Because I Hate Patriotic Bullshit and Because I Love Revolution

Anheuser-Bush, St. Louis, Missouri

Memories of Beer Lovers, Hemp Farmers & Bloody Revolution
by Mike Ely / July 18, 2008

Ok, I admit it. I’m not your usual observer. When I heard that Budweiser had been bought by the Euro-capitalists InBev, I was not concerned.

I don’t care who owns the factories in the U.S. I don’t worry the U.S. heartland is being infiltrated by foreign interests. And certainly, I don’t consider Budweiser a national treasure. The truth is that it’s almost undrinkable.

But my ears perked up when I read how Budweiser’s maker, Anheuser-Bush had roots in St. Louis that went back before the Civil War. Ah, my friends, THERE is a story worth telling. And I’m going to sit back in the damp heat of this Chicago evening, sip on a couple of Fat Tires, and tell it to you, just because I hate patriotic bullshit and because I love revolution.

* * * * * * *

First, there is nothing American about beer making in St. Louis.

St. Louis in the 1850s was a raw river town situated where the Missouri River and the broad Mississippi met. It was a frontier town in many ways and the jumping off point. It was the “end of the line” for civilization. But it was also one of the first American industrial cities, with one of the heaviest concentration of of factory workers in the country. And these workers were not native-born Americans.

A great many of them came straight from Germany — and formed part of a very large German speaking population that then dominated both the urban and rural landscape from St. Louis to Chicago, to Cincinnati and far into the farmlands of Pennsylvania. And these immigrant workers were a very rowdy and radical bunch. Many were veterans of Europe’s great revolutionary battles of 1848 — the first upheavals when working class and communist revolution emerged as a living threat to the world’s ruling classes.

And, at the same time, surrounding this heavily leftwing, working-class, German-speaking city was a countryside filled with some of the most ugly, racist, pro-slavery forces in the U.S. The Missouri River stretched west from St. Louis, and its shores were lined with slave plantations producing raw materials for twine — a product that shipped downriver to bind the cotton bales of the Mississippi Delta.

The slave owners of Missouri were quite militant. They produced the political gangs called “border ruffians” who crossed the western Missouri border into nearby Kansas territory, where they engaged in armed struggle with abolitionists like John Brown over whether Bloody Kansas would be a slave state or free.

So you can imagine that there was a tension growing through the 1850s between the pro-slavery farmers of the Missouri floodplains and the anti-slavery and often communist workers of St. Louis.

There was a parallel, and little known cultural clash going on at the same time: the German workers arrived as beer drinkers and quite a few of them were first class brewers. There were some Irish among the workers, and they too were fans of the Germans’ sudsy “liquid bread.”

Before long St. Louis was peppered with huge German beer halls, where the often lonely immigrants found community and a feeling of home. For reasons I haven’t yet uncovered, the reactionary political forces of Missouri territory were anti-beer. Maybe they didn’t want this foreign culture to take root. Perhaps they had some early religious prohibitionist logic. But in any case, there was an early political clash when a major push was made to ban beer in St. Louis, and (needless to say) the German workers pushed back.

Here is an irony worth thinking about: In the Mississippi river valley, this important historical clash started between beer lovers and hemp growers. And, believe it or not, revolutionary sympathies go with the beer drinkers.

At a time when social organization among immigrants was primitive, the fight over beer helped spur a sense of common identity among the workers, and gave rise to a number of political newspapers. And the movement that emerged from these circles were increasingly active in the fight over slavery. I have on my bookshelf a rare little book that gathers articles and histories from these German immigrant newspapers — and it is clear how they started to articulate deeply revolutionary views that spoke for a highly conscious and engaged working class population.

You may have studied the civil war a little… I know I have always been fascinated by this first, truly revolutionary war on U.S. soil. And one thing to keep in mind was that the so-called “border states” were a key battle ground as the civil war broke out. There was a strip of these states (from Maryland through West Virginia, Kentucky, to Missouri) that had sizable populations of slave owners and slaves but a general political mood that was divided over the issues of secession and war.

And in this fight over the border states, Maryland had a particular importance because it surrounded the Union capital, so that if it joined the slavery confederation, Washington DC would be harder to defend. And the mood was so bad that Abraham Lincoln was almost killed in Baltimore as he traveled from Illinois to DC to assume the presidency. At the other end of the country, St. Louis has a major strategic importance for the war: It was the major anti-slavery center on the Mississippi. (The next river city, Memphis, was a creature of the Mississippi Delta. It was one of the urban nerve centers of the slave empire — filled with slave markets and holding pens.)

And so, as war broke out, all sides prepared to seize St. Louis by force. And if it had fallen to the slavocracy, it would have been quite hard for the Union’s armies to gain a foothold on the Mississippi, and it would have been that much harder to defeat the South.

On the surface, the politics of St. Louis did not look promising. After 1860, the new governor Claiborne Fox Jackson was clearly a pro-slavery diehard, and the bastard was scheming to secede from the Union and pull the state into slavery’s confederacy.

Step by step the tensions mounted, and started to go from political to military preparations. One focus of preparations was the state armory, the largest warehouse of weapons on the frontier. Whoever controlled those guns would be better able to crush their enemies.

Here again beer enters the story. Because the German workers started to prepare for battle. Led by veterans of the 1848 Revolutions, they started to secretly train themselves in discipline and military tactics. Their plan: to rise up against the state government in armed insurrection, to seize the armory, and defeat the governor’s army.

Where did they do their drills? In the cavernous beer halls of St. Louis. At a given time, they would gather. The doors would be sealed and put under vigilant guard. The tables would be cleared away. And cartloads of sawdust would be scattered deep on the beerhall floors.

And with the sawdust muffling the tramp, tramp, tramp of their feet, the workers prepared themselves for war — learning the unit movements so central to the warfare of that day. Outside, on the streets, the many spies of the governor could not hear what was going on within.

United States Volunteers Attacked by the Mob, Corner of Fifth and Walnut Streets, St. Louis, Missouri. — [Sketched by M. Hastings, Esq.]

I won’t go into great detail about the heroic and fascinating ways that violence erupted. Led by fearless army officer Nathaniel Lyons the anti-slavery forces struck, and struck hard. They seized St. Louis and the armory. And they shattered the schemes of the slave owners. They routed the Governor’s troops in the early battles. And they bottled up the slaveowners of the Missouri River — cutting them off from the Confederacy.

What followed was one of the most bitter civil wars I have ever studied: Missouri was criss-crossed by vicious pro-slavery death squads that carried out horrific murders and mutilations. Their raiders came dressed in a cloud of human scalps sewn into their clothes and bridles — as they spread terror among those who opposed the sale of human beings. If you have ever wondered where the frontier killer Jesse James got trained, it was as a triggerman for one of the most notorious death squads of the slavocracy.

Hemp made its appearance here too, right in the midst of the fighting: in several key battles the Confederate forces build protective breast works out of the hemp bales pulled from their slave plantations, piling up the bundled hemp harvest to protect themselves from Union bullets.

Fighting against the slavocrats were a complex array of forces, and at their core were new Union army units led by radical Republican John Charles Fremont, recruited heavily from among the German workers of St. Louis. The first known actions of communists in the U.S. was the revolutionary armed struggle of these largely German-speaking forces, led in part by Colonel Joseph Weydemeyer, an energetic communist co-thinker of Karl Marx.

These units militantly emancipated many slaves that fell into their hands. This was in direct contradiction with the policy of President Lincoln who, afraid to offend the leading forces of other border states, insisted in the early days of the civil war that slaves should not be freed, but should be treated as “contraband property.” In this dispute, Fremont was removed from the command of the Missouri armies, and these revolutionary working class forces were dispersed into larger armies in order to better control them.

There are, in my opinion, many lessons and insights within this story. And more in the parts I have left untold.

But I tell this story now just to make a single point:

Anyone who thinks that Budweiser and the beer industry of St. Louis is a story of patriotism, Americanism, of all-American “national treasures,” of a whiteman’s “heartland” of traditional values and conservative xenophobia… Anyone who runs that story just doesn’t know.

The story of beer in St. Louis is a story of communist immigrant workers who didn’t speak English, who hated the mistreatment of kidnapped Africans in the United States, who had little love for America’s institutions, and who were willing to die (and kill!) to end the horrific practices of human slavery.

Deal with it. Pass it on.

Mike Ely is part of the Kasama Project and has helped create the new Revolution in South Asia resource. Mike’s email is m1keely@yahoo.com.

Source / Dissident Voice

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2 Responses to Because I Hate Patriotic Bullshit and Because I Love Revolution

  1. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed each and every entry on this blog. I stopped here, to tell you my reaction, because after the history you’ve provided on ‘beer’ – ‘Bud’, et. al., I couldn’t go any further without thanking you.

    The blog is crisp; bright with photos – enough lead material to entice the reader to ‘read more’, and it’s balanced in pulling topics to the fore-front.

    It doesn’t seem to ‘take sides’, it just informs and backs it up with proper reference material.

    I’m so glad Alan chose to feature one of your stories on his blog today.

    Alan’s blog: http://heartlandheretic.blogspot.com I read his blog daily; now I can add yours to my morning ‘news’.

    Diane

  2. Dude,

    Awesome post! (Although the role of hemp in the confrontation between the prohibitionists and the abolitionists might be slightly exaggerated…) I have a piece of that German antislavery history under my skin as well, in the form of a letter my great-great-grand-uncle wrote back home to his cousin in Germany telling him to get his ass to Wisconsin, where he’d find “God’s own hand, not marred & ruined like our own despised land.” He went on at great length, talking like a transcendentalist carpenter about how in America we had a chance to build a society free from the militarism and the hate and the hierarchy of Europe (“…and the best thing, Karl–no Prussians! Well, except for the slaveholders, men who are wholly inhuman and yet call their slaves less then men…this institution must be driven out. Already at the Turnverein we are making plans; we will oppose them, alone or with other groups, we will oppose them.”

    Wisconsin was very much in the Kraut ’48-er Belt (and we grew some serious hemp, too!) My friend Dave West is the last scientist with a permit to experiment (horticulturally) with hemp, and he wrote one of the best pieces on another pivotal, hemp & alcohol related confrontation: the Low, Dishonest Decade.

    Thanks for widening the circle! Btw, there’s a great Yiddish story from St. Louis–are you familiar with Shlemiel Crooks? (Oh, and one more that connects us geographically and memetically, possibly my favorite book of the last year’s reading, the beautifully written Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan.

    Here’s an excerpt from an interview

    Let’s begin with the title. Why The Botany of Desire?

    MP: The title is meant to reinforce the idea that it’s a book about the relationship of two worlds—the plant world and the human world, and how they intertwine. My premise is that you can’t begin to understand human desires for sweetness, beauty, and intoxication without understanding the plants that evolved to gratify those desires—respectively, the apple, the tulip, and marijuana.

    Mythology surrounding the apple is rich. In Greek mythology, Atlanta refused to marry unless a suitor could defeat her in a foot race. One suitor, Milanion, accomplished this goal by dropping three golden apples during the contest. Atlanta stopped to pick them up, lost the race, and became his wife. In the Judeo-Christian myth, it is generally believed that the forbidden fruit of Eden was an apple. Then there’s Isaac Newton. Have we not overburdened this poor plant?

    MP: The apple is doing just fine, thank you. Indeed, the more symbolic meaning we find in it, the better, as far as the apple is concerned. For it is by making itself indispensable to humans—as a source of sweetness, of intoxication (for many more apples were drunk rather than eaten right up until prohibition), and of symbols—that the apple has managed to expand its range beyond its place of origins, in Kazakhstan, to the point where it now grows on six of seven continents.

    However, one symbolic meaning the apple did not earn: It was not the fruit in the garden of Eden. Contrary to what we all assume, the Bible never specifies “the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden,” and botany suggests it could not have been the apple, because apples do not do well in dry hot places such as the area where Eden is usually located. (A place called Ur, somewhere in Iraq, if I’m not mistaken.)

    In all likelihood it was the pomegranate Eve tasted. But it’s a measure of the apple’s ingenuity, its unrivaled ability to insinuate itself into all kinds of new environments, that it managed to worm its way into our image of Eden. It did this, by the way, by appealing to the northern Renaissance painters—Dürer and Cranach and others—who needed to show the fruit in Eden. The fruit they knew best, the one already most freighted with symbolic import, was of course the apple.

    Who was John Chapman, aka Johnny Appleseed? What is his rightful place in American history?

    MP: Contrary to what you learned in kindergarten, Johnny Appleseed was not a harmless eccentric, spreading apple seeds across the frontier like pixie dust. He was, in fact, a much stranger, more compelling, and more significant figure—a successful businessman, a brilliant woodsman, and, most importantly, the bringer of alcohol to the American frontier.

    We think of the apple, and in turn John Chapman, as wholesome, but that’s a relatively recent development—the result of a marketing campaign to reposition the apple during prohibition, when the tree was associated more with vice than virtue. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away” and “American as apple pie” were slogans designed to save this fruit from Carrie Nation’s hatchet, for the apple in the eyes of a prohibitionist was as evil as a marijuana plant is today in the eyes of the drug czar…

    (Speaking of which, you might also like Pollan’s take on the inspiration of inspiration.)

    Best,

    IC

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