Duquesne (1899-1972) Once king of western Pennsylvania, the Duke returned a couple years ago, calling itself “the Prince of Pilsner.”

Falls City (1905-1978) Formed as an attempt to break Louisville’s beer monopoly, the brand was once the official beer of the Indianapolis 500. It’s back on its feet with a pale ale.

Highlander (1910-1964) A Missouri beer named after the American League team that would become the New York Yankees, it’s returned as a Scottish red ale.

Lithia (1848-1972). “The beer that made Milwaukee jealous” has returned to West Bend, Ind.

Narragansett (1890-1981) It once greeted Cape Cod vacationers, Boston Red Sox fans and everyone else in New England with its famous slogan, “Hi neighbor, have a ‘Gansett!” It’s back in six different styles, including bock and porter.

Primo (1897-1979) One of Hawaii’s first beers is still brewed by Pabst. But there’s a local draft version made by tiny Keoki Brewing of Kauai.

Rheingold (1873-1976) Once the largest-selling beer in New York, it was known for its annual Miss Rheingold beauty pageant. It’s been re-launched at least twice in recent years.

Walter’s (1874-1989) Brewing up to 80,000 barrels a year before its collapse, “The Beer that is Beer” has returned.

San Francisco
Founded: 1896
Current rank: 32
How it survived Prohibition: Shut down for duration.
How it survives today: Fritz Maytag’s legacy.

Anheuser-Busch

St. Louis
Founded: 1852
Current rank: 1
How it survived Prohibition: Grape soda, ginger ale, carbonated coffee.
How it survives today: Resistance is futile.

Cold Springs

(formerly Gluek)

Cold Springs, MN
Founded: 1857
Current rank: 47
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer and soda.
How it survives today: Energy drinks, O.P.B. (Other People’s Beer)OK?

Coors

Golden, CO
Founded: 1873
Current rank: 2 (as Miller Coors)
How it survived Prohibition: Mars candy bars, porcelain manufacturing.
How it survives today: Inexplicable allure of pure Rocky Mountain spring water.

Genesee

Rochester, NY
Founded: 1878
Current rank: 8
How it survived Prohibition: Shut down for duration.
How it survives today: Private equity, discount pricing.

Leinenkugel

Chippewa Falls, WI
Founded: 1867
Current rank: 2 (as Miller Coors)
How it survived Prohibition: Soda water.
How it survives today: Dogged family principles in face of assimilation.

Lion

Wilkes-Barre, PA
Founded: 1905
Current rank: 15
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, dye manufacture.
How it survives today: Stegmaier beers, Goya Malta, O.P.B.

F.X. Matt

Utica, NY
Founded: 1888
Current rank: 13
How it survived Prohibition: Utica Club soda.
How it survives today: Saranac beers, O.P.B.

Miller

Milwaukee, WI
Founded: 1855
Current rank: 2 (as Miller Coors)
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, malt tonic.
How it survives today: Tastes great, less filling.

Minhas

(formerly Joseph Huber)

Monroe, WI
Founded: 1845
Current rank: 14
How it survived Prohibition: Ice cream, near beer, farm equipment.
How it survives today: Insatiable thirst of Canadians.

August Schell

New Ulm, MN
Founded: 1860
Current rank: 22
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, soda and candy.
How it survives today: Craft brewing, lingering appreciation of retro Grain Belt.

Spoetzl

Shiner, TX
Founded: 1909
Current rank: 10
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, though local legend says they never stopped brewing the real thing.
How it survives today: Don’t mess with Texas.

Stevens Point

Stevens Point, WI
Founded: 1857
Current rank: 44
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer, Orange Crush.
How it survives today: You can teach an old dog new tricks.

Straub

St. Marys, PA
Founded: 1872
Current rank: 50
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer.
How it survives today: Think small.

Yuengling

Pottsville, PA
Founded: 1829
Current rank: 4
How it survived Prohibition: Near beer and ice cream.
How it survives today: American icon.

“Made in San Francisco since 1896.”
It takes some looking, but if you shuffle through the cooler at your local beer store you’ll find labels that proudly boast of traditions that are seriously old.

“Brewing excellence since 1857”
Not just old as in “your father’s beer.”

“Established in Milwaukee 1844.”
We’re talking old enough to be Abe Lincoln’s father’s beer.

“Since 1829.”
Somehow they’ve survived, through world wars and epidemics how would epidemics affect beer companies?and family rivalries and corporate takeovers and that loathsome low-carb fad. And they continue to thrive, even in an era of shortened attention spans and the newfangled desire for the next newest thing.

These are America’s pre-Prohibition breweries, the ones that were founded before passage of the 18th Amendment and then somehow emerged when we came back to our senses.

You can call them retro or old-fashioned. A decade ago, beer historian Greg Kitsock labeled them as heirloom breweries, a bit of an inaccuracy because most of the survivors have been sold and re-sold so many times, they’re hardly family treasures. More recently, Brewers Association President Charlie Papazian began calling them heritage breweries, another description that implies inheritance.

Maybe that’s the point.

The stein, with its sturdy handle and hinged lid, was legislated into beer drinking history during the 14th century. As the bubonic plague wiped out entire villages and infestations of flies swept across parts of modern day Germany, rulers decreed that drinking vessels should be covered. At around the same time advancements were being made in ceramics and stoneware was developed. These two factors combined to create the classic beer stein.

When it comes to beer drinking vessels, man has been tinkering and innovating for centuries. Sometimes, like with the stein, necessity has been the mother of invention. In other cases, style and taste have shaped what holds our beer.

What is true today is that right glass with the right beer makes the experience memorable.

The delicate thin-walled 0.2 liter stange delivers a fresh kölsch to your lips at just the right temperature. The tulip-shaped imperial pint captures the flavor and aromas of an extra special bitter. And the 1-liter masskrug is as much a part of the enjoyment of Oktoberfest as drindls or leiderhosen. Anyone who has ever been to Cologne, London or Munich knows the sensory pleasure of holding one of these glasses. They can transport you back to the place because they are as much a part of the experience as any cathedral, palace or museum is in these great cities.

Most beer drinkers have a favorite glass. Many have a few glasses that they use regularly depending on the beer being poured. The search for the proper drinking vessel goes back through the ages—it’s part utilitarianism and part ceremony. The clinking of glasses signifies friendship and goodwill. Over time beer has served to drive away evil spirits, celebrate reunions and seal business deals. The beer mug is more than a container: it is part of the experience.

How we got to the modern beer glass is a story that reflects our development over the centuries. What now might look quaint, or even barbaric at times, was something our ancestors accepted as the perfect way to hoist a brew.

The band was playing a version of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day” and while quite good, it certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. A few moments later I settled into a stein of Weihenstephaner Dunkel Weiss and surveyed the scene. It was decidedly hipster, 30-somethings wearing T-shirts with ironic sayings or vague movie references. One was alone and reading with a glass of wine—yes, wine—in front of him. Two others were engrossed in the contents on the screen of a digital camera.

Clearly this was not Bavaria.

No, this was just one of many “beer gardens” that has sprang up in recent years around the country, making it seem that bar owners are embracing a new decorating theme much in the same way that “Irish pubs” were in fashion a decade ago.

And why not? Bavaria is the fertile crescent of beer. Hundreds of thousands of people make pilgrimages to Munich each year to drink deep from the kegs of some of the world’s best-known and beloved breweries. The styles developed over the centuries by master brewers have been enjoyed and imbibed by millions and copied and analyzed by fellow brewers around the globe. In short, so much of what people enjoy about beer found its beginnings in Germany.

Then consider how the United States is in the midst of a beer renaissance. Sure, sugary vodka-based drinks that masquerade as martinis are still popular at lounges and wine lists still rein supreme at high-end restaurants. But beer brings people together for a good time and rather than just another neighborhood dive, restaurateurs are capitalizing on the current beer trend and are offering up a place with an “authentic feel.”

Ancient beers from around the world were usually low in alcohol, sour, chunky or slimy—eeew! They were made of any fermentable materials at hand. If you are one to harp on about adjuncts and German purity, you’d better fasten your seat belt. Dan Shelton, co-founder of the Shelton Brothers specialty beer importation company says, “Fact is that all of the ancient beers would have been spontaneously fermented, they would therefore have been very low alcohol, and they would have been progressively more sour and redolent with all sorts of flavors—certainly foul and off-putting at the time.”

Who could have made this stuff up, you’re wondering? Well, the gods did. Often the recipes for these beverages were transmitted through visions of tribal deities. They required specific ingredients and equipment bestowed with magical properties. Mythology and sacred poems accompanied the brew. Righteous consumption demanded special drinking vessels and adherence to ceremonial customs.

“In a world so lacking in modern comforts like ibuprofen and dental care,” reckons Santa Fe brewer Cullen Dwyer, “a food that required no chewing and let you forget your aches, pains and cares must have won a big double thumbs-up.” It’s true. Beer was medicine. And it was also a staple food, a religious sacrament, social lubricant and aphrodisiac.

Brain child of four beer bar owners in the L.A. area, the ColLAboration Craft Beer Gardens and Events brings tents, tables, chairs and, most importantly, good beer to parking lots and parks across the City of Angels.

It’s for beer geeks and beyond,” says Tony Yanow, owner of Tony’s Darts Away & Mohawk Bend. The group sells 21 oz glasses that serves as a ticket for entry and patrons can choose the pour amount, as indicated by notches on the glass. The smallest pour available is 8 oz, good for say, a barrel-aged barley wine.

Along with Yanow, ColLAboration is run by Ryan Sweeney of Verdugo Bar & The Surly Goat, Brian Lenzo of Blue Palms Brewhouse and Clay Harding of the 38° Ale House & Grill.

All are personally invested in the promotion of American craft beer and enjoy good relationships with brewers large and small. Yanow says that those relationships help get smaller breweries involved in a large gatherings that they might not otherwise be able to afford.

The pop-up gardens do not serve food but organizers work with local restaurants and post menus on tables, encouraging patrons to call for delivery. There is no music, just conversation and Yanow says that the bartender staffs from the restaurants work the gardens, ensuring that those unfamiliar with a particular beer can get an education along with a taste.

The whole point is to make it comfortable,” says Yanow. “We want to drink beer in the way we want to drink beer. This is the way we see beer drinking as it ought to be.”

Then it had pity on me
And, after two mornings,
Gloriously it fermented.

Then of those whose desires were like to mine
I bethought me,
And straight to you a shining road was stretched.
As I started upon it,
It was the wind that met me
And rainily it blew.
It was this that I desired in what I did.

Excerpt from the “Invitation to the Sit-and-Drink” song of the Tohono O’Odham.

When people make gingke wine they are wild with joy.

Excerpt from “The Laud to Wine” in the epic poem King Gesar.

Ninkasi, you are the one who waters malt set on the ground,
The noble dogs keep away even the potentates,

Ninkasi, you are the one who soaks the malt in a jar,
The waves rise, the waves fall.

Abridged excerpt from “The Hymn to Ninkasi.”