Category Archives: Third Places

Adaptive Reuse, Beer Names, Branding, Brewery Names, History, Names, Neolocalism, Sense of Place, Third Places

Beyond Beer: Craft Brewing and the Creation of Place

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Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to give a presentation to faculty members at Mid Sweden University. I was invited to give the presentation by Professor Wilhelm Skoglund, who was leading a research project examining the role of cultural and creative industries in place development, particularly in Europe’s peripheral regions. Wilhelm was familiar with my research on craft breweries and believed that insights from my work could contribute to the project’s efforts to better understand how cultural and creative enterprises can support local and regional development. My presentation was given via Zoom, an ideal format for Mid Sweden University, whose faculty and students are based on two campuses located in Östersund and Sundsvall. In addition to faculty, interested policy makers were also invited to attend my presentation.

My presentation, Craft Brewing and Place Development, focused on how craft breweries do more than make beer. As small, community-oriented businesses, they can revitalize vacant spaces, bring people together, and help communities celebrate and strengthen their unique identities.

I began my presentation by distinguishing between the concepts of space and place. The distinction is straightforward: space is simply a physical location, whereas place is a physical location that has acquired meaning, identity, and emotional significance through human experience. For example, an abandoned warehouse is merely a space. When that same warehouse is transformed into a brewery where people gather, build friendships, celebrate special occasions, and create lasting memories, it becomes a place. The structure itself may remain unchanged, but its meaning and significance to the community are fundamentally transformed. As the geographer Yi-Fu Tuan wrote in 1979, “Space is more abstract than place. What begins as undifferentiated space becomes place as we get to know it better and endow it with value.”

The process of turning space into place is referred to by geographers as place-making and contributes to what geographers call sense of place. Sense of place refers to the emotional connections and attachments that individuals develop with specific locations and environments. The concept also includes the distinctive qualities, meanings, and characteristics that give a place its unique identity.

Because sense of place is shaped by the meanings and identities associated with particular locations, the adaptive reuse of historic buildings offers a powerful mechanism for transforming space into place. Adaptive reuse is the practice of taking an unused, underutilized, or obsolete building and giving it a new purpose The craft brewing industry offers hundreds of examples of adaptive reuse, with breweries occupying buildings that once served very different functions, including factories, warehouses, churches, schools, fire stations, and other historic structures.

In their paper on the adaptive reuse of heritage buildings, Peter A. Bullen and Peter E. D. Love emphasize the important role that historic structures play in fostering community identity and attachment to place. They argue that:

“People feel a stronger sense of connection with their local surroundings through heritage, which is quite different to the mentality associated with new building stock, in that it can be replicated anywhere and therefore lends no specific connection to the local environment. Heritage buildings are cultural icons and their preservation impacts on community wellbeing, sense of place and therefore social sustainability.”

Bullen and Love’s observation highlights the unique contribution of heritage buildings to place identity. Unlike modern structures that can often be replicated across locations, heritage buildings embody the history, culture, and character of a community. As a result, their preservation can strengthen residents’ sense of place, enhance community well-being, and contribute to the long-term social sustainability of local areas.

Brew Church Brewing in New Buffalo, MI has breathed new life into this old church
Buffalo Rock Brewing in Oregon, OH is housed in an old fire stattion

Adaptive reuse is a common practice in the brewing industry. By repurposing abandoned buildings, breweries not only preserve elements of the built environment but also help transform once-forgotten spaces into vibrant community places. Very often, craft breweries become public gathering places, where community members come together to enjoy each other’s company over a locally brewed beer.

Urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg described public gathering spaces as “third places”, locations that exist outside the home (the first place) and workplace (the second place). Third places take many forms, including libraries, community gardens, coffee shops, museums, and craft breweries. These spaces play a vital role in contemporary society by fostering social interaction and community engagement. By bringing people together, third places have been shown to combat loneliness and social isolation, improve quality of life, encourage entrepreneurship and innovation, and strengthen a community’s sense of place.

Many craft breweries function as third places by providing welcoming spaces where residents gather, socialize, attend events, and celebrate local culture. As I noted in a previous blog entry, beyond beer production, craft breweries have become important community hubs, hosting yoga classes, book clubs, running clubs, and a variety of activities that foster social interaction and local engagement.

Many craft breweries deliberately position themselves as “third places” within their communities, serving as gathering spaces that foster social interaction and civic engagement. For example, Colin Rath, co-owner of Migration Brewing in Portland, Oregon, described his brewery’s role in the following way:

“What we’ve created is what’s known as a third space… [Migration is] a place for the community to come together, that hosts the community, and a place that engages with the community and helps facilitate other people’s dreams and aspirations. It’s a place for people to celebrate, to mourn, to raise money for a cause or whatever their thing may be.”

Importantly, local residents also recognize the role that craft breweries play as community gathering spaces. As one craft beer patron in Oklahoma observed:

“People are there to have conversation, and certainly the beer is a draw, but it isn’t about just getting inebriated or partying per se. It is really more about community conversation. That’s what our taproom culture has become: a low-key, welcoming place where people can enjoy a good beer and connect with others. I rarely visit a taproom without striking up a conversation with someone.”

Craft breweries can also serve as important social spaces where residents and visitors interact. In her study of craft breweries in Montana, Ann M, Fletchall, showed how these encounters provide tourists with opportunities to engage with local people, cultures, and traditions, fostering a deeper appreciation of a community’s character. As a result, many visitors come to view craft breweries as more authentic expressions of place than conventional tourist attractions, offering insights into local identity, values, and everyday life that are often absent from more commercialized tourism experiences.

Finally, craft breweries can enhance a community’s sense of place by promoting and reinforcing local identity. One of the most visible ways they do this is through the names they choose for their breweries, as well as the names, labels, and branding of their beers. By drawing on local history, landmarks, cultural traditions, notable individuals, and regional stories, breweries create products that reflect and celebrate the distinctive character of their communities. In doing so, they help strengthen residents’ connections to place while also communicating a sense of local identity to visitors.

In my presentation at Mid Sweden University, I highlighted the example of Great Lakes Brewing Company in Cleveland, OH. Even the brewery’s name underscores its connection to place, referencing Cleveland’s location on the southern shore of Lake Erie, one of North America’s five Great Lakes. In doing so, the brewery draws upon a defining geographic feature of the region and reinforces its identity as a distinctly local institution.

Great Lakes Brewing Company also reinforces its connection to place through the names and stories behind many of its beers. During my presentation, I highlighted four examples that draw directly on the history, culture, and folklore of the Great Lakes region:

  • Edmund Fitzgerald Porter honors the Edmund Fitzgerald, the Great Lakes freighter that sank during a storm on Lake Superior on November 10, 1975, resulting in the loss of all 29 crew members. The tragedy remains one of the most significant maritime disasters in Great Lakes history.
  • Eliot Ness Amber Lager pays tribute to Eliot Ness, the federal Prohibition agent best known for helping bring down Chicago crime boss Al Capone. Ness later served as Cleveland’s Director of Public Safety from 1935 to 1942, giving the beer a strong connection to the brewery’s home city.
  • Commodore Perry IPA commemorates Oliver Hazard Perry, the naval commander whose victory over the British at the Battle of Lake Erie in 1813 was a pivotal moment in the War of 1812.
  • Lake Erie Monster Double IPA celebrates the legend of the Lake Erie Monster, a serpent-like creature purportedly measuring 9 to 12 meters (30 to 40 feet) in length and first reported in Lake Erie in 1817. The story has become a lasting element of regional folklore.
Commodore Perry IPA from Great Lakes Brewing Company in Cleveland, OH commemorates an important piece of Great Lakes’ history

Together, these beers demonstrate how Great Lakes Brewing Company incorporates regional history, notable figures, and local legends into its branding, strengthening its identity as a brewery that is deeply rooted in the culture and heritage of the Great Lakes region.

In concluding my presentation, I emphasized that craft breweries should be viewed as more than producers of beer. Through the adaptive reuse of historic buildings, the creation of welcoming third places, and the celebration of local history, culture, and identity, craft breweries can make meaningful contributions to place development. They help transform underutilized spaces into valued places, strengthen social connections among residents, and reinforce the distinctive characteristics that make communities unique. As regions around the world search for new pathways to economic and community development, particularly in smaller cities and peripheral areas, craft breweries offer an interesting example of how locally rooted cultural and creative enterprises can contribute to both economic vitality and a stronger sense of place. My discussion with colleagues and policymakers at Mid-Sweden University reinforced the value of looking beyond traditional measures of development and considering how businesses that foster identity, belonging, and community engagement can play an important role in shaping the places where people live, work, and visit.

Beer Gardens, Community, Craft Breweries, Regulations, Third Places

Beyond Permits: Why Craft Breweries Need a Social License to Operate

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One of the things I enjoy most about being an academic researcher is discovering new ideas and concepts that are unfamiliar to me. Often, these are concepts that are well established in another discipline, or in a subfield of my own discipline with which I have little familiarity. Such discoveries can provide fresh perspectives on longstanding questions and open up new avenues of inquiry. They are especially rewarding when they have direct relevance to my own research and offer new ways of thinking about the issues I study.

Recently, while revising a paper for publication in a geography journal, I encountered a concept that was new to me: social license to operate (SLO). It is a concept that originated in the mining industry during the 1990s. Faced with growing environmental concerns, community resistance, and heightened public scrutiny, mining companies increasingly realized that legal authorization alone was insufficient. Long-term operational success also depended on gaining and maintaining the acceptance of local communities and other stakeholders. This form of community approval became known as a social license to operate. I was introduced to the idea through an entry by Robert G. Boutilier and Ian Thomson in the Encyclopedia of Business and Professional Ethics.

As I reflected on the concept of a social license to operate, it struck me that it applies surprisingly well to craft breweries. Before a new brewery can open its doors, it must navigate a complex regulatory process and obtain numerous permits and approvals. At the federal level, this includes securing a Brewer’s Notice from the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB), the primary authorization required to produce beer for commercial sale.

Breweries must also satisfy a range of state and local requirements. While local regulations vary by municipality, they commonly include zoning approval, building permits, fire department inspections and approval, wastewater and sewer permits, and authorization to sell alcohol.

Yet obtaining these permits does not automatically guarantee success. Just as mining companies must earn the acceptance of the communities in which they operate, craft breweries often depend on the support and goodwill of local residents, business owners, community organizations, and public officials. In this sense, a brewery’s long-term viability rests not only on its legal authority to operate but also on its ability to earn and maintain a social license to operate.

A brewery’s social license may be “granted” and then strengthened over time through community engagement, participation in local events, support of neighborhood organizations, responsiveness to complaints, and a demonstrated commitment to being a good neighbor. A brewery that functions as a valued third place and community asset is more likely to enjoy a strong social license.

Based on my own research, as well as that of other scholars, I would argue that craft breweries generally enjoy a strong social license to operate. Brewery owners are typically deeply embedded in their local communities and often strive to be good neighbors, contributing not only to the local economy but also to the social and cultural life of the places in which they operate. By fostering community connections, supporting local initiatives, and creating welcoming gathering spaces, many craft breweries have established themselves as valued community institutions rather than simply businesses. Beyond beer production, craft breweries have become important community hubs, offering spaces for yoga classes, book clubs, running clubs, and a variety of activities that foster social interaction and local engagement.

Jefferson Beer Supply in Jefferson, SD demonstrates that a brewery’s success depends on more than permits and regulations; through meaningful community engagement, it has earned a strong social license to operate.
Members of the Seek Beer Run Club meet every Monday evening at Seek Beer Brewery in San Diego, CA

However, Lian Dare, Jack Schirmer, and Frank Vanclay, in an article published in the journal Impact Assessment and Project Appraisal, argue that while community engagement is essential for gaining and maintaining a social license to operate, it is misleading to think of a social license as a single form of approval granted by a homogeneous community. Instead, they conceptualize social license as a continuum of multiple, overlapping licenses negotiated with different stakeholder groups at different scales of society. Viewed in this way, a proposed craft brewery may be welcomed by some stakeholders, such as nearby residents who enjoy craft beer and value the brewery as a community gathering place, while being opposed by others who are concerned about issues such as traffic, noise, anti-social behavior, or changes to neighborhood character.

While most breweries encounter little or no opposition from local residents, there are notable exceptions. For example, in 2026 residents living near Hamilton Family Brewery in Rancho Cucamonga, California, complained that the brewery had generated increased traffic, parking congestion, noise, and disorderly behavior associated with intoxicated patrons. In 2023, two residents filed a lawsuit against Savage Craft Ale Works In West Columbia, SC alleging that excessive noise and live music from the brewery had diminished their quality of life and prevented them from fully enjoying their home. Earlier, in 2016, residents in Ocoee, Florida, opposed a waiver request that would have allowed Toll Road Brewing Company to locate within 1,000 feet of several churches and mosques. In each of these cases, the dispute was not primarily about whether the brewery had legal authority to operate; rather, it concerned whether community members believed the brewery’s presence was compatible with local expectations and neighborhood quality of life.

Yet community attitudes toward beer-related venues are not always negative. In Philadelphia, PA for example, residents are currently fighting to preserve a popular beer garden that is slated to be replaced by an apartment building, demonstrating how some beer venues become valued community assets rather than unwanted neighbors. A developer plans to replace the PHS Manayunk Pop Up Beer Garden with a six-story, 73-unit luxury apartment building, but many residents have voiced concerns about increased traffic, congestion, and the loss of a valued community gathering space. For six years, the beer garden has served as more than a place to enjoy a drink; it has become a neighborhood institution where residents meet friends, celebrate milestones, and build community. The strong public reaction to its impending closure suggests that the venue has earned a social license to operate, gaining legitimacy and support by providing social value beyond its economic function. The controversy highlights how places such as beer gardens can become important components of a neighborhood’s social infrastructure, contributing to sense of place, community cohesion, and local identity and offers a powerful example of the importance of a business’s social license to operate.

The PHS Manayunk Pop Up Beer Garden in Philadelphia has become a popular community gathering spot

While objections to craft breweries are relatively uncommon and typically focus on localized impacts, there have been instances in which residents have opposed the siting of large breweries owned by multinational corporations. The importance of having a social license to operate was demonstrated in 2020 when residents of Mexicali, a city on Mexico’s northern border in Baja California, voiced strong objections to a nearly completed brewery being constructed by Constellation Brands. Public protests prompted the government to hold a referendum, in which local voters rejected the project. Locals accused Constellation of siphoning off scarce water resources. As a result of the referendum the Mexican government revoked Constellation’s license to build the brewery. The company had no choice but to abandon the Mexicali brewery and instead shifted its investment to a new brewing facility in Veracruz on Mexico’s Gulf Coast. Constellation Brands is a large multinational corporation who brew beers such as Corona, Modelo Especial, and Pacifico for the U.S market.

Residents protest the Constellation Brands brewery in Baja California, Mexico

Discovering the concept of a social license to operate has given me a new perspective on craft breweries and their relationship with place. While regulatory approval allows a brewery to open, long-term success depends on earning community trust and support. Most breweries achieve this through local ownership, community engagement, and the creation of welcoming gathering spaces. Ultimately, the success of craft breweries depends not only on making good beer but also on building relationships and contributing positively to community life.

Further Reading:

Boutilier, Robert G. and Ian Thomson. 2018. Social License to Operate. In: Deborah C. Poff and Alex C. Michalos, A. (editors) Encyclopedia of Business and Professional Ethics. Springer, Cham.

Dare, Melanie (Lain), Jack Schirmer, and Frank Vanclay. 2014. Community Engagement and Social Licence to Operate. Impact Assessment and Project Appraisal, Volume 32, Issue 3, Pages 188–197.

Talmage, Craig A., Caitliln Bletscher, Josh D. Newton, and Matthew M. Mars. 2025. Community Development on Tap: How Local Breweries Provide Creative Community-centered Spaces and Initiatives for Advancing Economic and Social capital. Community Development, Volume 56, Issue 6, Pages 815–836.

Beer Gardens, History, International, Social Drinking, Third Places

Kembridž: Košice’s Great Good Place

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Earlier this month, I spent five days in Košice, Slovakia, where I participated in a summer institute hosted by the Technical University of Košice. The institute brought together 27 graduate students from across Europe to explore and develop solutions to some of the most pressing challenges facing contemporary cities. This was my third year taking part in the Institute, whose theme this year was “Home: The X-Factor in Future Cities.” As part of my contribution, I delivered a presentation on third places—informal gathering spaces such as cafés, pubs, and community hubs—and their role as a “home away from home” in fostering social connection, belonging, and urban vitality.

Talking about the importance of third places to urban vitality to graduate students in Košice

As this was my third visit to Košice in three years, I was already somewhat familiar with the city, particularly its Old Town, which was just a short walk from my hotel. Dating back to the medieval period, the historic center serves as the heart of modern Košice, its pedestrian streets, cafés, restaurants, and public spaces creating a vibrant atmosphere that attracts both residents and visitors. In my previous visits, I have also discovered several excellent pubs in the Old Town, and re-visiting them is something to which I look forward.

The Old Town in Kosice

One of my favorite places to enjoy a beer in Košice is Kembridž Pub—its name being the Slovakized version of “Cambridge.” Kembridž has grown to be one of the city’s most popular places since it opened in 1963. With its spacious beer garden and relaxed atmosphere, it serves as a gathering place for people from all walks of life, who come to share a beer, catch up with friends, and enjoy the unique sense of community that has defined the pub for generations.

The Kembridž Pub with its beer garden is a favorite place for locals to gather

Indeed, it is the diversity of its clientele that makes Kembridž such a fascinating place. As one writer observed, “Students, pensioners, artists, and intellectuals meet there. Over beer, they debate everything and nothing.” It is this eclectic mix of people and conversations that has helped transform Kembridž from a simple pub into one of Košice’s most enduring social institutions.

My friend and Košice resident, Peter Škripko, describes the Kembeidž as follows:

“Kembeidž is the only beer pub in Košice that has preserved the authentic spirit of what a traditional pub used to be. It’s a place where a university professor, a factory worker, and a highly successful lawyer earning a fortune can all sit together at the same table, sharing a beer and a conversation as equals.”

The site on which Kembridž stands today has a fascinating history. Originally, it was the location of a military swimming pool associated with the Košice Cadet Academy (Kadetka), a Hungarian military academy established in 1856 during the Austro-Hungarian era. Beginning in 1881, the pool was opened to the public and became a popular recreational spot for local residents. Even today, some older Košice residents still refer to the area as “úszoda”—the Hungarian word for “swimming pool”—because – because they remember spending their childhood summers there. During the 1950s, the military gradually lost interest in maintaining the facility, and by the end of the decade the swimming pool had disappeared.

In the years that followed, the site was transformed into a public green space and eventually evolved into the legendary Kembridž pub and beer garden, one of Košice’s most beloved social gathering places. It is an excellent example of what the urban sociologist, Ray Oldenburg, calls a “third place.”

In his book, The Great Good Place, Oldenburg identified several defining characteristics of third places—settings that exist beyond home (the first place) and work (the second place). According to Oldenburg, successful third places are informal gathering spaces where people can come and go freely, without obligations or social pressures. They are inclusive environments that welcome people from all backgrounds and encourage interaction among diverse groups.

Third places are typically located within or near residential neighborhoods, making them easily accessible, often by foot. They tend to be modest and unpretentious rather than overly formal or exclusive. A hallmark of these spaces is the presence of regular patrons who visit frequently and develop a strong sense of attachment and belonging.

Most importantly, third places foster social connection. Conversation serves as the primary activity, with friendly banter, humor, and lighthearted interaction creating a relaxed and enjoyable atmosphere. In this way, third places help build community, strengthen social ties, and provide a setting where people can connect with others outside of their home and workplace.

Others have described third places in terms that are similar to Oldenburg’s, though often with more vivid imagery. Michael Hickey refers to them as the “living room of society,” emphasizing their role as comfortable, welcoming spaces where people gather, relax, and build social connections. Leo Jeffres and his colleagues, meanwhile, describe third places as “centers of community,” highlighting their importance as venues where civic life, social interaction, and a sense of belonging are cultivated.

Enjoying a beer with colleagues at the Kembridž

By either description, Kembridž clearly qualifies. It comes as close to meeting Oldenburg’s criteria for a third place as any establishment I have ever frequented. It is a welcoming, unpretentious gathering place where people from different walks of life come together, form and maintain friendships, and let conversation flow freely. More than simply a pub, Kembridž has long served as a social anchor for its patrons—a true living room of society and a genuine center of community. The afternoon I visited, the beer garden was quiet. A small group of older gentlemen sat together beneath the shade of the overhanging trees, escaping the scorching summer heat and lingering over their drinks. Nearby, a young couple relaxed with their baby, adding to the calm, unhurried atmosphere that made the space feel welcoming and distinctly local. Whether bustling with activity or enjoying a quieter moment, Kembridž is a wonderful place for people-watching, offering the perfect vantage point from which to observe the ebb and flow of everyday life.

Should your travels ever take you to Košice, don’t miss Kembridž. Settle in with a beer, stay awhile, and enjoy one of the city’s great pleasures: watching people come together to talk, laugh, and share each other’s company. In a world that often moves too fast, Kembridž remains a place where community still matters

History, Taverns, Third Places

The Tavern Reborn: Rediscovering America’s Original Third Place

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Content Warning: This blog entry includes language and terminology that may be considered offensive by contemporary standards. Such language is presented in its historical context and reflects the norms of the period discussed, not the values of the author.

In February of this year, The Wall Street Journal ran a story on the revival of what was once a quintessential cornerstone of American life: the tavern. Neither a bar nor a restaurant, the tavern occupies what the Journal characterizes as a “gray area” between the two.

The term itself has deep historical roots, deriving from the thirteenth-century French taverne, which in turn comes from the Latin taberna, meaning a shop, stall, or inn. As an institution, the tavern is even older. Archaeological evidence traces its origins to ancient Mesopotamia, where an open-air tavern dating to around 2700 BC has been uncovered. Taverns were also common in ancient Greece and Rome, later becoming a familiar feature of medieval Europe. When European colonists arrived in North America, the tavern quickly took hold there as well, becoming an integral part of early American life.

In colonial America, taverns were places where the community gathered to play games, enjoy entertainment, share news, argue politics, and linger over a beer. Organized activities were a feature at most taverns. These included “dancing, fistfights, and shooting at random indoor targets“, as well as cockfighting. Activities such as these helped define taverns as “places where ordinary people could participate in extraordinary activities.” In many ways, colonial taverns embodied what urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg calls a Third Place – a community gathering spot beyond home and work.

In addition to locals, taverns were equally vital to travelers, serving as places where one could find a bed for the night and food to sustain the journey. They also served as venues for official business; it was not uncommon for both lower and superior court sessions to be held there – the former handling minor criminal offenses and small civil disputes, and the latter addressing more serious criminal cases and larger civil matters.

These early Colonial taverns were called “ordinaries.” They were given this name because they were required to have an annual license called an Ordinary Bond, and the issuing authority had the power to set the price charged for goods and services such as meals and lodging.

The first tavern in colonial America was opened by a Thomas Cole in Boston, MA, on March 4, 1634. Such was the importance of taverns to colonial life that they were among the first to be built when a new settlement was being established.

In her excellent book on the history of taverns, saloons, speakeasies, and grog shops, Christine Sismondo quotes a letter written by Sir Captain John Walduck to his nephew in 1708. It states:

“Upon all the new settlements the Spaniards make, the first thing they
do is build a church, the first thing ye Dutch do upon a new colony is to
build them a fort, but the first thing ye English do, be it in the most
remote part of ye world, or amongst the most barbarous Indians, is to
set up a tavern or drinking house.”

In some cases, the urgency to establish a tavern may have been driven by the threat of financial penalty. In 1656, the General Court of Massachusetts made towns liable to a fine if they failed to maintain a tavern. This policy reflected both a desire to exert oversight over the sale of alcohol and a practical need to provide weary travelers with food and rest. To encourage compliance with this law, many communities offered inducements such as land grants, pasture rights for livestock, or exemptions from school and church taxes to prospective tavern keepers. This carrot-and-stick approach meant that taverns were ubiquitous and plentiful throughout colonial America.

The most popular drinks in colonial taverns were rum, flip, and punch. But what exactly was flip? In Stage-Coach and Tavern Days, Alice Morse Earle offers the following description:

“American flip was made in a great pewter mug or earthen pitcher filled two-thirds full of strong beer; sweetened with sugar, molasses, or dried pumpkin, according to individual taste or capabilities; and flavored with “a dash” – about a gill – of New England rum. Into this mixture was thrust and stirred a red-hot loggerhead, made of iron and shaped like a poker, and the seething iron made the liquor foam and bubble and mantle high, and gave it the burnt, bitter taste so dearly loved.“

The practice of inserting a red-hot poker into a flip probably has its roots in the 15th-century German tradition of Bierstacheln (“beer spike”). Initially used to warm cold Lagers to a more drinkable temperature, the technique later evolved as a way to caramelize the sugars in darker, malt-forward beers. This process produces a smoother, creamier texture while enhancing flavors and aromas such as caramel and toffee.

The beer consumed by colonial settlers was primarily ale, reflecting the brewing traditions of Great Britain, where ale dominated production and consumption. These ales were either imported or brewed locally in homes and taverns throughout the colonies. Lager beer – and the bottom‑fermenting yeast required to produce it – did not arrive in the United States until the 1840s, when German immigrants introduced new brewing techniques.

With the passage of time, the role of the American tavern changed significantly. As independent hotels and restaurants expanded, taverns gradually lost their broader social and lodging functions, becoming primarily establishments for the sale of alcohol. With this transition, the term “tavern” came to be used interchangeably with “alehouse” or “bar.” In his 1952 study of taverns in Dane County, WI, the sociologist Boyd E. Macrory defined a tavern as “any establishment whose business consists largely of selling and serving intoxicating liquors and/or beer for consumption on the premises.” Despite this narrowing of their function, they remained important gathering spots. Writing as recently as 1982, Ray Oldenburg and Dennis Brisset noted that “the tavern, or bar, is without doubt the dominant third place in our society” (Oldenburg and Brisset 1982, 269).

In the Wall Street Journal article, Joshua Stein describes a modern tavern as a hybrid space that blends elements of both bar and restaurant. His examples – such as the Sergeantsville Inn in Sergeantsville, New Jersey, and the Stissing House in Pine Plains, New York – are places where patrons can enjoy a full meal or simply sit at the bar with a beer or cocktail. What distinguishes these establishments is not just their dual function but their role as community anchors. They cultivate a sense of familiarity and belonging, drawing in regulars who gather – often spontaneously – to socialize and connect. Jacqueline Haut Evans, an artist and real estate agent, captures this spirit in reflecting on her 25 years as a regular at the Sergeantsville Inn: “it doesn’t matter when I come in … I know I’m going to know somebody”.

Seen from a long historical perspective, the recent revival of the American tavern is less a reinvention than a rediscovery. For centuries, taverns have adapted to changing economic conditions and social expectations, shifting from indispensable civic institutions to more narrowly defined drinking establishments. Yet their enduring appeal lies in something deeper than their function: their ability to bring people together. While modern taverns may no longer host court sessions or house weary travelers, their renewed popularity suggests a continued desire for shared spaces that blur the boundaries between commerce and community. In this sense, today’s tavern – like its colonial predecessor – again hints at the power of a “third place,” reminding us that even in a digitized, fragmented world, the need for face-to-face connection remains as strong as ever.

Further Reading:

Earle, Alice Morse. 1900. Stage-coach and Tavern Days. The MacMillan Company.

Sismondo, Christone. 2014. America Walks into a Bar: A Spirited History of Taverns and Saloons, Speakeasies and Grog Shops. Oxford University Press.

Struzinski, Steven. 2002. The tavern in colonial America. The Gettysburg Historical Journal, Volume 1, Article 7