eliot_ness

VOLUME 1 | ISSUE 11

EVENTS

Eliot Ness Returns to Chicago

by Bill Ellison

Saturday, April 12. Great Lakes Brewing Co. of Cleveland held a reception at Carmichaels Steak House (1052 W. Monroe) to introduce the brewery's Eliot Ness Amber Lager to the Chicago area. The date of the launch was chosen to correspond with what would have been Ness's 100th birthday, although Ness's birthday was actually April 19.

The event was a fancy affair, a reception not open to the public. I found that I like going to a private reception to drink beer. It kind of makes the food and drinks taste a little better. I figured my ripped jeans and hippie tie-dyed shirt wouldn't be appropriate so I did the loafer-kakis thing, topping it off with my old bomber jacket and my fedora. The fedora is over 60 years old, made in Italy. It belonged to my grandfather, who had an affinity for hats that were made by the best in the business. It's still in great shape. Better shape than my grandfather, who has been rotting underground in a coffin since 1975.

"Hey, nice hat!" said a guest as he tried to decide whether to try the Eliot Ness or the Dortmunder draft.

"Thanks," I replied. "It belonged to my grandfather."

"Does he know you have it?

"He's dead."

"Oh, sorry, " he laughed. I love conversations like that.

Established in Cleveland in 1988, Great Lakes Brewing Co. chose to settle in a neighborhood that was once the heart of Cleveland's brewing industry. The company's brew pub and brewery found a home in a century-old Victorian building that featured the city's oldest mahogany bar where beer had been served to Midwesterners for over 125 years. It was originally called The Market Tavern.

According to a popular legend, lawman Eliot Ness (A Chicago native who later moved to Cleveland) was responsible for the bullet holes that still catch many an eye in the Great Lakes brew pub. Eliot Ness Amber Lager-his namesake brew created by Great Lakes Brewing Co.-has won national and international acclaim. I loved it. Dark and rich, like a Gold Coast hooker. Not a namby-pamby beer like those featured in popular television commercials. The type of beer that I can drink at least four bottles of before I need to go to the can. That's how to really judge a good beer.

Carmichael's put out a nice spread for the event. Several types of cheeses and grapes in one area. Delicious crackers spread out in a basket nearby. Vegetables with dip perched on another level. The waitresses made rounds with trays of fried artichokes and skewers of some type of meat. And, last but not least, the shrimp. Tons of them. I nibbled a little, but once I start drinking, food doesn't really interest me. Cigarettes do. Smoking was allowed so I lit up and surveyed the scene.

There were huge black and white photographs, at least six feet by six feet, on the wall. The photos were of Chicago during its earlier days. Perfect for an Eliot Ness birthday party. The only thing missing was Ness's corpse in a coffin, holding a bottle of this namesake lager.

The founders and co-owners of Great Lakes Brewing Co. are Patrick and Daniel Conway. Patrick Conway's love affair with beer began while he was bartending to get through graduate school at the University of Chicago and continues when, after graduating, he left for Europe and enjoyed his own informal tour of the small breweries there.
Returning to the U.S. to teach in Chicago, he became convinced that Americans were gravitating toward the European-style Beers that he so admired.

A native Clevelander with a passion for the city that equals his passion for beer, he went back to his hometown to pursue his dream of opening the first craft brewery in Ohio.

I talked to Conway about the Eliot Ness Amber Lager. The first thing I wanted to know was why he named an alcoholic beverage after the fed who busted down breweries and tried to put an end to bootlegging. Why not name it after Al Capone? After all, Capone was the one who kept the beer flowing in Chicago during Prohibition. The answer was simple:

"My mother, Margaret Conway, worked with Ness in Cleveland as his stenographer," Conway explained.
"Oh."
That put an end to my bashing of Ness. If I were alive and of drinking age during the Prohibition era I would have been rooting for the bootleggers, not the federal agents. In my book all they were doing was busting up a good party.

"Ness called my mother one day to go with him to take notes of the deathbed confession of a mobster." Conway continued. "On the way over, the mobster died. They never got the confession, but my mother was kind of glad. She wondered about what would have happened if she was one of the only ones who knew what the mobster had said right before he kicked off. Her life could have been in danger. She was only 19!

Well, now I had a new respect for Patrick Conway. Not only was his Eliot Ness Lager an excellent lager indeed, but his mother worked for Ness. This wasn't just some guy trying to capitalize on a famous name that he drew out of a hat.

Eliot Ness died of a heart attack on May 5, 1957. His book, The Untouchables, was published posthumously. Since then, the story of Ness and his nemesis Al Capone has been the focus of the 1950's television series The Untouchables, which was great, and of the 1987 Kevin Costner movie of the same name. Costner sucked in the role, but that was mostly due to David Mamet's pussy-like writing of the Ness character. "Let's do good," and stupid lines like that. I've never like Costner anyway. I sat two seats down from him at lunch one day during the shooting of The Untouchables while he was giving a magazine interview. He was a little too full of himself. Robert Stack did a much better, tougher portrayal, although not true to life. That was left for Mamet and Costner to bore me with.

I wonder which portrayal the real Eliot Ness would have preferred? It's tough to say. But who really cares about Eliot Ness the lawman? Let's drink to Ness the Lager! It's soon to be found in bars and stores around Chicago.

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