When the most popular song of 1933, "Happy Days are Here Again," heralded the end of Prohibition, Walter's brewing facilities were in sad shape. Most of the tanks leaked. Copper used in the plant had disappeared mysteriously, along with most of the motors or engines. The old bottle house was ruined, only one of its motors was intact. Most of the remainder of the equipment was without hope. And even the old saloon building, with its many uses, was remodeled and became the office area.
But as the plant reopened in March of that year, Walter's, with Teutonic thoroughness, managed to market and sell the golden liquid by July. One boiler was completely ruined. Two others were not far behind. These two managed, with reduced pressure, to eke out the product until two new larger water tube boilers could take over two years later. These were housed in another new building, making the old boiler room available for a pitch room. This element, when heated, was used to line the inside of kegs. Construction continued in 1936 even during the Depression as another small structure was created to store corn syrup. The years of World War II saw no letup, as fermenting capacity was increased with a new cellar. Another building housed a garage and a new pitch room. The old boiler room became a machine shop. The two old revived steam powered ice machines - the Ott and the Dela Verge - were honorably retired with full honors and were replaced by three electric York Ice Machines. As 1948 came around, the introduction of a canning machine brought yet another innovation. The old "Church Key" bottle opener was replaced by several versions of the snap top.
1961 and 1967 added a total of twenty steel tanks, four with capacities of 750 barrels, sixteen with 635 barrels. Other steel tanks were added elsewhere and even more were stored "for future use". An information flyer written by Edmond B. Koller from about 1951 exalts the economic impact of Walter's beer. Koller was general manager at the time.
Over the years the brewery, like any major industry, could not survive and grow without the resources, transportation and markets covering an area far beyond local boundaries.
Products from Colorado and adjacent states, New Mexico, Utah, Kansas, New Mexico, Texas and California, among other areas, were utilized. These also provided the markets, which grew and expanded from the early railroad days to the more modern trucking facilities. Further afield, grain, hops, malt and even cornflakes came from as far away as Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Omaha, Nebraska.
Operations, as of 1950, provided jobs for at least seventy-five persons with an annual payroll of around $250,000.00, not including the "ripple effect" upon which so many local economies depend. Eleven years later the payroll neared the half-million mark with 65 to 75 employees. In the same period, the company had received the Honor Award from the American Sanitation Institute for its high achievement in sanitation practices.
The invention of the can for beer created the demand for fifty cars of cans, along with 125 cars of bottles from various distributors, plus at least five carloads of cartons for packaging, making Walter's Beer a far-reaching economic contributor.
Among the suppliers of glass bottles were the Streator Bottle and Glass Company of Streator, Illinois from 1881-1905. The Western Glass Manufacturing produced the "belt buckle" model, 1900-1909. According to the Prairie Chronicle feature of April 1990, this last was the only bottle made in Colorado. The Baltimore Loop mentioned before was used for a time. The Lightning-type closure was also used - although why a lightning closure was needed on a bottle of beer is a mystery. No statistics exist, but it is no doubt rarely that a container of beer is not "finished off".
The same writer depicts at least eighteen varieties of containers - glass and metal - that Walter Brewery had used in more recent times. The label on each was also unique. A few of the different brand names that were shipped to at least twenty other states included Walter's Premium Beer, Gold Label, Colorado Gold Label, Sheridan, Wellington, Berghoff, Hoffman House, Pike's Peak Malt Liquor, and Wellington Stout. A far cry from the "Mountain Dew" of a century ago.
Replacing the old wooden barrels (at one time steeped with pitch), and later the heavy steel containers, was the invention of the aluminum keg. Walter's was one of the first to use the more available material, making not only reduced weight, but also greater convenience and savings in handling and shipping.
To fire the boilers, about 5,000 tons of coal was consumed, the bulk coming from Colorado mines. Besides the railroads which brought in raw materials and shipped out the finished products, the trucks carrying Walter's Beer consumed at least 40,000 gallons each year. (The advent of protesting the air pollution from coal and gas was still in the future.) In 1950, together railroads and trucks carried fifteen million pounds, or the equivalent of 400 cars. Still recovering from wartime wear, the company at that time looked forward to replacing rolling stock.
Not to be left out of the economic benefits of brewing, the Great White Father looked upon each gallon of beer and ale as a wonderful source of revenue. This year he garnered over $600,000.00 in taxes. Not to be outdone except in amounts, Colorado and other states took in at least another $150,000.00. Taxes on equipment, fuel and miscellaneous items took another large chunk.
Prominent Puebloans in 1950 were on the board: Martin Walter, Jr., the son of the founder, chaired the Board comprised of Eleanor Sheldon, Marie W. Lee, Walter K. Hurd, William H. Hutchinson, Lynn Belcher and William F. Howard. The chairman rated a squib in Who's Who in Colorado, compiled by the Colorado Press Association as early as 1938. He shared the page with two other Puebloans, Norman L. Walther, chiropractor, and Dr. Lester L. Ward. Martin Jr. had assumed the presidency in 1933 with repeal. The elder Martin had passed away thirteen years before.
The Pueblo based brewery had gone through many changes since Martin Walter had, in a sense, inherited all the tradition and experience of previous Pueblo brewers. He began the company in 1898, on the heels of the Spanish American War. The company faced several small recessions during its existence of three quarters of a century. The closing of the plant during Prohibition (both state and federal) was after 1915. The demand for the golden brew during World War I obviously had to be met elsewhere. But, as the Prairie Chronicler suggests, Pueblo apparently was not too bothered by Prohibition. Like so many parts of society elsewhere, local citizens imbibed possibly more than before. A mixture called "Wort" - a non-alcoholic brew - was produced by other breweries. A bartender could easily be persuaded to add a bit of grain alcohol, which "put beer drinkers back in business".
Repeal brought some prosperity. Even with the Great Depression of the thirties, it was met with changes in plant and production. The plant evidently saw some prosperity during World War II despite its shortage of war materials and shipping.
The fifties - The Happy Days - were harbingers of the sixties and the "all time high" in sales in 1962. Four years later the Walter Brewery embarked on a modernization program set at $250,000.00.
Onset of the seventies marked the beginning of the end. Even though awarded the "Gold Award" in 1956 and the "Excellence of Quality" award in 1972 by the Brewers Association of America, the company was to experience the same fate as other brewers around the nation. Falling on hard times for several reasons, the company slowed. From a high of 400 major brewers in the U.S. in 1949, only about 115 had survived. The demise of a major corporation within any industry can seldom be attributed to one single factor. Rather, like other economic phenomena, many causes may be found.
Some observers look at the growing rift between labor and management after World War II. The rift can probably be traced back to as early as 1903 when the plant was unionized, shown by union members who paraded in the Labor Day parade that same year. The period, covering the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first three decades of the twentieth, exhibited profound conflicts between labor and management in all parts of industrial America. Labor, as well as other increasing costs, made it unproductive to stay in business.
Control passes to Kalmanovitz
Some blame the growing tendency of giant mergers - swallowing up of smaller competitors (even back then). Walters was no exception when, in the early 1960s, majority control of the company passed to John and Andy Sackman, with a large block of stock falling into the hands of Paul Kalmanovitz, of Falstaff fame. By the end of the decade, Kalmanovitz and his General Brewing Corp. owned 80% of the stock. Given the past history of breweries that fall under the control of Kalmanovitz, the future of Walters in Pueblo did not look promising.
By 1974 output had slipped to 60,000 barrels a year, while the number of brands being packaged increased dramatically with the addition of many private labels and brands acquired by Kalmanovitz from other brewery purchases. The names of other breweries started to appear on labels and cans from the Pueblo plant.
Long road to success; short trip to failure
Again, price cutting, or "price wars" of the major breweries, "cut out the little guy". There are, no doubt, other circumstances, but at any rate, the Walter Brewing Company closed its doors for the last time on January 3, 1975. This in spite of the fact that as recently as 1971, plans had been made to increase production. When the doors finally closed, the work force had dropped to only 26.
Why did the brewery fail? Those close to the scene give a variety of reasons. Jack Miller, then president of General Brewing in San Francisco, in a Denver Post interview, blamed tax overcharges by the City of Pueblo, high union wages, and an unfriendly community attitude. Joe Marino, the union counselor at the time of closure, cited poor advertising and lack of on-site management. "We never had any president of the company," he told the Denver Post in February 1975. "The general superintendent was replaced a year before we closed by a brewmaster who didn't know anything about brewing."
Another suggested factor in the closing was obsolete machinery, or at least the overhead costs of operating in obsolescence. Even the rapid cost of war materials was responsible. The closing can not be laid at the door of a single cause.
After the closing, everything was up for sale. The Lemel Corporation of Salt Lake City acquired the rights to oversee the sales. Lemel apparently purchased the plant and equipment in 1976 from Paul Kalmanovitz. A former official at Walter's, Frank Russ, verified that Kalmanovitz had been the owner. Russ was shocked and disappointed that everything had to go. He had been hoping that someone would reopen the brewery.
Patterson and Campbell of Lemel set up shop at the old site, hoping, in lieu possibly of selling everything, that someone might come up with ideas as to how the equipment could be adapted for some other kind of industrial processes. The old plant's giant kettle was destined to become a display for "The Brewery Mall" in Salt Lake City. Other items, such as the thousands of unused bottle caps, redwood tanks holding 240 barrels each, battery powered forklifts, and a smokestack 111 feet high were placed on the block.
Some mention was made of the disposition of leftover liquid still in the plant at closing. Sam Q. Pullaro, bottlehouse superintendent, set the figure at about 2,900,000 gallons. Someone reported that it might be "dumped underceremoniously into a sewer." Pullaro stated that in any case no beer can be disposed of without notifying federal agents and, as of January 4, 1975, no such notification had been given. A few rumors still exist about the final fate of the beer.
Almost as if the old plant refused to die on its own, a fire "of mysterious origin" broke out on July 30, 1976 and gutted the main brewery building. Only three years before, another fire had caused severe damage. Other parts of the plant were wide open for vandals and souvenir seekers. The remaining structures at 1300 Hickory Street lasted for another eleven months before being considered a public hazard and nuisance and were torn down "thus . . . bringing an end to Pueblo's brewing history."
For a short while after the closing, some effort was made to attract Anheuser-Busch to Pueblo to replace the Walter Brewing Company. Such efforts came to naught, and Fort Collins won the new brewery.
The final ownership of the property reverted to the S. & P. Corporation of Corte Madera,California. Contracting for the final razing was Bayless and Bayless of Pueblo.
Besides the questioned disposition of the leftover beer, other questions have been mulled over: the grave, or graves, somewhere on the old property. The only thing standing today, in mute testimony to the beer-laden past of Pueblo, are two brick gateposts at the old entrance to the brewery.