Philadelphia Weekly

When it comes to Philadelphia’s beer history, there’s the recent past and the distant past. In the recent past—with the city’s growing craft beer presence, Belgian beer dominance and Philly Beer Week festivities—the city has garnered a solid reputation as a beer-lover’s town.

In the distant past the city’s relationship to beer and alcohol was often less accommodating, but some might say it was more exciting.

Peter Thompson makes an excellent case for that vitality in Rum Punch and Revolution, in which he argues that colonial Pennsylvania taverns helped foment the seeds of revolution. The colony’s laws led to taverns with incredibly diverse clienteles, spreading “dangerous” ideas among all the classes. Add in some alcohol and it was only a matter of time before these controversial ideas became a reality.

But it didn’t stop at 1776. A surge of post-Revolutionary War immigrants essentially started America’s brewing industry in Philadelphia. John Wagner brewed the first lager in Northern Liberties in 1840. Philadelphia beer then became ubiquitous: The New York Times wrote early in the 20th century that the only beer in New York was from Philadelphia. The Philly porter was held in higher regard than London’s and was even exported to China. In 1894 a saloon owner in San Francisco put out a group of beer barrels, labeled them “PHILADELPHIA BEER” and attached a motto below: “DEPOT OF THE CELEBRATED.”

The beer industry moved west after the Civil War, but there were still 69 breweries in Philadelphia in 1870. Crown, Cork & Seal, still headquartered in Philadelphia, introduced the bottle cap in 1892. Brewers Hall hosted a convention of the nation’s best at the Centennial exhibition. Prohibition didn’t stop Philly’s love affair with beer: One writer counted 12 taverns within a three-block radius of City Hall—all operating flagrantly. On the eve of the repeal of Prohibition, the Pennsylvania legislature actually extended its session so it might become the tipping-point state. Ohio’s legislature did too; both efforts were in vain. Utah ratified the 21st Amendment in the late afternoon and got the honor of ending alcohol prohibition.

The state may have wanted to become the deciding vote in alcohol legalization, but it didn’t really want much to do with alcohol. The Liquor Control Board (LCB) was formed almost immediately after repeal and has been frustrating customers ever since. The current 70,000-word liquor code is widely hated: On the eve of the LCB’s 75th anniversary, less than half of its customers surveyed were satisfied with their state store purchases.

Section 1-104 (a) of the Pennsylvania Liquor Code reads:

“This act shall be deemed an exercise of the police power of the Commonwealth for the protection of the public welfare, health, peace and morals of the people of the Commonwealth and to prohibit forever the open saloon, and all of the provisions of this act shall be liberally construed for the accomplishment of this purpose.”

Pennsylvania is one of 18 states that restrict the sale of wine and liquor. The state’s retail shops used to just say “STATE STORE”; they now carry the less menacing “WINE & SPIRITS” moniker. It used to be worse: Until 1969, liquor sales in Pennsylvania were more methadone clinic than vineyard excursion, as all sales were done over a counter.

One of the most famous booze-related laws is the 18 percent Johnstown Flood Tax on alcohol, originally enacted as a stopgap to help the town of Johnstown, Pa., recover from a 1936 flood. The original tax was only 10 percent, but has increased over the ensuing 73 years—long since Johnstown needed any relief aid. The state’s high taxes create headaches for restaurateurs: Mike Ditka’s chain restaurants don’t carry his signature wine (called, naturally, Kick Ass Red) in Pennsylvania because of cost considerations.

When it comes to beer, Pennsylvania laws are especially confusing. No wine with beer. No beer at supermarkets. No six-pack sales at beer distributors. No sales of more than 24 beers at a time at delis or bars—but a quick step in and out makes you legal to buy another two-dozen pounders.

“I’m a firm believer the cashier should not be selling crackers and beer at the same time,” said state Rep. Robert Donatucci, the LCB chair, in 2006.

Among residents, that’s not a popular position. Nor does it seem the LCB mascot, L.C. Bee, has gained much traction in popular culture. L.C. Bee sings: “If someone asks you ‘Do you want some beer?’/ You just say ‘No, I don’t want it near!’” This is supposed to teach boys and girls about “the dangers of alcohol,” according to the LCB.