N. Main (now part of the 400 block). Stein's place was near the northeast corner of N. Main and Washington.



The red dot is above the entrance to Nic Stein's Saloon on
the east side of N. Main Street just north of Washington; Circa 1910
.

The rectangular floor plan can still be seen in many Oshkosh taverns. The southern half of Oblio's – it was called the Schlitz Beer Hall when Lindsay was doing his thing – presents a good example. The long, narrow, main room leads to a separate space at the back of the building where there once was a club room. That space had a separate entrance off an alley that's now part of the parking lot behind Oblio's.

Oblio's Lounge, 434 N. Main St.

The backside of Oblio's from what used to be the alley.

Which brings us back to Rev. Lindsay. He despised those alleyway entrances. He referred to it as the “alley evil”.


Lindsay's bombast was undermined by the admission that he knew there was no hope of abolishing saloons in Oshkosh. The American-born reverend said there were too many Irish and German here for that. "We may abominate the saloon," he explained, "but the majority of the people want it and it is therefore going to remain."

The Bohmerwald saloon at the corner of 9th and Knapp, circa 1900.

Yet somehow all that wickedness had to be contained. Lindsay had a plan: regulate the saloons into submission. He graded his proposals as "not too puritanical."

Lindsay said all the saloons should be confined to a single, isolated district where the cops could patrol them continuously. There should be NO neighborhood taverns. Each of the remaining saloons would be allowed just a single entrance with NO doorway to the alley. NO chairs or tables would be permitted. NO free lunches served. NO card playing. NO alcohol served on Sundays or election days. NO remaining open into the wee hours. "Ten o'clock is an hour when all decent people should be in bed," he quivered.

Poor Lindsay. They'd have none of this in Oshkosh. He ended his sermon on a wistful note.

"Mr. Lindsay once more paid a beautiful tribute to the city of Oshkosh and concluded with the observation that if the saloons could be placed under the restrictions he had enumerated it would be almost a paradise. A place where he would be content to spend the remaining days of his life in contentment and pleasure."
   –Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, October 1, 1900.

It was not to be. Lindsay left Oshkosh two years later. He moved on to a church in Greensburg, Pennsylvania. But his hatred for saloons never left him. Lindsay was arrested in 1916 for his anti-saloon agitation in Marion, Indiana. He had relocated there in 1907 after quitting the church.

George D. Lindsay died in 1946 in Sarasota, Florida. Sarasota had been a dry town for more than a decade when Lindsay arrived there in 1925. Let's hope that made him feel a little more at home.

A photo of George D. Lindsay taken during his Sarasota days.

Thursday, January 21, 2021

Clone Brews of the 1920s

Homebrewers attempting to clone a favorite beer goes back a long way. Here's how they did it in the 1920s. During Prohibition, many American breweries made malt syrups for homebrewers. Most groceries in Oshkosh carried several different brands of these canned extracts. You couldn't buy Blatz or Chief Oshkosh, but you could make your own...


Sunday, January 17, 2021

In the Shadow of the Brewery...

One this day in 1927…

After Prohibition arrived in 1920, the Oshkosh Brewing Company stopped making beer. But the dry law meant nothing at the little house next door to the brewery. In the basement of that home (highlighted in yellow) there was a booze factory.

The Oshkosh Brewing Company with what is now 1650 Doty Street, Oshkosh.

The bootlegger there was named  William Van Brocklin. At the time, he was the ringleader of one of the largest moonshine operations in Oshkosh. When the police busted this place on January 17, 1927, they discovered a “huge” still and more than 100 gallons of moonshine. Van Brocklin got four months of labor at the Winnebago County Workhouse. After that, he moved to Detroit. The brewery is gone, too. But the old booze house is still standing...

A recent photo of 1650 Doty Street.

Sunday, January 10, 2021

The Story of Peoples Bock and How to Brew Your Own

We're a couple of months out from what used to be the traditional season for bock beer in Oshkosh. So now would be a good time to start brewing a bock of your own. I've got just the recipe for you.


Peoples Bock was first brewed in Oshkosh in 1913 for the 1914 bock-beer season. When Prohibition arrived in 1920, Peoples Bock went on hiatus but it came back again when 3.2% ABW beer was legalized in 1933.

The low-alcohol Peoples Bock of 1933.

Full repeal of Prohibition arrived in December of 1933. The following year, Peoples returned to brewing its full-strength Bock. The post-prohibition Peoples Bock was discontinued for a period beginning in 1941. However, the brewery brought it back again in 1959 and continued brewing it until 1967. The brewery closed in 1972.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern; February 20, 1959.

My late friend Wilhelm Kohlhoff brewed Peoples Bock every year from 1959 onward. I first met Wilhelm in September of 2018. He was 91 years old then and still had the ability to recite from memory the recipes he had brewed at Peoples more than 50 years earlier. He loved talking about beer. And we did plenty of that as we went through the old notes that he had kept from his days working at the brewery. Wilhelm passed in May of 2019.

I was thinking of Wilhelm the other day and decided now would be a good time to share one of the recipes he gave me. This is the 1960s recipe for Peoples Bock.

Peoples Bock
Pre-Boil Gravity: 1.047
Post-Boil Gravity: 1.058
Final Gravity: 1.016
Apparent Attenuation: 67%
ABV: 5.5 - 6%
IBUs: 22
SRM: 11-12

Fermentables
44% American 6-Row or 2-Row Pale Malt
22% American Munich Malt (6-10º Lovibond)
8% Caramel Munich Malt (60º Lovibond)
14% Flaked Corn
12% Brown Sugar

Hops
60 Minutes Before End of Boil: American Cluster for 11 IBUs
45 Minutes Before End of Boil: German Hallertau for 6 IBUs
30 Minutes Before End of Boil: German Hallertau for 3 IBUs
15 Minutes Before End of Boil: German Hallertau for 2 IBUs

Yeast & Fermentation
Use a clean fermenting lager strain such as SafLager W-34/70.
Pitch at 50ºf and let rise to 53ºf (see the notes below if you don’t have the ability to maintain these temperatures).

A recently opened bottle of Peoples Bock that was brewed in the late 1960s.

Process and Recipe Notes
Peoples Bock was made using a cereal mash coupled with a step mash. It’s a fairly complicated process that I’ve documented here. Don’t let that put you off. This beer can be made with a simple infusion mash at 152ºf.

In the recipe here I’ve replaced the corn grits used at Peoples with flaked corn. If you're willing to go through the pain of a cereal mash, then corn grits is the way to go. If not, flaked corn works just fine.

At Peoples, they followed a standard, cold fermentation for their lagers – fermenting at about 50ºf for 14 days before cold crashing the beer to near freezing. The bock beer was typically aged for two months; sometimes longer if they could afford to tie up their tanks. Again, don't let that stop you from brewing this. I mentioned SafLager W-34/70 in the recipe because that yeast performs well into the mid-60ºf territory. That's the yeast to go for, if you don't have the ability to ferment at those colder temperatures.

I’ve brewed this recipe a couple of times now. I prefer my bocks a little bit darker, so for my most recent batch I tweaked the original recipe by adding 1% black malt to the grist to boost the color. The flavor contribution of the black malt at this percentage is negligible. The beer turned out wonderfully.


I like to think Wilhelm would approve. Prost, my friend!