Sunday, May 06, 2012

Days of Beer 2: The Union Brewery

Julie tending bar at the Union Brewery
Life continues to be busy for me.  Last week, I headed to Pennsylvania for a few days and came back with a Lightning sailboat.  That'll be a summer project as the wood needs to be restored and a few ribs replaced.   Maybe it'll be the source of a few blog posts.  And I'm off today for a meeting in Chicago for three days.  But, as I've wandered, I've wrote a second installment on my "Days of Beers" (a title brought to us by Charles Gramlich).  I need to find a few more photos.  I know I have one of Victor out in front of the Union Brewery and another of Doug hiking.  If I find them, I'll post them.  Enjoy.

 
I can’t remember when I first tried a darker beer.  But after two years in Pittsburgh, were I was weaned from whiskey and began regularly drinking larger beer, mostly Rolling Rock and Iron City Lite, I headed west and for a year settled down on the Comstock, in Virginia City, Nevada.  This is a town known for drinking.  Even Hoss and Little Joe of Bonanza fame (the TV show) would ride up to the city and enjoy a beer at the Silver Dollar Saloon (and yes, there is such a bar and inside there is a life-size painting of a woman with hundreds of real silver dollars in her dress). 

Although I would frequent many of the bars along C Street, the one place I was more or less a regular was the Union Brewery.   The brewery was in a typical old storefront that faced the street.  It was a long and narrow room with a bar on the north side (not a lot different that the coffee shop in which I am currently writing my memories).  The floors were wooden, the walls plastered, but also plastered over with pictures and junk, and the ceiling was punched tin from which hung and artificial Christmas tree that was decorated with bras.  This wasn’t exactly a “politically correct” establishment.  On the glass mirror behind the old bar was a sign asking if you’d been rude to a tourist.  There was also a sign that beckoned back to Jim Crow days (which to my knowledge never existed in Nevada).  Let’s just say the sign gave the impression that certain races weren’t welcome there.  I complained about it and Julie promptly removed the sign, but a few years later when I visited it saw that it was back out.  By then, Julie was no working there or married to Rick, who owned the establishment.  Rick didn’t give a damn what I thought, or anyone else for that matter. 

Rick was a jerk.  Once, in the spring of 1989, a guy drove up from Reno in a fancy sports car.  He parked out in front and swaggered into the bar like he owned the place.  Ordering a drink, he threw a Ben Franklin on the counter.  Rick picked up the $100 bill, looked at it and said he wasn’t impressed.  He went on to tell the high roller that he wasn’t a bank and if wanted to pay for his tab with such a large bill, he’d have to buy the entire bar a round.  There were about a dozen of us in there and the guy acquiesced.  We all got a free drink and the till wasn’t depleted of change.  I appreciated the free drink, but if it had been just Rick in the bar, I don’t know that I would have ever gone back.  Mostly it was Julie who tended bar while Rick drank or slept it off. 

I met Julie the first night in Virginia City.  Victor, a neighbor, had seen me move in and invited me down to have a drink with him.  Victor was a recovering alcoholic and the Union Brewery kept a supply of non-alcoholic beers on hand for his consumption.  Julie brought him one right over and when she asked me what I wanted, I asked about their selection.  It was then I learned the Union Brewery really was a brewery.  This was in 1988 and the micro-brewery/brewpub concept hadn’t yet taken off.  Up to this point, I’d had a few beers made by friends.  Most of these weren’t very good and I would sip politely till I found a place to dump it and reach for a commercially brewed beer.  Not only that, I’d only had a few dark beers up to this point in my life.  Deciding to be brave, I told Julie I’d try a glass of their beer and she brought over a pint of dark foamy brew and I feel in love.   However, it was like being in love with someone who’s bi-polar because the beer Rick brewed down in the basement varied greatly in quality, depending partly on his condition and temperament.  Word would travel fast when the brew wasn’t good and I’d wait a week or two, drinking Sierra Nevadas in the meantime, before going back to the local brew. Today, I almost exclusively drink local beers, generally ports, stouts or on a hot day when I’m thirsty, an IPA.  

In the low light of the bar, Julie looked angelic as she danced back and forth with tight jeans and a half open shirt, keeping everyone’s glasses filled as she laughed at the jokes and smiled at the compliments. Up close, the wrinkles on her face showed a hard life.  It was a year after I’d left Virginia City that I first returned for a visit.  Julie was still behind the bar then and ran over with a beer in her hand as soon as I walked into the door, welcoming me back.  It was mid-afternoon, just before Labor Day.  We chatted a bit, and then I noticed a political sign behind the bar.  In the middle was a photo of Rick, all cleaned up.  He was running to be the Justice of the Peace.  I laughed, pointed at the sign and complimented them on a good joke.  “It’s not a joke,” she said.  “He’s running.”  I couldn’t image it and obviously nor could most people in Storey County, but he did get 40% of the vote that November.  

A friend later filled me in on the story.  Rich had a fit when the current Justice of the Peace had taken away his driver’s license after his third DUI.  It didn’t matter to Rick that the JP was only doing what the law required, he was out for her job.  There was some question if he could even legally serve in that capacity, but no one was sure of what was on his record. 

Karl, working on the Christmas lights on Mt. Davidson

That year I lived in Virginia City, I spent a lot of time at the Union Brewery and had a lot of conversations, especially in the winter when it was cold and the town dead and there were also a few souls huddled around the woodstove at the back of the bar.  I spent many nights talking philosophy to Victor, a former college drama instructor, who had become an attorney and was trying to build his legal career.  And then there was Murray Mack, a man still wearing double-knit leisure suits in the late 80s, banging out ragtime on a ratty old piano.  He was good and made that piano sing.  Murray did glass work and would die shortly after I left there.  I was told that afterwards there was an unofficial attempt to keep his legend alive with “Murray Mack Days” when folks dressed in leisure suits they’d picked up in thrift stores in Carson City.  But no one could replace him on the piano. There was Norm, a well-rounded cook from the Solid Muldoon, the restaurant next door.  The only thing larger than his belly was his heart.  He was a binge drinker and once, at the request of his wife, I spent an afternoon with him as he sobered up for a three-day drunk.  He told me the story of losing his son, who had been just a teenager when on a dare climbed an electrical transmission tower.   I then understood why at times he could no longer hold it together.  Doug was another regular.  He was a couple years younger than me, with a degree in Creative Writing from Chicago (or was it Wisconsin).  He’d come out West to sow some oats.  We often played basketball together and took some hikes out into the desert.  Karl, who always drank wine (or was it Port) was another character I remember.  He was a talented stonemason and a Deadhead, back when everyone in the group was alive.  One night, we had a long conversation about the Grateful Dead becoming a new world religion.  I kept egging him on, but he was serious!  Sometime before Christmas 1988, Karl, another guy and I fixed the lights up on the mountain that outlined the “V” above town.  That November, he was elected to the Storey County commissioners.  He’d run on a campaign to throw the old boys out and was one of two new commissioners, the other being a former madam at the Mustang Ranch.  She represented the River District, which was out along I-80 near Reno, but that’s another story.

I’ve lost touch with most of these guys and many of them are gone from the Comstock or, if around, buried in the cemetery north of town.  The Union Brewery has changed hands (a couple times, I think) and I am not even sure it’s still operating by that name.   But my memories remain, probably because I got out of town after only a year and with most of my brain cells intact.     

42 comments:

  1. such richly textured memories. . .



    lovely picture!

    Warm Aloha from Honolulu
    Comfort Spiral

    > < } } (°>

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  2. What a warm and friendly person Julie appears to be! Nice smile! I too have a brief short time of living in Reno, but I knew from the first moment, it was not a place I could raise my son alone...But I am a big fan of Nevada still! I really enjoyed your story....and a few memories too!

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    1. I want to know about your experiences in Reno! When were you there?

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    2. I was going to say the same thing about Julie. She looks like Farrah Fawcett!

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  3. The best thing about Nevada I found was it wasn't Arizona. But I am going to be buying that book when it is published.

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    1. There are good parts to AZ, just as there are good parts to NV, but both have armpits (Las Vegas and Phoenix). What book? Thanks!

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  4. There is no feeling like it in the world when you walk into an establishment where everyone knows your name.

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  5. This post gets me exited for my summer Nevada tour to the Ruby Mountains!

    Cheers.

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    1. What's your plans for the Rubys? Great mountains--one of my favorite photos of me is standing on Liberty pass, overlooking Liberty Lake.

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  6. I've read archaeological reports about excavations on saloons in both CC and VC. It was truly amazing the amount and volume of French drink that was imbibed along with pig and sheephock in those places.

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    1. most of that archaeology was in privys (the soft landing of bottles in outhouses kept them intact). There is a recent book, Boomtown Saloons, that I should read just to keep up with the field (my dissertation was on Virginia City, and the city is one of the most studied areas around).

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    2. Yes and a few places that burned down and the debris fell in on itself, was leveled and another up in it's place. My interests; it's a spot that had a few Irish out and about.

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    3. Vince, what do you want to know about the Irish in Virgina City (I know a little-there were Protestant and Catholic Irish). Many of them moved on to Butte MT, after the Comstock played out

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    4. Were you pulling on the Chartism thread for your thesis. That really ran through all the mining communities.

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    5. Vince, I looked at taking the angle of how churches related to the various union movements within the camps, but didn't find enough on the topic. But the real struggles between labor and management didn't come till after the Comstock--for the most part the companies had no problem paying a high rate of $4 a day for miners during the Comstock era

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  7. I can't imagine what I'd have done if there was a brewery in our local area. Geeze.

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    1. I'm sure it would have given you another chapter or two!

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  8. There is such continuity in that - going into the same bar years later and she remembers your beer.

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  9. the beer Rick brewed down in the basement varied greatly in quality

    I know several places that are the same way with their sweet tea. I've a very discerning tea drinker.

    Fine tale, as always. You brought the characters to life for us. Thanks for sharing, Sage.

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    1. Bone, I know I'm a southerner, but long before I left the south I started drinking unsweetened tea

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  12. sounds like a pretty cool place man...and just being recognized is great reason to go back....i like a good dark as well...

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    1. I don't get there very often anymore--last time was in 2008 and I made a couple of blog posts about it.

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  13. A nice writeup. Enjoy admiring each character that you described here, and in the previous post too. That's a powerful memory accompanying you all the way:).

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  14. I'm not much of a drinker at all, but these personalities come to ife in your writing, Sage!

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    1. Thanks, they were all (or almost all) good folk

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  15. I look forward to seeing this restoration project of yours, Sage. Charles sure does have a great way of making us meet these characters of his, as though almost in the flesh!

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  16. Sounds like a book could be written from that year you spent in VA City...you can learn so much about a culture over beer, and I would've enjoyed those Murray Mack Days and the piano playing, but what was up with that Christmas tree decorated with bras? Not getting that. lol

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    1. My late 20s to mid 30s were years of great growth and adventure.

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  17. I've never been a fan of dark beer. Just can't do it.

    This made me miss some younger days, though. Old friends I haven't seen in 10 years or so now. Good memories.

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    1. Speaking of friends one hasn't seen in a decade, it hasn't been quite that long but it's been a long time, good to see you around here TC!

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  18. Hello! Just stopped by to see what you've been up to or posting...my life has been a whirlwind, and sometimes I miss posts in my very long blog roll! As for when I was last in Reno (ages ago in the 80's) but I arrived there with my own car and U-Haul trailer and had an apartment rented and waiting. But, I just couldn't grasp raising my then 6 year old son there by myself, and returned back to Minnesota where my now husband just couldn't understand why I moved there anyway! I do enjoy Nevada though, my best girlfriend had moved there (kind of begging me to also) So, that was my first time in Reno,(a few years later went for a visit) but more of my time has been in the Las Vegas Red Rock Canyon area! I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

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  19. Okay, checking for your new post, maybe you posted it on riding the rails...I'll pop over to that! Enjoy your week! :)

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  20. Great post. Being the son of a career bar maid and sometimes bartender, I grew up in the local bars in my town. For some reason, that didn't change much as I became an adult. As you well know, there are tons of stories relating to bars and the people who regularly frequent them. This was a good one... Thanks!

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  21. What a bunch of characters!! I bet you enjoyed living there.

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