There is a George Lucas film being released later this month called Red Tails. It tells the story of the Tuskegee Airmen. These were a segregated group of African American fighter pilots that flew at the highest altitude of excellence during World War II. They painted the tails of their P-47 Thunderbolts and P-51 Mustangs red and so the nickname was born. The Red Tails earned an impressive combat record escorting heavy bombers in their sorties over Europe. Many a bomber crew credited these pilots with getting them safely back home and added the word “angels” to their distinctive moniker.

However, these impressive gentlemen were forced to battle more than the Nazi enemy. They had to contend with racism, insult, hatred and suspicion from their own countrymen. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt even took a ride with flight instructor Alfred “Chief” Anderson just to prove that African Americans were capable as any pilot. And it’s a sad fact that German prisoners were granted more privileges in terms of interacting with their American captors than these brave men were allowed with their fellow white combatants. The Tuskegee Airmen were required to sleep in their own barracks, eat at their own tables, use their own lavatories, and drink at their own fountains even as German and American officers often dined and socialized together.

It boggles the mind that it took another twenty years for the struggle of Civil Rights to really take hold in our country. On the other hand, if not for the superb accomplishments of these men, it may have taken far longer. After the Red Tailed Angels distinguished themselves as first rate, combat tested pilots, no one could deny that competency, courage, loyalty, dedication, dependability, patriotism and heroism were the legacy of all Americans no matter the continent of their ancestors.

Edward F. Petersen, Creative Director, American Public House Review 

Photos courtesy of Airforce Historical Research Group.

We at American Public House Review Talk about subjects such as this every day. We consider the pub to be the parliament of the common man. Give us a look:

http://americanpublichousereview.com

So from Halloween through New Year’s Day commerce is of the essence . . . for most of us anyway. Of course, the cultural significance we add to this time of year is ostensibly more sanctified or at least supernal. We sing hymns of thanksgiving and praise. We extend benedictions of peace and joy. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and the ancient Pagan festivals as well are at their heart metaphors for the rebirth of light in the world and in our spirits. Yes, yes, yes, but my question is, we humans being what we are, would the holidays be as all-consuming (pun-intended) if there was not the over-the-top acquisition syndrome? It’s easy to rail against the materialism, yet not so easy to retreat from it. We can take a principled stand, but we risk disappointing those we love. Is it truly loving to make a gift of our self-centered principles rather than the iPod that Junior has been obsessing about since August, or that cashmere cardigan that Mom can’t afford but would be delighted to wear on New Year’s Eve? I don’t know. Just asking.

What I do know, or I should say it’s my postulate that without the presents, the decorations, the smell of an evergreen unnaturally propped and adorned in our living room, and a spread of delectable treats hiding every inch of mahogany on our dining room table, the cultural significance of the holidays and indeed their essential spiritual message would pass with barely a ripple instead of the tidal wave of celebration which we attempt to ride every December, upright upon our lighted surfboards, in our Santa hats and red trunks with the green holly-leaved print. The love, the joy, the light and the rebirth come folded within the wrapped and ribboned boxes with all the stuff. So it goes.

Edward F. Petersen, Creative Director of American Public House Review

Check out our holiday features on American Public House Review. We’ll sip a Celebration Ale in the Landing, tell you about the history of wassailing, and offer a recipe for that eponymous cocktail.

http://americanpublichousereview.com

“I told that dumb son-of-bitch not to go down there.”  Major Dwight D. Eisenhower voicing his opposition to Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s decision to personally lead troops against the Bonus Army.   

At the present moment, I fall into that majority of polled Americans that is somewhat bewildered and ambivalent as to the motivations and strategies of those in the Occupy Wall Street movement. Although, I must say that I certainly hold  those benevolent drum beating squatters on private ground in New York City in higher regard than most of the pandering podium thumping politicians that now, or hope to after the next election–occupy public space in Washington D.C.

Regrettably, in too many instances in our nation’s past, those that have sought redress outside the established norms have been shunned, marginalized  and accused of being less than American by those whose lives are unaffected by the harsher realities of the times. This branding of the reasonable assemblage has often been used as an excuse to justify the use of unreasonable force.

 On July 28th, 1932, infantry, cavalry and mechanized armor acting on orders from President Hoover, and under the direct command of  General Douglas MacArthur, launched a deadly assault against the World War I veterans, their families, and supporters that had set up an encampment  in the capital earlier that spring. Some 43,000 demonstrators had come to Washington to protest the brutal conditions created by the Great Depression, and to demand that military service bonuses due to be disbursed in 1945 be paid immediately to help offset the long-term unemployment. 

Actions on that day by both police and the army resulted in the death of two veterans, a miscarriage,  fifty-five injured, 135 arrests, the burning of the encampment, and the later passing of a three-month old infant that had been exposed to tear gas.  MacArthur defended his heavy-handed tactics by claiming that the protesters were part of a Communist plot to overthrow the government of the United States.  

Once again as our leaders and institutions  become ill at ease with those disconcerting voices that speak to the inequalities and injustices of the times, there are claims of un-American like behavior being leveled at those who have publicly displayed their dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs. Whether or not the cause of those in the streets is substantive or valid should not be at issue. In America we can not roll tanks, swing batons or use pepper spray against those citizens engaged in peaceful protest.

In fact to my way of thinking, the only acceptable use of the fruit of the Capsicum genus is in a warming bowl of chili, or a good Bloody Mary!

Posted by: Chris Poh

“It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people’s minds..”–Samuel Adams

From the onset of our publication, it has  been our goal to capture the heart and spirit of each featured location with good copy and great images. As it is with any work in progress, there is always room for improvement. As I look back over our labors during the last four years of producing American Public House Review, there are many instances when I wish I would have said things differently or that my photographic skills were a bit more adept. But there were those moments when the prose was up to par, and that which was in my mind’s eye was captured  by the camera. The above image taken from the deck at Two Goats Brewing on Seneca lake is one of those moments when a picture is truly worth a thousand words.

In order to better share those twinklings in time when the light was just right and the hand was actually steady, obviously during an earlier point in our session at the bar, we’ve launched a new page called Top Shots. And we invite our readers to send us their favorite pub photos for future possible  posts.

Posted by: Chris Poh

Avast me hearties, the sun is already long over the yardarm and we still haven’t wished our fellow buccaneers a happy “Talk Like a Pirate Day.” That’s what happens when you’ve spent the better part of the night before enjoying the benefits of your plundering ways. So before the sun sets over Tortuga, on behalf of  Cap’n Slappy and Ol’ Chumbucket, the founders of this joyous celebration, we invite privateers everywhere to raise their colors, hoist their tankards and let out a hearty Aaarrr !

And of course to help with your pirate decor and decorum, this year we’ve included some alternatives to the usual Jolly Roger.

Richard Worley’s Flag 

Henry Every’s Flag

Calico Jack Rackham’s Flag

A Very Hearty Yo Ho from the Crew at American Public House Review!

On July 4th, 1861, Frederick Roeder, an anti-secessionist and a supporter of Mr. Lincoln’s cause, ventured out onto the banks of the Potomac with the hope of catching sight of the Stars and Stripes flying over the Maryland side of the river. Ironically, a single discharge from the gun of a Union soldier would make this German born immigrant the first citizen of Harpers Ferry to fall during the conflict. Soon after, his home and business holdings, including the White Hall Tavern, would be confiscated and utilized by Northern forces.

Fourteen months later, rebel soldiers under the command of Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson would be shouting their own victory toasts at the little pub on Potomac Street after the successful capture of the town.  That revelry though would soon be tempered  by the events of September 17th, 1862. On that savage summer’s day, Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia would clash with the forces of General George B. McClellan on Maryland ground near Antietam Creek. That single day of fighting would prove to be the bloodiest day in American history, with both sides suffering staggering losses.

As we take this time to remember and pay tribute to those who fought and perished on behalf of both the North and South at the Battle of Antietam, we invite our readers to once again experience the moving words of the late Jack Hardy as he chronicles the Civil War through the eyes of the young men from a Pennsylvania regiment. 

Click here to listen to  The 111th Pennsylvane.

Posted by: Chris Poh

St. Pattys Day crowd at the Kilkenny House in Cranford, NJ

When I am not moonlighting as a writer for APHR, I am a professional musician.  And I have been playing this place for the past couple of years.  To say it is one of my favorite places to work would be an understatement.  Great drink, great food, the Kilkenny truly has it all.  But most importantly, the people who work there, and the regulars who drink there, have always made me feel right at home.

Earlier in the week, I was told by some friends in the area that the Kilkenny House was devastated by the flooding from Irene.  I did some poking around the internet and found this sobering report on CNN.com.

photo by nj.com

I have total confidence that the Kilkenny’s owner Barry O’Donovan will rebuild this fantastic pub back to her former glory.  And as they posted on their Facebook page earlier in the week “Oh, but what a great Irish hoolie we will have when that day comes!”

I am not sure what we pub fanatics can do to help, but one thing I can promise is that when the day comes for that hoolie to happen, you will find me that morning waiting at the door so I can get a seat at the bar nice and early.  Good Luck and Best Wishes to everyone at the Kilkenny!!

by Dave McBride

I was in the middle of one of my favorite afternoon delights, a martini made with Bluecoat American Dry Gin, when the great tremor sent shock waves through much of the original thirteen colonies. From Richmond, Virginia to Boston, Massachusetts the talk was only of the big quake, and how even the President of the United States may been thrown from his beach chair while enjoying the usually serene sands of Martha’s Vineyard. Meanwhile, our compadres on the West Coast were glued to their television sets–their eyes searching the eastern urban scapes for the gaping chasms, collapsed highways, bent bridges and smoldering rubble. But alas, that morbid aspect of human curiosity would have to be satisfied with tales of interrupted soap operas and rattling china. 

As for myself, once I digested the uniqueness of the occurrence so close to home, my thoughts quickly turned to the politics of the situation. I was relieved to know that we were not as of yet burdened with a balanced budget amendment. Because had New york and Philadelphia been reduced to a  collection of  fallen brick and twisted steel, I’m not sure the current Congress would approve of additional assistance from Washington, and Wall Street shows little interest in wanting  to help in the rebuilding of America. 

These little wakeup calls, that are thrown our way every once in a while, should serve as a reminder of just how vulnerable we really are, and how dependent we are on one another–and a government that is strong, functional and flexible. As usual, I’m sure our politicians were likely a bit shaken by the event–but probably not stirred!

Posted by: Chris Poh

Of all the metaphors that made their way around the media during the debt ceiling debate, the one that seems to have scored the most airplay was a reference ad nauseam to kicking the can down the road. If the recent precipitous drop in the stock market is any indication of Washington’s ability to put off having to deal with the toxic economic brew that is filling the cups of so many Americans,  we have finally reached that point in our nation’s history when our politicians, to use another tired worn-out metaphor, are no longer capable of even  passing the buck.

In response to my own  debt ceiling debacle and employment crisis, I, like the Federal Government, am considering painful cutbacks to certain key programs. My “Drink Only imports and Microbrew Program” will probably have to be downsized by the implementation of a less costly domestic policy. Thankfully, Becker’s Corner in Quakertown, PA features “Turn Back Tuesdays,” a very affordable celebration of those classic American brands that satisfied the palates of past generations.

Quite frankly, there is something rather heartening and reassuring about drinking those beers that saw my father and uncles through the hardships of their times. So while our elected representatives are pondering what to do next about our ailing economy during their summer recess in places like Palm Springs and Martha’s Vineyard, I will be popping open several PBRs–knowing full well that all we really need to get this party going again is a can of creativity, a six-pack of hope, a case of good leadership and a keg full of caring!

Posted by: Chris Poh