House Style

Back in the day when there were many large regional and local pub owning breweries, in Liverpool  where I lived throughout the 80s, you often used to be able to tell at a glance, without entering the pub, whose beer was on sale. Then, when there was a pub on every corner and plenty in between, you didn't particularly need to have eyes like a shithouse rat to ascertain with a sweeping glance, whose ale you were going to encounter, or indeed where the nearest pub was. In that fine city they were everywhere. It wasn't just the corporate signage, though obviously that provided a major clue, but how the building itself looked.  Back in the days when we played darts all over the city, that was a handy skill to acquire. We all cared "whose ale" it was.

If you saw a pale, yellow-tiled, flat fronted building, then you knew for sure it was a Whitbread pub, Whitbread having inherited that particular house style from Threlfalls, who they had taken over in the 1960s. Bass houses were broadly speaking distinguished by their distinct corporate black signage, built as a canopy around the entrance. A relic of the Bass Charrington days, the included red triangle was very easy to spot from afar. Higsons pubs were identifiable by the splash of red and black and the little square, lighted box that you could spot a mile away and which, as you got closer had the re-assuring words "Higsons" emblazoned thereon.

Tetley pubs were often bigger, though there was a mixed bag. Most were inherited from Walkers of Warrington and were brick built and imposing. Signage varied from the corporate "Allied Breweries" yellow and white to those that has a makeover and plainer gold lettering with, on the wall by the door, the Huntsman logo and "One of Tetley's Houses" increasingly visible as you approached. John Smith's pubs - fewer and further between - were invariably painted green and when Walkers pubs were brought back from the dead, their distinct shield like hanging sign was a beacon for the thirsty.

It wasn't just the outside that had a corporate touch that was subtle but definable. If you had been beamed down into most pubs, without looking at the bar, you'd have been able to order your drink and be sure which brewery's beer would be placed in your sticky mitt.  Higsons pubs were predominantly red inside. Usually too they were well-worn looking and comfortable. They were often, though not always, small. Whitbread pubs on the other hand always had big tables and lots of heavy chairs and a sort of wallpapered look that gave the game away.  Rarely did they have the standard round cast iron tables that were typical nearly everywhere. They were often multi roomed - and big rooms at that - and rarely had much of the standard bench seating. They did, in fairness look more cared for than some rivals. Bass pubs were often remarkably comfortable inside and well-thought-out. This belied their rather dull exterior. They probably hid their light under a bushel better than most.

Tetley pubs invariably - unless very small - were multi-roomed and often divided by screens and sometimes still had little snugs, which, if you got in first, you could hide in. They had the neatest and grandest pubs of all the breweries. Lots of leather seating and a lot of brass was a feature in many. They tended towards the ornate and plush, even in small pubs. Some bigger pubs had public and lounge bars, the public bar usually a bit more Spartan, but clean and the lounge well appointed. It was there you took your lass (or someone else's) for a quiet Saturday night drink. And there was Greenall Whitley. These were often, old-fashioned, with best rooms and differential pricing, but varying from plush suburban style boozers, comfortable and well appointed, to small intimate and rather bare looking locals.  The white and red pub sign, of a Greek Goddess blowing her horn, was easily visible from afar, but the beer could split opinions.

Pubs then as now - varied immensely - but were usually well run and sometimes even welcoming. There was a degree of "corporate" but they weren't samey and soulless.

Looking at the bar of course gave the game away. (Mostly) plastic boxes for Whitbread, John Smiths and (sometimes) Bass. Electric pumps for Greenalls. Vinyl covered Dalex handpumps for Higsons and the Tetley Huntsman and handpumps for their pubs. Confusingly the coloured plastic boxes often dispensed real ale.

As you travelled the country, you noticed the same kind of things. I suppose pub design followed a kind of template and pattern and still does. I doubt if a newly refurbished JW Lees Cheshire pub, if taken over immediately after refurbishment by say, Holts or Robinsons, would need much of an overhaul to instantly fit into their estates.  Or vice versa.

One Reason Why CAMRA Hated Whitbread

When I was interviewed recently by Laura Hadland, who is researching and writing the official biography of CAMRA, ready for their 50th anniversary in 2021, she asked me the question - and I paraphrase - "Why does CAMRA hate Whitbread?"  I sort of stumbled through an answer, pointing out its record of taking over and closing breweries, its poor commitment to real ale and a general feeling that they didn't really give a monkey's chuff about beer and pubs, just about making money - which while fair enough - was generally perceived as being done in a more than somewhat uncaring and contemptuous manner.

Whitbread was founded in 1742 and was once the largest brewery company in the world. It was a very acquisitive brewery and among others, it took over and closed leading regional breweries such as Lacons, Rhymney, Threlfalls Chesters, Strong, Brickwood, Higsons and Boddingtons.  Quite the record.  There were plenty others besides, but these were the big ones. The ones with lots of lovely tied houses.  CAMRA once sold a T Shirt with the names of the deceased breweries listed. It was entitled "Whitbread Tour of Destruction" I remember having one.

When it came to Merseyside, Whitbread weren't thought of highly. They had many pubs, often large, acquired from the Threlfalls takeover. Threllies was much loved and I believe that this sentimental regard for them didn't stand Whitbread in good stead to say the least. They closed the Truman St Brewery in Liverpool in my time there (1982). This was the old Threlfalls Brewery and while it rarely produced real ale, it was a well esteemed link with the past. As we shall see, Liverpudlians don't like to lose their breweries.

Now, one of the things I've been doing in lockdown, is to publish a piece of breweriana each day on Twitter, chosen from my modest collection of papers and artefacts.  I have plenty stuff from my Liverpool days, so I had this particular subject in mind, but felt it needed a bit more than a Twitter post. This piece is it.

One of the many unseen and unwanted outcomes  of the Beer Orders saw the Higsons Brewery in Liverpool, fall into the clutches of Whitbread.  It didn't survive that experience for long, but CAMRA in Liverpool had plenty to say about it. Scathing would be an understated and piffling description of their feelings.

(As a major aside, the Beer Orders had many unexpected consequences for the British brewing industry, many of which reverberate through time to this very day.  If you want a prime example of the law of unintended consequences, look no further than what happened next and is still happening.)

The closure of Higsons was just after I left Liverpool for Manchester. Many of those listed in the Mersey Drinker attached (1990 but undated dammit) were my colleagues in Liverpool CAMRA. The magazine excoriates Whitbread in no uncertain terms and is a paean of contempt for the company and all it stood for. The whole issue is devoted to putting into action the words of the editor with a massive call to arms. Boycott them! Don't drink fake Higsons brewed in Sheffield! Avoid their pubs and beers (including Boddingtons and the Boddington Pub Company too, who owned the former Higson's pubs) and much more.  Thousands signed an anti Whitbread petition. It was campaigning in the old-fashioned way and maybe the last hurrah for such direct action

All to no avail of course. History doesn't work that way, but when you need to know why CAMRA hate Whitbread, start by asking in Liverpool. They'll tell you.

Higsons was briefly brewed in Sheffield. I recall it was blended with Liverpool brewed beer, then the Liverpool content removed. A shadow of its former self, it ended up in Castle Eden in Durham, where all pretence was abandoned. It was now  just a beer called Higsons. It wasn't Higsons at all. 


In the same issue it was noted that Whitbread would also close The Fremlins Brewery in Faversham. Whitbread exited brewing in 2001 and are still going.

Click images to read in full.

Actual Artifacts from the Actual Nineties

I read with interest Boak and Bailey's blog here about a range of ales produced by Whitbread in the nineties.  They concentrate on Colonel Pepper's Lemon Ale and while I remember it, it was as B&B say, one of many special ales produced at that time to increase interest in cask beer.  Collectively they were called "The Cask Connoisseur's Challenge". I drank them in the Dusty Miller here in Middleton when it was a Whitbread pub run by a mate of mine, Charlie Ashton.

Charlie then was a cask man and Whitbread were pushing cask. The Dusty became a cask ale house of some sort - there was a brand which I don't recall - with guest ales and of course, real ales from the Whitbread empire.  I know they sold cask Trophy and Chester's Mild and Bitter as staples. I was an eager customer and remember drinking the beers, but not only that, when the beers came out, you could acquire (I'm not sure how exactly) T shirts to go with each beer.  Charlie told me not to worry about such qualification as was deemed necessary by his bosses and that he would "Sort me out."  When the promotion ended, Charlie presented me with a carrier bag full of T shirts representing each of the beers.  Over the years the T shirts have slowly but surely died a death, but I still have three, pictured on this blog, as well as a show card for Murphy's Oyster Stout. That was bloody good stuff too.

Of course the T shirts don't fit me any more. Wonder why I haven't thrown them out?  You'll also be glad to know, nearly 25 years later, Charlie still manages the Dusty Miller having somehow survived pub company after pub company, as his pub pinged around between them.  It doesn't sell cask though now, but I still see Charlie around Midd now and then.

I hope B&B will forgive me hopping on their backs over this one, but hopefully this will add to the tale they tell.

I can remember the Lemon beer but that's as far as it goes. Can't remember at all how it tasted, but I do remember the Christmas Pudding was bloody good.