Hale's
Ales: three new brews are crossing the state line.
On March 21, 1933, Congress took the first step toward ending
Prohibition with the Cullen Bill, which legalized the manufacture
and sale of beer. The 13-year experiment had been a clear
failure: The very social ills that anti-alcohol activists
hoped to squelch--a decline in national morality, the disintegration
of families, crime--were raised to new heights under total
alcohol prohibition. Drinking skyrocketed, crime flourished
and national "morals" plummeted during the Roaring '20s.
It's a strange coincidence to learn of Washington state's
proposed Senate Bill 5872 on the anniversary week of the
Cullen Bill. The law, which would drop the legal blood-alcohol
concentration (BAC) to .02, would effectively criminalize
the act of drinking even the smallest amounts of alcohol
and then driving. If it's passed, average-sized Washingtonians
can expect to have their driver's licenses suspended for
a month and receive a $500 fine for having one pint of
beer or a glass of wine with dinner.
A century ago, the temperance movement pursued similar
restrictive laws, incrementally working toward prohibition.
During the early part of the movement, proponents learned
that a complete alcohol ban was unpopular. As an alternate
tactic, they became active in passing alcohol "regulation"
legislation. The kinds of laws they passed addressed public
drunkenness, sale to minors, sale near churches and saloon
licensing. Groups like the Women's Christian Temperance
Union and the Anti-Saloon League believed the evils of
society resided inside saloons and were born of hooch.
With strong restrictions on alcohol--if not an outright
ban--drunkards would become good husbands and workers
again. With the passing of time and the passage of laws,
the appealing rhetoric won converts to the cause of prohibition.
In the modern era, the movement toward laws like Washington's
.02 limit began with the best of intentions. Recognizing
a serious national problem, groups like Mothers Against
Drunk Drivers rightly brought attention to the issue,
and by 1997 alcohol-related deaths reached a record low.
But other laws, such those that would place high taxes
on alcohol (one such is currently under consideration
in Oregon) and those that would lower the legal BAC, are
underhanded attempts to stop consumption. (MADD itself
does not support very low BACs, advocating instead for
.08.) As was the case with the temperance movement of
the prohibitionists, the rhetoric that leads to more and
more restrictive laws is appealing. Show the tears of
a parent who has just lost a child to a drunk driver,
and zero tolerance seems like a pretty good idea.
Or maybe not. Is it possible to drink and drive safely?
Despite what the backers of SB 5872 believe, science answers
with a solid "yes." Studies show that significant impairment
doesn't begin until (depending on the study) .08 or .10
BAC. Other studies have failed to show that reducing legal
BAC below .08 would have any effect on alcohol-related
accidents.
The law also fails another credibility test. For pubs
(and many restaurants), a .02 BAC law would be fatal,
and the backers of this law must know it. With the rise
of brewpubs in the Northwest, the family-oriented pub--where
mom and dad have pints while junior has a glass of root
beer--is commonplace now, yet it's exactly this kind of
business that will be damaged the most. That its impact
on retailers is nowhere mentioned in the bill causes suspicion--and
testimony in favor of the bill does nothing to allay it.
Arguing that even drinking a little reduces judgment,
proponents assert that by the time one's BAC reaches .08,
one is unlikely to decide to quit drinking. So, argue
backers, laws should be in place to make sure that chain
of events never starts. What? The motive behind this backhanded
bill is unclear right now, but it's obviously not just
public safety.
Hale's
Ales
A couple of weeks ago, Portland was treated to three
rare sightings of Mike Hale, founder of Hale's Ales. Despite
having established one of the first craft breweries in the
Northwest, Hale's isn't exactly a household name south of
the Columbia, and his visit, including public tastings,
was an attempt to rectify that.
Among the earliest pioneers in microbrewing, Hale spent
a year in England learning how to brew before setting
up his own brewery in tiny Colville, Washington in 1983.
Working with the English model, Hale makes a line of traditional
ales with a touch of Northwest flavor. For years Portlanders
have been able to find his Cream Ale on tap around town,
a beer characteristic of the Hale's line. A nitrogen-tapped
beer, Cream Ale--like many of Hale's draft beers--is made
to bring out the best of cask-conditioning. It's a crisp,
tangy session ale; the "cream" in the title comes from
the nitrogen, which produces a smooth, clean flavor, one
that stays fresh on tap longer because it's not exposed
to air. Other Hale's ales can be found around town, including
at the Snake and Weasel, where a rotating selection of
nitro-tapped beers will soon featured.
A year ago Hale's decided to bottle its beer, making
it more widely available in Portland. Doing its best to
maintain the integrity of the draft flavor, Hale's bottle-conditions
its beer. Three brews from the regular line-up--Moss Bay
Extra, Pale Ale, and Amber--are available in Portland,
as is a seasonal (currently the Nut Brown). Portland has
always been a tough nut for Washington breweries to crack;
loyal locals have seen little reason to stray beyond Oregon-made
beer. Then again, we're always willing to try a new beer,
especially one brewed by a venerable, independent craft
brewery. Hale's is all that, and a damn fine beer too.
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Willamette Week | originally
published March 24,
1999
|
