100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #25 – Keg Harp Tankard (1965)

Goodbye to the Port and Brandy,

To the Vodka and the Stag,

To the Schmiddick and the Harpic,

The bottle, draught and keg ...

Delirium Tremens – Christy Moore - 1985

It is probably fair to say that there are two well-known glass beer tankards engrained in the memories of Irish beer drinkers. One is - of course - the Guinness Waterford Barware tankard that is familiar to anyone with even a vague awareness of the company’s branded glassware beyond the tulip pint glass, or who has seen its image on retro signs and advertisements, or perhaps on those old-style dispensers that have become quite popular again on certain bar counters. But those fragile, thin-walled mugs had a tougher and heftier cousin in the same sixties and seventies period, which was of course the Harp tankard. Like the Guinness tankard, it was used in Harp’s marketing campaign, especially on beermats where its outline in yellow and blue stood out from others. It was seen to be drank by Vikings, and it and its contents were dreamed about by sweaty men in foreign lands longing for a piece of home, and a look from Sally O’Brien. It is certainly an iconic piece of glassware by any standard terms.

Harp lager itself has its origins in Dundalk, Co. Louth, where in 1959 Dr. Hermann Muender, a German brewmaster who had worked at the Dom Brewery in Cologne amongst other places, was charged by Guinness to build a lager brewery and create a new beer on the site of the old Great Northern Brewery. It was perhaps a reaction by the company to the perceived threat by - and increased sales in - continental lagers in recent years with brands such as Carlsberg already making inroads in Ireland, where it and other continental lagers were seen as cool and trendy by the young drinkers of the 1960s. But where there is threat there is also opportunity, and brewing commenced in 1960 with the launch of just a bottled product at first, as this was the standard way of serving lagers at this time. According to Dr. Muender the first three-dozen bottles produced were sent to Kennedy’s Railway Bar opposite the brewery on the Carrick Road, having been bottled in the bottling plant in old Cairnes brewery in Drogheda.

The next step was to launch the beer in the UK, which happened in 1961, and soon after it was being brewed there too - and the whole Harp Anglo-Irish history is a story in itself.* A stronger version of the lager variously known as Harp Extra, Harp Special or Harp Blue was launched in Ireland in late 1963 having been on sale overseas previously, and finally, a year later, a draught version of the standard lager first appeared.

And so ‘Keg Harp,’ as this draught product was first termed, became available in 1964 in Ireland, and advertisements featuring the tankard first appear in that year. In Ireland this was the decade when kegged, pasteurised and filtered beers began to dominate and replace bottled beers. Kegged Guinness had been around for a number of years in various serving formats, and there was now an influx of English ale brands encroaching on the Irish pub scene, leading in 1965 to the development of new Smithwick Draught by Guinness (having acquired 99% of the shares in the brewery the previous year) in an attempt to compete with those ‘foreign’ brands, even if some were brewed on the island. The launch of a draught version of Harp meant that from the mid-sixties the Guinness company was in a great position to compete in the three main beer styles on the emerging war theatre that was the bar counters of public house around the whole of the island, and beyond of course.

All of this meant that new glassware was now required in the shape of pint and half-pint receptacles, and at exactly this point during the sixties and early seventies there was a small craze for glass beer mugs in Ireland. Guinness Draught got the aforementioned Waterford Barware tankards, as did Smithwick’s Draught in a different style - a reuse of the Time rebrand ones from the previous year or so - plus there were quite a few others such as Phoenix, Celebration, Double Diamond and quite a few others. The original stemmed Harp glasses for the bottled products were also made by Waterford Glass’s barware division, but for their new draught lager Guinness went in a different direction. According to Martyn Cornell** it was produced by United Glass (Ravenhead) in the UK and designed by the prolific Alexander Hardie Williamson who is reputed to have designed in the region of 1,700 glasses for both domestic and bar use during his 27 years at the company.

But as ever with anything to do with Irish beer history, things are not quite as simple as they appear. In fact there are at least 3 different beer tankard designs in this style, albeit with quite subtle differences.

The original tankard appears to have been heavily influenced by those robust, conical pint tumblers made in moulds (as were the Harp tankards) from either side of 1900 that were still being made and in use up to the 1940s. These tumblers had fluted grooves very reminiscent of Williamson’s design and on some those grooves alternated in height just like the first iteration of the Harp glassware, plus both had thick bases and a robust feel. These early Harp tankards have a pint-to-line mark around the rim and carry both UK and Irish verification marks as to volume, although the Irish mark does not mention pint-to-line but the UK version does. There is a degree of variation of logo on these glasses too, with some carrying the words Keg Harp in one line with a crowned HL between the words, while other examples have the words in separate lines with the word Harp in gold lettering with a blue outline. Yet another variant in lettering has the words reversed to read Harp Keg with the latter word now in Gold in a stencil-like font (The earliest advertisements use this glass and lettering although with the words the 'correct' way around.) Oversized half-pint versions were also made, and that Head space in both sizes might be a nod to the beers German origins and the Teutonic frothy pour as in seen in many an Oktoberfest image. Although, there is also some reporting*** that the kegged product was quite frothy in the early days so this might have been a way of overcoming the issue and not leaving the customer with too short a serve and angry encounters with the bar person!

The next evolution of the design sees a similar volume of oversized pint but now the fluted grooves are all the same height and have reduced in number from 21 to 20, with one missing on the opposite side of the glass to the handle, on the mould line. The words Keg Harp are also now just in blue, with a slight font change, if not a new typeface. The handle remains the same, as does the general heftiness of the tankard, with both this and the previous version being very slightly wider in diameter at the base.

The final, and last version of this sixties and seventies period has the tankard reduced in volume, but not height, to an actual pint (although the half-pints with line, seem to remain at over a half pint even in this version). It has 20 grooves still, although they are more pronounced, but the handle has been changed from a round cross-section to a more squarish shape and starts lower down the body, which is now evenly cylindrical from top to bottom. The logo appears the same as the previous version and this tankard was also available with the words ‘Harp Lager' when the marketing moved away from the use of the word Keg in the seventies.

These changes are hard to track date-wise but based on verification stamps V1 seems to date from the mid to late sixties, V2 the very early seventies, and V3 from not long after, and this is the version that was probably in use up until the early eighties - although all could have been in use for long periods in different regions of these islands. There are very possibly other variations in design too as well as logo changes, and the glass colour appears to vary too from bluish to yellowish on different glasses. Whether any of these changes reflect different actual makers at different periods, or whether Williamson was involved in any tweaks is unclear, but the changes are certainly there, albeit only important and noticeable to those beset with a particular level of pedantry.

It should be noted that there are examples of late sixties verified dimple tankards which were also used for Harp, and a new version of the Harp tankard - although squatter and more unwieldly - was launched around the mid-nineties. It was made by the Dema glass company but it didn’t quite catch on and appears to have mostly been used for promotional giveaways.

-o-

Keg Harp, or Draught Harp, or Harp Lager was certainly a hugely important line for Guinness up until the eighties and early nineties when foreign lager brands, due to media exposure and changing consumer tastes, began to exert their dominance on the bar counter. Ironically many were brewed by Irish based breweries anyway, including by Guinness. Harp - the brand - seems to have just slowly backed out of the war, and at this point in time just sits in pint bottles in the odd bar, and only occasionally appears on those counters it once warred on and dominated ... like a few Irish beer brands it's now brewed in Dublin, and appears to have lost its fight, direction and momentum.

For now at least ...

Liam K

*For more history on Harp see Boak & Bailey’s write-up here.

** Martyn Cornell's post where he references the Harp tankard is here.

***  The Guinness Book of Guinness, compiled by Edward Guinness

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post. The items featured are from the author's own collection. All sources, not mentioned, are available on request. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #23 – Guinness 'Belgian' Tumbler (c. 1950)

I felt the most extraordinary desire for a glass of Guinness, which I knew could be obtained without difficulty. Upon expressing my wish to the doctor, he told me I might take a small glass. It was not long before I sent for the Guinness and I shall never forget how much I enjoyed it. I thought I had never tasted anything so delightful. I am confident that it contributed more than anything else to the renewal of my strength - from the Diary of a Cavalry Officer, June 1815, after being severely wounded at the Battle of Waterloo.

Ethel M. Richardson, "LONG FORGOTTEN DAYS." (1928) via The Sketch Guinness advertisement 1938

Although this object itself has but a loose link to Irish brewing history it is still an important link, as it could and should be seen as a tangible part of the porter export trade from this country, and particularly from its biggest brewery – that of the Guinness enterprise in Dublin. There is a long history of exporting porter from Ireland which has been recorded elsewhere with varying degrees of detail but the above glass connects into the Guinness export trade to Europe and, in particular, to Belgium. An export trade that to a modern eye would seem to be the equivalent of sending coal to Newcastle, given that Belgium is now synonymous with good and plentiful beer to most of those with an interest in the subject.

But, as we can see from the above - granted anecdotal - quotation, Belgium is a country that has been experiencing Guinness’s porters for quite a few years, albeit in that case by military contract via England it would appear.

-o-

This glass is a wonderful piece of workmanship that no photo will do justice to. It is made from quality glass that approaches lead crystal in colour, quality and sound, and appears to be mould-blown or similarly formed before the eight facets were cut and polished by hand to form an octagonal-shaped lower section around an extra thick base, with the bottom of the glass also polished to an incredible smoothness. As to the more boring details, the tumbler is approximately 15cm high by 8.5cm wide at its mouth, it weighs 400grms and holds 400ml of liquid, an important volume, as will transpire later. It hearkens back to similar conical tumblers of the late Victorian and early 20th century. These heavy-based, fluted pint glasses were relatively common on these islands before the popularity of undecorated, plain or ‘straight’ (‘Shaker,’ as they would be termed in America) glasses, which themselves gave way to other styles later on. There is also a nod perhaps to the continental ribbed or fluted tumblers used these days (and most likely in the past) by some lambic brewers. The gold lettering around the harp symbol seems to date them to the mid-20th century, and the same logo was used on goblets produced to mark Guinness’s bicentenary year in 1959. Another, probably slightly later version with a buff coloured logo was also produced, which was presumably a little more durable during washing, and the glass itself appears in at least one advertisement, on a showcard from 1950 for the Italian market*. (Curiously, a slightly less tapered version of the glass with a shallower base and without the logo is illustrated in a showcard in English dated to c1912**, which might be an indication of the inspiration for the design, or adoption of an already known design for the continental market.) There is no indication of the country of origin for the glass but Belgium, France or any of the surrounding countries would be a relatively safe bet, unless they were commissioned from a Czech supplier, as they are certainly of that quality and heft. (Belgium was certainly making imperial pint tumblers with groves around the bottom for the English and Irish markets late in the first half of the 20th century, but they were somewhat cruder and wholly moulded.)

That capacity mentioned above of 400ml could be an important indicator of the true purpose of the glass, as this volume is a perfect fit for a 330ml bottle of Guinness including room for a head right up to the rim without overflowing, which is helped by the conical shape. The name and product that comes to mind in the 1950s with regard to Guinness on the continent, and Belgium in particular is John Martin in Antwerp, and bottles of Guinness Foreign Export Stout.

With the help of David Hughes excellent book ‘A Bottle of Guinness Please’ the following early history of the company can be cobbled together from various mentions and references within its pages.

John Martin wasn’t the first or only importer of Guinness into Belgium, there were others before him and operating alongside him in the country when he was appointed an agent in 1912 for Antwerp, and he started bottling that same year – although some draught stout was also being sold during this period. At this point Guinness’s Extra Stout (ES) and Extra Foreign Stout (AKA Foreign Extra Stout, or FES) were being imported into the country. This changed to Export Extra Stout (GXS) around the time Martin commenced bottling (although there is a contradictory mention of him bottling ES in 1913, and these names and abbreviations are a minefield to traverse.) and Guinness began to see an improvement in sales. This was also helped by a marketing budget that included newspaper advertisements as well as showcards, metal signage and postcards. Sales were showing some growth up to the start of World War I when exports stopped. Supply recommenced in 1920 and by 1923 the main beer being sold by Martin was ES with just some FES, the beer being bottled in reputed pint (379ml[?] approximately) bottles at this point. This was the year that they merged with the Schweppes company with Martin remaining on as the managing director. Sales were generally poor at this point and suffered from rivals Bass’s stout being stronger and pasteurised, so therefore more stable and consistent, unlike Guinness’s stouts. In 1930 Martins started pasteurising ES onsite in Brussels, where they had moved their headquarters to in 1927. After World War II sales slowly increased and Martins remain connected with Guinness right up to this day.**

The history of what we know now as Special Export Stout in Belgium is a trickier thing to pin down (and we are indebted to David Hughes again for the following information) but Martins were bottling a stronger version of ES called ES77 (1.054 gravity which possibly equated to an abv of 5.5% at most?) for the Belgian market, which was a new stout developed for the Armed Forces in 1945 exclusively in Europe, whereas other countries received a slightly weaker version. (This may therefore be the origins of what would be eventually become Guinness Special Export Stout?) Production of stronger export stouts in general had stopped in 1917 and only commenced again in 1945. By 1949 it was reported to be (1.058) and was reported to be a stronger version of Extra Stout which was sweeter with a lower hop rate than FES – this is still true today. It would appear at least that during the following years it gain some extra strength to end up at is current 8% abv. This would make sense as it was a stronger beer prior to the wars so it possibly bounced back, and helpfully, Ron Pattinson shows that an export stout brewed by Guinness was 6.6% abv in 1948, 7.8%in 1963, and 7.3% in 1966. The variance is mostly due to the attenuation of the brewing more so than the gravity of the beer but it still shows and general increase over time.

For comparison, the much-told story about how it came about varies a little depending on the teller but the Guinness website gives the most common story:

So, how did this continental brew come to life? Well, John Martin was an English brewer living in Belgium who shared Arthur’s thirst for exploration and adventure. In 1944, he ventured through the doors of St. James’s Gate with a request to create a truly Irish stout with a fiercer punch and sweeter aftertaste, to suit the palate of his Belgium friends.

The Guinness brewers, never ones to turn down a challenge, of course obliged and that’s what he got. An adventurer’s black gold.

So next time you indulge, close your eyes, and think of… Belgium.

A visit to many other internet sources and the odd book all tell a similar tale, although factual, first-hand content is unavailable in any commonly available, public sources. So what we are left with is the snippets regarding the beer as published by David Hughes plus a little bit of marketing-driven history and a fair degree of conjecture. The actual history of the beer itself is probably a combination of facts and story, complicated by the various Guinness brews and how they changed over the years.

Branded continental glassware for Guinness isn’t new, and even Martins themselves had commissioned embossed glasses for the Belgian trade in 1910, and other bottlers were producing etched glasses with ‘Guinness XX’ on them not long afterwards*** – and there may be earlier examples. And it is highly possible and probable that Jon Martin commissioned these glasses for his export stout from the very late 1940s onwards, although they were also probably used for draught product on occasion. The same glass is shown on a beermat which was dated as being from 1976, so perhaps these glasses lasted up until the 1980s? Either way they should be an incredibly desirable product for the Guinness glass collector, although they seem to be relatively rare on these islands at least. But perhaps, like the early Guinness tankards that were used here in the sixties and seventies, they have become prized possessions on the continent, and sit in collections throughout Belgium, and beyond. They are indisputably the finest pieces of glassware ever produced for the brand, even more attractive than those aforementioned tankards.

And perhaps somewhere in Belgium, in an old and half-hidden pub in some quiet and peaceful town, when you order a bottle of Dublin brewed John Martin’s Special Export Stout, and as you are sitting facing a charming square, the kindly old bar owner will reach over your shoulder and place that beer on the marble-topped table, followed by an old beermat on which is placed one of these gorgeous glasses.

Wouldn’t that be a treat?

Liam K

*The Book of Guinness Advertising page 175 - Jim Davies1998

** ‘A Bottle of Guinness Please’ - David Hughes 2006

*** The Guinness Online Archive

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Much of the research was thanks to David Hughes' book, and the glass and beermat image is from the author's own collection. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

A Shot of Beer History #1: The Real Baby Guinness ...

Did you know that prior to the invention of the mini cocktail composed of Baileys floating over Tia Maria in a shot glass called a Baby Guinness that there was a real version?

It was quite an English thing and didn't seem to make it back to Ireland, but it was Guinness stout in a third-of-a-pint bottle and was certainly an important size of serve if newspaper mentions are anything to go by. It was certainly around from the early 1900s to the 1960s, and possibly before and after. By the way, that same size of bottle was used here in Ireland for our relatively low alcohol barley-wine ...

Liam K

[Image from The Portsmouth Evening News from 2nd June 1956]

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, who have kindly let me share the above image. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #20 - The Harp Magazine (1963)

A TELEPHONE shrills in the Brewery Fire Brigade night quarters at 84 James's Street.

“There's been an accident.”

“Where?”

“In the brewery yard at the old weighbridge.”

“How many injured?”

“Two men.”

“Badly?”

“I don't know.”

“Right, we're on our way!”

The four-man team pile into the ambulance stationed outside and in a matter of moments are at the scene of the accident. Accident? Well, not a real one on this occasion. To keep the members of our Fire Brigade on their toes a competition is staged annually to provide practice in rescue technique. This year seven teams, each of four members, had been drawn out for the contest and the two teams of finalists were going through their paces in the presence of the Board.

Conditions made as true to life as were possible and on arrival the rescue teams discovered two men trapped in a crater beneath a pile of planks and rubble, which had collapsed on top of them.

Under the searching gaze of Dr. Eustace, F. W. Derbyshire and Dan O'Brien they go into action One man, still conscious, whose leg is trapped beneath a plank, presents the symptoms of a compound fracture; the other (a dummy) has the signs of a skull injury.

Praise is due to John McGuirk of the Rigging section, a most realistic casualty whose acting lent an authentic touch to the proceedings.

Both units displayed a high standard of proficiency, but the judges finally decided in favour of Team A, led by Edward King, with Dermot Harnett, James Scallan and James Duffy giving able support. Sir Geoffrey Thompson made the presentation to the winners at a short ceremony in the Fire Station afterwards.

We in the Brewery have indeed reason to be thankful that we have such a well-trained group of men on hand, should a real accident call them into action.

The Harp – Spring 1963

Work was a dangerous place in the past, and certainly for those who worked in industrial spaces full of noise, distractions, heat, and time pressure, then add to that toothed and spinning machinery, elevated gangways, and equipment literally on an industrial scale. Many workers were taking their lives in their hands every day that they showed up for their job, and although it would be incorrect to say that there were no safety measures in place in the 19th and early 20th century, there were certainly far fewer procedures and checks in place than we would expect to see in any factory are large processing plant today.

The above quoted training procedure from the Guinness brewery in Dublin demonstrates that breweries in Ireland were certainly as dangerous a place to work as any other similar sized and focussed enterprise, perhaps even more so, due to the oversized buildings and equipment which needed to be scaled in numerous ways at various times, and also the use of hot liquids and other unseen hazards as we shall see.

Breweries could be unforgiving and deadly places at times, and please note that this article will deal with and describe some of those deaths so those who feel uncomfortable with these types of descriptions should probably not continue.

-o-

The newspapers of the 1800s and early 1900s are dotted with reports of deaths in Irish breweries to the point where almost every decade had a report or two of workers being killed on or off site. It is, even at this remote juncture, a difficult read, as many of the reported inquests go into the details of precisely what happened these individuals, and often include a list of the people they have left behind, where sometimes, almost an afterthought, the reporter will mention the wife, children, parents or siblings that were left in heartache and possible destitution at the loss of a loved one. It is worth remembering at all times that we are dealing with actual human beings who lived not terribly long ago and who possibly still have ancestors walking our streets whose lives were affected directly or indirectly by such a dreadful occurrence.

Deaths appear to have happened in almost every brewery in this country and from multiple causes. Falls were quite common, with brewery workers - or at times hired contractors - tumbling to their deaths from the gangways that stretched across the upper reaches of the tall brewery structures. Falling from the top of the various brewing vessels was a hazard, as was falling from the roofs of the buildings themselves. At times the unfortunate individuals tumbled into mash tuns, kettles and other hot water sources, or fell close to lit boilers and suffered agonising scalds or burns that more often than not resulted in death.

Drownings in porter vats, wells or water tanks also occurred, and in the case of the deaths in vessels which held beer, the owners of the breweries were forced to comment on the fact that the porter within was dumped, due to scurrilous reports of the beer still being put out for sale after the event. In 1874, at the inquest into the drowning of a worker in a vat of porter in St. Fin Barre's Brewery in Cork, Mr. Thomas Lane felt the need to put on the record and into the local paper that 'an injurious report has gone abroad that we stocked a quantity of the porter, whereas it is all gone down the river.'

There were rarer fatalities too, such as the man who suffocated in barley in Perry’s brewery Rathdowney in 1906 when he stood in a hopper containing grain which was then then tipped into a larger silo along with the worker and he was smothered by more grain being added while the unfortunate man was still inside it, something similar had occurred in Guinness in 1895 too.

There are also particularly gruesome accounts of workers becoming entangled in a piece of machinery in the brewery with the obvious and unrepeatable horrific injuries that this would entail. One particularly poignant report from 1867 tells of an 11-year-old boy who while visiting his father’s place of work – the Beamish & Crawford brewery in Cork – was caught in the cogs of machinery. He lost a leg amongst other injuries and died later in hospital.

One form of death that seems to have been dreadfully common was death by carbon dioxide suffocation, where a worked descended into a fermenter to clean it out without realising that it was full of this deadly odourless gas, a byproduct of the fermentation process, which can incapacitate a person almost instantly. This type of death was relatively common, and some of the fatalities recorded in this way were in an unnamed Cork brewery in 1782, Guinness’s in 1839 and 1864, Lane’s brewery Cork in 1846, Wickham’s in Wexford in 1869, Jameson and Pim’s in 1894, Darcy’s in 1898 and 1915 and Cairnes Brewery in 1908. Tragically these sometimes involved two or three fatalities, as one person went down to aid the other as happened in Clonmel Brewery in 1916, when three worked climbed into a vat one after another to help the others and were overcome, only one survived.

TRAGIC CLONMEL AFFAIR

Two Brewery Workers Killed.

A shocking tragedy occurred at the Clonmel Brewery resulting in the death of two workmen and the narrow escape of a third from similar fate. While a man named Michael Mc*** was engaged on a ladder washing, with a hose, a large vat, about 15 feet high, covered at the top, and entrance to which effected by means of a ladder through a trap door, he was overcome gas fumes and fell the bottom. Another employee, James R***, apparently climbed down to the rescue, but was likewise overcome and a third, P. C*******, followed also for the purpose of rescuing his fellow-work men, but he too was overcome. Further help was quickly at hand; holes were bored in the sides of the vat to let in air, and, eventually, the three men were pulled out, and placed on the top where, under the directions Drs. Wynne, O’Brien, and Murray, artificial respiration was employed for several hours. C******* recovered under this treatment, and was sent hospital, but all efforts to revive Mc**** and R*** were unavailing. Distressing scenes were witnessed as the bodies were removed to the Morgue, the wives and relatives giving vent their grief. Rev. W. Walsh, C.C., was promptly in attendance and climbed to the top of the vat to minister to the unfortunate fellows. Both of the victims were married, R*** leaving a large young family.

The same calamity happened in Manders brewery in 1882 where one of the three men died.

FATAL ACCIDENT IN MANDERS' BREWERY

On Saturday evening three men, named George D****, Patrick R*****, and Patrick J****, were working on a loft in Messrs Manders' brewery, 113 James's street. D**** went in to a vat for some purpose, and was immediately rendered insensible by the carbonic acid gas. R***** and J**** went to the assistance of D****. and were themselves immediately overcome by the gas. In the meantime the three men were missed, and with great difficulty got out with the aid of ropes. D**** was found to be dead, and the other two remain in a precarious condition.

Reports of these types of deaths used words such as ‘foul air’ or ‘gas fumes’ or ‘spirit’ as well as ‘carbonic acid gas,’ so it appears that many breweries were aware of the issue but didn’t have the terminology or knowledge to know exactly what was the cause in the very early reports, although it appears to have been common practice to lower a candle into the vats, as it would be extinguished by the presence of this ‘foul air.’ There are also mentions of the need to open taps - or bore holes in an emergency as mentioned above - to let air in, or probably more accurately as we now know, to let the heavier than air carbon dioxide flow out.

-o-

Outside of the brewery could be a dangerous place to be working for the brewery too, especially if you were a drayman who hauled beer around the country to the various public houses or bottlers. Drivers lost their lives on occasion in accidents such as one drayman for a Dungarvan brewery who in 1870 was killed when his cart collapsed and he was pitched forward into the space between the horse and the front of the vehicle, where he was kicked to death by the animal as it tried to extricate itself. He left a wife and six children to mourn his untimely end.

A young driver from the Macardle Moore brewery in Dundalk who was delivering ale to the local military barracks in 1868 was killed when his horse was startled by the sound of a trumpet and bolted. The unfortunate individual was run over by the wheels of his own cart as he attempted to catch the reins to stop the horse.

A driver for Perry’s brewery in Rathdowney drowned in a water-filled ditch near Cuddagh Bog when the cart he was steering overturned and trapped him beneath it in 1905, and a similar accident occurred much earlier in 1829 when a drayman for D’Arcy’s brewery was drowned while attempting to rescue his horse which had ended up in the canal at Ringsend, and both man and beast perished.

But it wasn’t just drivers that were killed as can be seen from the following incident involved a young drayman from the Creywell brewery in New Ross owned by Cherrys.

FATAL ACCIDENT

During the Quarter Sessions in New Ross, an old man named P****, a farmer, from Misterin, county Wexford, was knocked down outside of the Courthouse by a local brewery van, which rolled over him, and killed him almost immediately. The driver of the van, a boy named Peter W*****, was immediately arrested and remanded. The evidence up to the present show that the deceased was more or less intoxicated - that there was [sic] some cars down the footpath outside the sessions house railings, which made the narrow lane still narrower - that W***** was driving the brewery horse (which is blind) at the rate of about six miles an hour, and did not slacken his pace coming around the corner of Cross Lane; that the deceased was crossing the lane obliquely, when the "off" shaft struck him, and when the people shouted out to the driver to stop, he pulled up, just as the wheel had rolled up from the unfortunate man's abdomen to his neck, and that he died almost immediately. Mr Colfer, solicitor, is engaged for the relatives of the deceased, and Mr Hinson, solicitor for the defence of the prisoner. Mr Carey, D.I., R.I.C, prosecuted. Bail was refused.

It would be hard to decide here whether the drunken individual, the speeding driver or the blind horse were to blame.

Sadly, small children were killed by brewery drays on at least two occasions, and there were probably even more fatalities than that. In 1899 a float belonging to Mountjoy brewery in Dublin was involved in an accident with a two-year-old boy which resulted in the loss of the child’s life, and in 1912 a three-year-old girl was killed near Bow Bridge, also in Dublin, having been run over by a dray belonging to D’Arcy’s brewery when she ran from a shop and tumbled under the wheels of the cart.

Staying with transport there have also been a few fatalities related to steam engines, with crush injuries and other accidents known to happen. For example, in 1889 a driver died on the narrow gauge in the Guinness brewery when he was knocked from his engine in a tunnel while driving between the brewery and the quay. He was crushed between the wall of the tunnel and his locomotive.

Even tugboats plying the Liffey were not completely safe, as in 1879 an employee of Guinness who was working on the steam tug Lagan was drowned after the boat hit the central arch of the Queen Street Bridge – now called Mellows Bridge - and he was thrown into the river with a companion, who survived.

-o-

Stranger incidents occurred too, such as the death in 1891 of a man in Kilkenny from rabies he contracted from a dog who ran into Sullivans’ James’s street brewery.

DEATH FROM HYDROPHOBIA

In the Moderator of Saturday but we stated that a man named Martin M*****, who was employed as a vanman in the James's-street Brewery. Kilkenny, was lying so dangerously ill in the workhouse hospital with an attack of hydrophobia that he was not expected to recover. We regret to state that the poor fellow expired early on Saturday morning last. One day in March last, it may be remembered, a dog - which it was afterwards discovered was suffering from rabies - ran into the yard of the James’s-street Brewery, where poor M***** was working. The dog ran towards M*****, and on raising his hand to keep the animal back, it immediately snapped at him and bit him on the finger. Information was at given of the to the James's- street police. and early the following morning the dog was destroyed, Mr. John Barry, V.S.. having pronounced it to be suffering from rabies. M*****, on hearing this. did not, as he should have done, place himself under medical treatment, but continued, poor fallow, from day to day at his usual employment until last Wednesday evening, when he was taken suddenly ill. Dr. Hackett was immediately sent for, and he at once stated that M***** had developed symptoms of hydrophobia, and ordered him to be removed to the hospital of the workhouse. Hydrophobia is, according to one of the highest medical authorities, a disease from which scarcely any person has ever been known to recover, and but little hope was entertained of the unfortunate sufferer's recovery. From Wednesday evening be continued to linger on until Saturday, when, as we have stated, he expired in great agony. The greatest sympathy is entertained for the deceased man's wife and family in their bereavement, and the large assemblage of the general public at his funeral on Sunday last testified to the high esteem and regard in which the deceased was held. It is a most unfortunate thing that a human life should be thus lost, merely by not having a strict law enforced as to the muzzling of dogs, and it is to be hoped that the authorities will take such steps in future as will prevent a similar dreadful occurrence.

As seen above, brewery horses died on occasion too but in 1896 there was an unusual occurrence as reported below:

A HORSE STUNG TO DEATH

On Saturday last, the 20th instant, a man named Daniel Brennan, was dispatched from the firm of E Smithwick and Sons, St Francis Abbey Brewery, to the licensed premises of Mr T Kennedy, Bennettsbridge, Kilkenny, with a load of drink. He arrived there about six o'clock, and after he had made delivery, was about leaving for home, when quite suddenly, a whole hive of bees landed on the horse’s head and neck to begin their deadly havoc. Immediately the horse became frantic and dashed madly along the road for some distance, when he was with much difficulty brought to a standstill. Some helpers having arrived at the time, he was unyoked from the car. and put into an adjacent field. Here he lay down and remained in the most acute pain until the following morning, when he was got up and removed slowly along the road. He never rallied, however, and on Monday morning he expired after undergoing the most dreadful agony.

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It is worth mentioning that in many cases in the deaths reported above there was a recommendation for the breweries to make some payment to the dependants of those who died, and it would be good to think that this was followed up on, or that there was payment made via The Workman’s Compensation Act which legislated for such eventualities. But it is also worth restating that these were all real people who died in tragic circumstances, but with each death it could be hoped that steps were put in place to lessen the risk of a reoccurrence of such a tragedy in the future. The outcome can perhaps be seen in the opening quotation from Guinness’s The Harp magazine - a brewery that has seen its own fair share of those deaths as we saw - where at least there was a rapid response if an accident did occur, and presumably more preventative procedures in place too.

I know many people love a ghostly story, so maybe some think that a form of essence, or possibly a life-echo reverberation, still inhabits the brewing-related (and other) places where these deaths occurred. Perhaps they think that a small part of the dead's souls live on even still, although many of the locations are now homes, offices or just empty spaces. But whatever our thoughts on whether ghosts exist or not at least these unfortunate people live on in one way in the faded ink of newspapers - or in pixels and 1s and 0s - for ever, perhaps. They are fact not fiction.

Stories are just that, tales for entertainment be they ghost related or not, but death is real.

So brewers, be safe.

Liam K

(I have deliberately left out a couple of deaths I came across, as even though much time has passed they are connected to living, known descendants. I have also left out any mentions of self-harm or murder, and I have purposely doctored the surnames of victims in newspaper reports. As someone whose great-grandfather met a gruesome machinery-related death over a century ago, the subject and thought of his name appearing in an ‘entertaining’ article might make me or my family members feel uneasy, hence my reticence to use those last names.)

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. The photograph and magazine itself are the authors own and the image cannot be used elsewhere without the author's permission. The actual magazine was published by Guinness for its personnel, which allowed use such as I have done here according to the notes inside the front cover. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive and the exact sources for the deaths and quotations mentioned and shown above can be requested from me via email or message. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #14 – Guinness Bottle Opener (1970s?)

‘My sealing-caps are so strong, so constructed, and so firmly applied to bottles that some form of lever or a cork-screw must be employed for detaching them, and my caps are also the first which when applied to a bottle and locked thereto, as described, have the edge of the flange so projected as to afford a reliable shoulder, with which a detaching-lever may be engaged, for enabling a cap to be promptly removed as a result of a prying or wrenching action.’

William Painter - Specification forming part of Letters Patent No. 468,258, dated February 2, 1892. Application filed June 16, 1890, Serial No. 355,603, (No model.)

There is a relatively famous (in certain circles at least) archive film* from RTE that reports on the ceasing of the cork-bunged Guinness bottle by orders of the brewery, as it was to be completely replaced by a seemingly unpopular bottle closer - the metal cap. In that piece of recorded Irish beer history from 1969, which incidentally shows both the insertion and extracting of corks, there are a few stout drinkers quite unhappy with this change from what was seen as the traditional method of sealing beer bottles in this country. The interviewees argued that cork-sealed stout bottles tasted better than those using a metal cap, with one drinker being shown to be able to pick out the one corked bottle from a row of poured stouts, allegedly based on taste alone. Whether there was an actual difference between corked bottles and metal capped versions is impossible to know, as we are far removed from those times with no real way of doing a similar comparison, but those punters in that bar in Drogheda were convinced that corks were better than crown caps. Regardless of their outrage and unhappiness, Guinness got its way of course and as a secondary consequence those wonderful, levered, cork extractors that existed on most bars in the country disappeared, replaced by the now familiar cap removers which were much simpler to operate although far less theatrical and ritualistic …

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When William Painter received his patent for his improved bottle sealing device in 1892 it was unlikely that he would have foreseen the impact it would make around the world and just how enduring his simple-but-clever patent would be. Hailing from Baltimore in America, Painter was a prolific inventor who appears to have had an obsessive fascination with the sealing and opening of bottles if the sheer number of patents he filed is anything to go by - over eighty in total - although some of those were on subjects such as counterfeit coin detectors and a magnet-based signalling device for telephones. Regardless of these other inventions it is for the design of this bottle closer - soon after called the ‘Crown Cork’ - that beverage suppliers will be grateful to him for, even if most of them have probably never heard his name and certainly don't appreciate the cleverness of an ingenious little device that most people take for granted these days.

Before his invention there were other methods of closing bottles, one of the most popular and historic being the plain cork bung of course, and other metal closer had existed but none were quite as strong and easy to apply as Painter’s. His crimp-edged, strengthened metal caps clamped on the edge of specially made bottles with a cork liner between the cap and bottle rim ensuring an airtight fit. These caps were easy to apply and remove and would go on to revolutionise the drinks industry around the world. They were also disposable - they were never designed for reuse - a clever way of ensuring a steady income for those involved in their manufacture.

His patent, or patents as there were two for this type of bottle closure device, show how the caps would be used and he goes into extreme detail on how they were developed and how they worked in the accompanying submission to the patent's office. To say he invented these closing devices is somewhat of a mistruth, as he points out in his description that similar versions existed at this time but none were quite as good as those he proposed in his application, and indeed he states the following:

'I do not presume them to be novel as to form and construction. I do believe they are the first caps composed of hard sheet metal which are adapted to the service indicated and that they involve radical and valuable novelty when considered in combination with a sealing-disk and bottle having a locking-shoulder.'

So as with most inventions it involved improvement on an existing design more so that a completely radical new idea. although clearly his were unique enough that his patent was accepted.

Also in his submission he states that the caps can be removed by the user with a ‘hook shaped’ lever that would fulcrum off the top of the capped bottle (Fig. 6 above), or by the use of a ‘forked opener or leaver which will freely receive the head of the bottle between its prongs’ with the bottle head serving as the fulcrum for displacing the cap. He also goes on to say that specific bottle openers of his own devising will be the subject of a separate patent application.

And he was true to his word, as on June the 5th 1893 he filed for a Capped-Bottle Opener, his second such application. (He had previously filed for another type of opener for a different bottle seal design where a concave disc was positioned in a groove inside the rim of the bottle and needed to be plucked out - that sealing method was also been invented by Painter.) This new version is quite familiar to us and is shown in four versions, one which included a clever bung as the handle to seal the bottle after some of its contents were poured, the hook on the other end means that the opener can also be used like his previous opener to remove those internal bung-like seals mentioned above.

Here in Fig 6 we see the basic shape of the design we know, and in the dotted outline something even more familiar given the object we are discussing. Whether he adapted his design from older, existing openers is unknown but it is quite likely that he was the sole inventor in this case.

William Painter went on to form ‘The Crown Cork and Seal Company’ and designed machines and equipment to make the process of applying is bottle caps quicker and more expedient - hence his many patents on the subject - and his business became a huge success and there has been much written about him**, although not quite so much in recent years.

The Crown Cork made its way to Ireland by 1895 where it is being advertised as used on mineral waters in a Cork-based newspaper - coincidentally. And just a couple of years later these caps were being advertised as being suitable for all bottled beverages including beer, with one advertisement even using the fact they were easy to open by ladies as a selling point! An English version of the Crown Cork Company came into being in 1897, having acquired the European rights for the patent, and there were Irish companies in Dublin, Drogheda and Belfast manufacturing the caps by the middle of the 20th century by which time the patent had possibly expired.

These caps could also be pre-printed with the drink company’s name almost from their introduction - as the many avid collectors will know - and were probably being used for stouts and ales here - even if in just a small way - for many decades before Guinness finally called a halt to the practice of corking bottles and forced the change completely to Crown Caps. There of course bottlers using these metal sealers before that and indeed, according to David Hughes in his book “A Bottle of Guinness Please” there were five official Guinness logo Crown Cork designs approved from 1934, and it is possible, and probable, they were being used long before then.

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The invention of the Crown Cork meant that a whole new industry sprang up for bottle openers, one that continues to this day with a multitude of designs and methods for the removal of these now almost universal bottle sealers. The object shown at the top is just one of those designs and although it isn’t quite as iconic as the older, heavier official Crown Cork opener (see the 1920s' version below) with its registered number on the rim that can be found in many an old cutlery drawer, it is a more fitting version to be used in this series given the brand it advertises. These newer versions have proven difficult to date but they were probably promotional items sold or given away in the 1970s or perhaps the 1960s or even earlier. They were manufactured by John Watts who was based in Sheffield in England and the same design was used for Newcastle Brown Ale and others which just carried the maker's name. Very similar designs bearing the logos of Bass and Carlsberg were also available, although the manufacturer of those is unclear.

Based on the printed design*** on the bottle caps shown above with the opener, Guinness appear to have been using cork-lined caps until at least the 1990s before finally changing to plastic seals and removing the last vestiges of their cork-bottled past.

Given the finickiness of Guinness drinkers we can only assume they were unhappy about this small change too.

One wonders did anyone do a taste test then ..?

Liam K

*That piece of film can be seen here.

** There is a book about William Painter viewable here.

*** This typeface was used in early Guinness labels but revived in the late 1990s. The design with those two dots look like the later use but the caps could be from the earlier period.

This post really deserved more research and effort to fill in more details, but time restrictions and a need to not make it too long-winded means it's lacking some finer details..

Patents referenced and sources of diagrams:

WILLIAM PAINTER, OF BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. BOTTLE-SEALING Device. SPECIFICATION forming part of Letters Patent No. 468,258, dated February 2, 1892. Application filed June 16, 1890, Serial No. 355,603, (No model.)

WILLIAM PAINTER, OF BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. BOTTLE-SEALING DEVICE. SPECIFICATION forming part of Letters Patent No. 468,226, dated February 2, 1892. Application filed May 19, 1891, Serial No. 393,293, (No model.)

WILLIAM PAINTER, OF BALTIMORE, MARYLAND, ASSIGNOR TO THE CROWN CORK AND SEAL COMPANY, OF SAME PLACE. CAPPED-BOTTLE OPENER. SPECIFICATION forming part of Letters Patent No. 514,200, dated February 6, 1894. Application filed June 5, 1893, Serial No. 476,638, (No model.) 

All via Google Patents

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Both photographs are the authors own and cannot be used elsewhere without the author's permission. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive and other sources are as credited. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #12 – Colonel Murphy’s Stout Beermat (1969)

 

Goodness! A rival ..!

Top men at the giant Guinness brewing group must be anxiously watching a little experiment which is going on in Manchester. If things go according to plan it could eventually lead to Ireland’s famous stout facing up to a serious rival in this country. […] If Murphy’s stout scores with Britain’s drinkers, then Guinness – Eire’s biggest export* – may find it has a challenger.

The City Editor at The Manchester Evening News - Tuesday 2nd of July 1968

In July 1968 the Watney-Mann brewery group quietly test marketed a batch of Murphy’s draught stout brewed at The Lady’s Well Brewery in Cork on a target audience in 20 of their Manchester pubs.¹ This soft launch must have been a relative success as it in turn led to a bigger campaign in June of 1969 when Watney-Mann were joined by Bass-Charrington - both giants of British brewing at the time - in trialling and marketing that same Irish stout in their pubs in the hope of unseating Guinness’s grip on the bar counters of Britain. Now under the guise of ‘Colonel Murphy,’ it was trialled in 500 of their pubs in Manchester and Brighton, with the hope of launching it in 8,000 pubs across the island in the future.² The name change and choice seems a strange decision, as nitrogenated draught Murphys had just been launched in Ireland the previous year with attractive, trendy branding³. That new branding featured a modern and stylised version of their famous older image of the strongman Eugen Sandow holding up a horse with one hand, which would seem to have been a much more marketable image and story to use and push in Britain. (‘Colonel Murphy’ was presumably named after Lt. Co. John F. Murphy who was the last of the Murphy family to play a direct role in the brewery.)

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A newspaper campaign was launched in The Manchester Evening News over a period of months with the tagline we see on the beermat - ‘If you like draught stout, you’ll love Colonel Murphy’ - hardly the catchiest piece of wording and design ever produced.

The advertisement continues:

In their time, the Irish have produced two great draught stouts.
Colonel Murphy is the one you’ve never heard of before,
Because the Irish have kept it to themselves for the past 113 years.
Now at last it’s being shipped over from County Cork to England.
You won’t find it everywhere, but in many Watney-Wilson and
Bass-Charrington houses. And it’s worth looking for.
It’s dark, smooth and slightly bitter, with a grand creamy head.
A noble drink, if ever there was one.

There are obvious issues with this wording such as the comment that there have only been ‘two great stouts’ produced in Ireland - Beamish & Crawford might disagree for starters, although their stout production was in a state of turmoil at this time - and the implication that Murphy’s never exported stout to England in the past. (They had, and they have done so since too of course.) However, we know from experience that beer marketeers are not the most reliable source, or communicators, of Irish brewing history. ‘Watney-Wilson’ appears to have been referencing the Wilson group of pubs that Watney-Mann had taken over in the early 1960s and who had a considerable number of pubs in Manchester, hence the name use here which would have resonated more with local drinkers presumably.⁴

At the end of August a full page advertisement appeared in the same paper that listed every pub in Manchester and the surrounding area that was stocking Colonel Murphy, a list that ran to 347 different establishments.⁵ The following month in a half page advert under the title ‘England’s Gain’ the marketing was still focusing on its Irish origin saying that ‘naturally enough the Irish are sad to see it go. It’s dark, smooth and bitter with a grand creamy head. A drink fit for heroes.’ It also played with the exclusivity of the beer by saying, ‘It’s here. Not everywhere. But in many Watney-Wilson and Bass-Charrington houses. Try it.’ So it would appear that the brewing companies were putting a relatively sizable marketing budget behind the launch, albeit just at local level.⁶

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Similarly themed adverts ran through October of 1969 but alas it was a short-lived experiment, and commenting on the pulling of the brand from its pubs a spokesperson for Bass-Charrington said in a newspaper report in November that ‘it would have cost too much to get [it] off the ground nationally’ so they had decided that ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ and that both brewing companies would be selling Guinness in their pubs within 12 months. It also quoted a ‘jubilant’ Guinness spokesperson who said that ‘it was the biggest challenge yet to draught Guinness and the fact that these great companies failed will discourage others.’³

Another report regarding Guinness draught’s success in the English market also discussed Colonel Murphy’s demise while noting that both Watney-Mann and Bass-Charrington had breweries in Cork, with the former owning Murphy’s (Lady’s Well Brewery) having acquired 51% of the shares in 1967³, while the latter controlled Beamish & Crawford, both of which were running below profitable capacity, and the hope was that Murphy’s Stout - albeit under a different name in Britain - would change the fortunes of that brewery if the experiment was a success. The article goes on to say that they might have been unlucky with their timing, as it had been ‘a hot summer for their test marketing’ but as it was still on sale up until early winter it’s hard to put much fate in that comment. The reporter also makes the point that ‘the Bass end of Bass Charrington has taken draught Guinness for some time’ so it appears that some of its pubs were already selling it at this time if it wasn't a comment on an older historical connection.⁷ The chairman of Watney-Mann, Peter Crossman, also stated in 1970's The Brewing Trade Review that ‘although we had an excellent beer which achieved reasonable sales levels, the investment and effort required to catch up with the public awareness of draught Guinness would have been less profitable to the group than the sale of a product already marketed.’

It is worth noting that at this time approximately 30,000 drinking establishments in Britain were selling draught Guinness and that figure was growing at a rate of 25% per annum,⁸ but this still seems a strange decision given their abovementioned involvement and investment in The Lady’s Well Brewery which brewed the stout, but perhaps it was a sign of them losing their love for Cork and Ireland despite those adverts they commissioned, where they sang the praises of Colonel Murphy, and indeed by the summer of 1971 they had severed their ties with the brewery and sold their stake in it.

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Very little breweriana seems to have survived of Murphy’s English adventure, but there are - as we can see - some beer mats and there are probably some nice conical pint glasses sitting on the back of a few English collectors’ shelves, but it’s nice to know that at the end of the sixties a Cork brewed stout almost put it up to the biggest player in the stout market in Britain.

It's interesting to think what might have happened if they had succeeded …

Liam K

* Apart from irksome use of ‘Eire,' surely most of the draught Guinness drank in Britain was produced in their brewery at Park Royal in London?

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. The attached image is the author's own and cannot be used elsewhere without the author's permission. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive and other sources are as credited.

¹ The Manchester Evening News - Tuesday 2nd of July 1968

² The Daily Mirror - Tuesday 11th of November 1969

³ The Murphy's Story - The History of Lady's Well Brewery, Cork by Diarmuid Ó Drisceoil and Donal Ó Drisceoil

⁴ The Manchester Evening News - Friday 1st of August 1969

⁵ The Manchester Evening News - Wednesday 20th of August 1969

⁶ The Manchester Evening News - Thursday 11th of September 1969

⁷ The Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 11th of November 1969

⁸ The Daily Mirror - Tuesday 11th of November 1969

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #10 – The Guinness Waterford Tankard (1960s)

But when a cauliflower-wigged tankard of brown stout crowned the repast, his rapture knew no bounds. He pressed it with ecstasy to his lips, and sang joyously –

Porter! Drink for the noble souls!

Raise the foaming tankard high!

Water drink, you water think –

So said Johnson – so say I!

Merrie England in the Olden Time by George Daniel (Bentley's Miscellany, Volume 7 - J. M. Mason, 1841)

There is probably no piece of vintage, beer-related glassware that is talked about in the same reverential tone as the Guinness Waterford tankard. For many collectors of breweriana finding an absolutely perfect example is akin to discovering The Holy Grail, and almost as hard to acquire. Even those who show indifference to Guinness itself have a fondness for the barrel-like shape, the curvaceous handle, and that gold lettering with the harp sitting above. It has, for many at least, a deserved iconic status in Irish - and British - beer history, much more so than the relatively recent interloper that comes in the shape of the tulip pint glass.

Admittedly, the quotation above by George Daniel is a little out of kilter with the timeline, material and origins of the beer-related item we are focussing on here but it is an evocative piece of prose and poetry in honour of a tankard of stout. The wonderfully described ‘cauliflower-wigged’ and ‘foaming’ description of the head on the vessel in that piece is at odds with how we see draught stout’s image now, but it might be viewed by some as a better manifestation and a more inviting portrayal of that drink than the sterile, domed band of nitrogenated bubbles to which we have become accustomed these days.

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Although our tankard was indeed made in Waterford it is not strictly speaking the ‘Waterford Glass’ that is world renowned for its quality, substance, and appeal, but rather a different quality of product that was being made by the company for domestic and bar use from when the firm started producing glass in Ballytruckle just outside Waterford in 1947. The material used for these items was soda glass which contains no lead or potash as opposed to the crystal glass that the company is well known for producing. This type of glass was being made right up until 1970 in the company’s plant at Johnstown - where they had moved to - in the centre of the city, and was still being sold for a number of years after that. As well as Guinness tankards the company also produced branded glasses for many other drinks such as Carling Black Label, Idea, Harp, Carlsberg¹ and probably Time, Smithwicks, Phoenix, Double Diamond, Celebration and many others. Interestingly, they also produced another iconic piece of glassware, the stemmed glass for Irish Coffee with the gold band on top and a shamrock on the flattened section of the stem, which were exported to North America in large quantities¹ These, along with the barware and the many lines just for domestic use, meant that the Waterford Glass Company were quite a prolific maker of daily-use glassware as well as high-end lead crystal. It is probably fair to say that almost every Irish household of a certain vintage has a piece of ‘Waterford Glass’ in a cupboard or on a shelf, although most owners would not recognise those pieces as such.

Many of these lines were stickered with a rectangular label on their base with the words ‘Waterford Domestic – Made in the Republic of Ireland’  or a lozenge shaped one in silver and black with 'Waterford Barware - Made in the Republic of Ireland.' Those stickers are obviously now quite rare on any glasses used in the pub trade but some examples still exist with the label in place and intact.

Without some insider knowledge of the company's process of making all of these glasses we can only speculate as to how exactly they were created, but they appear to have been mould-blown by mouth rather than by machine and then, in the cases of tankards, the handles were dropped on and shaped by hand afterwards. This would seem to be the most efficient way of producing such a large quantity of relatively uniform products in a cost-effective way - but this is mostly speculation.

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Glass tankards were quite a rare thing in Irish pubs in any part of our history up until the 1960s, with pewter mugs and fluted or plain conical pint glasses (tumblers as they were often called) being used up to that time along with Noniks with their pronounced bump near the top of the glass. In England certainly, and perhaps the rest of Britain, glass tankards were much more in use regionally at least, with dimpled mugs and multi-faceted tankards being relatively popular up to this period. This may be the reason why Guinness decided to launch this style of glass for its new Draught Guinness once they had ironed out any issues with the Easi-Serve dispense of their new stout and were viewing a campaign to install the new system in as many pubs as they could on these islands. Our near neighbours were huge consumers of Guinness in various forms, and the London brewery at Park Royal was in full swing so it would make sense that decisions were made based on that market rather than the Irish one.

The tankards weren’t used at the initial launch of Draught Guinness in 1961 but appear to have been rolled out sometime after 1963, and there are certainly surviving Irish examples of the glasses with verification marks for that year. In fact, early in Draught Guinness’s launch in England it was advertised in dimple mugs, a thought which would horrify and perplex many of today’s most militant Guinness drinkers!

Alan Wood, who took up the position of Guinness Advertising Manager in Britain in 1961 states in an undated note in ‘The Guinness Book of Guinness’ that the tankards ‘just happened’ and were part of that Draught Guinness roll-out ‘throughout Britain’ – and presumably Ireland around the same time. He also implies that the Waterford Glass Company were looking for a line that they could relatively easily produce, which they could use as a starting point to expand into this type of branded, bespoke barware product, and something that would also help with training and apprenticeships. The discussion between the two companies focussed on a lightweight, ‘generous’ looking tankard that would show-off the aesthetics of the beer, and that had a ‘quality feel’ that would suit a pint which would be a little more expensive than the norm. Waterford Glass came up with the design and at a price that very much suited Guinness’s budget. Interestingly, Mr. Wood says in the same note that ‘hundreds of thousands’ were produced and possibly a million!² (There are currently no figures available as to how many were actually produced although the appear to have been packed in boxes of six, and if every pub on these islands received a box or two then the numbers would soon add up ...)

The golden logo applied to the tankards comes in at least two variants, the first being the lettering that had been around for decades with slight changes up until sometime in the mid-sixties when the company changed to the second version, the Hobbs or Hobbs-face stencil-like font with gaps in the narrow points of the letters. (This was first used in 1963 on posters and named after Bruce Hobbs at the SH Benson advertising company, who was allegedly inspired by street signs in Paris and the crude stencilled lettering on hop sacks.³) The earlier font also seems to have a less commonly seen version of the harp logo which differs a lot from the more ornate versions seen on bottle labels and was possibly for ease of printing, although it was replaced by a lightly simplified version on the later glasses and elsewhere. Also of note is that on some earlier versions of the half pint glass the logo faces a right-handed drinker whereas it usually points outward and away from them - and should do from a marketing standpoint on any glass. The tankards came in pint and half pint sizes, as well as a smaller run of three-pint versions for use as displays in pubs. These have become the real Holy Grail of Holy Grails for collectors and feature the word ‘Draught’ above ‘Guinness’ in the early letter and logo style.

In print, the glasses appear to have been first used in advertising Draught Guinness on posters in Ireland in 1963³ and in newspapers in this country by the following year. They first appeared in Britain on advertising posters in 1966 /1967, when ‘the tankard was adopted as the symbol’ for the product.⁴ (Those advertisements also feature the ‘older’ style typeface, which appears to change around the end of the decade to the newer version, as mentioned above.) The tankard falls out of favour with marketing companies around 1980 and rarely appears after that, replaced by the conical glass for a while and then the aforementioned tulip pint glass we are now very familiar with from advertisements and social media.

Verification marks seem to have been applied around the time that the glasses were originally made and before the logo was applied, this can lead to errors and confusion in dating certain glasses. For example there is an officially verified tankard from 1969 which has the logo for Cork city’s 800-year anniversary in 1985 on the side of the glass. Curiously, this version has the Guinness logo on both sides, which wasn’t a common practice and these may have just been commemorative gifts. If it was used in pubs then this Cork version helps to show how long these tankards lasted in the trade, which would have been about two decades. It should be noted that these tankards weren’t universally used for draught Guinness on these islands, as many publicans used some of the more ‘normal’ styles of practical glassware instead or as well.

The design may have been an excellent conception and these glasses were relatively tough but they were notorious for cracking and breaking at their Achilles' Heel where the handle meets the top of the glass - a fault often seen on specimens found for sale today. They were not really suitable for the modern pub – not to mention how unkind dishwashing machines were to gold lettering – so it is unlikely that the publican's who used them mourned their passing, although many have revived or remade the old red Guinness lightbox tap fronts that carries their image, while serving the beer in curvaceous but unhandled pint glasses just to add insult to injury.

Many also disappeared out of pubs by way of theft. In 1978 in Lincolnshire in England two ladies were convicted and fined £25 each for stealing two ‘special and distinctive [half-pint] Guinness mugs’ from a pub having been reported to the authorities by the publican – both women admitted to ‘taking the glasses worth £1.20, out of the pub in their handbags’ according to a local paper. It appears from this that Guinness charged the publican £1.20 for a half-pint tankard.

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There were other, later versions of this Guinness tankard too. A pressed glass edition was available from probably the 1980s with gold or beige lettering and it can be easily identified by its flattened, moulded handle as distinct from the hand-added, rounded handle on the originals. German glass producers Sahm also produced a 400ml similar tankard with the Hobbs typeface in gold in the 1970s. There was also a French-made half pint version with a more rounded handle⁵, and Viners of Sheffield produced an attractive pewter version too, both of these are probably also from the seventies.

After the Guinness tankard was launched it opened the gates for almost every other Irish brand of beer and soon tankards were everywhere in pubs in Ireland in the sixties and early seventies. Time, Smithwicks, Double Diamond, Phoenix, Carling Black Label, Celebration, Bass, Watney’s Red Barrell and Macardles all had glass tankards of various types and designs, many made by the Waterford Glass Company as mentioned above. The Harp tankard, in its second or third version, was the last to be used in pubs, probably in the mid-nineties and long after the other brands had disappeared - or their tankards had at least - or changed to something less cumbersome to suit a changing drinker. [EDIT: The Franciscan Well Brewery were using a branded glass tankard for their beer up until quite recently, and possibly still do - thanks to Keith @j_k357 on Twitter.) Unbranded glass tankards were also used in Irish public houses for a time, before finally falling out of favour in the late nineties apart from the occasional hold-out like J & K Walsh in Waterford who were using a tankard for Guinness and other beers up until relatively recently.

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Perhaps the glass tankard is due a revival here in Ireland? Maybe an enterprising microbrewery will include one in their selection of beer glasses?

So hopefully one day soon we can pour a proper stout into a branded glass tankard again to create that cauliflower-wigged stout, and raise that foaming tankard high …

So say I!

Liam K

¹Waterford Crystal – The Creation of a Global Brand, 1700-2009 by John M. Hearne

² The Guinness Book of Guinness 1935-1985 edited by Edward Guinness

³ The Book of Guinness Advertising by Brian Sibley

⁴ The Book of Guinness Advertising by Jim Davies

⁵ The Guinness Archive Online Collection

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. The attached images are the author's own and cannot be used elsewhere without the author's permission. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive and other sources are as credited.