Category: Me and Mine

Sad News With The Passing Of Bernie Rivers

Beer fans in central New York are mourning the passing of Bernie Rivers who ran Galeville Grocery in Liverpool near Syracuse. The shop hails it self as “your complete historical neighborhood grocery store since 1888.” I met Bernie this past January on a beer run into Syracuse and enjoyed a few minutes with this cornerstone of the community as well as the CNY beer scene. I’ve been shopping at Galeville for almost six years so far and have always been struck how dependent we beer fans are on the passion and risk taking of the shop keepers like Bernie who stock the shelves, hoping the locals will support the decisions and selections they make. I’ve rarely been anything less but excited with my finds there.

Tributes can be found at the Facebook pages for his store.

Stuck In My Own Town’s Mid-1800s Beery History


kcb1I had intended to get into the 1900s but have gotten stuck in the newspapers out of my town from the nineteenth century. From its first days at the western edge of the British Empire, as this pretty poor image of an early 1800s map shows, Kingston had a Brewery Street. Its still there even if renamed Rideau. We still have some of our Victorian and maybe even Georgian brewing buildings, re-purposed for other things.

Who wouldn’t get interested with ads like the “ALE! ALE! ALE!” Kingston City Brewery ad from page 3 of the Kingston Daily News on 8 October 1863. Interesting to see that the copy editor had not that much imagination give the “Baths! Baths! Baths!” header for the next ad. The City Brewery was on the waterfront and I think is long gone but the shop the beer was being sold at 158 Princess Street may well still be there, it’s just selling mens’ clothes now.

kdn1862Kingstonians were not only enjoying local brewed beers, however celebrated, in the early 1860s as the ad to the left from the same paper’s 7 October 1862 issue shows. Mr. McRae of Brock Street had plenty of barrels of the empire’s finest Guinness, Barclay Perkins as well as Allsopp beers to be had – along with a range of imported sherries, ports and brandies. The Morton’s “Family Proof” Whisky he offered was locally made. Not sure that it was immune from family members absconding with it or if it had been, conversely, subject to the proof and acceptance by all family members. The Morton distillery and brewery buildings are also still with us and currently under redevelopment as an arts hub. The building which held MacRae’s shop could well be there, too. Another Brock Street store, Cooke’s which opened in 1865, still operates.

The town seems to have had a fairly rich relationship with beer and other alcohol but it was not all fun and games as this 1867 article from The New York Times explains. The watchman Mr. Driscoll of what is likely the same Morton works was murdered the year before during a burglary. His Detroit murderer was sentenced to hang. They’ll each both be still here, too – buried around here somewhere. The town is like that.

Yutes Today Less Empaffetick

I don’t know why this is so silly but maybe it’s because I was a thoughtless college yute in the 1980s:

Today’s college students are 40-per-cent less empathetic than those of the 1980s and 1990s, says a University of Michigan study that analyzed the personality tests of 13,737 students over 30 years. The influx of callous reality TV shows and the astronomical growth of social networking and texting – technologies that allow people to tune others out when they don’t feel like engaging – may be to blame, the authors hypothesize…The researchers found a 48-per-cent decrease in empathic concern and a 34-per-cent decrease in perspective-taking between 1979 and 2009. In particular, post-millennial students were far less likely to agree with statements such as, “I often have tender, concerned feelings for people less fortunate than me” and “I sometimes try to understand my friends better by imagining how things look from their perspective.”

Forty-eight percent! Who knew? Weren’t we the “me generation” or is every group at that age lumbered with that label? I recall college years being based upon the need to get beer, find money to get beer and to consume that beer. I can think of one or two guys who were involved with ding something good for others and the hundreds of others I met were just getting by and/or getting it on one way or another. Tender concerned feelings were demonstrated by that guy who kept the collection of empty rye whisky bottles in his dorm room. Now, to be fair, there were more dudley do right Earth Day organizing sorts after my degrees were obtained by 1991 but even that would not qualify so much as perspective as a amateur junior lobbyism practice. Then was the time of the rise of the “anti-s” and should nots.

What is being such rose coloured revisionism? Must be today’s parents. Trained as they were in a pool of ale and shooters, I feel for them.

You Were My First Blog… But I Forgot You…

It’s not like I’ve had unkind thoughts about you, Gen X at 40, but with the busy beer blog, Twitter and Facebook I hardly have any time left. Heck, I haven’t even checked my email accounts this morning. Plus I get up too late. You understand. Right? And it’s not like I am all that clever before the caffeine kicks in. You should be happy for the break once in a while. It’s the pros. That’s what it boils down to. The invasion of the pros. It happened to amateur political rant blogs back around 2007 and now it’s even happened to beer blogs. Even the aggregators are going. Remember them? The places that were supposed to kill blogs are being killed off themselves. No one even spams the comments anymore.

Sorry about yesterday, my oldest blog, but these things happen.

My Computer Screen Is Dying And I Don’t Mind

I am actually sympathetic as my back is still stiff and wonky, having good days and bad. The screen narrows, flickers, gets wavy and even reboots of its own accord. Once upon a time, this would have been a source of anxiety. How would I pay for the replacement? How will I get along without checking in. But there are other surplussed screens around the basement as well as that laptop I picked up at Best Buy on sale. I have a better screen sitting on the 1995 Pentium 75 “Asteroids server” right now. There is other equipment floating around going back fifteen years and I consider myself a latecomer to these things. My computer screen can die without me noticing that much.

My computer screen is a lot like a fork to me now.

We Played Base Ball… And We Won

I didn’t get the great shot like with other games. No photo of the instant before a ball is hit. No photo of hands outstretched. Thought I did get the actual money shot, above. Maybe it’s because we actually won and I spent my time screaming at the team to cover the gaps, not drift off the line and
rush around the bases. Turns out we don’t need to suck every game as the Kingston St. Lawrence Vintage Base Ball Club (“the Brown Stockings”) beat Royal Military College (“the Royals”) 41-3. That’s a lot. It was quite the thing. Took four seasons but a win… they can’t take that away. Sackets is doomed in July.

Friday Bullets For The End Of April

And a vintage base ball weekend. Just as I am getting to the point that I am not much use on the field anymore – as much from never actually having played baseball as being creaky – others are joining up who are actually good at the game. A cricketer even. Someone having the instinct to dive towards a line drive barehanded is pretty stunning to see. Me? Cricked neck and twinged back means the ball dropped near by. That could be a haiku.

Cricked neck and twinged back
Green grass, still play, a bat swings:
The ball falls too near.

Maybe we call it “Forty-seven”.

Maybe there will be another haiku entitled “So Many Aspirin” at the end of Saturday afternoon.

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The 2nd Annual RMC Vintage Base Ball Tournie Is On!

Big news just now as we have our second umpire for this Saturday’s vintage base ball tournament signed up. You have to get imports for these things, you know. One Rochestarian and one Sackets Harbor-on-ian. Dandy. Steve, up there with the bat, will be there, too. We should have two games this year and the weather is supposed to be fine on Navy Bay where we calm the ghosts of 1812 by mimicking the ghosts of 1872 for a few hours. And then go for beer dressed silly.

What Beer For Canada Against Russia?

hendersonThere are few phrases more evocative for a Canadian of my early middle age than “Canada Russia”.

When I was nine I heard the final game of the 1972 series broadcast from Moscow on the car radio sitting in a parking lot in Middleton, NS. We won. We were not always successful in the international head to head tournaments after that and into the ’80s but we quickly came to love or at least fear the Soviet National anthem. We loved or at least feared Vladislav Tretiak and Valeri Kharlamov. To fill the emotional need, there were any number of tours across the country where Canucks and Ruskies beat their heads against each other.

In 1984, I saw a touring Soviet national team play in Halifax against Canada’s Olympic training team. The evil team had eight guys called Sergei which the announcer at the rink pronounced as “Sir-jay-ee.” We cheered when the Canadians rushed toward their end. When they let loose slap shots from beyond half we winced silent winces expecting the goalie or the boards behind the net to crack from the awful force of a Marxist-Leninist totalitarian Moscow Red Army player’s sheer power.

In the 1987 Canada Cup, Mario and Wayne destroyed them in a game so exciting that I had to turn off the TV and only knew Canada won when the wintery neighbourhood erupted out there, outside the windows of the house, car horns blaring to the horizon. Then there was Gorby, then there were Russian players in the NHL, then the bear seemed to fade a bit. Then they got good again. I have no idea what will happen tonight but over half all Canadians will watch the TV tonight to watch a quarter-final game. Because it is Canada against Russia.

What beer to have?

CNY Roadtrip To Stock The Stash

Back. I made it back. I hit four beer stores over around 500 km and nine and a half hours. Now, whereas Pretty Things was just a one time bottle that I passed in the night, now I have seven bottles representing three of their brews and any number of batches. Those canny little cap labels are mighty handy. Plenty of other good stuff, too.

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I hit a Wegmans in Cicero, Party Source on Erie Blvd., Galeville Grocery in Liverpool and then headed north via C’s Farm Market in Owsego. What did I learn? I had a good old chat with the guy who runs Party Source and finally met Bernie, the owner of Galeville Grocery. As is usually the case, talk is about other stuff as much as beer when they find out that I am from north of the border – health care and lucky Canada they say, taxes and unlucky Canada they say. The shops were all giving each other a run for the money with Party Source showing off its new siding less neon blue and green siding (as so poorly illustrated) as well as growler pours including a Rooster Fish. The other three were as packed with new and interesting beer as I have ever seen them.

Prices? I noticed that The LCBO sells Orval for about 60% of what it costs in Syracuse and that Rogue Yellow Snow is about a buck more there than here. Great deals… if you can find those beers on shelves in Ontario. Funny thing about a monopoly. But the real difference is selection. Over 90% of the beers are unavailable up here and are at prices that make a Canadian beer lover weep. Wegans grocery store wanted just $15.99 for a Great Lakes variety 12 pack and $9.49 for Brooklyn 1. Wegmans even had 750 ml bottles of Saison Dupont for 9.19 and St. Bernie Abt. for $10. 95. At the grocery. Made me think of Mel in Braveheartshouting “Freedom!”. Then it didn’t. Then I paid my duties and taxes at the border. Then I went home.