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Papa Joe" Griesedieck receiving the first permit to brew beer from the IRS. Photograph from the collections of the St. Louis Mercantile Library at the University of Missouri–St. Louis
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Alvin Griesedieck. Courtesy of Missouri History Museum
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19 Squires Lane. Photograph by Chris Naffziger
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Continental Building. Photograph by Chris Naffziger
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Rock Alva. Photograph by Chris Naffziger
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Rock Alva. Photograph by Chris Naffziger
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Rock Alva. Photograph by Chris Naffziger
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Falstaff Company Picnic at Rock Alva, from "The Falstaff Story," by Alvin Griesedieck
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The Falstaff world in the 1950s. From "The Falstaff Story," by Alvin Griesedieck
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Columbia Brewery, then Falstaff Plant no. 5. Photograph by Chris Naffziger
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Long section of main building, Columbia Brewing Co., 20th and Madison Streets, St. Louis, Mo., May 9, 1935. From the Falstaff Brewing Corporation Records, Missouri History Museum Archives, St. Louis
The mood in William J. Lemp Jr.’s office was tense. The Lemp brewery had closed the year before, and now, in 1920, his friend Joseph “Papa Joe” Griesedieck and his son Alvin were sitting in front of him, offering to buy his family’s legacy. As Alvin recounted later in The Falstaff Story, Lemp finally calmed down and agreed to sell the Griesediecks the rights to the Falstaff label for a paltry $25,000. Later that year, Lemp would commit suicide in the same office where the deal with his friend was sealed, despondent over the recent undervalued sale of the brewery buildings to the International Shoe Company.
Papa Joe had made full use of his charisma and social connections after buying the Forest Park Brewing Company in 1917, renaming it the Griesedieck Beverage Company. As soon as Prohibition arrived, he first attempted to market a non-alcoholic beer called Hek, named after a supposed Egyptian beer. As Alvin admits decades later in The Falstaff Story, perhaps it was not the most eloquent name for marketing purposes. When the money ran out, Papa Joe realized the future lay with a time-tested, de-alcoholized brand name, Falstaff. Turning to his friends, the Griesedieck scion raised enough money to capitalize his brewery and pay off the Lemps, changing the name to the Falstaff Brewing Corporation. The location on Forest Park Avenue became Plant No. 1.
Because of the Griesediecks’ long experience with brewing, they knew that the commonly used “check fermentation” process—which halted fermentation just before the alcohol surpassed legal limits—was a poor way to brew good beer. So Falstaff, just like Anheuser-Busch, brewed their beer all the way through, then at the end removed the alcohol with a special “de-alcoholizer” machine. This decision proved to be of critical importance, as Falstaff had beer ready to sell to the thirsty, rowdy crowd that formed outside of the brewery the night beer became legal. As Alvin related, all Falstaff had to do to immediately dive into the post-Prohibition world was to simply turn off the “de-alcoholizer.” The breweries using check fermentation missed the boat, so to speak. To further cement Falstaff’s reputation, Papa Joe secured the first permit to brew beer after Prohibition; the smile on his face in the photo commemorating the moment shows a vindicated man.
Plant No. 1 quickly grew too small to meet the demands of Falstaff’s growing sales. Fortunately for the survivors of Prohibition, St. Louis in the 1930s was littered with the vacant hulks of failed breweries. For instance, the Union Brewery at Gravois and Michigan was previously owned by Otto Stifel, who committed suicide when his brewery failed during Prohibition; it became Plant No. 2, beginning a Falstaff practice of buying up old production facilities in lieu of raising the capital to build brand-new breweries.
Papa Joe revolutionized the brewing industry when he purchased the Krug Brewery in Omaha, Nebraska in 1935, christening it Plant No. 3 and making Falstaff the first brewery to own production facilities in two states. Anheuser-Busch would respond in 1951 by building a wholly new brewery in Newark, New Jersey. New Orleans’ National Brewery joined the company in 1936 as Plant No. 4. The purchase of the Columbia/Alpenbrau Brewery in St. Louis Place came in 1948. Now known as Plant No. 5, the old brewery unfortunately was already beginning to show its age.
Monsignor Griesedieck still remembers working for the family business during this heady time. Originally, before constructing the office building on Oakland Avenue, Falstaff occupied the top floors of the Continental Building, the tallest skyscraper in Grand Center, located a couple of blocks from Plant No. 1. As a further sign of their prosperity, his father Alvin purchased a house at 19 Squires Lane in Huntleigh, living literally across the street from the von Gontards and other members of St. Louis’ brewery elite. Eschewing sun-soaked party schools, the Griesediecks sent their sons to the academically challenging Cornell University. Monsignor Griesedieck worked in the warehouse at first; he then moved on to the corporate offices for a couple of years, “hiring secretaries,” in his words. However, the priesthood called, and he left Falstaff at the age of 28 in 1958.
Under the leadership of Papa Joe and his son Alvin, who took over as president following his father’s death in 1938, prospects never looked brighter. The family estate, Rock Alva, in what is now Crestwood, hosted huge parties for Falstaff employees. Monsignor and Joe Griesedieck Jr. both fondly recount time spent out in the countryside along the Meramec River. The large castle-like barn contained a skeet-shooting platform on top of its tower, while a stable and hayloft occupied the lower levels. It also provided commanding views of the beautiful resort area in the valley before suburbia moved in during the 1950s. Interestingly, the actual house with a separate dining room and kitchen is surprisingly modest; it seems the family never had much of a need for ostentatious displays of wealth. Sadly, the land was later subdivided and the original buildings sit hidden amongst McMansions.
Surprisingly, and despite the thrall the Lemp family still holds in the collective imagination of St. Louis history buffs, neither Griesedieck interviewed had any memories of interacting with members of that ill-fated beer dynasty. William Lemp, Jr. actually had lived just to the south of Rock Alva at Alswel, while Edwin Lemp, his brother, lived to the north of the Griesedieck estate at Cragwold until 1970. Admittedly, the Lemps of pre-Prohibition fame were from a previous generation, but it is fascinating to learn how fast their memory faded in the collective consciousness of mid-20th century St. Louis.
Next week: as the turbulent 1960s arrive in America, Falstaff experiences its own parallel crisis.
Chris Naffziger writes about architecture at St. Louis Patina. Contact him via e-mail at naffziger@gmail.com.
