Sarah is not the only gal from Alaska calling it quits

At this juncture I will not get into the endless or mindless media speculation as to why Sarah Palin is stepping down, nor will I use this particular post to dissect the politics of the matter. It suffices to say that I appreciate the governor’s current efforts to downsize the number of people in government, and I personally thank her for renewing my awareness of the great state of Alaska. Too often we in the lower forty eight forget that America is much more than just about the events that occur in New York, Los Angeles and Washington DC.

Since John McCain thrust Mrs. Palin onto the national stage, I have spent many more hours watching Captain Sig Hansen of the Northwestern haul Opilio crab out of the Bering Sea on the TV series, Deadliest Catch. As of late, many an evening has been spent watching the Ice Road Truckers make the run from Fairbanks to Dead Horse on Prudhoe Bay. And as Alaska’s award winning broadcast journalist and popular television host, Geo Beach likes to say,”Things really are Tougher in Alaska.”

Sadly, those tough conditions have brought about the demise another Alaskan lady. Alice’s Champagne Palace in Homer is no longer functioning as a regular bar. What the future holds for this legendary club and watering hole is uncertain; but this popular institution has overcome adversity and hard times in the past.

We look forward to a time once more when musicians like Ellis Paul will sing her praises, and raise a glass to those that don’t quit until the last load is delivered, the last pot is hauled on board

and the last crew safely finds their way back home. 

Sunrise View from the Ocean House Inn - Homer, Alaska

 Click here to enjoy Ellis Paul singing ”Alice’s Champagne Palace“ 

Special thanks to the crew at the Ocean House Inn for providing the glorious sunrise image.

 

 

Posted by: Chris Poh

Ben’s raiding the cooler again!

As we close in on Independence Day, we all look forward to a holiday weekend full of all those fun and relaxing things that make summer great.  Hamburgers on the grill, a beer in the hand, and friends and family by your side are the things that make July 4th Weekend so enjoyable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For me, I am heading to one of my absolute favorite places on earth, Boothbay Harbor, Maine.  There I plan to spend my 10 days of vacation visiting family, doing a bit of boating, and maybe I’ll even check out a tavern or two.  (Okay, maybe three or four…)  My plan on this vacation, like all my trips to Maine, is to sit.  I plan on sitting on a dock, a boat, an Adirondack chair, or hopefully on an array of well crafted barstools.  It’s time to decompress and as Otis Redding said, “watch the ships roll in and watch them roll away again.”

 

I can’t help but wonder what our Founding Fathers would think of how we choose to celebrate this most solemn of days.  Because of the resolution agreed on back on July 4th 1776, the men who signed it put their necks in the proverbial guillotine.  Years of war, disease, and god knows what else followed during the struggle of the Revolutionary War, and in many related respects the War of 1812 as well.  And in recognition of those events we choose to barbeque.   I don’t know what the founders who lived those struggles under the constant fear of being hung for treason might think of my hotdog and potato salad celebration, but I have a guess.  I think they would find it absolutely perfect! 

People complain America has become too lazy, too pampered.  How many times have you heard people question what the founding fathers would think of us now?  Well, I like to think on this weekend they would want us to celebrate by exercising the absolute freedom to do what makes us happy.  So while you pop open a bottle of whatever and sit under the stars waiting for the fireworks, think of what Erma Bombeck said…

You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness.  You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.

So as always, drink and party responsibly during this holiday weekend.  But do it knowing that you are not only enjoying yourself to the fullest, but you and your loved ones are also paying a sincere homage to those who literally put their necks on the line for this little barbeque.  Somehow I couldn’t see Benjamin Franklin lecturing us on the frivolity of our Independence Day tradition.  No, I see him raiding the cooler and waiting for the baseball game to start.

 

 

• Click  here to view past articles on America’s finest  colonial taverns.  

By: Dave McBride, you can follow Dave on Twitter by clicking here.

Raising a Cup with Russ

At some point during the inception of American Public House Review I was tasked with coming up with a catchy phrase that would suitably define the mission of our fledgling magazine. During a rare moment of early morning clarity the words came to me.

Glasses Raised…Spirits Lifted…Journeys Shared

It is my hope that these words not only adequately define the purpose of our publication; but that they also represent the greater viewpoint of mankind. In each of us there resides the power to acknowledge and lift up the spirit of our fellowman, and to share with him that which has purpose from our own personal journey.

A couple of weeks back I spent an afternoon drinking coffee with my dear friend Russ Coen at the Frenchtown Cafe. He is a gentleman who totally embodies the editorial philosophy of American Public House Review. Recent personal losses in both of our lives had left us in a mutual state of melancholy that no amount of caffeine could overcome. We spoke at length about the powerful impact of those that had touched us for just a brief moment in time, and then sadly, had passed on leaving an unexpected void.

Bob Dukiet

For Russ one of those souls was the late Bob Dukiet. He shared a story that occurred many years ago about an interlude at Neilley’s Long Bar in Point Pleasant, New Jersey. Here are his own words from a posted remembrance of  the  Boston College basketball great and former head coach of the Marquette Warriors, Bob Dukiet.   

My deepest condolences to the family and friends of Bob Dukiet on his passing. It was 38 years ago that I met Bob through our mutual friend, Joe Walsh, at Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey. A rainy afternoon in July found us discovering an old honky-tonk piano up against the back wall of Neilly’s Long Bar. Within minutes, Bobby brought that piano to life with his signature cover of  Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Great Balls of Fire.”  The Beatles “Oh Blah Dee, Oh Blah Da” and “When I’m 64″  followed as a large crowd gathered (ages 21-80+). For many hours, he handled any request from every generation, including the World War I era, “Over There” and the “Marine Corps Hymn.” In spite of my less than admirable guitar playing, we were offered a job for the next weekend and a cardboard sign was placed in the window to that effect. Unfortunately, we had to decline. What a day that was!! Thank you, Bobby. I am sure a crowd will gather around the piano wherever Bob may be, and I hope to some day be there enjoying many more songs and smiles once again. He truly bridged the ages with his many gifts and talents. Thank you, Bob, for sharing them unselfishly.       Russ Coen – Frenchtown, New Jersey

Glasses Raised…Spirits Lifted…Journeys Shared 

Point Pleasant Beach - Photo by Christine Aber

 

 

Broadway Bar and Grill - (Formerly Neilley's Long Bar)

Editor’s Note: Many thanks to Christine Aber for her photo of Point Pleasant Beach, and to Vinnie Mattia for providing the image of Neilley’s Long Bar. Also, we thank bricktownlive.com for the photo of the Broadway Bar and Grill. Posted by: Chris Poh     

Beer and Baseball in America

Beer and baseball.  Can you think of two things in this country that go better together?  The two have lived a symbiotic relationship for decades.  I grew up a Yankees fan, thanks be to God, and I remember after a homerun Phil Rizzuto would declared it “Miller Time”.  In the 1950’s, a giant Ballantine Ale banner adorned centerfield at the big ballpark in the Bronx declaring itself the “Stadium Favorite”.  Despite the exorbitant cost, and missing at least a half an inning on line at the concession stand, a game just ain’t a game without a beer.

So you can imagine my delight last night as I entered Coca-Cola Park, the home of the AAA Lehigh Valley IronPigs, and while strolling to my seat saw a stand selling beer direct from the Bethlehem BrewWorks.  A pint of a delicious red lager, followed by a pint of the Pig Pen Pils, and I was a man enjoying life the way it was meant to be!

Minor League baseball does a lot of things well.  The tickets are priced right, the games are fun and exciting, and stadiums usually attempt to bring in a bit of the local culture.  Whoever decided to go get this beer deserves my thanks and admiration.

Posted by: David McBride

Liberty through Libation…Redemption through Rum

The City Tavern - Philadelphia

Doctor Franklin adhered to this simple prescription for the better part of his life, Liberty through libation.Certainly this was evident during the founding of the “Junto” in 1727, at the public house of Nicholas Scull and again in his later years while providing counsel to his fellow rebels at Philadelphia’s City Tavern.

In between  laying down the groundwork for a new city and a new nation, Benjamin Franklin helped to protect Pennsylvania’s western frontier as a colonel in command of the Philadelphia militia during the French and Indian War. The following excerpt from Franklin’s autobiography comes by way of Kathleen Zingaro Clark, the author of  Buck’s County Inns and Taverns and a contributing editor to American Public House Review.

“We had for our chaplain a zealous Presbyterian minister, Mr. Beatty, who complained to me that the men did not generally attend his prayers and exhortations. When they enlisted, they were promised, besides pay and provisions, a gill of rum a day, which was punctually serv’d out to them, half in the morning, and the other half in the evening; and I observ’d they were as punctual in attending to receive it; upon which I said to Mr. Beatty, “It is, perhaps, below the dignity of your profession to act as steward of the rum, but if you were to deal it out and only just after prayers, you would have them all about you.”

He liked the tho’t, undertook the office, and, with the help of a few hands to measure out the liquor, executed it to satisfaction, and never were prayers more generally and more punctually attended…”

Posted by: Chris Poh

You’ll find the good captain in the tavern

So, you’ve come seeking adventure and salty old pirates, aye?  Sure, you’ve come to the proper place…

Those immortal words are from Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean and serve as a welcome warning to those who have arrived for what lies ahead.  This week we take you back to the city the British used to refer to as America’s “Nest of Pirates”, Baltimore.

In Fells Point, Baltimore’s immersive old port section, the history seems to come up through the cobblestone in the streets.  Walk along its roads and you could swear you hear the whispers of privateers conspiring to raid a British merchant vessel coming from one of the numerous taverns.  Has the brash Captain Thomas Boyle come back to add to his tally of sunken British ships? 

Captain Boyle was perhaps America’s most famous and feared privateer captain. He commanded the clipper Chasseur, a ship born and bred in Baltimore, the city that boasted America’s largest privateer fleet during the War of 1812.   With it he wreaked havoc upon British commerce.  During the war, while taking many prizes along the coast of Great Britain, he even sent ashore a proclamation to the crown that declared a blockade of the entire conutry…by only his ship!  Yes, we can imagine the good Captain taking great pride in his own sense of humor.  Soon Fells Point and all of Baltimore would refer to the Chasseur as the “Pride of Baltimore”. 

Now I can’t say this for certain, but Captain Boyle, or at least the large majority of those who served under him, probably enjoyed a mug or two of grog after a long voyage.  If he were around today, I would point the good captain in the direction of the Wharf Rat.  It is  certainly a place where a group of privateers could grab a few pints and make the rafters roar.

Posted by: David McBride @ American Public House Review

Bringing the world together, one pint at a time

A few weeks ago, I posted a picture on this blog of one of my favorite bar tricks, performed at the Rose and Crown Pub found at Walt Disney World’s Epcot.  This past week I got to spend some time at the pub and talk again to the famous Carl, bartender at this pub for as long as I can remember.  This time he upped the ante by magically balancing two glasses…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then he made the barflies  “ooh” and “aah” by balancing a pint of Guinness, which makes it look as though some ghost is having a drink…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now the tricks are great fun, and watching a customer try and figure it out is always entertaining.  But like any great bartender, Carl is about much more than glass tricks.  In a pub where there seems to be new faces behind the bar every time you visit, Carl’s is the one exuberant and welcoming face that always makes you feel like you stepped into your local pub.  He has that certain something that makes people smile and enjoy their time at a great tavern.

I have been coming to Walt Disney World for decades and have come across literally hundreds of employees, which Disney calls Cast Members, and have had many great experiences.  Disney is a company known across the world as the standard of excellence in customer service.  And no one I have ever met there exemplifies that standard as much as Carl does.  You are always made to feel welcome and part of the circle of friends that make up the Rose and Crown.  Folks from across the world make their way into this pub on a regular basis and somehow Carl seems to pull them all together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He recently received Disney’s “Partners in Excellence” award, which is the highest honor a Cast Member can receive.  To win you must be nominated by your peers and then go through a lengthy review process.  It is not given out to a certain number of people every year.  It is only awarded when the Disney brass feels they have a deserving Cast Member.  Carl’s father recently passed away, and he said he dedicated his award to him.  Carl’s face would light up with pride when he mentioned it to his regulars.  And he should be proud.  He deserves to be recognized for the over two decades of exemplary service he has put in for us weary and thirsty wonderers. 

As I was drinking at the bar on a hot Florida afternoon a woman walked in and said hello to Carl.  She said to him, “This is always our first stop at Epcot!”  I could certainly understand where she was coming from.  We laughed about it a bit and Carl said to me, “I’m always amazed how many people come back to see me each year.”  Don’t be my good man.  It’s because you perform a noble job, and you do it as well as anyone I have come across.  Those of us who love a good bar will all agree that a place can be beautiful and the drink delicious.  But without people like Carl to make the experience great, it would be just another bar.

And here’s a tip if you should ever make it to the Rose and Crown and meet Carl.  While you are listening to one of his great stories, or trying to figure out the secret behind his bar tricks, ask him what he did for a living before he was behind the bar.  You won’t believe him when he tells you.  That is until he produces a picture of him, a great hat, and a really mean looking alligator!

Posted by: David McBride,  American Public House Review

Is that place really a brewery??

The staff of the American Public House Review took a field trip a few weeks ago to our nation’s capitol.  After a few hours of driving, I was ready for a drink.  Our plan was to head straight to the Dubliner, but as we drove past Washington D.C.’s Union Station that plan expanded quite a bit.

Not being from the Capitol, none of us knew what this giant and gorgeous building was next door, but we all were more than a little surprised to find signs that read Capitol City Brewing Company hanging outside.  This building looked like a museum or federal building, anything but a brewery.  So after a jaunt to the Dubliner, we meandered up the street to see if this really was a brewery.

What we found was a unique and wonderful place, full of friendly people, incredible visuals, and fine brew.  The building in question is the old Federal City Post Office which now houses, along with the brewpub, the National Postal Museum.  I can’t imagine anywhere else in the world where you will find a brewery sharing space with a museum inside a building that looks like something that stood next to the Parthenon.

We had a chance to talk for a while with Head Brewer Ryan Curley, a man who truly knows his stuff.  The fact is that this place does it right.  Besides the incredible surroundings, Ryan and his staff knows what really brings in the crowds…good beer.  And that, along with an indescribable urge to get on the bar and declare opposition to the latest bill in the senate, is exactly what you will find at the Capitol City Brewing Company.

Posted by: David McBride

One Man’s Pirate…

Like so many of my fellow countrymen, I couldn’t help but feel some degree of personal pride and satisfaction knowing that our boys on the fantail of the Bainbridge had bested those freebooting  buccaneers from Somalia. And with the liberation of  Captain Richard Phillips another chapter in this nation’s struggle against Africa’s nautical thuggery  has been brought to a successful close. With the speculation already in progress as to who should be cast in the role of the good captain, so that this tale of treachery on the high seas can be delivered into the comfort of our living rooms, we would do well to remember that one man’s pirate is another man’s privateer.

On the streets of Mogadishu and in villages throughout Somalia the members of this ad hoc ragtag navy are the heroes. If this chaotic shattered nation had any form of functioning governance these seafaring brigands would be operating with a Letter of Marque. The rape of the fish stocks  and the dumping of toxic waste in Somalian waters by foreign concerns fostered the  relationship between starving  fisherman and the street militias whose common goal it was to drive the invaders from their shores. Unfortunately the resulting financial bounty associated with their initial efforts cultivated the current climate of  criminal  behavior.

“For inside the body of many an honorable privateer lurks the soul of a dishonorable pirate.”  Captain Chris ”Yo Ho” Poh

Our own history reveals a more than accomodating attitude towards piracy when it served our national interests. From the early eighteenth century during the infamous Triangle trade, through the American Revolution and into the War of 1812 we allowed the maritime mercenary to do our bidding. Perhaps the customary eye patch is less accoutrement and  more  metaphor  for what happens when nations turn a blind eye to the improprieties of scoundrels.

So here I am once again facing that simple fact that we live in a world where there is no black or white other than what we hoist up the mast before firing that first shot across the bow.

 

So I will, as I have done so many times in the past, embrace my inner pirate by pouring myself  a pint of Clipper City Loose Cannon Ale and singing a few verses of “A Pirate’s Life For Me.”

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.
We pillage we plunder, we rifle and loot.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don’t give a hoot.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.
We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
Maraud and embezzle and even high jack.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.
We kindle and char, we inflame and ignite.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
We burn up the city, we’re really a fright.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.

We’re rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
We’re devils and black sheep, really bad eggs.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.

We’re beggars and blighters and ne’er do-well cads,
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
Aye, but we’re loved by our mommies and dads,
Drink up me hearties, yo ho.

Posted by: Chris Poh, Yo Ho

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

Discovering another of Gettysburg’s heroes

Now that baseball is back, I am reminded of a discovery I made out in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania a couple of years ago.  While conducting research about the Farnsworth House and the town, I and American Public House Review Publisher Chris Poh had the good fortune to spend the better part of a day listening to local lore and soaking in the ambiance of the tavern. Eileen, the Inn’s manager at the time, had given us an amazing tour of the building and filled that time with one fascinating story after another. Upon completion of our journalistic adventure, we adjourned to the bar to await the arrival of our wives.  

My wife Corinn arrived, donning her best New York Yankees cap, and sat down next to me.  The Inn’s owner, Mr. Loring Schultz, was there getting his place ready for a busy afternoon.  He walked passed us and stopped to comment on my wife’s hat.  He asked her if she was a baseball fan, she replied yes and I said I was as well.  Mr. Schultz then asked us if we knew the name of a Hall of Fame player who was born and raised in Gettysburg.  My wife looked at me for help, and I turned, scratching my head, to Chris.  None of us had any idea.  No matter how many hints he gave us, we had no clue.

“Eddie Plank of the Philadelphia Athletics”, he said.  “Have you heard of him?”

I answered that I had heard of him, but truth be told, a faint memory of the name was the extent of my knowledge of Eddie Plank. Mr. Schultz told us a bit, like how he played for the Philadelphia Athletics and just how good he was, but it left me with a lingering curiosity.  How could I know so little about a Hall of Fame pitcher that was being described to me as one of the best southpaws ever? I was determined to find out more.

I began researching Plank as soon as I returned home.  I first reached out to the folks at the Farnsworth House again, hoping to get some details.  Eileen heightened my curiosity even more when she told me that Eddie Plank once gave Connie Mack a tour of the battle field.  She also stated that Ty Cobb had said he was the greatest pitcher he ever saw.  This guy must have been something else.  So I hit the library and the Internet, and contacted every old-time baseball fanatic I know.

Born in Gettysburg in 1875, Plank grew up on a farm.  At the age of 25, he was enrolled into the Gettysburg Academy prep-school which at the time made him eligible to pitch for the Gettysburg College varsity.  He never graduated from the college, a fact often missed by even the most reputable of baseball historians.

His short time on the Gettysburg College team was enough to earn him an offer from Philadelphia Athletics’ owner and manager Connie Mack.  “Gettysburg Eddie” went straight to the major league club, never once taking the mound in the minors.  His first year was successful, going 17-13 with a 3.31 ERA for the fourth place Athletics.  But Plank would get much, much better. 

By the time Plank retired in 1917 at 42 years old, he left behind a legacy that still fills the record books.  In fact, Plank’s name comes up so often on “all-time” lists that reading through them made me more and more embarrassed that I didn’t know him better.  His 69 career shutouts are more than any other lefty in baseball history and fifth overall, better than Warren Spahn and only 7 short of the great Cy Young.  He’s 13thon the list of all time wins, with 326, and his 2246 strikeouts puts him in the top 50.  This is probably the most accomplished Hall of Famer you’ve never heard of.

While Plank was dominating hitters on the mound with a sidearm delivery that must have had lefty batters ducking for cover, he was also aggravating them to no end.  In an era long before the current trend of pitchers taking their time on the mound, Plank would routinely get on the batter’s nerves, by walking around the mound, fidgeting with his cap, and anything else that would knock their rhythm off.  Opponents complained endlessly, but there was nothing they could do about it and none could argue with the tactic’s success. 

With all of Eddie Plank’s achievements and eye-popping statistics, he was considered a “hard luck” pitcher in the World Series.  He appeared in 7 games, and in over 54 innings of work he only gave up 8 earned runs.  From looking at those numbers, you would think Plank would have won more than only 2 games, but 2 and 5 was his postseason record.   In more than one start, Plank’s dominating performance was lost to an error, or an equally dominating opposing pitcher.

One of those dominating pitchers was a man who overshadowed Plank for most of his career, the great ChristyMathewson of the New York Giants.  But on one autumn day in 1913, Gettysburg Eddie got the best of his nemesis.  Leading up to the decisive Game 5 of the World Series, Matty had beaten Plank in their previous two postseason meetings, including Game 2 when the Athletics lost a heart breaker in extra innings.  But the A’s won the next two, and had a chance to win the title.  Despite the pressure, the worthy opponent, and his 38 years, Plank delivered a complete game shutout and the championship for Philadelphia.

After losing yet another hard luck game to the Boston Braves in Game 2 of the 1914 World Series, Plank was traded the following year to the St. Louis Terriers of the Federal League, a short lived attempt to establish a third independent major league.  In 1916-17 he pitched for the St. Louis Browns and then retired.  Despite his retirement, he was traded to the New York Yankees, but he was well into his forties and no longer interested in pitching.  Instead, Gettysburg Eddie went back to his hometown and sold cars.  He died in 1926. 

Many ballplayers, especially those from the era before Babe Ruth, are lost to time.  Despite Eddie Plank’s storied success, many baseball aficionados can’t tell you much about him.  But if the folks at the Farnsworth House are any indication, the great southpaw has not been lost to Gettysburg’s time.  In fact, few things ever are.

 

 

Posted by: David McBride