Pub or offie?

Where do UK drinkers buy their beer? 

Historically, it was overwhelmingly in pubs. Before WW II, When the number of standalone off-licences was relatively small, even beer for home consumption was often purchased in pubs. Sometimes in bottled form, but often draught beer filled into jugs. 

Children were often sent to fetch the beer, despite being underage. This was allowed as long as a seal was put on the jug to prevent illicit sipping on the way home. My mother did this as a girl, fetching a pint of Old and Mild for her mum. But I digress.

After 1960, the number of off-licences increase rapidly, doubling by 2000. While, at the same time, the number of pubs has decreased. Which has shifted the balance between on- and off-licences considerably. S you can see in the first table.

As recently as 1980, not far short of 90% of beer sales were in pubs. That's been in decline ever since. But it was only in 2015 that a majority of sales were in offies.

Obviously, there was a big drop in pub sales during the pandemic years of 2020 and 2021. Since when pub sales have increased a bit. The latest figure of 42% pub sales is still quite impressive compared to most other countries. Where a far higher percentage of beer is sold in shops rather than bars. 

Pubs and off licences 1905 - 2000
Date	Total Pubs	Off Licences	total	% pubs	% off licences
1905	99,478	25,405	124,883	79.66%	20.34%
1910	92,484	24,438	116,922	79.10%	20.90%
1920	83,432	22,198	105,630	78.99%	21.01%
1930	77,605	22,125	99,730	77.82%	22.18%
1940	73,365	21,884	95,249	77.02%	22.98%
1950	73,483	23,532	97,015	75.74%	24.26%
1960	69,184	23,670	92,854	74.51%	25.49%
1970	64,702	27,910	92,612	69.86%	30.14%
1980	67,091	37,252	104,343	64.30%	35.70%
1991	74,299	47,944	122,243	60.78%	39.22%
2000	77,876	45,450	123,326	63.15%	36.85%
Sources:
1924 – 1972: The Brewers' Society Statistical handbook 1973”, page 50.
1973 - 2010 2011 Statistical Handbook of the BBPA, page 74
"Brewers' Almanack 1971", page 83.

Location of UK beer sales (%)
Year	on sales	off sales
1980	87.7	12.3
1985	83.0	17.0
1986	81.6	18.4
1987	80.7	19.3
1988	80.1	19.9
1989	79.6	20.4
1990	79.6	20.4
1990	78.5	21.5
1991	77.7	22.3
1992	76.7	23.3
1993	75.4	24.6
1994	74.5	25.5
1995	72.6	27.5
1996	72.0	28.0
1999	68.1	31.9
2000	67.6	32.4
2001	65.7	34.3
2002	63.6	36.4
2003	61.7	38.3
2004	60.4	39.6
2005	59.4	40.6
2006	57.9	42.1
2007	56.5	43.5
2008	54.2	45.8
2009	53.8	46.2
2010	51.9	48.1
2011	52.4	47.6
2012	52.4	47.6
2013	50.7	49.3
2014	50.0	50.0
2015	49.1	50.9
2016	48.4	51.6
2017	46.9	53.1
2018	46.0	54.0
2019	45.0	55.0
2020	23.6	76.4
2021	30.7	69.3
2022	41.3	58.7
2023	41.9	58.1
2024	42.1	57.9
Source:
BBPA Statistical Handbook 2025, page 14.

 

 

 

Six o'clock swill in Amsterdam

Dutch pubs recently reopened. Hurray! But only outside. And only 12:00 - 18:00. Which immediately reminded me of Australia's Six o'clock swill. Another "temporary" WW I measure that lasted until long after the next World War.

Being unemployed makes these hours less problematic for me than for someone in full-time work. Luckily, my mate Mikey had Friday off. Why not go into town for a beer? No tourists, so it shouldn't be too busy. We arranged to meet at The Old Bell on Rembrandtplein at 2 PM. A bit of Amsterdam I usually try to avoid.

It's wall-to-wall pubs, hotels and restaurants. On, as this in Amsterdam, weed cafes, too. Mostly pretty dreadful pubs. Either full of drunken tourists, similarly drunken out-of-town Dutch youth, or awful Dutch music. Really not my cuup of tea.

Speaking of tea, sort of, Old Bell is, as you might have guessed a fake English. It occupies one corner of the square and has a large chunk of its pavement for outdoor seating. Hopefully, we'd have plenty of space and wouldn't be rubbing shoulders with other punters.

Walking along the flower market after jumping off a number 2 tram, I was struck by how many people there were about.  I'd expected town to be empty. A bit like central London after the Dalek invasion. Instead, it looked much like always. On, maybe, a quiet day, like a wet Tuesday in February.

We took a table right om the edge of the seating. To have as few people possible close by.

Mikey's first choice, Guinness West Indies Porter, they didn't have. Nor his second, Newcastle Brown. He had to settle for Strongbow. 

"Why are so many beers outs of stock?" Mikey asked.

"Because of Corona and being closed for over six months. We had to throw away so much beer. Dozens of crates." The waiter, very reasonably, explained.

No problem with providing me a Westmalle Tripel. A nice session beer. Bottled January 2020. But still well withing its January 2022 sell-by date. Throwing away Westmalle Tripel would have made me cry. Such a great beer. If not particularly subtle. I love its roughness.

The rest of the seats were soon pretty much all occupied. Uncomfortably close in some cases with neighbouring tables. Especially for Mikey, who moved to the other side of our table. I can see he isn't happy about how closely by some people are passing.

"Who are all these people?"  I wonder.

"That looks like a group of English lads." Mikey said, pointing at a group of eight youths. I'm sure he was right.

The couple on the next table were speaking French. On another Spanish. Behaving just like tourists.

"They're tourists, aren't they? How did they get here? Where are they staying?"

"By car, probably."

Only "essential travel" is allowed for us Dutch residents. It's a bit irritating that people from abroad can come in. Unfair, is the word that comes to mind. As well as the phrase, fucking annoying.

When Mikey tried to get in a last round, he was serving stopped at 17:35. Six is throwing out time.

"Park bench and Butcher's Tears next week?" Mikey said after weeing the bill. "That' s much cheaper." He's got used to cheapo can sessions either at his or a bench on the lake. The reality of Dutch pub prices is laid bare after more than six months of home-drinking supermarket beer.

"That's fine by me." I can't justify spending 40 euros on an afternoon session. I could get the best part of a crate of Abt at Ton Overmars for that money. It makes you think.

October. That was the last time I was in the town centre. A few days before the pubs were shut. I don't think I'll be going back soon.

That's Mikey's photo of his pint. I hadn't bothered to take my camera.

Pub Pub

That's what I used to say to the kids whenever I spotted a pub. Followed, if we were on foot, by:

"Did you know that it's bad luck to walk past a pub that's open?"

"Stop with that bullshit, dad. We haven't believed that for ages."

I'm amazed that they ever believed it.

I went to one of those things again on Thursday. A pub. Bar. Whatever. Somewhere selling draught beer where you can sit down. 18th June, it was. Last time before that? It depends on what you count as a pub.

23rd March I had a few cognacs in the business class lounge. Does that Count? Before that, 21st March.

In Hemingway in Bangkok. I'd just chomped my through a very late full English, when REM's "It's the End of the World as we Know it" was played very loud. After it was done, the owner announced that all restaurants (the bars closed a few days earlier) would be shut from midnight.

Would have been a fitting way to start my pub drought.

Which ended an Butcher's Tears. My local brewery. What's odd, is that it didn't feel all that special. I don't seem to have missed pubs at all.

If I lived in the UK, that might well be different.

"No point going to Britain when the pubs are shut." I said to Dolores.

"Exactly." She agreed.

It was nice to chat to my mates Lucas and Will. At a suitable distance. No problem with distancing. There's plenty of space both outside and inside.

The brewer, a very nice chap, told me all about one of the draught selections, Wooden Shoe. With No. 1 invert and lots of Goldings in it.

They put on the rather nice dub album Lucas brought along. Very relaxing stuff.

All very pleasant. But it wasn't fulfilling some visceral need. Just a nice way to spend a couple of hours. And even get to drink Mild.

What have I become? Someone who has lost the pub habit.

Except when I travel, obviously. (See the comment above on Britain and pubs.)

Hemingway
Soi Sukhumvit 11,
Khlong Toei Nuea,
Watthana,
Bangkok 10110,
Thailand.
https://hemingwaybkk.com


Butcher's Tears
Karperweg 45,
1075 LB Amsterdam.

Inside a 1920s bar (part one)

I'm still banging on about "The Art and Practice of Innkeeping". Except we've moved above ground to the bar.

This section is slightly frustrating.

"The following are the usual compartments of the Bars: American, Hotel, Saloon, Public, Jug and Bottle, and Off License.

A Private Bar is becoming a thing of the past.

The main difference between them is in regard to price and company. The leading features common to some are the lack of comfort, space and ventilation; it is unnecessary to describe each Bar in detail."
"The Art and Practice of Innkeeping" by Alexander Francis Part, published by Heinemann London, 1922, page 208.

It is actually necessary to describe all the bars. Almost 100 years later, what they were is no longer common knowledge.

The list of bar types seems very London-orientated. I can't imagine there were many American bars in Bolton or Bradford. There are also many types of bar missing, including such common ones as Lounge, Smoke Room or Vault.

And what's the difference between a Jug and Bottle and an Off Licence? Surely they're both for off sales?

Here are some more details about exactly what a bar should look like:

"The equipment of a Bar will vary with the class of house very considerably, and also in town and country.

We shall assume that the bar is to be, partly, a buffet and that it will have a long counter.

This counter should be about 2 ft. 6 in. wide to allow of plates and sandwich and other dishes being placed upon it. The panels of the front, sloping inwards, should be as plain as possible, and dull polished. At its foot should be a rail, not of brass, which requires too much manual labour. The counter should be rather high, on the customer's side say 3 ft. 6 in. to 3 ft. 9 in., to avoid the breakage of glass, and there is nothing better for the top than a thick, highly polished, bright, plain linoleum, finished off with beading, to protect the edges.

Who has not, when consumed by hunger or thirst, gazed with veneration upon a Barmaid as "she moves a goddess and as she looks a Queen" upon the invisible Olympian heights she occupies?

The back, or serving side of the counter, should have a raised platform, running its full length, and should have at least two lift-up flaps, and a contrivance to hold them back on occasion. Nothing should be allowed to obstruct the flap.

If the bar is to serve one class of customer only, and this is highly desirable, it should be, mainly, divided into two sections, one to be used for food and one for liquor."
"The Art and Practice of Innkeeping" by Alexander Francis Part, published by Heinemann London, 1922, pages 208 - 209.

That's a bit mean not having a brass foot rail. I'm glad that recommendation has been widely ignored. A linoleum bar top seems a bit cheap, too. What's wrong with good old-fashioned wood?

Does anyone still have a raised platform at the serving side of the bar? I seem to remember seeing this years ago in a crowded Dublin pub.

The 1950’s pub (part three)

It’s been rather a while since the first two parts of this series. In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve already looked at the types of bar in a pub and the drinks sold in them. Now it’s time to look at the different types of pub.

The author identifies three main types of pub, though I’m not sure I can really see a clear distinction.

“pub types
Speaking generally there are three London pub types all with their particular colours—colour is very important in pubs. First, the alehouse type which follows the functional tradition in its use of solid carpentry, scrubbed wood tables and bar-top, and "grained oak" or "teak" paint. A particularly satisfying sort of pub, this type has an immensely long history, stemming from the middle ages, when any wayside house opening its doors for the sale of liquor would automatically invite the passer-by into the kitchen. It is in fact the kitchen vernacular. Many London pubs and public bars are of this type, or of the type of its younger and slicker town cousin the City Tavern. ”
"London Night & Day" edited by Sam Lambert.

I can remember pubs with a “grained oak” paint job. I always thought it looked a bit odd and very 19th century. Basically it’s a way of painting wood grain onto a surface. The idea being to make any old wood look a more expensive, darker hardwood. It’s generally pretty unconvincing. I think the Bun House in Bromley by Bow might have had it.

I’ve had to blank out a word in the next section. Which is an indication of how sensibilities have changed over 60 years. I doubt anyone batted an eyelid at the word’s use in this context back in the 1950’s.

“In the city tavern, wines and spirits and bottled beers tend to take precedence over beer-in-cask, though there tend to be even more casks (chocolate or n***** brown now) which will be for port or sherry, rather than beer. The third type is the GIN palace, be-mirrored, be-lettered, be-plushed (walls and bar mahogany, either the real wood or paint-grained), the great Victorian contribution to the architecture of drink and as a building type, one of England's most prized possessions. ”
"London Night & Day" edited by Sam Lambert.

It just sounds like a slightly more upmarket version of the first type. Bottled beer as a sign of class in something I’ve come across more often in the 1950’s. The posher rooms in a pub also tended to sell a greater proportion of bottled beer.

I think we all understand what is meant by a gin palace. Those magnificent late Victorian and Edwardian gems of etched glass, mahogany and tiles. I was in a great example a few weeks ago: the Princess Louise in Holborn. Where the interior has recently been fully restored, complete with partitioning and snob screens. Well worth a visit if you’re in London and want to see what pubs were like 100 years ago.

Sadly, many brewers were less understanding than Sam Smiths, owners of the Princess Louise. Many magnificent pubs were horribly mutilated by philistine owners.

“Unfortunately the brewers, who have lost touch with their best traditions, are trying to break up gin palace interiors in the mistaken notion that they represent a vulgar phase in the history of drinking. To kill them, they are putting in jazz wallpapers, chromium bars, and graining that gives the effect of pickled or even of grey-wood panelling, a beastly development of genteelism, which tends to give the pub the semblance of a night-club or road-house, two very inferior institutions. Worse still, in the cause of "supervision" the licensing magistrates are helping on the bad work by demanding that the succession of intimate little bars, which are the pride and pearl of the English pub should be gutted in favour of one large bar. Result—loss of the cosiness and surprise that used to make a pub the favourite meeting place of friends. If you are one of those people who resent such atrocities and are not afraid to say so, you can help in the fight against the genteelising of pubs by speaking out boldly about the decorations to your neighbour over a pint of wallop. If your temperament is more retiring, just do it by choosing to drink in the un-tarted up ones. We aren't suggesting that the pubs we list are all period pieces; but they are some of the best that remain and all still have something of the real pub character.”
"London Night & Day" edited by Sam Lambert.

The author clearly isn’t keen on tarted up pubs. And with good reason. Expensive, attractive interiors were ripped out and replaced with cheap tat that started falling apart after a couple of years and needed a further refurbishment, usually equally shoddy.

Thank Stalin this is no longer true:

“Tourists should bear in mind the anomalies of the system of licensing hours, but it is safe to assume that pubs in and near the West End are open from 11.30 a.m. to 3 p.m. and from 5.30 until 11 p.m., and that others open half an hour later and close at 2.30 and 10.30. Hours on Sunday are shorter.”
"London Night & Day" edited by Sam Lambert.

Throwing away the ridiculous restrictions on opening hours introduced during WW I was the best development in UK pubs since, er, WW I.

A landlord’s week in the 1950’s (part two)

Here’s the rest of a landlord’s week, starting with Monday.

“Monday night being dart match night, when we are hosts to another pub's team, I spend in the public bar. My wife makes stacks of sandwiches — which disappear with an alacrity only surpassed by the dishes of pickled onions.”
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 116.

Monday has always been a typical day for things like darts matches and pub quizzes. A simple way of drumming up custom on a slow day. In Leeds I remember it being sandwiches and slices of black pudding that were passed around.

“Tuesday is a comparatively quiet day, so I give the full-time barmaid the day off, and spend the whole day in the pub, with only three hours break in the afternoon.”
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 116.

Clearly the full-time barmaid was the one in charge during the landlord’s absence.

I’m sure this piece of advice still applies:

“Wednesday is delivery day, and the day I give the cellar a thorough clean out. I check my supplies and out-going "empties" keenly, but not suspiciously. Draymen are the wrong men to offend.”
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 116.

We’ve already heard that draymen could be rather light-handed. Doubtless why the landlord checked what was going in and out of his cellar.

Pubs were important social centres, and often the base of sporting clubs:

“Thursday is a busy day; Friday is busier. Thursday night I preside over the football club meeting, doing the same for the dart club on Friday evening. I am the chairman, treasurer, and assistant-secretary of both clubs. I like to know what goes on.”
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 116.

And here we are all the way around to Saturday:

“So we come to Saturday—in many ways the fullest and happiest day of the week: when I have to be at the bank early to make sure of getting plenty of change; when I have to complete the wages sheet and expenses account; serve in the bars and look out for bookies' runners; stoup and change the barrels as required; go to the football match; agree or dispute in the evening that Portsmouth must buy a centre-half; enjoy the sing-song, drink my own draught beer, and do my pleasant utmost when tired out to get the customers out of the doors in reasonable time after I have called "Time!"
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 116.

Interesting that he went to the football. Though the games did fit in nicely with afternoon closing. It was probably so he can discuss the game with his customers. Though he couldn’t have gone every week, as they’d only play at home once a fortnight. Portsmouth were a decent team in the 1950’s, winning the First Division one year.

Gambling in pubs was – with the exception of a few pennies on darts or dominoes – strictly forbidden and could get a landlord into a lot of trouble. This was also before betting shops, when off-course betting on horses was also illegal. A bookie’s runner would surreptitiously collect bets from drinkers.

A landlord’s week in the 1950’s (part one)

There’s so much great material in in “Beer in Britain”. I particularly like the details of day-to-day life in a pub.

The article by a publican relating his daily activities is of particular interest. I’m sure some of it would be much the same today. Though, of course, little details like afternoon closing mostly no longer apply.

Oddly, Sunday, the day with the shortest opening hours, was the landlord’s busiest. First the afternoon session:

“Sunday is my busiest day. Up at 7.30. I let the two cleaners in, have a pot of tea, and set about cleaning the beer pumps. Cellar-work is a job I never delegate. I clean all the pumps every Sunday morning; and one pump each day during the lunch-hour. It is not enough that justice should be done to the beer: it should be seen to be done.

Next, I prepare tills, with plenty of shillings in each. In these days of shilling-in-the-slot meters, a lack of shillings can lead to a lack of customers. I light the fires, take a bath, change into a good suit — no shirt-sleeves in the bar for me — and have breakfast. Then I take my two children along to cheer our Sunday league football team.

Back home, for a last-minute check-up. The barmaids have laid out little dishes of biscuits and salted pea-nuts along the counters. The glasses are polished; the whole place is clean. Open the doors at 12 o'clock, and for the next two hours we are all kept at full stretch.”
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 115.

Chatting with Jeff Bell the other week, he told me that it’s best to have one person in control of a pub cellar. If multiple people are busy in one cellar they tend to undo each other’s work. Quite clever that, cleaning a pump during opening times so the punters could see it being done.

It’s hard to believe that not long ago men would wear suits on far more occasions – such as going to the pub – that they do nowadays. I blame the 1960’s for turning men into scruffs most of the time. Even when I started work in the late 1970’s, you were expected to wear a tie if you worked in an office.

I can remember the Sunday lunchtime sessions when I lived in the East End of London in 1979. We’d be leaning on the door at 11:50, along with a fair crowd of others. Once the pubs were open, it was a frantic rush to get your fill of beer in two scant hours before they shut again. Everywhere was always heaving. It’s just not the same now they can stay open ll afternoon. (Much better, really, if I’m honest.)

Now the evening session:

“The pub closed, I check and clear the tills while the barmaids clear up; hard-spile the beers, check up on all doors, windows and toilets, and sit down to dinner by half past three. Then watch "Brains Trust" on television, and maybe doze off in my armchair, but fully awake for Children's Hour.

I am down in the bars again, half an hour before opening, laying and lighting fires, arranging tills, and stacking the off-licence bar shelves with cigarettes. Open at seven, and for over an hour two of us sell cigarettes and bottled beers like automatons geared to top speed. Then, that fantastic rush-hour over, I relax to the tempo of a busy evening, deliberately spending most of my time serving in the saloon bar. There I enjoy arguments on sport, and reminiscences about the Navy, but keep no one waiting for service.”
"Beer in Britain", 1960, page 116.

I love the details of the TV programmes he watched on Sunday afternoon. Even when I was a kid, it was only at the weekend that there was any telly before 5 PM. Hard to imagine that now.

The landlord in question ran a modern estate pub. Which would have had a separate off-licence section. In the days before licensed supermarkets, pubs were responsible for a large proportion of off-sales. And on a Sunday evening, there would have been few other places to buy fags.

Next time it’s the other six days of the week.

Tied houses again

By 1950 the tied house system as we know it had been around for 60 years or so. But it wasn’t without its critics.

As I’ve already mentioned, it was the indirect result of government interference in the licensed trade. A shortage of potential outlets for brewers was created by making new licenses almost impossible to obtain and by aggressively delicensing existing pubs.

Before the 1880’s breweries had tied houses, but they were only a small part of their trade. The vast majority of pubs were free, though, as today, there were also loan ties.

Let’s make this clear: most pubs ended up being tied because brewers wanted to secure outlets for their beers. Bear that in mind while you read this:

“Profit and the Tied House
There has been some appreciative comment upon the attempt made under the above heading last month in these columns to set out the true facts about the tied house system: what it means and why it is in being. Too often, and for too long, there have been statements and questions raised which are based upon the supposition that the tied house system exists because it is a fruitful source of revenue to the brewery. That supposition is entirely without any foundation at all, for it can be clearly demonstrated that the difference in the margin of profit to the brewery as between the beer it sells through its tied houses and the beer which it sells in the competitive free market does not, when all the factors are taken properly into account, amount to a row of pins. The tied house system came into being of sheer necessity to save the licensed house from bad times, to improve and restore it to its proper place in the service of the public which no other system could have done. It enables the vast majority of retailers to conduct their own largely independent businesses, the public to continue to enjoy the advantages of licensed houses bring in the main run by individual "landlords," and the brewery to run its long-term productive programme on lines which make for economy in costs. The tied-house system has but one serious defect—the name by which it came to be known from the outset. Its critics are too prone to jump to the conclusion that a licensee being tied means that he is bound hand and foot. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 13.

So the tied house system was all about breweries serving the public rather than providing profit for the brewery. Why the hell did they bother having them if they provided no profit? The argument that the profit margin was much the same as in the free trade is irrelevant. The vast majority of a brewer’s income came through beer sales in their tied pubs and off-licences. If only because that’s where most beer sales took place.

“Tied house” seems a perfectly fair description to me of a pub which is controlled by a brewery and obliged to sell its beers.

This sounds like the sort of guff pubcos come up with when trying to claim they’re wonderfully philanthropic organisations, without a thought for themselves.

“The simple fact is that the wholesale and retail sides of the trade have been on very good terms for a great many years. Within the past two years or so they have been going together into ways and means of perfecting a system of mutual consultation which shall make things work smoothly and provide recourse for the settlement of the occasional instance of individual dissatisfaction. That work has now for practical purposes been completed in the panel system which extends over the whole country. The tenant has at his disposal for the asking a 12 months' security of tenure in his house, but it is significant that a comparatively small proportion have exercised the option for a new agreement in those terms. The reason is not far to seek, for the tied tenant by and large knows perfectly well, and has known for many years, that his security is not for three months or for 12 months but that so long as he runs his business properly his tenancy will also run on as long as he wishes to remain. That is not supposition or sentiment, but the hard economic fact that it pays the brewery to leave a good tenant to carry on and to have him satisfied and content.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 13.

I’ve seen plenty or arguments between breweries and their tenants documented in newspapers. I don’t believe for a minute the rosy picture painted here. And quite a few of those related to breweries evicting tenants.

There are reasons why a brewery might want to get rid of a successful landlord. They might want to give the pub to someone else, or they might want to put in a manager, if they thought the landlord was making too much profit. Or they might just have had a disagreement with the tenant. I’d have gone before the panel and got my 12 months’ security. You can’t trust money-grabbing capitalist bastards.

I’m sure I’ll have lots more to say about tied houses.

The Tied House System

It’s odd the sense of déjà vu as I flick through the Brewing Trade Review. Many of the same topics as today were being discussed back in 1950. Like the tied house system.

First, let’s hear from those who wanted to abolish it:

“Tied House System (Motion)
MR. Bing (Hornchurch, Lab.) asked the following question during a discussion on the coming business of the House: Can my right hon. friend say, in view of the interest shown on all sides of the House in the tourist industry, and of the fact that this motion really was signed by a record number of hon. members, whether he can give any time at a convenient date in future for the discussion of a motion on tied houses which is at present standing on the Order Paper?

[That this House condemns the Tied Public House System, as at present operated, in that it deprives the customer of his freedom of choice of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages alike, tends to restrict the provision of food and accommodation, increases by monopolist practices the price of refreshments to the customer and does not furnish sufficient security of tenure to the publican; and that therefore this House calls upon His Majesty's Government to inquire into the Tied House system and other restrictive practices of brewers and to introduce, where necessary, remedial legislation.]

Mr. Morrison (Lord President of the Council): I am afraid I could not give any firm undertaking at this stage, but I do realise that this is a matter upon which there is fairly extensive interest among hon. members on all sides of the House ; but, as my hon. friend knows, after he and his hon. friends put down their motion, the brewers did offer to make a new type of agreement with their tenants. Perhaps he and his hon. Friends might consider whether we should not wait for a little while to see how it works out in practice and get some experience of it in a practical way.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 80.

The irony is, of course, that the tied house system was the direct result of government interference in the brewing industry. The limitation of the number of licensed premises was what prompted brewers to snap up every pub they could in the first place.

Like most Private Member's Bills, the one on tied houses got nowhere. The brewers had plenty of friends in parliament. Note from which side the Bill came: Labour. The party had a tradition of hostility to brewers, partly through worries about them taking advantage of and profiting from the working classes, partly from the non-conformist, temperance wing of the party.

This next quote comes from chairman’s report at Ansell’s annual general meeting. Unsurprisingly, he had a slightly more positive view of tied houses:

“The Tied House System.—The past year has also seen a Private Member's Bill introduced by Mr. Bing, seeking to abolish the tied house, and, when that failed to get a Second Reading, a motion was put on the Order Paper for an inquiry into the tied house system. It is quite clear that this campaign is not based on any practical knowledge of the system under which the industry works, nor has any satisfactory alternative system been put forward.

At the same time, it is alarming to find that the tied house system, as it has come to be called, is so little understood not only by the public but by many Members of Parliament.

About a hundred years ago the system did not exist. Licensed houses were, for the most part, privately owned and somewhat squalid. The licensed trade did not enjoy a good repute. The licensed house was not a place in which a respectable person liked to be seen, let alone take his wife. These somewhat derogatory remarks are not, of course, aimed at the many fine old inns that existed then as they do to-day. I am speaking of the ordinary public house as it then was.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 84.

You should see some of the places I’ve dragged Dolores.  Just trying to think where the roughest ones were. Either Czechoslovakia or East Berlin.  I guess I’m not that respectable a person.

The line trotted out is also a familiar one: MP’s don’t understand the way the trade works. It’s always a good one. A timeless classic.

Note that at no point does he mention the reason breweries started buying pubs like crazy:

“As time went by brewery companies began to take over these places—at first by a system of mortgage, and later by outright purchase. The brewery companies, by thus ensuring a certain outlet for their products, were able to cut down on many overhead expenses and to spend money on the improvement of the promises. They were thus able to provide a good quality beer at a low price, and to afford to surrender licences in areas where there were too many, and also to build now licensed premises at high cost and with no chance of writing off the capital expenditure for a great number of years.

The policy of surrender and improvement of licensed premises pursued by Birmingham brewers prior to and immediately after the 1914-18 war—known as the "fewer and better scheme” - could not have been carried through had not the licensed houses been owned by brewery companies. Had such a scheme been carried through while the houses were individually owned, it would have meant ruin to many of the owners. Surely the benefit to the public that has resulted from this scheme in Birmingham and from a similar policy in other ports of the country is easily seen from the very high standard of licensed premises which now exist, many of which are owned by your company."
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", pages 84 - 85.

Ansells were one of the big Birmingham breweries. I remember the city well from visits to my mum’s family in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Driving through the city, it was clear that the pubs were relatively few in number but large in size. Partly it was due to when bits of the city were built. Birmingham was one of the few provincial cities to see substantial areas of new housing built between the wars. But even in the older districts, the pubs were few and big.

Many brewers had been keen on the “improved” public house between the wars. Somewhere bigger and with more facilities than a back-street boozer. Whitbread and Barclay Perkins in London, for example. But they had been frustrated by licensing authorities to a great extent. You couldn’t just rebuild or extend a pub. You needed permission from the licensing magistrates. And the teetotal twats amongst them didn’t want pubs to improve. They wanted them to be squalid so they had more reason to close them.

In Birmingham they were more practical. Brewers were allowed to build big, modern premises, if they surrendered enough licences. Obviously several, as councils were keen on whacking down the number of licences.

If I tell you the City of Birmingham had a population of 1.1 million in 1951 this next sentence won’t sound so impressive:

“So far as the tied house system limiting choice is concerned, in Birmingham alone there are houses owned by 11 different brewery companies all producing several different types of beer, though, with all modesty, we claim that the "Better Beer" is very popular in all districts where it is obtainable.

Fortunately the relationship between the wholesale and retail trade, both in the Midlands and throughout the country as a whole, has never been healthier nor happier than it is at the present time. It is only natural that the two sections of the trade, with similar but not identical interests, should from time to time have differing views. But it has been proved during this year that any differences within the trade that do exist can be settled within the trade to everyone's satisfaction, and without any need for outside interference.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 85.

Well, at least all eleven brewed several types of beer.

That’s a dreadful selection for 1950. Though, in the Birmingham of my youth, it was two. Pretty much. The pubs were alternately M & B or Ansells. Unless you were in Aston. Just to the West of the city, in the Black Country, there were still a half dozen small brewers. But you’d never see their beer in Birmingham.

Davenports, the other brewery in Birmingham, had sold most of its pubs to invest in its home-delivery service. I can remember just one in the city centre, on Hurst Street. Where I was served the yeastiest pint of Mild I’ve ever had.

Yes, everything is wonderful. If only the government would leave us alone. That last paragraph could have come from a pubco today.

Come to Britain - Where Your Dollar Goes Farther Than Ever

I promised you this advert and here it is. It makes Britain sound a lovely place:

“Signs of Welcome by the Wayside...

Spring comes to Britain early . . . why don't you? April is mild. May is merry in Britain! Then is the time to see her hedgerows flower-studded, her fields and woodlands wearing their fresh green. Then is the free-from-crowds season for visiting her ancient places and attending her gay Spring program of events.

Now that your dollar buys more in Britain, start planning early for an early start, a wider tour, a longer stay! A varied, country-wide vacation is so easily arranged ... where travel is quick and inexpensive, and even the farthest journey isn't far.

Both in Britain's big, modern hotels and her famous, old-world village inns, you'll be comfortable and courteously attended. Ready with her warmest welcome, all Britain awaits you!

Wherever you move in Britain, you'll see Inn Signs like those on this page. The Royal George, The Lorna Doone, The Good Times inn, The Compleat Angler . . . these and hundreds more will greet you hospitably by the wayside.

In their infinite variety, Britain's Inn Signs reflect her background of 2000 years of history,.. and symbolize her many-sided interests today. They keep reminding the traveller that this is a land of traditional events, of pageantry, of sport, of places long famous in literature and legend. Such varied fascinations! So much to do and see!

Come to Britain
Where Your Dollar Goes Farther Than Ever

PLAN YOUR TRIP NOW
for next April or May . . . and avoid the midsummer rush! Ask your travel agent for a FREE copy of Coming Events. and for other illustrated literature on Britain. Or write to

BRITISH TRAVEL CENTRE.
336 Madison Avenue, New
York 17, N. Y.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 40.

Notice there’s no mention of food rationing or coal shortages. Or how watery the beer was. And I’ll bet the service wasn’t great. And remember how poorly beer was stored in those country inns? No mention of warm vinegar with twigs in it, either. That’s not even starting on the extensive bomb sites in all the major cities.

Yes, come to Britain.

The 1950’s Inn

The pub as draw for foreign tourists is nothing new. Back in 1950 it was already a theme.

Which may seem odd. Why was Britain so keen on attracting tourists? Because the economy was buggered. And Britain needed hard currency to buy imports. The need to acquire dollars is a recurring theme in the 1950 Brewing Trade Review.

“GENERAL NOTES
The Inn
Speaking to delegates at the annual meeting of the Home and Southern Counties District of the National Trade Defence Association in London on 12th December, Mr. A. G. Bottomley, M.P., Secretary for Overseas Trade, described the nation's inns as "centres of human fellowship,' and said that the characteristics of our inns were being extensively advertised overseas. "They are among the best things we have to offer in our drive to attract tourists, and thus earn dollars," he continued. "In doing my job, therefore, I shall be doing everything possible to sell your goods, because I believe that you who have charge of our inns can and do make a contribution to the solution of the great problems the nation is facing."
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 10.

The Trade Defence Association had been set up before WW I to counteract the pressure on the pub trade by temperance groups. I wonder when it finally folded? By this point teetotallers were no longer the enemy. Their campaign had pretty much fizzled out in the war years.

Tourism, with the pub at it centre, was a crucial way of accumulating much needed foreign currency. It all sounds very 1970’s to me.

Living up to the advertising. That’s a common problem:

“It is, of course, perfectly true that the British inn constitutes one of the greatest attractions of this country to the foreign tourist, and the Travel Association has not been slow to present this particular selling feature to the prospective visitor from overseas, in its widespread advertising campaign, examples of which we have published in these pages. It is equally true that the industry, wholesale as well as retail, is fully alive to the service which it can render, and is rendering, to the national interest in this direction in its efforts to see that the inn and the tavern really do live up to the advertisements of them. But the keying up of the service in the inn for the especial benefit of the foreign tourist is not the only direction in which the industry is serving the national interest. Its service to the home public is just as important. Fortunately, emphasis on the one does not imply any need to sacrifice the other. Bather the reverse — the accent on good service which arises from the urge to attract the overseas visitor is all to the good in bringing up the general level of service to the British tourist in his own land, and to the regular customer in his local pub.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 10.

The level of service in the British hospitality industry is something else that keeps poppoing up across the years. The clear implication is that it’s never been up to scratch.

“This emphasis on a high level of service to the public really involves two elements, the first the personal one which must always depend mainly upon the efforts of the licensee and his staff, and the other the material one of improvement of the building itself and its equipment which falls mainly within the sphere of the wholesale side of the trade. The two are largely interdependent. No amount of structural improvement will achieve the desired result unless the human service offered is on the required level, and conversely a licensee who really does make a determined effort to see that his staff offer a cheerful and efficient service is sadly hampered if the facilities at his disposal are not as good as they should be.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 10.

A lot of pubs had become run down over the war years, when no building materials were available to maintain them.

But staff were also a problem because of complicated employment rules introduced during the war:

“On the licensee's side, he is having to contend with very real problems in the matter of staffing. The filling of vacancies which inevitably occur is by no means easy, and the facilities which are now being promoted all over the country to train entrants to the trade are a vital necessity if this problem is to be removed. Even so, it is clearly going to be a considerable time before it is entirely removed. Then there are the difficulties arising out of the Catering Wages Orders, particularly in the case of the true inn which, having a number of bedrooms for letting, comes within the complicated provisions of the Hotels Wages Order. The industry will welcome the announcement by the Minister of Labour that an inquiry is to be made into the ramifications of these Orders, to see whether the enormous difficulties which they entail cannot be removed. “
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 10.

Though it sounds like some improvement in the physical condition of pubs was happening:

“On the side of public house improvement, it is disheartening to have to reflect that except in a comparatively few cases the real work of rebuilding and modernising is still held back by the lack of building labour and materials which keeps in being the inhibitions of wartime though the war has receded four years and more into the past. On the other hand, good progress is undoubtedly being made in catching up on the arrears of wartime maintenance repairs ; and the very fact that many licensed houses are now presenting a bright, newly decorated appearance is all to the good.”
"Brewing Trade Review, 1950", page 10.

Next time we’ll take a look at one of those adverts trying to tempt foreigners to Britain with pubs.

Pub names

Bolton again, I'm afraid. This time a detailed analysis of pub names in the town.

The continued efforts of the authors to find quantifiable differences between full licences and beerhouses is commendable. Ultimately futile, I suspect, for reasons explained in the last post. The lines between the two had been blurred over time.

The majority of pub names have a suffix, such as the --- Arms, Hotel, Tavern. The following, compiled from a list of pub names, shows the relative frequency of these suffixes.

	Inns	Hotels	Arms	Taverns	No suffix
Beerhouses	32	16	50	11	60
Full licences	3	47	19	0	33
Total	35	63	69	11	93

Although the function of the full licence as a hotel has practically ceased, yet traces of it can be found in their names—over a third of full licences are called Hotels, and only 10 per cent of them Beerhouses. Similarly, the suffix "Inn" is almost restricted to beerhouses, only three full licences being so entitled. And eleven beerhouses, but no full licences, are called Taverns.

An article on "Inn Signs" in the Worktown Evening News, March 5th, 1937, says:

In every town or village one expects to find the names of old families perpetuated, and thus inn signs are a valuable adjunct to local history. Worktown's inns do not disappoint us. . . .

And the writer goes on to quote a number of Worktown pubs called after important families, such as the Earl of Bradford, Lord Derby, the Duke of Bridgwater, and so on. In fact, the majority of pub names are connected with dead Lords, Dukes, Kings, and members of the artistocracy. As well as the 69 pubs named the so-and-so Arms, there are 37 aristocratic names or names of kings. Queen Victoria is reflected in two pubs called The British Queen, one called the Victoria British Queen, and another The Old Original British Queen, as well as two Victoria Hotels and one Victoria Inn. Three pubs are called after Nelson, and there are others, such as The Gladstone and The Napier, named after historical national figures.

The next largest category of pub names, is that of animals, the names of which appear in 49 pub titles. Some of these, such as the Ox Noble and the Blue Boar, are connected with the crests of noble families; and indeed, the connection between the hundreds of Red Lions and Black Bulls found on pub signs all over the country, and the families whose totems these were, has Jong been severed.

We have seen, earlier, the reasons for this connection between the arms of the nobility and the arms of the pub; the later historical connection of the trade union movement with the pub has not, in Worktown, shown itself in the form of many trade names for pubs—there are only 14 of these, and it is interesting to note that 13 of them are beerhouses. Of Worktown's 75 Trade Union branches today, the 40 still meeting in pubs do so without exception in pubs without trade names.

Another type of name, of which there are only a few in Worktown, is the pub called after some place in the neighbourhood. Examples of this are: The Gas Works Tavern, Forge Tavern, Tramways Hotel, Cattle Market Hotel, The Four Factories (this one is now closed down), Recreation Tavern (opposite the Recreation Ground).
"The Pub and the People" by Mass Observation, 1943 (reprinted 1987), pages 87 - 89.

Places called something Hotel that didn't offer accommodation. There's something that rings a bell. Newark had plenty of pubs with Hotel in the name that were really just pubs. I'd never associated the suffix with full licences.

I'd also never made the connection between the trade union movement and pubs with names like the Brass Moulders (a favourite pub of mine in Hunslet, when I lived in Leeds). I suppose it's obvious enough. Just never reall thought about it. Like so many other things.

That's sort of what the whole book "The Pub and the People" is about. Analysing everyday things which you usually pay little heed.

The 1930's pub

Yes, we're back in Bolton again. This time looking at the physical nature of the pub.

I'll be honest. I've never analysed pub architecture this way. Perhaps that's because the distinction between a fully-licensed pub and a beerhouse had become pretty irrelevant by the time I frequented pubs. As we saw the other day, by the 1970's there were only a couple of hundred beerhouses left. I can only remember drinking in one: The Roscoe in Leeds. I may well have drunk in others, but, only drinking beer at the time, I probably wouldn't have noticed.

The two types of pub gradually converged during the 20th century, as beerhouses were either closed or improved and given full licenses. WHich probably explains why the authors failed to find universal distinctions in the physical nature of the two types.

"A pub is a house. Certain exterior characteristics differentiate it from other houses. All pubs have displayed outside, painted on the wall or on a wooden sign, the name of the brewers to whom they belong. Most, but not all, also have the name of the pub itself similarly displayed. Many have on the windows either painted or engraved the name of the room within or the brewer's name. And many have fixed on either side of the main entrance rectangular tablets with the brewer's name on them. There is no specific pub architectural style. Though false pilasters, porticoes and other stucco neo-classical trimmings are common, many pubs do not have these, and are simply ordinary houses.

The following table is the result of an analysis of the frontages of 12 pubs, 6 of them beerhouses (A) and 3 each of large (B) and small (C) full licences:

Characteristic	A	B	C	Total
Sign with pub name	5	3	3	11
"       "     brewer's name	6	3	3	12
"       "     both	5	3	3	11
Tablets on door	2	1	2	5
Name of room on windows	6	1	1	8
Name of brewer on windows	-	-	1	1

Pub signs have never been universal in Worktown; tendency to general decline was recently counteracted by a special exhibition in London, signs by R.A.'s and speech by the Chairman of Whitbread's Ltd., who said:

"Expression in art must be within reach of the ordinary fellow. If this is so it will meet with an enthusiastic and ready response. Art for art's sake is a noble ideal but it must not be allowed to develop into a selfish thing which does not touch the hearts and emotions of the ordinary fellow"—(News Chronicle 7.4.38).

In Worktown the pub facade offers no art-appeal. The only feature common to all is the brewer's name. Tablets on the door generally denote a higher class of pub, and name of rooms on windows a beerhouse. More than half the Worktown pubs are beerhouses ; there are 19 beerhouses licensed to sell wines; and the rest are fully licensed. This may seem to correspond to the Inn-Tavern-Beerhouse trinity. In fact it does not. Though 35 of the pubs are called Inns, and 63 hotels, only 6 are listed in the directory as providing accommodation. A tour of 19 pubs, of all kinds, asking for accommodation, proved fruitless. The ancient function of the Inn as a place for people to stay at has died away. The ordinary Worktown pub, whatever its title, is not an Inn or Hotel.

All large pubs (i.e. with 5 or more rooms and/or seating accommodation of 150 or more) are full licences; but all full licences are not large pubs, and as far as size, architecture, and general appearance, some small full licences are indistinguishable from beerhouses. The beerhouse licensed to sell wines has a separate legal status, but this status is not reflected in any differentiation in the pub itself (beyond, of course, the fact that you can buy a glass of wine in it)."
"The Pub and the People" by Mass Observation, 1943 (reprinted 1987), pages 86 - 87.

The names of rooms on the windows signifies a beerhouse? That's an interesting claim. It was pretty common in the pubs I drank in during the 1970's. Common in all types of pubs, backstreet locals and gin palaces. Maybe Bolton was different.

Now there's a funny thing. All 12 pubs had the name of the brewer on a sign. But only 11 had the name of the pub. Shows where the priority lay: in identifying the brewer, not the name of the pub. I can remember coming across the opposite in Salford in the 1980's. I cam across a pub with no brewery name on the outside and no pump clips. I had to lean over the bar and peer at the bottles beer to work out that it was a Holt's pub.

One last quote before I finish:

"The licensing laws of 1869, already referred to, besides restricting the number of pubs, presumably resulted in their gradual improvement, since the consumption of drink went on increasing, which meant that a smaller number of landlords were doing better business.

From this date onwards all types of pubs were "institutionalized". Our knowledge of what the inside of pubs were like at this time must be gathered from contemporary fiction. Dickens' descriptions in Barnaby Rudge and other works give us a picture that is not very different in essentials from most present-day pubs. The greatest change must have been brought about by the introduction of the beer engine (on which historical data is obscure), which, besides tending to lower the quality of the beer, made it possible for the landlord to keep his barrels all in the cellar, away from the bar, and so serve a larger number of drinkers from a smaller space and with a smaller staff. "The Pub and the People" by Mass Observation, 1943 (reprinted 1987), pages 85 - 86."

I'm trying to work out why beer engines would have caused beer quality to get worse. Surely keeping the beer in a cool cellar rather than behind the bar would have had the opposite effect?

I've more, yes it's true, more about 1930's Bolton pubs to come.