Three generations sit around a high top in a pilot brewery at Philadelphia’s Globe Dye Works. It is a suitable venue for the conversation that ensues. Built in 1865, the Dye Works are old and represent an era of labor intensive, large scale manufacturing in the city. The space, though, has been renovated over the past decade to bring dozens of local small businesses into a concentrated manufacturing space. Here, the heavy machinery of the past mingles with the stainless steel gleam of new installations. The space brings a sense of hope for a prosperous future in a largely depressed neighborhood in northeast Philadelphia.
I arrive as the youngest generation–lacking experience, just trying to begin to understand beer and beverage. Then, there is Wayne Humphrey, whose brewery is housed here in the Dye Works. Humphrey and his business partner, Tim Montague (who is absent, but deserves credit for co-founding the brewery), are seasoned homebrewers who trying to bring the art of traditional beer-making to a wider audience. Finally, there are the sages, Nancy Rigberg and George Hummel. These two have overseen the development of craft beer culture in America.
Each generation, I think, has a role in the conversation. Rigberg and Hummel have decades of experience and knowledge, and they can speak to broad developments in beer over time. They are wise, established, and hold generational knowledge about brewing. Next, Humphrey has learned the art and history of brewing from the couple, and can speak to the state of craft brewing today as he and his partner embark on an original brewing concept they call “custom craft brewing.” Finally, me. I can listen, ask questions, and learn.
Really, this conversation is about the past, present, and future of craft beer in American culture. Accordingly, we embark on our discussion with My Local Brew Works’ signature beer, the Philly Phinger, a mash up of a West Coast Blonde and a German Kolsch.
It is a great honor to hear about the early development of craft brewing from Rigberg and Hummel. They have been drinking craft beer for over four decades, and their beer credentials are unparalleled. They have owned Home Sweet Homebrew, Philadelphia’s original homebrew shop opened in 1986, for decades. Through their shop, they have mentored and provisioned some of the most prominent craft brewers in business on the East Coast. They have developed award winning beer recipes and collaborated on countless other brews. They are established authors on all things beer.
But how did they get here? That is, how did we get here?
There was a time before craft beer. As Hummel recollects, ”My grandfather was a brewer and he told my dad when he was young that there would only be four breweries in America. How close did we get to that being the truth?” After Prohibition, brewing interests were largely consolidated into a few companies. Accordingly, beer lost diversity. As Rigberg puts it, “We had gotten so industrialized and homogenized after World War II.” The market was awash with bland lagers and nothing else.
Like so many other early craft beer drinkers, Hummel and Rigberg discovered a new flavor in California thanks to breweries like New Albion and Sierra Nevada. But they had to work to get the good stuff. Rigberg would travel for business and bring back Sierra Nevada Pale Ale for Hummel because it was not distributed in Philadelphia. At times, they could find good beer in the state, but it might not have been there legally. Frustrated by the dearth of good beer, Hummel began homebrewing on his own–a story to which many early homebrewers can relate.
In the early days, drinking craft beer was almost counter-cultural. Rigberg tells me, “It was like a cult if you were drinking really good beer.” Hummel remembers scrutiny from a neighbor who commented, “‘You keep drinking that orange beer.’ Because I’d have a glass and it wasn’t yellow.” It wasn’t that Americans weren’t drinking beer, drinking craft beer was simply “other.”
The difficulty of obtaining the beer, and the cultural stigma of drinking it in public meant that folks like Rigberg and Hummel who were into it, got really into it. If they wanted to enjoy their beer, they had to spend time and energy, all the while enduring strange looks from the run-of-the-mill lager drinker. This kind of hard-nosed approach to craft beer pushed it forward into American popular culture, and, to some degree, the two of them still stand by that approach.
For Rigberg, especially, craft beer has been a space where experience is earned and not always respected. She explains, “This beer industry simply grew on the strength of men of George [Hummel]’s generation drinking that beer. It was really a guy thing back then. That’s the way it grew exponentially.”
Indeed, Rigberg can speak to an even broader history of women in brewing. “The women used to be the brewers before the Industrial Revolution, and men took over because there was power and money in it. They took it out of the house.” Her experience in craft beer has compounded the “other” of early craft beer with the biases of the emerging male-dominated craft world.
Hummel comments, “She used to have trouble working the counter if I wasn’t around, because guys would come in and think, ‘What does the chick know?’ I would say, ‘Dude, if you’re doing a triple decoction, all grain pilsner, she probably doesn’t want to talk to you.’” Rigberg finishes the thought, “Because you’re wasting your time on the scale that you’re doing it.” The technical side of this back and forth is way above my head, but that’s the point–Rigberg knows more than almost anyone.
Of course, sexism in the world of craft beer is not an issue of the past, but the fact that Rigberg developed her career and expertise in a doubly hostile environment speaks to the level of dedication she has had towards the beverage.
In other words, craft beer has always been a creative and flavorful space, but pioneers like Rigberg and Hummel had to fight to build that space up for everyone else. For this reason, their concerns over the present state of craft beer are valid. They don’t want their hard work to go to waste.
When the conversation turns to the present state of craft beer, the tone becomes concerned, critical even. And there are two sides to this topic for Rigberg and Hummel: homebrewing and commercial craft brewing.
After operating Home Sweet Homebrew for nearly 30 years, the couple closed their brick-and-mortar operation in 2019. Reflecting on the reasons, Rigberg comments on the overall attitudes towards consumption, “Retail got to be terrible. After 2010, there was a cultural shift. People wanted things done for them without any input. It’s sort of like, ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning and learn what you’re doing.’ It got to the point where guys would come in and they’re looking at their phone at some recipe. And they never look up and they never say hello. At that point, It was, ‘Good luck to yourself.’ Because you’re wasting how many generations of knowledge.”
The sense is that modern consumers aren’t willing to do the hard work that Rigberg and Hummel had to do to get good beer. They don’t want to learn brewing fundamentals through practice. They want to jump to something that sounds complicated and showy.
Hummel says, “I can appreciate that you want to play around with these recipes, but maybe before you do a Belgian White Beer with kiwi added, you should make sure you can make a good Belgian White Beer.” His logic is solid, and he adds jokingly, “If I want my stout to taste like a doughnut, I will dunk.”
This group believes not in trends, but in longevity. They prefer “beery beer” and “beer that tastes like beer” to bizarre combinations. But their concern goes beyond what is on the shelf. The modern moment jeapardizes a lot of the work that older generations have done. In their view, trends are trumping sustainability.
Rigberg asks, “How many of these strangely ingrediented beers are going to be viable beyond the next 3 months, nevermind the next 3 years? How many of the beers going out there now are beers that are going to be fondly reminisced about in 20 years.” Hummel has been drinking Sierra Nevade Pale Ale for 40 years now. This is the kind of beer they want brewers to create.
Their criticisms are really concerns for the future. And that’s why they are so open to mentoring interested brewers. Humphrey and Montague were homebrew customers at Home Sweet Homebrew, and received immeasurable advice and mentoring from them. The fact we are speaking at Humphrey’s brewery shows just how much Rigberg and Hummel care about their brewing community.
And here, Rigberg sums up the problem with modern craft beer, “When you have people trying to one up eachother on Untappd or wait in line for hours for beer–they’re not going to have the same ability to become mentors for the next generation. So I think a certain extent, you’ll have a cut off point. It’s a permanence thing. Are you going to be permanently involved in the evolution of it or are you just going to do it while its trendy.”
Among all the criticism being tossed around, there is hope for the future of craft beer. For starters, Rigberg sees the spread of craft brewing into Latin America and other parts of the world as a positive development.
On top of this, Humphrey and his business partner Montague are trying to bridge the gap between good beer and brewing expertise. Their new brewery, My Local Brew Works, is America’s first “custom craft brewery.” Aside from their signature beer, everything that they do in the Globe Dye Works space is unique and customized. Humphrey tells me, “I have no interest in competing for shelf space.” Instead, he is creating an experience.
My Local Brew Works is looking to bring brewing to the consumer in an intimate and hands on way, while also producing top quality beer. Their customers chose the style of beer they want brewed and come in to assist in the brewing process. They recently had a local dance company come in and brew a Winter Saison. The dancers themselves added the grain and the hops.
Humphrey explains his angle, “You can get better beer. There’s monks in Belgium who dedicate their lives to brewing. But you’re never going to get a more intimate look at the brewing process than you will in these walls–unless you do it at home.”
The customer’s involvement is serious. My Local Brew Works has drawn a thick blue line on the floor around the brewing system. Customers who are collaborating on the brewing process cannot step over the line unless Humphrey, Montague, or Hummel tell them to do so. It’s hands on, but boiling beer is dangerous. They have thought out how to educate, entertain, and involve their customers in beer making.
Humphrey also explains that he wants to show customers the intellectual process of brewing. He is open to having disagreements and discussions with his brewing partner in front of customers. Brewing is not always a cut and dry process, and the collaborative communication is part of the resulting beer that most end consumers never get to appreciate. The brewery is keeping brewing alive as an art that is communicated between people. In a way, it is a micro-mentorship.
My Local Brew Works is a salve for the present disturbances in craft brewing. Consumers want good beer, but they don’t want to develop the know-how to make it themselves. My Local Brew Works offers a transitional experience, where seasoned experts provide both beer and the experience of brewing.
On top of this, My Local Brew Works is moving towards a more intentional form of brewing. They capture their cooling water and recycle it for cleaning, they donate beer to community events, and they support sustainable farming. “Breweries have to take a bit of a sacrifice.” Humphrey explains, “Because to produce good grain you need at least a couple generations of rotations on those fields. Macro brewing destroyed the agriculture that had been propagated for generations. We as brewers have to take a hit on that to pump money back in that industry to get that field history back. We are intentionally buying sub-par ingredients because its an investment into the next generation of brewers.” They are earnestly investing in beer’s future.
Rigberg supports the idea, “You don’t want to compete for shelf space nowadays. You don’t want to do it. You want to have a unique experience.” She sees a future in locally responsible brewing, “The ones that are more socially responsible and looking to be part of their neighborhoods and do good and make good beer. They’ll survive. They aren’t looking at or relying on trends. They are looking at creating a niche for themselves in their immediate area.” This is the centuries old model of the neighborhood brewpub. All that really matters is good beer and community.
Ultimately, beer is about more than beer for Rigberg and Hummel. “Our original customers from the 20th century,” Rigberg says, laughing at the way time flies, “have aged out of homebrewing. They got older, maybe they drink less, there’s more variety on the market. But the people they met through homebrewing, they’re still friends. They meet socially and know each other’s kids. We have guys come in and they say ‘My son’s old enough that he can brew with me now, and he can do the heavy lifting.’ So, its a generational thing that’s being carried on a small level, and then you have that kind of mentoring and history is involved.”
Local brewing and generational brewing are the cornerstones of the world of craft beer that Hummel and Rigberg know. These are the strategies that they believe will maintain America’s craft beer culture sustainably. My Local Brew Works is the inheritor of a tradition, and intends to perpetuate it. Humphrey concludes, “I’m excited for the next generation of beer culture. I’m always going to be an advocate who is forcing the hand of traditional brewing. I think the palate of beer is at a whole new level. What’s amazing is that we went from a beer culture that no one respected. And now we have created this beautiful new culture of small business, innovation, the infusing of the arts.”
They all hope that the future of craft beer is in good hands–just so long as they aren’t holding an Orange Creamsicle.
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