How Cambridge Brewing Company Went Out the Right Way

The sweeping wall mural tells the story of Cambridge Brewing Company. The hand painted piece depicts a fantastical night at the brewpub, where famous Cantabrigians, including Senator Elizabeth Warren, Mindy Kaling, and Matt Damon, rub elbows and share beers. What makes the colorful mural special is not the inclusion of dozens of well-known faces, including many who’ve likely never visited the pub (Jimmy Fallon, Gisele Bundchen, and Tom Brady), but those whose names you wouldn’t know. Of the 51 people depicted, nearly half are listed on a nearby key only by their first names, followed by their most important identifier, “Regular.” 

Cambridge Brewing, better known by fans as CBC, was long a community meeting place. Since May of 1989, it played host to beer geeks and real geeks alike. Located near the MIT campus, the pub’s warm space of red brick, wood beams, and exposed HVAC systems has long welcomed an eclectic mix of students, young tech professionals, and dedicated beer lovers. 

The bright mural features many faces engaged in conversations with their neighbors, some smiling, some like Larry Summers, (presciently) scowling. One face, tucked into the upper left hand corner, reflects an innocuous portrait of a humble man bathed in a pale hue. With a whitish beard and kind smile, one eye focuses on the artist, the other monitors the room. While your attention isn’t immediately drawn to him, he’s the heart of this whole place. The key lists him as Number 1: Phil Bannatyne, CBC Founder. 

The Legacy

Cambridge Brewing closed one year ago today and the impact of the loss to the local beer community still ripples. Businesses aren’t meant to last forever, and certainly not restaurants. We inherently understand this but it’s still a shock when a favorite place closes. The unpleasant jolt accompanying closure is an all too common feeling these days, as hundreds and hundreds of breweries have closed their doors in the face of significant economic and demographic headwinds. Most don’t get to do it on their own terms. CBC did.

On August 17, 2024, CBC posted a message on social media announcing its plans to close in four months. Unlike so many closure announcements, this one was a celebration of CBC’s life, ethos, and community. The accompanying pictures included founder Phil Bannatyne, brewmaster Will Meyers, and their staffers shotgunning beers on the patio. In the community response that followed the closure announcement, Bannatyne remained calm, telling the Boston Globe of the plans, “I want to retire…There comes a time in everyone’s life when that becomes apparent, and I think that time for me is now.” He and the team invited CBC’s community to come celebrate with them. 

And people did.

Brewers flew in from around the country to have one last round at CBC and to thank and congratulate Bannatyne and Meyers. Longtime staff returned for one last family reunion in their shared home. On one visit in late December, I met a guy from Germany who had flown in just to say goodbye. 

Recent years at CBC have been a challenge. The team busted their asses to break even and the next five years didn’t look to be any easier. Making the decision to go out on your own terms is one of the most difficult but ultimately rewarding ones. And CBC grabbed it with both hands.

The community celebrated the brewery’s achievements and existence. CBC pioneered the brewing of Belgian-style beers in the United States, starting with the 1990 release of Tripel Threat by CBC’s original head brewer, the late Darryl Goss. The brewery won a dozen medals at the Great American Beer Festival, two from the World Beer Cup, and one at the Great British Beer Festival. Its brewers massacred countless thousands of pumpkins in a side alley to create its annual Great Pumpkin Ale, starting in 1990. It led followers on countryside trips to find flowers for its singular Heather Ale. Meyers helped apply the complicated solera blending system, long a practice in some wine regions, to beer, all in the tiny, cramped basement of CBC.

“CBC has always been a place of community, caring, and to enjoy great beer with great people,” says Myron “Fletch” Freeman, a longtime regular.

The Founder

Bannatyne is a remarkable figure in the annals of American craft beer. In the spring of 1989, few people had heard of microbrews let alone considered opening a brewpub. While living near San Francisco, Bannatyne watched the craft brewing movement develop from its earliest days, enjoying pints with friends at the Roaring Rock Brewery (now known as the Triple Rock Brewery and Taphouse) in Berkeley, California. Bannatyne loved Berkeley’s funky feel and wanted to open an establishment in a neighborhood with a similar attitude. He chose Cambridge because of its young crowd and artsy atmosphere and selected the building, a circa-1890s structure that once housed the American Woven Hose Factory, in part because the local zoning board politely suggested he locate his weird new restaurant-brewery in an industrial section of town. When Cambridge Brewing opened, it was the second brewpub in greater Boston and only the fifth in all of New England.

For the next 35 years, Bannatyne would dedicate his life to running this pub. Whenever anyone visited the pub, they’d see Bannatyne doing every odd job around the place, bussing tables, stacking chairs, and fixing flickering lightbulbs on Exit signs. “When I first got there, the chef at the time had an issue with how much Phil was in the kitchen trying to set up plates,” says former Cambridge Brewing brewer Kevin O’Leary with a laugh. “He knows every aspect and inch of that place. He’s always there, fixing everything. Without him and his leadership, it wouldn’t be what it is.”

In the decades that I’ve visited the brewpub, I never once saw Bannatyne sitting idly with a beer in his hand or holding court at the bar, which passes for active ownership at so many places (if the owner comes around at all). Bannatyne’s quiet, lead by example management style heavily influenced his staff. “To me, Phil is one of the most important figures in New England beer,” says former Cambridge Brewing brewer Sean Nolan and later co-founder of Honest Weight with fellow CBC brewer Jay Sullivan. “He has had incredible intuition about this business for literally decades, he knows when it’s time to take a chance and when it’s not, and most importantly to me, he has never been afraid of actually getting dirty and doing the hard work.”

“Phil Bannatyne ties the whole room together,” says former Cambridge Brewing brewer Lee Lord, now Brewmaster at Narragansett Beer in Rhode Island. “None of this would have happened without him. None of the brewing innovation, none of the friendships, none of the careers spawned because folks were given a chance to work for him. It’s his vision and dedication that has made any of this possible and the way in which he built everything that CBC is.”

The Brewer

Meyers first started working for Cambridge Brewing in 1993 and never left until its final day. That’s a remarkable achievement in today’s professional beer marketplace, where brewers rarely maintain a single place of employment and often leave to start their own operations. From the beginning, Bannatyne gave Meyers free reign to create distinctive beers, ranging from highly hopped American pale ales to wild takes on Belgian-style ales. He would eventually become a part owner of the brewery.

Meyers has long had a boyish look, the true countenance of Dorian Gray without the devil’s bargain, all of which belies his harder edged yankee sensibility. Kind and welcoming, but with a strong point of view, the well-known brewer served as a mentor to many generations of younger brewers in the Boston area.

“Phil may be the heart of CBC, but Will is the spirit,” says Nolan. “He has always had bold, big ideas. He’s one of the most crucial characters in CBC’s storyline, no question.”

Most big cities have one brewery that serves as an incubator of local brewing talent, where brewers pass through on the way to opening their own places. In Boston, Cambridge Brewing was that brewery. Dozens of young brewers cycled through the place and put in time on the 10-barrel Pub Brewing Systems brewhouse, one of the oldest such systems in the country. “CBC has launched or supported the careers of so many brewers,” says Dann Paquette, co-founder of The Brewery of Saint Mars of the Desert in Sheffield, England, and formerly of Pretty Things Beer and Ale Project in nearby Somerville. “When you think about Ben Howe [of Otherlands Beer], and the guys at Honest Weight, Megan Parisi [of Boston Beer], and so many more. In my slightly down and out years in between brewery jobs, they even employed me.”

Meyers established himself as a powerful voice far beyond New England. The Brewers Association (BA) awarded him the Russell Schehrer Award for Innovation in Craft Brewing in 2017 for his efforts. The BA established the award in memory of the late Russell Schehrer, a pioneering brewer at the Wynkoop Brewery in Denver, Colorado. Meyers was recognized for his creativity, excellence in brewing, and sharing brewing knowledge with the craft beer community. 

“I think what Will has done at CBC is just monumental,” says Paquette. “He has taken what might have been simply a brewer’s gig in a restaurant and made world class beers, and with Phil obviously, a world class destination. He has stayed ahead of the curve in beer, always, and is so well connected that CBC always felt like an important place to be drinking beer at.”

The Final Night

On the evening of December 20, 2024 Cambridge Brewing’s final night open to the public, snow fell in heavy waves all around Boston, causing streets to fill with slush and drifts. Cambridge was quiet, few ventured out into the cold and wind. A few hundred feet from CBC’s front door, the energy felt electric, with people piling in and others careening out with saddened smiles, having already said their goodbyes. 

Meyers stands near the bar, surrounded by a group of regulars, industry folks, and other well-wishers. His voice is hoarse, having been the center of a living wake for several months now. He says he fully expects a midlife crisis to hit in about six weeks. “Who am I if not the CBC brewmaster,” he half-jokingly asks with a knowing look. He’s going to take some time off, move to Maine with his wife, and spend the year painting and sculpting. Maybe he’ll become a fisherman, an amateur one he adds. 

For once, Bannatyne is nowhere to be seen. He’ll make another appearance at the friends and family party scheduled for the next night, after Cambridge Brewing’s official closing, when the CBC squad will attempt to polish off any beer that’s left. His spirit still infuses the place and many of the conversations among those he brought together in his pub.

In the warm, inviting environs, the vibe is pure happiness cut with a tinge of nostalgia. It’s hard to be sad when someone goes out on their own terms. You just have to celebrate their achievements and respect their decision.

I’m stuffed into a tiny alcove tucked to the right of the bar. A throwaway space meant for maybe three or four people, over the years it’s where we’ve always huddled. On this night, we have nearly a dozen people crammed elbow-to-elbow into this spot, all laughing and telling stories about memories from Cambridge Brewing. Among our group are friends from California and New York City in for one final CBC pint. One friend had his wedding here, others celebrated birthdays and anniversaries. I had my wedding after party in the back room of this brewpub. People float from group to group, greeting old friends and, as is CBC custom, meeting new ones. I recognize a few people from the mural, folks I’ve never met before but who I know share a love of this place. 

As closing hour arrives, the lights start to flicker on and off, like the end of intermission at the opera. People start to applaud and a chant of “CBC! CBC! CBC!” starts to fill the room. Regulars and other pubgoers raise their glasses in cheers. The brewery’s staffers, both current employees and former ones, gather behind the bar and tearfully wave thanks to the assembled and adoring crowd. 

Meyers heads behind the bar and goes down the line, person by person, pouring a final glass of whatever they want for their last Cambridge Brewing pour. Over the speakers plays Phish’s sprawling, high-wire anthem, You Enjoy Myself, a favorite of Meyers and the inspiration for his popular YouEnjoyMyStout. The funk-jazz classic glides between technical organ and guitar riffs, then shifts into a more halting and funky jam, before finally descending into vocal absurdity and madness. After five minutes of instrumentals, the vocal section begins with a screech and then:

Boy

Man

God

Shit

These spaced out lyrics manage to capture the mood perfectly. As Phish’s nonsensical chorus wash uffitze drive me to firenze washes over the crowd, the characters captured in CBC’s mural look on approvingly. Some of their real life counterparts enjoy their final sips of CBC’s classic beers.  

Last call comes and goes and folks begin filing out the door, with each person taking in the space and the essence of CBC one final time. 

“There’s so much to say about Cambridge Brewing Company’s legacy,” says former CBC brewer Lord. “When you get right down to it, what these folks have done there has exemplified the relationship between beer and people. The human element, artistry, and expertise are apparent in every beer out of that brewhouse. CBC is a place where people gather together and connect on a shared appreciation for that. I’ve made life long friends there through this, as so many have. As the beer world continues to seem increasingly more impersonal and mechanistic, this is something I dwell on quite a bit.”