The Curious Case of Henry Weinhard’s Reincarnation
Two weeks ago, Hop Valley posted this on their social media accounts:
Can you believe it—Henry Weinhard’s Private Reserve is coming back to shelves! This spring, Hop Valley is proud to announce we’ll be carrying on the Henry Weinhard’s legacy by bringing what was once one of the most celebrated beers in the Northwest back to its Oregon roots.
The date: April 1. Many commenters assumed it was an April Fool’s joke, and others hesitantly asked for clarification. Hop Valley made no comment. Then, a week later, Molson Coors, Hop Valley’s parent company, put out a straightforward blog post apparently affirming that, yes, it was actually happening. Yet a Google search revealed not a single article reporting the news in the press. Meanwhile, Hop Valley makes no mention of the revival on their website. Is this real, or a joke? The whole thing was mystifying.
Private Reserve is Returning
I started by contacting Pete Dunlop, who was quoted in the press release, and he assured me he’d spoken to Molson Coors’ Alex Parker for the blog post. I confess I still wasn’t sure. This year Dave Infante documented the raft of uncanny-valley corporate April Fools’ posts. The alcohol industry in 2022 has devolved into self-parody, making it hard to discern fact from joke. I still couldn’t tell what the real story was, so I followed up with Molson Coors and was assured it was not a joke. Even the person I spoke to, though, admitted they were confused by the timing of the Hop Valley announcement.
There’s a reason everyone thought it was a joke: it’s weird news and the reasons for the revival are equally strange.
Why would a company revive a brand it just dumped less than a year ago? Why would a relatively small brewery try to make a product that depends on scale for the narrow margins of the canned, “approachable, entry-level price point” product Hop Valley intends it to be? And does anyone even care about Private Reserve now?
When then-owner Miller shut down the brewery on Burnside Street, it had an enormous reserve of brand capital. But today’s 21-year-olds weren’t even born when all that happened in the dying months of the last century. So does this really make sense?
“Hop Valley hopes the beer will connect with local drinkers and succeed in the craft economy segment. There’s still a sizable opportunity for the beloved lager, both with its built-in audience of loyal fans as well as with younger legal-age drinkers who want to support local beer at an affordable price, [Hop Valley’s national chain sales manager] Brandon Ross says.”
In a market absolutely choked with choice, where loyalty lasts the space of a pint of beer, is there a built-in audience? The announcement continues with a couple points I couldn’t reconcile with the 2022 beer industry.
“As a local brewery competing against the growing influence of beer conglomerates, Henry Weinhard’s sparked loyalty among Oregonians. And it found a niche with Private Reserve, which positioned itself as a premium product amid a crush of budget beers.”
That’s all true, but it’s very weird that the county’s second-largest brewery is citing it as a rationale for the revival. It’s not going to be a premium product (if I’m interpreting “craft economy segment” correctly), it is being made by a conglomerate, and there are now 300+ Oregon-owned options for fans of local beer. And are young drinkers going to be charmed by this?
“‘Everyone has a Henry Weinhard’s story from growing up. It was their grandpa’s favorite beer, maybe their dad’s drink. We’re trying to get back to the nostalgia and bring that beer back home,’ [Ross] says.”
Does the brand have any oomph left—especially since the connection to that old brewery on Burnside has been severed so long? It seems like a pretty big gamble.
Reviving Private Reserve does appear to be a genuine labor of love, though. Hop Valley is going back to the original recipe and formulation as their inspiration (though I hope they skip the corn syrup). I can’t really fault anyone for trying to preserve this important piece of Oregon history. It’s just a strange story, and seems like the longest of commercial longshots. There was a reason Molson Coors discontinued it in the first place. Yet as an experiment in brand viability and marketing, I’m pretty curious to see how it all turns out. As always, stay tuned.