Around the World in Eighty Beers

As we head into the doldrums of summer and before I take a break from blogging for a couple of weeks, I thought I'd give an unsolicited testimonial (I've always enjoyed that expression, for some reason) to an old friend's new book. 

I've known Martyn Cornell since we were both at school – he was a couple of years ahead of me – and although we haven't actually met for many years now we've stayed in touch. I'd say that what Martyn doesn't know about beer isn't worth knowing, except that he'd disagree: it's precisely what he doesn't yet know that he's most keen to find out. His research and myth-busting (and there are a lot of myths in the beer world it seems) are excellent, and he's not afraid to tread on toes where lazy writing and the transmission of false received ideas are concerned; to be honest, I think he rather enjoys it.

So, if you are into beer, or simply admire meticulous research into a fascinating area of social, industrial, and commercial history then you will enjoy Martyn's latest book. Here's his description of the idea behind the "eighty beers":

The idea of ATWI80B – and I believe it’s a unique one – is that each chapter starts by looking at one contemporary beer, across more than 40 different countries, from Norway to New Zealand and China to Brazil, and uses that beer as a springboard to talk about the history of the beer style that beer represents, the history of brewing in that country and the history of that brewery.

You can  check it out here. Currently it's a hardback volume – my copy arrived a couple of days ago, and it's a handsome thing – but an e-book version is promised, and I'd be surprised if a paperback isn't forthcoming.

Incidentally, Martyn's research skills were able to open an interesting sidelight onto my own family history. 

My mother was born in 1923, but I was able to find my maternal grandparents easily enough, together with her older sister, one year old, in the 1921 Census when it was released. To my surprise, they were living in a pub, the Seven Stars in Charlton, a tiny hamlet near Hitchin in Hertfordshire. One of the innovations of the 1921 Census was to include the name and address of a worker's employer, so a further surprise was to discover that my grandfather was working as a fitter in a "Portland cement" factory situated in some large chalk quarries at Arlesey, north of Hitchin.

I was curious to know who else was living in the Seven Stars, and it turned out to be a veritable rookery of relatives. There was my great grandmother and her second husband George; the son of her first marriage Herbert, 20; her step-son Charlie, 23; plus her two children with George, Edna and Eric, 11 and 9 respectively. Apart from Tom, George and Herbert were builder's labourers, with Charlie working in a tannery (a notoriously stinky job). All nine of them were sharing three rooms, with one room in common, presumably a kitchen space of some kind.

 As I couldn't find any such pub in present-day Charlton, I was curious what had happened to it. Well, in the case of a mystery pub, who ya gonna call? Beer Busters! Martyn replied, the very next day:

In fact the Seven Stars closed that same year, 1921 - it was one of several places in the area that had their licences taken away by the licensing magistrates as "surplus". (This was a nationwide movement that had been going on since the early 1900s. Brewers paid into a fund to compensate pub owners whose pubs were closed.) The Seven Stars was only a beerhouse, that is, licensed to sell beer and cider only, not wines or spirits, and it was leased to the local brewer, Lucas of Hitchin (which closed itself a couple of years later after having been sold to Green's of Luton).

As someone quite interested in "finding things out" myself, I was curious how he was able to establish this so quickly:

I could tell you about the Seven Stars because something like 40 years ago I spent a couple of days at McMullen's brewery transcribing their annotated version of the 1904 licensing magistrates' survey of all the pubs and beerhouses in Hertfordshire: Macs had kept the survey up-to-date for around 20 years by marking on it when particular pubs or beerhouses had their licences "refused". It's a fabulous resource, not least because it tells you what brewery owned each pub...

As I say, outstanding and properly-sourced research into a niche but important aspect of social, industrial, and commercial history.

There's a bit more "only connect" action going on here, too. As it happens, in 1903 when Ivy was six years old her father was killed in a dray accident while he was working as a brewery labourer in Hitchin. Whether the brewery concerned was Lucas I don't know, but it seems more than likely. There was no obvious connection to be made with the Seven Stars pub – sorry, the Seven Stars beerhouse – itself in 1921, other than the fact it was leased to the Lucas brewery, where Ivy's father may have worked: they were almost certainly simply renting the rooms they occupied. Unless, of course, there was a connection between the licensee and some local builder or even the tannery – not impossible. A bit of additional research in directories by Martyn found a Henry Hinstridge listed as a beer retailer in Charlton in 1890. It's a lead: more research needed (this time by me, though)...

Add together two labourers, a tannery worker (argh!), and a cement works fitter, and there would have been quite a lot of demand for any washing and cleaning facilities. I doubt there was running water on tap upstairs at the Seven Stars in 1921, and you can't wash in beer, however attractive that might sound to some. The river Hiz and a millpond were close by, however, and those plus any nearby pump may have sufficed. It must also have been more than a bit over-crowded up there, and not a little noisy at night when the beerhouse customers got into their stride. [1] But these are the sort of insights that add some colour to the bare facts of family history. What a shame I never bothered to ask my grandparents about their life together before they became old, invisible, and died... Not once, not a single thing.

But that's another post, for later in the year. Have a great summer, if such a thing is possible now that our planetary thermostat has started to malfunction... Maybe a nice cold beer would help? Just be thankful you don't share rooms with a tannery labourer. 

Tannery workers in Hitchin, 1890s (Hitchin Museum)

1. [Drunken voices singing] Oh, what's that smell? (what's that smell?) / Has someone opened up a door to Hell? (door to Hell?) / There's such a blinkin' stink, I can hardly hold me drink /  And there's hours before the landlord rings his bell (rings his bell)...