Of Lovers & Libations

Pinpricks of light wink and twinkle in the milky smear that runs across the night sky.

In the distance yellow light brightly glows through narrow windows, eclipsed at times.

Two pairs of sure steps on the hard stone road echo from old walls and empty homes.

Hands held, their breath mingles as they stop and gently kiss in the clear and frosty air.

They continue onward, closer now, the smell of turf smoke drifting in the too-still night.

Laughter pierces from the briefly opened door, then a booming voice erupts and flows.

A trail of twisted sparks appears then dies in the sky above the clay-fired chimney pot.

A stealing cat weaves between their slowing feet, now the door is within reach. A sigh.

 

The latch is thumbed, the door pushed. Heat and light spill out alongside jumbled noise.

Inside the place, the cold eyes of warm bodies settle briefly on theirs, then turn away.

They walk together to the altar of hardened timber, of wet rings, of offerings, of wants.

The curate’s eye caught, the await the ritual of the pour. Two bottles, two glasses. One look.

A fireside seat found, burning peat hides brazen faces. Low voices, and glares and glances.

They raise their glasses to their lips and drink as one. Darkness and bitterness wash over.

They go to leave, but then a fiddle strikes, a box joins, and a stick beats time against a skin.

One knows this melody and now their voice sings clear and strong of love’s desire. All quieten.

Hurting haunting silence, then hands bang on tables and some nod approval, but to what?

Then, placed with them, two small glasses filled with amber warmth and guarded tolerance.

The music starts again, and the lovers drink, content as now inner passion fills their hearts.

Outside snow begins to fall, twirling and swirling, its flat flakes all different but all the same.

Liam K

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #15 – Murphy Stout Label (1960s?)

Typography is the craft of endowing human language with a durable visual form, and thus with an independent existence. Its heartwood is calligraphy - the dance, on a tiny stage, of the living, speaking hand - and its roots reach into living soil, though its branches may be hung each year with new machines. So long as the root lives, typography remains a source of true delight, true knowledge, true surprise.

Robert Bringhurst - The Elements of Typographic Style (1992)

Any visitor from Manchester of a certain age who strolls around Cork city might have a nagging feeling of familiarity when they come upon certain pubs that are dotted around its streets. They might pass The Castle Inn on South Main Street and think that there was something inviting about it, or look at the front of the nearby Vicarstown Bar on North Main Street and think that the gold-on-black writing on the façade was calling out to them, as if previously they had drank a pint or two sitting on a stool at the counter. Callanan’s too on George’s Quay looks like somewhere they have been in a previous life, as does Forde’s which wraps around the corner from Barrack Street on to Sullivan’s Quay. Even The High House with yet more gold and black livery, which is appropriately situated at the top of Blair’s Hill – although long closed – feels oddly like something from their Mancunian hometown.

The more knowledgeable and eagle-eyed of those visitors who are familiar with the pubs and streetscape of Manchester will twig that the lettering and design on the name signs of all of these pubs – and others too – look exactly the same as many of those that once adorned certain pubs in their home city although, unlike in Cork, this familiar capitalised and italicised gilded lettering has almost disappeared, if it's not already gone. More specifically, it exactly matched the typeface and colours of many of the pubs that were once tied to the Wilson brewery of Newton Heath in that English city.

What appears to be a strange coincidence can be relatively easily explained, as there is a clear connection between those Cork pubs and the ones owned by the Wilson brewery, that being the Watney Mann brewing conglomerate. All of the Cork public house mentioned above – along with quite a few others – were tied-houses belonging to, or run for, The Lady’s Well Brewery, which is more commonly known as Murphy’s Brewery. It is now owned by Heineken but still sits on the same site on Leitrim Street just north of the river Lee.

Tied houses, where a public house was obliged in most cases to sell the produce of just one brewery, were extremely common in Cork city and county in the past, where breweries such as Murphys and Beamish & Crawford (and Lanes and Arnott’s at one time) effectively owned the public houses and controlled what was sold by them, and who ran the houses or rented the premises. This arrangement also meant that the brewery was responsible for the upkeep of the buildings both inside and out as well as overseeing and funding any modernisation or refurbishment that was required from time to time.

In early 1967 the Watney Mann group became the majority shareholder in Murphys and in that year it was decided that all of its tied pubs should have a uniform look, so the manager of the tied houses Rex Archer along with Cork illustrator and artist William Harrington were sent off to study the branding and look of the Wilson Brewery houses in Manchester.* Wilsons brewery had itself been absorbed by Watney Mann in 1960 and it appears that shortly after this time new branding was rolled out for its houses. Although Harrington came up with designs for the interior of some of the Cork pubs and perhaps the exterior too, it seems that a decision was made to just copy the typeface and signage from the Wilson’s pubs right down to the gold text on a black background rather than come up with something specifically for Murphy's houses.

Some of those Manchester pubs appear to have had white writing on red but in the same typeface, this appears to be what was called the ‘Watneyising’ of some of the pubs in a CAMRA publication** from 1976, although some photographs from the time also show Watney pubs with the same colour but a different typeface so it seems that those red and white Wilson pubs were perhaps a hybrid design. This ‘Watneyising’ appears to have been rolled back in some cases and the black and gold lettering reinstated according to that same article. It also looks as if at least some of the Phipps breweries houses - a brewery in Northampton in England that was also acquired by Watney Mann in 1960 - had at least one house with exactly the same branding, The King’s Head in Coventry,*** so perhaps the branding originated somewhere other than for the Wilson’s pubs in Manchester and was part of an over all strategy by Watney Mann? (Curiously, a Chester Brewery house in Manchester, a brewery taken over by rivals Whitbread, had a very similar typeface too.)

What could be called the “Wilson’s" typeface (If not” Phipps”?) [ EDIT: It's actually "English Two-Line Antique’] was also adopted by Murphys in and unitalicised form for their name on labels, beermats and other items associated with the brand at this time, as can be seen in the handsome label shown above. This typeface seems to have lasted with some minor changes until the 1980s when the image and branding was changed and updated in the Heineken era. Looking through old advertisements and breweriana there is a similarity in some of the Wilson’s branding – and Phipps too – which is hardly surprising given their shared ownership, and it is quite possible that there are other Watney-owned brands from that era that also share the same layout and fonts.

[EDIT: As it turns out - thanks to Boak & Bailey here - this lettering 'was conceived by the Design Research Unit and applied across the Watney’s pub estate, including pubs owned by breweries it took over' and is actually called ‘English Two-Line Antique.’]

Even after the Watney Mann era ended at Murphys and the tied houses were all eventually sold off, many of the now independent public house still clung on to the typeface for their name, and a few still do to this day as noted above. Perhaps that tied house program also explains what could be perceived to be a slight lack of surnames on public houses in Cork city when compared to the rest of Ireland, which might certainly make some sense given the actual ownership of many of the pubs at one time.

That recognisable typeface seems to have all but disappeared in Manchester, the city from which it may have originated, something that is a little sad as there was a certain elegance, and certainly some history, to that “look” which once adorned a considerable number of public houses in both cities.

Although it would be nice to think that perhaps a tiny amount of that style struck some chord in Cork publican's minds, and it might explain the commonness of gold writing on a black background in that city. A lasting reminder, at least to those now in the know, of a small episode in the city’s rich brewing history - 'a source of true delight, true knowledge, true surprise' indeed ...

Liam K

*This is from the book The Murphy’s Story: History of Lady's Well Brewery by Diarmuid Ó Drisceoil and Donal Ó Drisceoil and I was reminded of the mention by a Tweet from Tripe + Drisheen about the commonness of the typeface in some of Cork's pubs which were Murphy's tied houses.

** CAMRA publication

*** Boak & Bailey’s Modern Pubs of 1961: Watney’s & Whitbread ant there's much more about Watney's written by them here too.

(Image of The Vicarstown Bar is cropped and via their Facebook account.)

(Image of The Barley Mow is a cropped/enhanced and from the Flickr account of Manchester Archives+, shared via CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 DEED Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic)

(Newspaper advertisement is from The Stockport County Express - Thursday 24th June 1965)

(There are more examples from Manchester of that typeface here.

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 label itself are the authors own and cannot be used elsewhere without the author's permission. Newspaper research and advertisement reproduction was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, and other sources are as credited. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

Solved - A Mystery 'Brewery in Ireland' & Guinness's Plea

'THE HUMBLE recorders of the scene all too often pass unsung and even unrecognised. One whose skill is today becoming more appreciated is James Malton, who lived from approximately 1766 to 1803. The illustration is entitled "Brewery in Ireland." Perhaps a reader may be able to identify the subject, as possibly the round tower with lancet windows may still be standing and even some of the buildings in the background.

Craftsmen of the quality of Malton who leave behind them a series of obviously accurately observed pictures have a great value for the historian. In this alone, which measures just over nine by twelve inches, there is a wealth of contemporary information. In the foreground the broad-tracked barrel-cart, with small details of fittings clearly indicated, dominates the scene; an interesting point with this is that although the surface of the road appears soft and muddy the big wheels are not sinking in very far, which could indicate underlying cobbles or hard surface. At the top of the tower there is a strange piece of balustrade, heading what seems to be some form of vent or chute.'

On the 31st of October 1967 the above write up appeared in The Irish Times in the ‘Art Forum’ section by artist and writer of John FitzMaurice Mills concerning a small watercolour* painting that had been sold that year by The Fine Art Society, London. As you have read, the author asked readers with help to identify the subject of the brewery in the picture, hoping that someone would recognise the distinctive round tower. What appear to be two barrel loaded brewery drays were also captured in the picture, trundling onwards towards a archway in a building in the distance.

This plea was taken up by non-other than ‘The Harp - The Journal of the Home of Guinness,’ a magazine ostensibly published for the workers in the James’s Gate brewery but read by many others as the magazine found its way around the country via the breweries many employees. The following plea and offer of a reward appeared in an edition of the publication:

REWARD FOR INFORMATION SUPPLIED

This is a Malton engraving of an Irish brewery. Its situation is unknown to us and we offer a three guinea voucher to any reader who may be able to provide this information. Perhaps some of our older readers in the country may recollect this unusual looking tower. Information may be sent to The Editor, 'The Harp', St. James's Gate, Dublin 8.

No one appears to have come forward with information of the brewery so there the matter died and appears to have been forgotten, and the reward unclaimed …

But towards the end of 2019 the question of this enigmatic Irish brewery resurfaced again thanks to John Fitzgerald via Twitter who tagged me in a post, practically challenging me to solve the mystery and attaching the above page from The Harp magazine showing Guinness offering that reward for information along with an image of the artwork. A number of people got involved in the discussion and although I did find out that it had since been attributed to a Michael ‘Angelo’ Rooker on the Sotheby’s website, we didn't discover much more about the illustration apart from confirmation that there seemed to be no response to either query at the time and that the reward appeared to remain unclaimed.

Shortly after I started digging through images of old Irish towers and spending too much time searching for that quite distinctive structure. I even bought a book about the artist - Rooker - to see if that helped pin down where he visited in Ireland but to no avail. I though I was on to something in Louth at one point but that too came to nothing, so eventually I took a break from my searching - but never quite admitted defeat in the hope that the tower would appear somewhere, somehow in some of my other brewery research.

In the intervening years I would revisit the subject on occasion and look again for anything that would finally let me scratch that unreachable itch of not being able to solve this conundrum, but I always ended up in a dead end. Of late I had almost resigned myself to never solving the mystery but also hoped that at some point I’d find something during my research that would give me that ‘Ah ha!’ moment, although in truth I had almost given up.

-o-

But then it happened …

I was scrolling through a website when a painting’s image jumped off the cover of an old book at me. It was an angled photo but it was unmistakably ‘my’ Irish brewery. There it was, with the dray carts and tower, impossible for me to mistake for anything similar as I had spent so much time studying it …

The arresting issue was the title of the book. It was a 1980s printed facsimile of ‘A History of Southampton’ by Reverend John Silvester Davies.

Southampton? In England? So not Ireland?

And with just a little further research I discovered that this so called ‘Irish Brewery’ picture seemed to be a relatively well-known image of the Polymond Tower in the North-East corner of the old defensive city walls of Southampton. The tower still exists now but it is hugely truncated from what it once was and had been rebuilt many times since its foundations were originally laid many centuries ago. Looking more closely at the image with the benefit of knowing the position of the tower in the streetscape of old Southampton I now saw that what I took to be trees behind the building seemed to be the ivy-covered walls that abutted the tower on the right of the picture, and the faint remaining edge of a long-gone wall on the opposite side was there too.

More research was required, as I needed to assure myself that the painting was what it claimed to be. The top storeys of ‘our’ tower had been removed in 1828 as they were deemed unsafe, and although there was a brief mention in one of the building's online histories of a sketch of this demolition as it was happening, which would surely be the proof I needed, it seemed to be unpublished in any form. That was until by I came across a paper called 'The Military Organisation of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period 1300-1500' by Randall Moffett** that discusses the Polymond tower and includes two telling images. One being a version of our painting from the Southampton Art Gallery storeroom which tells us that the painting is actually by Edward Dayes and - equally importantly - its title is given as ‘Tower near York Buildings, Southampton’ from c. 1794. Somewhat different from the artist and title that was attributed to it in the flawed history from the sixties that I had been lead to believe.

Crucially for my much-needed confirmation, the second sketch was that missing image of the tower’s demolition titled ‘North view of the North-East tower of the old wall, Southampton as it appeared Dec 3rd 1828.’ It can be clearly seen that it is the same building right down to the ivy on the adjoining city wall. There are a few differences with the window style but not enough to make me doubt that it truly is the Polymond tower that is featured in our original painting - not that I should have doubted Southampton’s historians of course! (The paper is copyrighted but I have included its online link details and the page number of the image below.)

How it came by its earlier misattribution and erroneous title might need to remain a minor mystery, as is the puzzle that there appears to be two of these watercolours in existence. It is possible that ‘our’ version came to be looked at as Irish given the original attribution of it being by James Malton, who was lived and worked most of his life in this country. Somebody saw the drays and barrels in the picture and just assumed it was an Irish scene featuring and Irish brewery and christened it as such.

Regardless, I think we can now repeat the more likely painter and its true depiction and title - ‘Tower near York Buildings, Southampton’ by Edward Dayes c. 1794.

-o-

And what of that brewery? To claim that three guineas Guinness voucher I still need to name the brewery, even if it is an English one.

And I can - sort of - as down through that opening seen in the distance on the left of the picture stood a brewhouse that became known as The East Street Brewery which according to the one brewery history site*** was founded c. 1786 - eight years before our watercolour was created. There is also note of a R & W Saunders supplying beer from their brewery on East Street in 1809, and a John Sanders was known to be a brewer in Southampton according to a 1790 trade directory along, with 5 other individuals admittedly. Is it too much to suggest that the drays and barrels were heading into the Sa[u]nders’ brewery? Absolutely, but I think it’s fair to say that they were heading to a brewery and there was very likely to be one there at the time of our painting, as such sites tend to change hands and be reused over the years, and this was a perfect location for one along East Street, tucked in nicely just outside what was the city walls. (Although other online resources**** state that there were three brewers operating on East Street up to the 17th century at least so those brewer's names I suggest as being on site - although real - are pure conjecture.)

We can even see inside that opening to the brewery buildings - although it's from a century later when it was Cooper’s Brewery - in an 1895 watercolour by the unrelated William Marshall Cooper*****. Look at the lower archway through which yet another dray cart is coming or going and the structure of the building and roof over it. That’s surely the opposite side of our original picture, leading back up to the tower - meaning we can literally seen through the matching archway at the end of our original picture. It is also quite likely that some if not all of these buildings are from the previous century, so perhaps here finally is our brewery, and certainly their footprint is the same in Ordnance Survey maps from almost 50 years before in 1846 which also show a brewery exactly here by the way.

John FitzMaurice Mills was right about the invaluable recording that was done by artists before the age of photography but as we can see we need to treat these sketches and paintings with a little scepticism, especially those with faltering or missing provenance, but I think we can finally put this one to bed - and at long last I’ve almost completely scratched that nagging itch.

Only one serious question still remains …

With The Harp magazine no longer around, where do I claim my three guinea voucher? Although given its value now I think I'd prefer three gold guineas ...

Liam K

The original Tweet that started this is here.

*Watercolour image was shareable via https://image.invaluable.com/housePhotos/Cheffins/97/726497/H0328-L293576612.jpg

** Moffett, Randall (2009) - The military organisation of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period 1300-1500.  University of Southampton, Doctoral Thesis, 279pp - Page 28 - https://eprints.soton.ac.uk/436604/1/Moffett.pdf

*** That date is mentioned on the Brewey History site here but I can't find verify it - http://breweryhistory.com/wiki/index.php?title=William_Cooper_%26_Co._Ltd

****Brewers' Tales: making, retailing and regulating beer in Southampton, 1550-1700 James R. Brown - http://www.breweryhistory.com/journal/archive/135/BrewersTales.pdf

***** The Cooper brewery watercolour is from the Sotonopedia site and shared under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License: http://sotonopedia.wikidot.com/page-browse:cooper-s-brewery

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 - sources are as credited. 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 …

-o-

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.

-o-

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!

Opinion: On Pubs & Provenance

My local town has history.

It has a castle that dates to the early 13th century, which probably replaced a structure from before that period. The town sprang up just east of the castle on a piece of high ground that rose above the boggy land by the river that separated it from the fortress on its hill that gave the town its name. A community grew and developed around the intersection of two roads, that eventually turned into busy streets as it became a prosperous place, and a stopping place for travellers heading west and south from Dublin and back again. It was once protected by walls and guarded gates that have long since disappeared leaving no trace apart from some lines in recorded history and perhaps the occasional unearthed foundation stones.  

The land for miles around the town is littered with megalithic structures dating back to a time before we as a people could record anything in any real or modern sense of the term. The pre-history of this area was most likely passed on orally from generation to generation until that too was lost, misunderstood or mistranslated, and the meanings and true purpose of the dolmens, raths and standing stones that erupt from the earth was corrupted and changed over time into places where the fairies, magic - and sometimes evil - dwelt. That invented history remained for centuries around these sites and became actual history in the mouths of the storytellers and the ears of those who listened - and then repeated it.

These days we know better, and archaeology, research and rationality have replaced folklore, fear and myth for the majority of our people. Although we do still have a love for a good story, as do the visitors who travel to this island, to our towns, streets and buildings, and many – just like those who live here – are particularly drawn to public houses and the tales that are stored in their walls and floors, having seeped in over lots of years of telling and retelling by many generations.

-o-

A part of me has always wanted to own an old pub. Not the clever part, not the financially astute part, not the curmudgeonly introvert part - but another part that every so often rises up in a fit of manic enthusiasm while I preach my own tales of pub and brewing history from the altar of cool marble that doubles as a bar countertop. I have written about my perfect pub* before. but this would be somewhat different as this would be a place I would own and run, not just visit to sate an appetite for company or reclusiveness depending on my mood, safely ensconced on the right side of that counter.

And it would need to function as a living entity in order to be a viable business.

True public houses really do live in the truest meaning of the term, although we function within them in a symbiotic relationship of a sort and give them that life. We receive sustenance, plus succour and fulfilment and in return the public house can grow and change and be gainful, an evolving being that functions as part of our interdependency. These places are as real as those stone and earth structures from our prehistory that had purpose because of us, because of people. We cause these things to exist, not the stones, bricks, and timber of which they are composed.

So then why do we judge these component parts to be important? Why is the date of an old brick significant? Why if a carved name on a timber windowsill the reason for a place being worthy? Why would a supposed ancient section ceiling and a few found old coins mean that one public house is superior to another?

In truth these features matter little, as a public house's history can be invented, skewed and moulded into a marketable commodity where that history – whether true or false - is sold as the living thing, not the place itself. That ‘thing’ grows as more myths and legends are stuck upon the body until it becomes a hideous monstrosity that just serves its own purpose and has become detached from the actual place in history where its real story began, to the point where the myth is the thing that lives and grows - and exists. 

It is a curious thing to me that in a country with such deep and interesting real history that businesses feel the need to create or embellish a heritage of mistruths – crafting fakelore from folklore. Why do they feel the need to do so? Perhaps it is because of a love for that existing rich history, much of which is lost and needs 'finding' in one way or another? Therefore our love of myths and legends allows and encourages us to do so?

Or perhaps, as the more cynical among us might assume, it is for more mercenary reasons …

-o-

But back to the imaginary pub I’d like to own, and what if I wanted to create a history to wrap around it? How could I do so if I was so inclined?

It’s quite easy really …

There is a pub in my town whose foundations literally sit on the ashes of a previous public house, a place that was called the Red Cow Inn. That establishment faced on to two right-angled streets and is recorded on street maps in the late 17th and very early 18th century right down its exact frontage length on both of those streets, and the document even records who owned the inn in this period. There also exists a merchant token of the kind issued by many businesses in the 17th century, and said token is dated 1657 and reconfirms the name of the inn’s owner as John Masters. Some of the buildings on the street burned down on a couple of occasions after this time so the existing public house structure probably dates to the 19th century - as do the huge amount of Irish public houses - but its rough frontage on one street corresponds to the older inn so therefore we can surely say that a public house has sat on this site to the mid-1600s. Right?

Estd. 1657, huh?

But we can go back even further …

Mentions in local historical publications can push an inn here into the 1500s – so we are now back 500 years which is a good age for any public house, providing we don’t need to look at the actual footprint or any of the extant building …

But what if we want more?

What if there is a charred piece of timber joist embedded in a wall, found in some rubble on site and used to shore up some subsidence after one of the fires that consumed one of the iterations of a building? Dendrochronology is relatively accurate although it can give varying eras for any given piece of timber. So, if the boffins came back and said the timber was from either 1560-1610 or 1160-1180 then one of those has to be right, and it was found ‘in situ’ so therefore my pub dates from 1160 now, doesn’t it? 

Estd. 1160 AD, imagine that!

(We shall of course discount the known (and actual) fact that timbers were scavenged from the 12th century castle at one time when it fallen into ruin and used in a building right beside our site and these may be the wood that was discovered and dated. Shhhh....)

Is that far enough? No?

We can go further.

There is a lost early Christian monastic community that was known to be in the environs of the town, and if one looked at the lie of the land then it would have been on a place that was unlikely to flood - being close to two rivers - but close enough for those rivers to be useful. Our pub site sits on the high ground and would have overlooked both rivers at that time, not forgetting its proximity to two ancient roads that – probably – led to river crossings, so it was surely here was where this community was built? This site was founded in 634 AD according to one source, and would have provided rest, and indeed drink to weary travellers. It was a place where travellers drank alcoholic beverages (as the monks definitely brewed there) or an inn, or public house by any other name surely?

Est. 634 AD …

This establishment is now the oldest public house in Ireland, or at least can claim to be.

-o-

It isn’t of course, as I’ve just fused some real facts and some conjecture into a story that appears to be believable, although all except the actual act of finding that wooden beam and doing the dendrochronology is based on reports, chronicles and actual history that I've forced into a mythical history, although as you can see it required a fair degree of lubrication.

But this might not be enough for me because having the words ‘Est. 634 AD’ might not hold sway with tourists and the general public unless I plaster the walls with old pictures and memorabilia and cart in a few old columns, wonky chairs, an ancient looking hearth and a battered countertop - and let’s not forget a few holy relics and church pews as a nod to its ecclesiastical past – plus that old charred and precious 12th century beam.

For food we’ll serve Olde Worlde Monk’s Oyster Chowder, then porter and mutton stew with rustic-style bread with bog butter, followed by a seaweed dessert with a shot of sweetened mead.

We shall buy a red nitro ale from a local brewery and sell it as ‘Monks’ Red Ale’ or ‘Curim Naofa’ – plus we need a dark beer so a rebadged nitro stout will be served called ‘John Master’s Black Porter,’ and a whiskey from a ‘found recipe’ distilled to Mr. Masters exacting standards called ‘Ye Red Cow Inne Uisce Beatha,’ which will be recommended to all the tourist who flock here.

As you can see I could turn that pub into a huge marketing-driven, tourist-focussed enterprise that told a skewed and embellished version of the truth that suited the story … but what have we created?

In truth we have just assembled a pub, one that doesn’t live. It would exist for sure but that is not the same thing. It wouldn’t have a life blood, only the transient infusions that tourists would bring, and success based on a history that was stretched so thin that it resembled the wraiths that reportedly lived among the dolmens and standing stones of our long-lost past.

-o-

Fakelore is unfortunately a huge part of our commercial lives, be it Irish pubs or even breweries and it is an ongoing issue, even amongst our newest suppliers and providers of beer. If you tell a story often enough it will spread and take over everything it touches, and you can never take it back. That mistruth, that lie, that embellishment, will always be there sliding into people’s minds and thoughts being constantly repeated, written, rewritten and recorded until the author too believes what they have perpetuated.  Perhaps this is worse than that oral tradition of chronicling the past that came before the written word, as it has a permanence that will never really be rectified by those who rail against it.

We shouldn’t create beer and brewing related history, we should just record facts as best we can at any given time.

And by the way, I’ll never own a pub ...

Liam K

(I wrote this piece in a fit of annoyance and anger a few months back and I was inspired to tidy and publish it after reading James Wright's excellent recent post here.)

* My perfect pub.

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 adapted from an image of the actual John Masters Red Cow token from British Museum website.

Pub Fiction: Cat, Contraption & Mechanism

'Shoo! Git!'

Cat skidded along the counter, its paws losing traction on the shiny surface as it tried to escape the flick of a cloth from the Her, knocking a bottle containing the dregs of the dark bitter stuff over and leaving it bouncing and spinning on the cold marble – a small trail of froth and stickiness in its wake. It was usually less clumsy, but the Her had surprised Cat when she had come up from the Underneath and caught Cat staring curiously at the newly delivered ham that she had left hanging from a hook above the counter while she relayed a message to the Him.

'That bloody cat!'

Cat stopped running when it was out of harm’s way and slinked off towards the other end of the bar, where it sat down and began cleaning itself of the small drops of liquid that had landed on its calico coat while the Her cleaned up the mess on the bar, all the while muttering and throwing annoyed looks at Cat, who stopped its preening every few moments to make sure that the Her was still far enough away not to hit it with anything. From down below in the Underneath came the sounds of clinking and the grunts and groans of the Him and - being by default a curious creature - Cat jumped down from the bar and padded down the worn timber steps, careful to avoid the Her as she headed towards the kitchen with the ham on her shoulder.

Cat sat on a step halfway down and looked at what was happening in the place that it saw as its play- or more accurately hunting-ground. The Him was down here wrestling with a large, heavy wooden barrel that had arrived earlier, while the Himling  - who looked like a younger and less rotund version of the Him - stood with his finger rooting in his ear and a glazed look in his eyes.

'Jaysus, don’t stand there like a gobdaw, help me with this will ya?'

This was a common sight for Cat, with the Him doing the work while the Himling just stood around until forced to move and do something by the shoutings of the Him. Cat didn’t really know what was being said but it was no stranger to the tone being used when he occasionally got under the Him’s feet or just generally got too close.

A similar scene had played out the previous day with Him shouting at the Himling above the dull clinking of glass as the Himling filled a big round tub with the old bottles that had sat in crates down here for the last while. Next the Himling donned a sacking apron and added some cold water from a tap on the side wall to the tub before topping it up with steaming water from a bucket to which he had added some spoons out of a bag labelled ‘Soda Crystals’ - not that Cat knew what the bag contained as it could not read of course.  All the while the Him was shouting at the Himling to hurry up as Cat watched on from its perch on a broad shelf filled with dusty paraphernalia. The Himling then got a brush-like thing with loads of bristles and proceeded to push and twist it around inside the bottles one by one, checking them by holding up towards the bare lightbulb that hung from the ceiling, until all of them had been scrubbed. Next the Himling scraped off the old label from the outside of the bottles and rinsed them all before setting them upside-down in a rack in order to drain and dry.

Today the bottles were still sitting there and Cat came cautiously down the stairs to find its perch once again and watch the ritual he had seen happen many times before, pausing just briefly to distractedly push with its paw a few of the wooden corks that were floating in hot water near to a very low stool.

Him and the Himling ignored Cat, as they were currently rolling the barrel back and forth on the cold slabs, which they did for a short while before placing it on its side - and with some effort - onto a low wooden stand. Cat watched as the Him loosened something with a hiss on what was now the top of the barrel before picking up a brass tap with a perforated tube on one end and a wooden mallet, he then wrapped some folded newspaper around the end of the tap and positioned it at the bung at the bottom of what had been the round top of the barrel, before striking the tap end a few times to drive the bung into the barrel followed by the tapered end, with the paper wrapping forming a tight seal. Cat had watched this process on occasion before and sometimes a jet of black liquid would shoot out of the barrel and hit the Him square in the face, causing a string of words to be uttered that would make the Her come down the steps and tell the Him to shut up as there were gentlemen and ladies present in the Up Above that day. But no accidents happened this day, so the Him got a mug and poured some liquid into it from the now secured tap, tasting it before grunting approvingly.

Cat jumped down on the newly tapped barrel and watched as the Him then took the Contraption with its rectangular bowl and 4 pipes and placed it under the tap and proceeded to fill the bowl with black liquid from the tap that was now in the barrel. The Himling then sucked the ends of each of the four pipes to get the liquid to flow into the four bottles he had just positioned under each of the pipes, spitting mouthfuls of black liquid back into the bowl that was being filled. The Himling would take the empty bottles he had cleaned the previous day from their rack at one side of the Contraption and once filled by one of the four tubes, he'd put them on the ground on the opposite side and put another bottle under the filling pipe and repeat the process.

'Get off of there!'

The Him had dragged the Mechanism towards the barrel beside where the Himling was leaving the bottles and positioned the bucket of corks beside it, he threw a cork at Cat but missed - Cat just looked at the Him curiously and continued his observations. The Him just sighed and inserted a cork from the bucket into a pull-out section on one side of the top of the Mechanism, he slid that section into place, positioned a bottle on a little plate underneath before pulling down on a long lever that forced the cork into the bottle. He then placed the bottle into a crate and repeated the process, the Him and the Himling working in silence apart from the quiet gurgle of the dark liquid in the Contraption and the dull clunk of the lever in action of the Mechanism.

'Oh hello pussycat!'

The Herling had arrived home from wherever she went during the day, and Cat liked the Herling as she gave it little treats of meaty scraps and hard rubs behind the ear, both of which pleased Cat. But today the Herling went to where the Him and the Himling were sitting on the low stools in front of their machines, picked up a crate of filled bottles and carried them over to a table near the back of the Underneath. She opened a brown envelope that was sitting on the table and took out a thick bundle of oval, beige labels tied up with string. She cut the string and left the pile beside the crate of bottles. Then she got a small bowl to which she added a spoonful of white powder from a bag with the word ‘Flour’ written upon it – not that Cat knew that - and mixed them together. Then she used a small paint brush to put some of the mixture on the back of the label and affixed it neatly to a bottle, then she too – like the Him and the Himling – fell into the non-musical rhythm of repetitive work, with the air smelling of hot corks, spilled stout and floury paste, tinged with the greasy metal smell from the Mechanism and the musty odour of the Underneath itself.

Cat wasn’t happy at being ignored, it jumped up beside the Herling and sniffed at the mixture in the bowl before butting her elbow with its head, almost making the Herling drop a bottle.

'Silly puss! Don’t do that.'

The Herling picked up Cat and put her back up on the barrel that was almost empty, much to the annoyance and mutterings of the Him. Soon the tap began to gurgle and the tray in the Contraption that the bottles were being filled from was empty. When he had finished corking the bottles, the Him pried out the brass tap from the end of the barrel and used the mallet to beat back a round piece of timber into the hole to seal the cask tight again. Cat had to jump quickly off the barrel as the Him and the Himling lifted the barrel back upright and set it near a trapdoor to the Outdoors where Cat knew these barrels appeared and disappeared from regularly.

The Herling was finished putting the beige round labels with writing on them on the bottles and the Him and the Himling took the crates, each holding two dozen bottles, and stacked them at the end of the cellar six high, where Cat knew they would sit for a third of a Moon’s Time before being brought a crate at a time up into the Up Above where the people came and the corks were removed from the bottles with a long handled machine that was attached to the bar, before being poured into a glass in exchange for Round Metal Things that clinked as they were tossed into a drawer underneath the counter.

Cat yawned and stretched, then it sniffed the air for any smell of the Grey Squeakers that sometimes wandered into the Underneath, as it was his job to catch, play with, and crunch them. There was no scent of them today but it would return by its secret way later that night to check again, on its nightly patrol of the Underneath.

Just then the Herling appeared beside Cat and picked it up.

'Come on puss, up we go.'

Cat let himself be carried up the stairs purring contently, with Him and the Himling following behind after having cleaned the Contraption, putting away the Mechanism and mopping the slabs.

When everyone was upstairs the Him closed the door into the Underneath, and they headed towards the kitchen and the smell of cooking ham. The Him stopped briefly to gather four glasses before opening  two bottles of stout and two minerals. They had an hour to eat, drink and rest before the doors would be opened and more bottles poured for their thirsty patrons.

And as ever, Cat would watch over all proceedings …

Liam K

'Contraption'

'Mechanism'

[The bottling routine described here is adapted from notes regarding the procedure in the 1950s in “A bottle of Guinness Please” by David Hughes, and supplemented by passages in “3 Score and 10 – A Great Leap” by Cartan Finegan plus parts of Flann O’Brien’s “Myles Away from Dublin.”]

(Cat Photo via rollingroscoe on morguefile.com, and the Contraption and Mechanism photos were taken by the author from the public house display in Carlow County Museum.)

100 Years of Irish Brewing in 50 Objects: #13 – Pint & ½ Pint Bottles (1920-1950s)

The words of the rose to the rose floated up to his mind: ‘No gardener has died, comma, within rosaceous memory.’ He sang a little song, he drank his bottle of stout, he dashed away a tear, he made himself comfortable. So it goes in the world.

More Pricks Than Kicks - Samuel Beckett (1934)

In Ireland the pint bottle has achieved a semi-legendary status and is remarked upon and reminisced about it in equal measure as it slowly disappears from the fridges and shelves of the bars in this country. There are still many who appreciate its legacy, history and heritage, even if much of these elements are misunderstood, and there are those who enjoy and savour the taste and flavour of a beer poured the ‘proper’ way from a pint bottle into a ubiquitous flared pilsner glass, or just ‘A Glass’ as it is called in Irish pubs. At this point in time there are just a few beers still available in this Imperial measure and method of serve - the Diageo brands of Guinness, Harp, Smithwicks and Macardles, while Bulmers cider is also offer a pint bottles. These are the last relics of what was a huge industry of the past, where most of the beers consumed on this island were served in pint, half-pint and one-third-of-a-pint bottles, and when bottling companies as well as the publicans themselves bottled huge amounts of the output from Ireland's breweries. There was for sure a trade in draught beer served straight from the cask but this was more limited, and probably more often found, in the busy urban public houses.

So in most of Ireland the bottle was the most common way of drinking beer both at home and in the pub, but our love for the pint bottle is a relatively recent affair, as the half pint version was the most popular way of serving most beers for decades here, and certainly for a long period after the formation of the state in the 1922. It remained so until Draught Guinness and other draught keg beers became popular, and took over the pub beer sales in most of country. So these bottles -especially the smaller size - would have been a familiar sight in pubs, grocery shops and homes throughout Ireland.

Prior to the 1920s there was a mixture of bottle sizes that were known and discussed in the trade by how many of said bottles you could fill from a gallon of beer, so there were ‘12s’, ‘13s’, ‘14s’ and ‘16s’, with the ‘16s’ equating to a half pint (10fl. oz. or 284ml) and the others sizes up to ‘12s’ (13.33 fl.oz or 379ml), and although this latter size were sold as ‘Reputed Pints,’ interestingly there is very little mention of Imperial pint bottles up to this period.*

The newly created government of Ireland finally got around to addressing the issues around bottle sizes a not long after its formation when they published the Intoxicating Liquor (General) Act, 1924, which states the following:

9.—(1) The Minister for Justice may by order prescribe the sizes of the bottles in which any specified intoxicating liquor may be sold, and where any such order is in force it shall not be lawful to sell or supply the intoxicating liquor specified in the order in bottles of any size other than one of the sizes prescribed by the order.

And then in 1925 the following appears in the Intoxicating Liquor (Standardisation of Bottles) No. 1 Order, 1925:

AND WHEREAS it has been deemed expedient to prescribe the sizes of the bottles in which ale, beer, porter and stout may be sold:

NOW I, CAOIMHGHÍN Ó hUIGÍN, Minister for Justice, by virtue of the powers conferred upon me by Section 9 of the Intoxicating Liquor (General) Act, 1924 , and of all other powers enabling me in that behalf, do hereby order and prescribe as follows:—

On and from the 1st day of October, 1925, all ale, beer, porter or stout sold in bottles containing less than one standard quart shall be sold in quarter-pint, half-pint, or pint bottles [...]

This had to be amended on the 30th of December - possibly because the quarter-pint bottle was an error - to read:

(2) On and from the 1st day of January, 1926, all ale, beer, porter or stout sold in bottles containing less than one standard quart shall be sold in bottles containing one-third of a pint [my emphasis], one-half pint, or one pint.

(This piece of legislation was only revoked in 1983, presumably allowing the sale of any size bottle of beer providing the volume was stated on the label and that volume was correct, although this was probably the case anyway thanks to European legislation and regulations from 1977 regarding alcoholic drink volumes.)

This regulations needed to be enforced and further clarification appear to have been needed so we have another piece of legislation added on the 3rd of February 1926 which offered more information in 11 points, the most interesting being:

2. These Regulations shall come into force on the third day of February, 1926.

So a change from the date cited above.

4. The capacity of each bottle shall be defined by a line stamped on the bottle of not less than three-quarters of an inch in length and distant not less than one-and-five-eighth inches nor more than one-and-seven-eighth inches from the brim of the bottle.

This helps us to see why an where the fill lines appear on these bottles.

6. A bottle which is not completely emptied when tilted to an angle of 130 degrees from the vertical shall not be stamped.

This simple piece of wording shows why the sloped ‘shoulders’ on bottles are the shape and size they are!

7. The denomination of a bottle may be indicated by the abbreviated form of " Pt.", " ½ Pt.", or "1/3 Pt." respectively.

Again, we can see this on the bottles shown above.

8. If a maker's or trader's name is stamped on a bottle, it shall be in letters not exceeding one-half the size of the letters indicating the denomination.

On embossed bottles this defines the maxim size the bottler’s name can be appear.

11. In the case of bottles which are in stock or in use for trade on the date when these Regulations come into force, the provisions of Article 8 of these Regulations shall not apply, and the following provisions shall have effect in lieu of the provisions contained in Articles 4 and 5 of these Regulations, that is to say :—

(a) the capacity shall be deemed to be defined by an imaginary line drawn at one and three-quarters inches from the brim of the bottle ;

(b) the allowance for error permissible on verification and inspection shall be, in the case of a pint or half-pint bottle, not more than one-and-a-half drachms in deficiency nor more than one-and-a-half ounces in excess, and in the case of a one-third pint bottle, not more than one drachm in deficiency nor more than three-quarters of an ounce in excess.

Provided that the provisions of this Article shall not have effect after the 31st day of December, 1927, or such later date as may be defined by subsequent Regulations, and that after the 31st day of December, 1927, or such later date, no bottle which has not been verified and stamped pursuant to the provisions of Articles 4, 5 and 8 of these Regulations shall be deemed to be lawfully verified and stamped.

This is a long-winded way of saying that it is permitted to keep using unverified bottles as long as they conform to the legislation regarding volume, and they are destroyed or recycled by the 31st of December 1927 unless new legislation is published - and indeed it was changed on the 7th of January so that said bottles that were stamped or etched according to the legislation could be continued to be used in the trade regardless of their date of manufacturing.

Much of this legislation is tedious and difficult to analyse but Weights and Measures Act of 1928 clarifies much of what had gone before and more importantly gives is some clarity on the mystery of the numbers, letters and writing on the bottles shown here, and most others that are found in the collections of museums and breweriana collectors. It appears it was possible to incorporate verification marks into the manufacturing process of the bottles as part of the mould in which the bottle was formed and this is seen on these examples as ‘DIC’, ‘SE’ and the numbers ‘127.’

We can break these down as follows:

SE stands for ‘Saorstát Eireann’ the Irish translation for the Irish Free State which existed from 1922 until 1937.

The letters ‘DIC’ can appear quite puzzling but its meaning becomes clear if you look at the government body who was in charge of all of this legislation – The Department of Industry and Commerce.

127 is a little trickier but if we read Part 1 section 7 of the above mentioned act  - Verification and stamping of bottles during manufacture – we see the following:

The Minister may, if and whenever he thinks fit, grant in respect of any factory in Saorstát Eireann a licence in the prescribed form authorising all bottles to which this Act applies manufactured in such factory to be stamped in the prescribed manner during the process of manufacture with a stamp of verification under the Weights and Measures Acts, 1878 to 1904, as amended by this Act or with an impression derived from such stamp, and a factory in respect of which such a licence has been granted and is in force is in this section referred to as a licensed factory.

Therefore certain large glass bottle manufactures such as the company who produced those shown above – The Irish Glass Bottle Company – could bypass the need to apply individual etched on verification details by getting this licence. So it appears that this number 127 is the licence number given to this factory, which operated in Ringsend in Dublin.

Indeed the act goes on to say:

The methods of verification and stamping of bottles to which this Act applies authorised under this section shall, in respect of such bottles manufactured in a licensed factory, be in substitution for the methods of verification and stamping required or authorised by or under the Principal Act.

The company still needed inspectors from The Department of Industry and Commerce to check batches of bottles and certain fees needed to be paid, but it made the process simpler than that for drinking glasses for example which needed to be individually etched with the year date and the inspector or area number in the presence of said inspector. Other parts of this general legislation alludes to these inspectors being members of Gárda Síochána (The Irish police force), or at least appointed by them.

(The numbers that appear on the bottom of these bottles alongside the obvious initials ‘I. G. B.’ are a little more enigmatic but presumably stand for the mould numbers and variants.) 

-o-

Much has been written about the rise and fall of The Irish Glass Bottle Co. but our interests are in how it operated and functioned in the period of our concern - the 1920s. In 1928 an article regarding a visit to the company appeared in The Dublin Leader newspaper:

THE IRISH BOTTLE INDUSTRY

It was a Wexford man, Michael Owens, who in America first invented an alternative to mouth blowing in the making of bottles. A bicycle pump suggested the idea to him. The modern machines that developed out of that simple idea are still called after Owens, and to-day on the premises of the Irish Glass Bottle Co., Ltd., Charlotte Quay, Ringsend, Dublin, there is at work one of the largest and most modern Owens Bottle machines.

These bottle works are in full swing now. When we first visited a bottle factory in Dublin many years ago the Owen machines were things of the future, and it was all mouth blowing; in fact we blew a special bottle ourselves and took it home as a souvenir. A modern bottle factory is in parts a very hot place, as the heat in the furnace registers about 1,300 degrees C. Until some time back coal was the fuel used; now oil has superceded[sic] it, though at any time the factory can go back to coal if desirable. The main raw material is sand which is got from the Sutton-Malahide district, and needless to say the lime used is also a native product.

The furnace is going since November 1st last, for once the extraordinary temperature of about 1,300 is reached you have to keep it up, and so the works are carried on in three shifts of eight hours each, and the furnace never cools. The machine delivers the red-hot bottles in the course of not many seconds and workers take them up with long tongs—when you deal with red-hot bottles you need a long spoon—and place them on a steel belt revolving through another furnace. The latter furnace is 8o feet long and is quite cool at the other end; it takes about six hours for these bottles to travel the 8o feet, and by that time they are cooled. The machine is equal to turning out about 2,000 bottles in an hour.

Many things have occurred with regard to bottles in quite recent times, The tariff on bottles is 33 1/3 %, bottles under five ounces—at the request of this Company—-being admitted free. Our readers can guess the size of a five ounce and under bottle, when they are told that an ordinary beer bottle is ten ounces.

Who pays a tariff and to what extent do various parties pay it ? If a tariff excludes foreign goods and the prices of home goods do not rise, there is obviously nothing to pay; the only change is that the home Country has the whole home-market. There are foreign bottles still coming in from Germany, and from England. The prices of the half pint beer bottles is 20/- per gross and the question as to who pays the tariff is easy seen in this particular case. The imported bottles are now sold at about 15/- per gross, less duty, which practically means that Germans and English pay the tariff. In due time when the outside competitors find that undercutting will not down the Irish factory, they will give up the game and the Saorstát bottle factories will conquer the Saorstát market. The slight advantage which jam, sweets, etc., have, owing to existing taxation, has given a great fillip to jam making and consequentially the bottle industry benefits. One of the great results of any manufacturing industry in a country is the consequential effects on other home industries. Jam making has been very considerably extended in the Saorstat[sic] and the Irish Glass Bottle Company is doing a very big line in glass jars for home manufactured jams.

Some time ago there were a variety of sizes - rather of internal content—of bottles in the stout trade; the capacity of the bottles ranged from twelve up to even seventeen bottles to the gallon. The Government have stopped profiteering in that line and have made it imperative that every stout bottle contains half a pint. There is already—and there must be after a certain date—what we might call a Plimsol mark on the neck of every beer bottle it registers the half-pint contents. At the Base of some of the bottles now being turned out the words “Bottle made in Ireland ” are embossed, and we understand that this will, in due time, appear on all bottles turned out in the factory.

It is only recently—about two years ago—that the manufacture of white bottles and jars has been started. When we were in the factory last, some six years ago, there were no white bottles being made, and we expressed the hope that that development would come in time. It meant new machinery and large capital expenditure. The old Ringsend Bottle Works over the way are now re-organised, and white glass bottles and jar making are going ahead. The old system of mouth blowing is not wholly discarded, as in cases of special and comparatively small orders it is more economical to manufacture by this method than by machine.

This Company has about five thousand customers. It supplies retailers as well as wholesalers and many of its customers have their names embossed on their bottles. We were glad to see such life and bustle about the place. The Company employ about 120 men, and sometimes the number goes up to about 200, and pay wages to the amount of about twenty-three thousand pounds a year-—a valuable industry. 

This is a great insight into the company at this time and it is presented here in full including the comments on jam jars! It reinforces some of the points and observations made above. What is certainly of interest is the comment that stout was only bottled in half-pint bottles at this time, although there probably were exceptions, as has been stated already.

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A helpful advertisement for The Irish Glass Bottle Company appeared in The Dublin Leader on Saturday 8th of July 1939 which shows a half pint bottle and encourages bottlers to use new bottles and not to recycle older ones – a far cry from the current ethos. It shows the prices of all of the legal beer bottle sizes and lists 1/3 pint bottles as ‘24’s’ which harks back to the older way of describing bottles by how many can be filled from a gallon. This size of bottle by the way was used for barley-wine and even for Guinness at one time, where they were called baby bottles - or even ‘Baby Guinness’ by our nearest neighbours, a name that means a different drink these days of course …

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It is unclear precisely when this style of bottle with its ‘licence’ fell out of use but they were still being used in the 40s (The design and verification image were still being used in advertisements in 1944) and probably the 1950s – long after the term Saorstát Eireann was made redundant. 

New regulations issued in 1958 introduced a new verification design and regulations for bottles that was to come into force on the first day of January 1959, and which revoked the older legislation. So this appears to be the end of this style of bottle verification and presumably these were replaced by plainer, less embossed bottles of similar shape, and the half-pint version appears to have lost its shoulders in favour of a sleeker look. These bottles presumably feature the new verification stamp, with the date below and the verification inspector or area above. But according to part 6 and 7 of these new regulations:

(1) The stamp of verification to be used at a licensed bottle factory shall be of the form and design prescribed for the purposes or Regulation 5 of these Regulations, save that it shall not be obligatory to include the figures indicating the year of stamping.

(2) Notwithstanding paragraph (1) of this Regulation, the stamp of verification used at a licensed bottle factory in pursuance of Regulation 6 of the Weights and Measures (Stamps) Regulations, 1928 (S. R. & O. No. 72 of 1928), may continue to be used at such factory.

This would appear to state that the bottle factories can continue to use the older style of verification but could change to the new style - without the date - if they wanted to, but it is unclear when exactly they completely disappeared from the pubs and grocers, although it’s probably fair to assume they were gone by the 1960s.

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It is also unclear when exactly the pint bottle as a serving size began to gain more popularity in Ireland but it was possibly on the rise over this same later period driven by the abovementioned brands, and in 1976 Guinness changed from the old, shouldered bottle like the one shown above to the new rocket-shaped one we are familiar with today. The half pint bottle of Guinness sadly disappeared in 1995**, and all of this size of serve from the other breweries in Ireland were well gone by this stage, as were most of the breweries themselves and the many bottlers both large and small.

We can see that our love for a pint bottle of any beer is quite recent – or at least relatively so - but that pint bottle is still around, and hopefully will be for a while as a last vestige of a bygone industry and trade.

Liam K

* There is more on the subject of bottles here.

** The bottle change is feature in this post.

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