Barrel House and the shoeless brewer


Photo of the outside entrance of The Barrel House in Dayton, OH.


© 2019 Timothy R. Gaffney

I'll be at The Barrel House in downtown Dayton this week to share a bit of the Miami Valley's brewing history, especially one Dayton brewer who sticks to this location in my mind. It's one of those strange associations the brain—mine, anyway—makes between seemingly unrelated things. In this case, it has more to do with boots than barrels, or even beer.

Nicholas "Nick" Thomas (1825-1913) is one of three strong men and women among Dayton's 19th century brewers whom I'll profile in my "History and a Pint" presentation at The Barrel House, 417 East Third Street, at 5:30 p.m. on Thursday, Aug. 15. I'll sign copies of Dayton Beer and I'll have books available for sale.

Thomas grew up on a farm in the kingdom of Hanover, now in Lower Saxony in northwestern Germany. He immigrated to the United States in late 1847, landing in New Orleans and making his way up the Mississippi and Ohio rivers to Cincinnati.


Image of Nicholas Thomas portrait from Drury, History of the City of Dayton, page 971.
Nicholas Thomas. Source: Drury, History of City of Dayton, 971.

In January 1848, despite what historians described as bitterly cold weather, Thomas walked to Dayton in stocking feet, carrying his boots in a pack. And this wasn't the end: after a couple of weeks, he resumed his trek to an uncle's farm in Decatur, Indiana. I didn't discover what route he took, but the straight-line distance between Dayton and Decatur and is more than 80 miles. My guess is that he followed the towpath of the Miami and Erie Canal for much of the distance. Months later, he came back the same way, although he finished the trip on a canalboat.

Thomas was big and tough. Even late in his life, published reports described him as a 230-pound man with a "splendid physique." And he worked hard jobs before taking over the Hydraulic Brewery—a former sawmill at First and Beckel Streets—in his mid-50s. Even in winter, long walks on a graded path wouldn't have been too much of a challenge for him.


But why in the world would he go in stocking feet, in the winter, with his boots on his back? Local historians who recounted Thomas' unshod journey gave no explanation. But I have a hunch. And it's where my brain makes the connection between Thomas and The Barrel House, or more accurately the 400 block of East Third.


I made my first wilderness trip in the early 1970s when I was still in college. Outfitting stores then were few and far between, at least in Ohio, and I was a backwoods noob. So I geared up at the local Army & Navy Surplus, a store that had been around since 1947. An outlet for excess military clothes and gear that evolved into an outfitting shop, it occupied the now-vacant storefront at 401 E. Third, next to The Barrel House.


Photo of Tim Gaffney with backpacking gear in late 1974.
This was how I geared up in the early 1970s, some of it from Army & Navy Surplus.

One of the many things I would learn about was footwear. My first real backpacking boots were full-grain leather Vasques that might have been made of cast iron. I bought them for my first backpacking trip in the Great Smoky Mountains, but first I wore them on several short hikes until I had them broken in—or so I thought.

As I wound my way up real mountain trails, even silk liners under thick wool socks didn't keep those Vibram-soled monsters from chafing my feet. I grew blisters on top of blisters. My feet would swell at night, and the next morning I would grit my teeth against the pain of squeezing them back into those cold, stiff boots. Fortunately, the splendor of the Smoky Mountain backcountry in late autumn took my mind off the pain as I hiked, and after five days my boots and my feet were coming to terms.

That experience came to mind when I read about Nick Thomas's trek. My hunch is that he picked up his boots somewhere between Germany and Cincinnati. No doubt life on a farm had conditioned his feet for the ground, but maybe not for new, stiff boots.

Gearing up at the surplus store is one of many memories I have of The Barrel House neighborhood. The Dayton Metro Library has been a big part of my life, of course, but I also remember stopping for butter burgers at the White Tower restaurant next to the surplus store, before it became the White Lotus.

I'll have more to say about Nick Thomas and other early brewers on Thursday. On Friday, Aug. 23, I'll be at Star City Brewing in Miamisburg, where I'll focus on Miamisburg's long-forgotten brewers. Here's a link to my full tour schedule.

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