Read Online Bitter Brew: The Rise and Fall of Anheuser-Busch and America's Kings of Beer by William Knoedelseder - Free Book Online
Authors: William Knoedelseder
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Busch.â He was flattered by the talk, but not tempted. His eyes were focused on the brewery, and he didnât like what he saw.
In many ways, business had never looked better. Americans were drinking more beer than ever before; overall production had doubled during the war. Anheuser-Busch, Pabst, and Schlitz were gaining significant market share at the expense of regional brewers thanks to returning GIs who had tasted their beer for the first time while on active duty. Profits were up; the St. Louis plant could not brew enough to fill its orders.
The problem, as Gussie saw it, was that for the first time since the turn of the century, Anheuser-Busch was No. 2. On his brotherâs watch, Pabst had taken the lead. Pabst was A-Bâs longtime archenemy. Gussieâs grandfather Adolphus had competed maniacally with âCaptainâ Frederick Pabst for decades, no doubt in part because Pabst, too, had gotten his start in the business by marrying the brewery ownerâs daughter. In 1894, after a panel of judges in Chicago awarded Pabst lager the first-place blue ribbon in a competition for âAmericaâs best beer,â Adolphus personally pursued one of the eventâs judges across Europe in an unsuccessful attempt to get the decision overturned in favor of second-place Budweiser. The rebranded âPabst Blue Ribbonâ beer outsold Budweiser for the next six years.
Like his grandfather, Gussie couldnât bear to be beaten, whether in equestrian competition, gin rummy, or business. A-Bâs fall from first place reportedly caused him to grouse that âbeing second isnât worth anything,â but the quote seems uncharacteristically tepid for a man given to coarse expression. People who knew him always suspected that a reporter had cleaned up what he really said, which could not have been printed in any publication at that timeââBeing second isnât worth shit.â
As for his own No. 2 position, fate intervened in August 1946 when, after eight days in the hospital, Adolphus III died of cardiac failure brought on by stomach cancer. He was fifty-five and had been ill for some time. Six days later, Gussie was named president of the company at a special meeting of the board of directors, where there were mixed feelings about the passing of the torch. Adolphus had not been a particularly dynamic or visionary leader, and his drinking had troubled some members of the family and the board, who thought it sometimes impaired his judgment, as in the tainted beer incident. For the most part, however, they regarded him as a calm, competent, reasonable steward of the company, and a gentleman. Gussie, on the other hand, was volatile, bumptious, hot-tempered, tyrannical, rude, obstinate, impatient, and vindictive. Yet he was also charismatic, fun-loving, infectiously exuberant, and possibly the most brilliant beer salesman who ever lived. Not even his grandfather worked a saloon with such determination or delightâstriding across the room, his hand outstretched, his distinctive voice overpowering the din: âMy name is Gussie Busch, and Iâd like to buy you a Budweiser.â
Gussie bounded onto the Anheuser-Busch throne determined to return the company of his father and grandfather to its rightful place at the top. His first order of business was increasing capacity to meet demand. His plan called for a $50 million upgrade of the Pestalozzi Street plant and the construction of a new $34 million plant in Newark, New Jersey. Some board members worried about the cost of the new plant and argued for the cheaper option of acquiring an existing plant and refitting it, as Schlitz and Pabst were already doing in New York. Even though it was duly incorporated, with stockholders and a board of directors, A-B bore little resemblance to a modern corporation. It was in every sense a family business. Of the fifteen members of the all-male board, seven were either direct descendants of
In many ways, business had never looked better. Americans were drinking more beer than ever before; overall production had doubled during the war. Anheuser-Busch, Pabst, and Schlitz were gaining significant market share at the expense of regional brewers thanks to returning GIs who had tasted their beer for the first time while on active duty. Profits were up; the St. Louis plant could not brew enough to fill its orders.
The problem, as Gussie saw it, was that for the first time since the turn of the century, Anheuser-Busch was No. 2. On his brotherâs watch, Pabst had taken the lead. Pabst was A-Bâs longtime archenemy. Gussieâs grandfather Adolphus had competed maniacally with âCaptainâ Frederick Pabst for decades, no doubt in part because Pabst, too, had gotten his start in the business by marrying the brewery ownerâs daughter. In 1894, after a panel of judges in Chicago awarded Pabst lager the first-place blue ribbon in a competition for âAmericaâs best beer,â Adolphus personally pursued one of the eventâs judges across Europe in an unsuccessful attempt to get the decision overturned in favor of second-place Budweiser. The rebranded âPabst Blue Ribbonâ beer outsold Budweiser for the next six years.
Like his grandfather, Gussie couldnât bear to be beaten, whether in equestrian competition, gin rummy, or business. A-Bâs fall from first place reportedly caused him to grouse that âbeing second isnât worth anything,â but the quote seems uncharacteristically tepid for a man given to coarse expression. People who knew him always suspected that a reporter had cleaned up what he really said, which could not have been printed in any publication at that timeââBeing second isnât worth shit.â
As for his own No. 2 position, fate intervened in August 1946 when, after eight days in the hospital, Adolphus III died of cardiac failure brought on by stomach cancer. He was fifty-five and had been ill for some time. Six days later, Gussie was named president of the company at a special meeting of the board of directors, where there were mixed feelings about the passing of the torch. Adolphus had not been a particularly dynamic or visionary leader, and his drinking had troubled some members of the family and the board, who thought it sometimes impaired his judgment, as in the tainted beer incident. For the most part, however, they regarded him as a calm, competent, reasonable steward of the company, and a gentleman. Gussie, on the other hand, was volatile, bumptious, hot-tempered, tyrannical, rude, obstinate, impatient, and vindictive. Yet he was also charismatic, fun-loving, infectiously exuberant, and possibly the most brilliant beer salesman who ever lived. Not even his grandfather worked a saloon with such determination or delightâstriding across the room, his hand outstretched, his distinctive voice overpowering the din: âMy name is Gussie Busch, and Iâd like to buy you a Budweiser.â
Gussie bounded onto the Anheuser-Busch throne determined to return the company of his father and grandfather to its rightful place at the top. His first order of business was increasing capacity to meet demand. His plan called for a $50 million upgrade of the Pestalozzi Street plant and the construction of a new $34 million plant in Newark, New Jersey. Some board members worried about the cost of the new plant and argued for the cheaper option of acquiring an existing plant and refitting it, as Schlitz and Pabst were already doing in New York. Even though it was duly incorporated, with stockholders and a board of directors, A-B bore little resemblance to a modern corporation. It was in every sense a family business. Of the fifteen members of the all-male board, seven were either direct descendants of
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