Portland's Day One May Be the Nation's Only Pop-Up Beer Distributor

“You can’t do this anywhere else. Oregon makes it easy."

(Christine Dong)

Robby Roda is like a U.N. airdrop for rare beer.

The slight-framed Clackamas High School grad, clad always in a longshoreman's cap, is the first to make full use of a little-known quirk in Oregon law to bring kegs to Portland from buzzy out-of-state breweries like Los Angeles' Phantom Carriage and Smog City, Brooklyn's Other Half, and Phoenix's Arizona Wilderness—beers rarely seen outside their home cities.

Rather than sign full distribution agreements, Roda's 6-month-old company, Day One Distribution, signs up breweries for just 30 days at a time, using the same license an event promoter might use to bring in beers for a farmhouse ale festival. Roda—Day One is just him, a couple vans and a couple drivers—then sets up tap takeovers at beer bars like Beermongers, N.W.I.P.A. and Bailey's Taproom.

 "You can't do this anywhere else," says Thomas Kelley of Southern California's El Segundo Brewing, whose beers Roda also brings to Oregon. "No one else makes it easy. You call up the OLCC and they say, 'Oh, yeah, sure. We'll send you a box of chocolates.'"

Consider Day One a pop-up beer distributor—among the only ones in the nation. The same way a Filipino brunch pop-up might do a meal only once a month because it can't fund or sustain an entire restaurant, Day One can bring in beers for a short time rather than making them commit to Oregon distribution. Each brewery can use the 30-day license twice a year.

But Day One is also part of a larger trend in brewing, with smaller distributors springing up to serve the needs of a new wave of hot-item nanobreweries. It's one of the big trends we've noticed while working on our annual Beer Guide, which hits streets this week.

"Many of these breweries are small and have no intention of growing, especially the way things are now," says Jon Brodie of Massachusetts distributor Shelton Brothers, which also specializes in tiny craft breweries. "So by not holding them to any sort of minimum or being involved in any decision-making at the brewery, we allow them to fully express their creative vision unimpeded. Many times, larger breweries can be driven by salesmen who need certain volumes or price points to be met."

Roda, for his part, hadn't intended to become a distributor—he'd been running a clothing store called Orn Hansen with his wife, after working as a bartender in Los Angeles beer bars. He also managed sales for Portland's Cascade Brewing for a year and a half before the idea for Day One came up.

"I was talking to Tom Kelley, one of the owners of El Segundo, and he was chatting about how to get his beer into Portland," Roda says.

But Kelley was not eager to sign with a large distributor. "[Kelley] said, 'Why don't you just do it? Why don't you just get your distributor's license?'" Roda recalls.

After ponying up less than $400 to get a license in Oregon, Roda named Day One after a line of beers El Segundo releases to stores the same day they're packaged.

El Segundo's launch at Belmont Station last August was one of the biggest sales days for the Southeast Stark Street beer bar and bottle shop in 2016. "We sold 15 cases of bottles," Kelley says. "I was like, 'Whoa, this is an animal. We don't have any stores that do that.'"

In part, Roda says, it's the novelty that causes interest among beer drinkers quick to hop on whatever new, trendy brew comes down the turnpike.

"No offense," Roda tells Kelley later, "but the guy at Belmont, he didn't think anybody knew who the fuck you were."

Oregon is a particularly tough market for out-of-state breweries, says Dave Mickelson of Seattle-based distributor Great Artisan Beverage, which recently brought Michigan's Founders and Wyoming's Melvin Brewing to Oregon.

"Oregon is known to embrace the local thing more than anyone else I've seen," Mickelson says. "People in Eugene don't want to drink beer from Portland and vice versa. Washington beers struggle in Portland; the reverse doesn't hold true."

"Breweries that come in here full force, bring a sales rep, and sign with a huge distributor, they make a splash," Roda says. "But then drinkers see the same beers over and over—it's been sitting on the shelf for a long-ass time and there's nothing special. They want to see something new, and then go back and support their local, great brands."

The way Day One does things, a tiny brewery like El Segundo can jump onto taps, sell a bunch of IPA and then disappear for a while. When it comes back with a new crop of beer, customers are excited again.

But there's another reason the pop-up model works for small breweries. Oregon's beer laws heavily favor distributors.

"There are very, very strong franchise laws in Oregon," Mickelson says. "You're negotiating a prenup when you negotiate a distribution agreement."

If a tiny brewery doesn't feel like its distributor is pushing its beers, it's very difficult to get out of the contract. This leaves a lot of small brewers leery of coming to Oregon, especially on a permanent basis, given the competitive local market. A 30-day relationship becomes very attractive at that point.

And so while Roda has signed franchise deals with El Segundo and his old bosses at Cascade Brewing—and is in talks to sign former Fat Head's brewer Mike Hunsaker's Grains of Wrath—he says most of the tiny breweries may never sign long-term.

"If they decide they really like being in this market, they can get a long-term license for a low amount of dollars," Roda says. "I want to be a partner to a brewery and support them according to their needs, and grow with them. Most don't have the ability to be here on a regular basis."

That's true of El Segundo—it can barely handle the needs of Los Angeles.

"As you get bigger in the market, you're dealing with the liquor store on the corner that doesn't quite get it," Kelley says. "Your beer might be 90 days on the shelf. I hate that. We just bring enough beer. We're not trying to compete with Breakside. We try to come in, have a little slice, have a party, and then we're out."

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