By Dick Cantwell

What would you do?

Each year when the National Microbrewery Conference is convened people headshakingly observe that another year has passed during which the industry has posted an enormous number of startup projects; that the national percentage of market share by the micros has continued to rise; that once again most of the participants are there mainly in order to explore the possibility of going into business for themselves; and that it won't last forever. Patterns of growth are analyzed and expounded upon, new markets both geographical and demographic are noted and applauded, rumors are circulated about budding corporate alliance, and in general sense is attempted to be made of industry currents and waves as perceived within the previous year, but also as we feel ourselves drawn into a future still undefined.

Growth is always a hot topic, of course. Has your brewery grown as fast as this little nugget down in Texas? Are you up to the marketing and packaging changes demanded of what we're all liable to see in the upcoming months and years? Can you believe how many breweries now comprise the chain held by that unassuming man over there quaffing a golden ale -- and he seems like such a nice guy. Some of the undercurrent discussion even has to do with integrity, about whether customers will be alienated by extreme expansion or alliance with an organization neotraditionally regarded as the enemy, about whether quality will suffer above a certain barrelage figure or under new procedural circumstances. We all wonder what it's possible to pull off, how much we can actually get away with, how much of ourselves we can maintain as we become increasingly successful.

A few months ago, not far into the brewpub project in which my partners and I are involved here in Seattle, we were tentatively approached by a representative of a fairly large consortium of entertainment bigwigs wondering if we had any interest at all in exploring the possibility of involvement in the earliest and most modest stage of what they hoped to turn into a nationwide phenomenon. It was to be a space of a few dozen thousand square feet crammed with the latest in electronic games and entertainment, and we were to be considered as a possible franchisee, with a pub and small brewery operation. Our first internal reaction was no, that didn't sound like us, but simply because it was all so vague (and because we didn't entirely trust our somewhat harried guts), we said yes in consideration of further examination. We hadn't actually been asked yet -- why discount something out of hand that hadn't yet been made completely clear? It could turn out to be perfect later. Besides, we had work to do. The dishwasher for the evening hadn't shown up, somebody had torn the paper towel dispenser off the wall in the ladies room, and a decision had to be made about whether to change the finishing hops in the IPA. Or things to that effect.

So we went back to work, and not only on the little projects. Our wholesale market needed further development; our kitchen persisted in needing a great deal of attention in order for us to keep our doors open (and in fact we ended up parting ways with our chef); and as we worked we gradually began to realize that some of the more ambitious tenant improvements we had had in mind since opening would probably have to be shunted into the indeterminate future.

Then these people called back, asking if we were serious. They'd been doing some looking around, checking out the other breweries in the area, and they continued to be interested in us. Could we meet and discuss the possibility? We talked about it and voted unanimously to say yes. What could we lose? We still felt enough ambivalence toward the project to keep us from feeling disappointed if nothing came of it. One thing we wondered about was what people would think of our involvement in something like this. Would we lose accounts? Would people think we were selling out, or compromising our ideals for the sake of profit?

The deal was pretty sweet. They were willing to bankroll nearly all of our part of the project. They were even willing to install a small brewery, mainly to satisfy the legal requirement that a certain nominal amount of beer be produced on the premises. Naturally I couldn't have people connecting me with a brewery that existed in name only, and which might even dump its beer down the drain, so I decided that this brewery would produce traditional cask ales, and beers so quirky and distinctive that I wouldn't dare brew more than four or five barrels of them in any case. I started to get excited about being able to brew Berliner Weiss beer, Belgian strong ales and gruit beer tinctured with Alaskan herbs. The bulk of the beer poured there would come from our parent brewery some fifteen blocks up the hill, and I would be able to augment the variety of beers at both places with off-the-wall products produced in my little "pilot" system. We negotiated, and eventually closed the deal with virtually no anxiety or fanfare, largely, I'm sure, because we still couldn't entirely believe that we would ever be involved in such a project.

Still we wondered about public reaction. We were sure on one hand that nobody else would be able to believe that we had been able to pull something like this off after only being open for some seven months. It was a whole new segment of the market, brought to our doors by the entertainment industry. They had finally taken notice of the microbrewery movement, and we were to be one of the first to be admitted to their world. We began to get extremely excited. But would the issue of integrity come up? I felt that I had made the appropriate decisions about authenticity where the beer was concerned. Were we simply afraid of success? Would we feel better doing without the deck out back or the blade sign in front indefinitely? Were we afraid to lose our reputation as Seattle grunge brewers by an odd alliance with Hollywood? Would we rather some other local brewery were involved? Or would people applaud us? We still don't entirely know. What do you think? What would you have done?