The Hamm’s Club brewery show this past September was pretty much what one would expect: a few dozen vendors in the parking lot of a defunct brewery hawking beer collectibles to each other. Some sold genuine antiques, some had kitsch, some not-yet-kitsch, and some never-would-be-kitsch. A guy named Jerry from Fort Worth offered Styrofoam Hamm’s bear statues for $495. A carved wood Leinenkugel’s oar could be had for $45. In this unpredictable market, the table doing the most business was selling hot dogs, chips, and soda.
Business was also brisk at the Hamm’s Club tent. What looked like a thin crowd was, in fact, “a great turnout,” said Jon Morphew, Hamm’s Club chief counsel. The Hamm’s Club has controversial opposition to thank for some extra attention. After raising $12,000 for a six-foot granite monument to the beloved Hamm’s bear, and after securing Park Board approval to place it in Como Zoo, the Hamm’s Club took a slap in the face when the St. Paul City Council voted to table final approval, offering little by way of explanation beyond church-lady mumblings about “indirect promotion of alcohol” from council member Jay Benanav.
Morphew showed me the monument design as he speculated about prospects for its future. It’s a carved headstone, essentially, designed by Bill Kelley, the “Michelangelo of the Hamm’s art world,” according to the club website. The club will gladly accommodate the city and remove the word “beer” from the monument. Morphew also said they would consider placement at the defunct Stroh’s brewery site on the East Side, assuming redevelopment leaves something more than a warehouse or a crater there. If the city does not come up with a placement that satisfies the club, he said, “the bear becomes a free agent.”
Hamm’s Clubbers at the show seemed disappointed but undeterred by this setback. Mary Penning of Inver Grove Heights understands the current of cultural disapproval against which the bear is swimming. She was buying shirts featuring the Hamm’s bear playing hockey. “My kids can’t even wear these to school,” she noted stoically. “We’re so politically correct,” groused a guy called Pat who declined to give his last name. “It started with Joe Camel.”
“They probably don’t even remember who paid for Hamm’s Falls in Como Park,” accused clubber John Husnik.
Jay Benanav wasn’t taking the anti-beer bait anymore when I spoke to him, pointing out that, at age 52, he certainly has “something to show” for his time in the pints. He also seems mindful of the 856 liquor licenses currently held in the St. Paul city limits. But Como Park is in his ward, and he just doesn’t want a headstone there. “It doesn’t have anything to do with being afraid of beer,” he said. “The overriding factor is that it’s a gravestone. Como Park is not an appropriate place for a grave marker. If we don’t have some standards, what’s next? A gravestone to the Cootie Bug?”
Council member Chris Coleman also declined to take an anti-beer stance. He just hates the bear. “This bear has a white belly. What kind of bear has a white belly? We just don’t need schmaltz art in our center park. Now, that little oven mitt that’s advertising for Arby’s is pretty cute. Maybe I’ll see if we can get one of those for the park. Actually, I’d like to have giant statues of the Simpsons all over town, the way we have the Peanuts now.” Coleman was clearly not seeking reelection when I reminded him of the deep feelings many in the Hamm’s Club have for the bear. “Can any of them see their toes?” he asked.
At the brewery show, Kevin Burke had choice words for the City Council. Burke’s uncle was a Hamm’s distributor. He couldn’t say for sure whether the bear will become an endorsement issue in Benanav’s next campaign, but he made the following promise: “I’m gonna jump him like a dime-store pony.”—Joe Pastoor
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