Downsized OBF Lurches Toward Uncertain Future

After a two year hiatus due to the pandemic, the Oregon Brewers Festival returned to Waterfront Park this past weekend. This is undoubtedly the most important festival in the history of Oregon craft beer. It's always on my calendar, despite the fact that many of my compadres no longer consider it relevant.

Declining attendance in recent years has helped reinforce the notion that the event is, in fact, irrelevant. But OBF remains the largest beer festival in Oregon, one of the largest in the country. Even with declining attendance, an event like that isn't really irrelevant...until numbers drop to the point where the event is simply canceled. 

I was interested to see what changes organizers would make this year, particularly given the two year pandemic hiatus. They implemented some fairly dramatic changes to address drooping attendance in 2019. This year turned out to be more of the same, although the changes weren't all positive in my mind.

Reduced Days
They cut the festival down to three days this year...Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Many will recall that the fest was four days in 2018 and 2019, after being five for several years. Abandoning Sunday again, as they had done in 2019, was a good call; Sunday had notoriously dreadful attendance for years before it was finally dropped. Wednesday was dropped this year to get the event down to three days, I assume due to attendance woes. No complaints.

The Venue
One of the big changes in 2019 was switching the southside beer taps to the river side of the park, thus opening up the shaded area on the westside of the park for seating. In past years, trailers were situated in the shaded area. 

The 2019 setup was repeated this year. In fact, organizers liked the arrangement so much they eliminated the northside beer taps altogether and moved the entire beer portion of the event to the southside. Yup. The festival grounds were cut roughly in half this year. 

I suppose it was inevitable that the footprint of the festival grounds would be squeezed, given the issues with attendance. But it felt a little odd walking into what had been the central compound and seeing open space where tents and trailers had always been on the northside. 

I wondered how the vendors in that central area were doing. There was definitely less foot traffic there, with the vast majority of people augured in on the southside under the tents or in the shade. Perhaps those vendors paid less for the privilege of being there this year. One can only hope.

Moving the entire beer portion of the event to the southside had it's pluses and minuses. The tents in front of the trailers were larger this year, providing more shade. But the extreme heat and number of bodies under those tents made it rather uncomfortable there. You really needed to vacate the tents once you had a beer, though many did not. The lines weren't bad Thursday afternoon. I'm glad I wasn't around to see what it was like in the evening hours.

When I was looking for a beer at one point, I was surprised to find I couldn't see the beer names until I was close to the taps. As a result, people were often confused about which line to be in. At first I thought the larger tents were responsible, but that wasn't it. In 2019, they had large signs immediately behind each pouring station identifying the beer being poured. Those signs were visible and readable from a good distance. But this year's signs were cheap and small, and they were hung so high that you couldn't see the beer name until you got close. That was not ideal. It's hard to imagine why no one caught it when they were setting up. 

Another change this year was no music of any kind. For most its history, OBF had a stage with bands/solo artists playing live music. You could chill with a beer and listen if you pleased. In 2019, they switched to a DJ setup that pumped music around the grounds. That was an annoying change, as the music was often muddled or too loud. Anyway, problem solved this year: No music or stage. 

Finally, I was surprised to find several rows of standup tables in the common area just north of the beer tents. With the heat and direct sunlight, these tables were uninhabitable during afternoon hours. I stood at one to jot down some notes at one point and didn't return. Tables with umbrellas would have been better, given the heatwave everyone knew would be part of the festival.

The Beers
They were pouring 42 beers and two ciders according to the event program. I saw a bit of bitching and moaning about the beer selection on social media. I looked at the list in advance and didn't think much of it. But I found some pretty good beers in the 15-20 I tasted, along with the usual losers. The list leaned toward light and hoppy, which surely disappointed folks looking for more options.

After holding the line on cost for many years, they moved to a $2 taster (most beers) this year. No one should have been surprised, as prices on everything have skyrocketed since the pandemic. OBF taster size has varied over the years. In 2019, the taster line was 3 ounces. This year, it was 4. The larger tasting size probably allowed some patrons to feel less aggravated by the price increase. Fifty cents for an ounce of beer is a premium price, but it would have been worse if they'd stayed at a 3 ounce taste.

You could get a full glass of beer or cider if you were so inclined. That would set you back three tickets or $6. The glass, billed at 12 ounces and exactly the same size and form factor as 2019, overflows at less than 12 ounces. So a full glass of beer or cider with any head at all is going to be 10-11 ounces. Do the math if you wonder how much worse of a deal that is than a 4 ounce taster. 

As was the case in 2019, there was a printed program this year. They had a mobile app in 2018, but reviews were mixed. I was one of those who actually liked the mobile app and was disappointed to see it go away. But the fact that the 2022 beer list was roughly half of what it was in recent years meant the printed program worked fine. I suspect it's here to stay, unless something dramatic happens.

The Glass and Token Switch
It's become pretty common for beer fests to charge exorbitant prices for "customized" tasting vessels. These plastic glasses aren't special or fancy. OBF has been charging $10 for the tasting glass in recent years. Unless someone shows me an invoice proving otherwise, I assume these glasses cost much less than a dollar apiece. So the glass is nearly pure profit for this and every event that follows the blueprint. The fact that OBF isn't alone in this fleecing doesn't make it okay. 

After using wooden tokens for virtually the entire history of the event, organizers switched to paper tickets this year. They were $2 each to align with taster cost. Most beer centric events have gone to some kind of paper ticket. They're undoubtedly cheaper and easier to manage than wooden tokens. I always liked the charm of tokens, which I found easy to keep track of in a pocket. Oh, well.

The transition from tokens to paper tickets presented an opportunity for organizers to make what I consider to be a dumb unforced error. OBF had always honored tokens acquired at past events. You could simply use old tokens as if they were newly purchased. It was a nice policy. But not this year. With the switch to tickets, past tokens had to be exchanged for paper tickets.

Organizers initially said they would trade tokens for tickets, one to one. That would have been a nice gesture to fans who held onto tokens, getting a $2 ticket for each $1 token. But organizers reneged, saying the initial communication was a mistake. Having botched that communication, doubled the price of a taster and downsized the event across the board, organizers might have been wise to suck up whatever loss they would have incurred in exchange for a little goodwill. No deal.

One thing to keep in mind with respect to tickets: I'm guessing the ones from 2022 won't be honored at any future event, as was the case with tokens. There's a financial benefit to not honoring tickets from past events and it mirrors the reason retailers like gift certificates, knowing full well some or many will never be redeemed: Pure profit! That probably isn't the only reason tokens are being dumped, but it's almost certainly one of them.

Thoughts
OBF 22 felt to me like a dumbed down experience at a higher price. For many years I considered the event to be a decent bargain in terms of time and money. But they've altered its character to the extent that, in its current form, it doesn't represent the value it once did. At least in my mind.

I suppose this year's event could be an aberration. The pandemic created a lot of challenges for beer fests and similar events. Plus, OBF organizers have been struggling for several years to come up with ways to reverse sliding attendance. Maybe this year was a perfect storm.  

My guess, though, is this was a glimpse into the future. OBF once appealed to a wide swath of people. Attendance was growing rapidly for so many years that the event expanded to five days. Some of us thought it would eventually consume an entire week. Instead, the event is imploding, forced to downsize while boosting prices. That isn't a winning strategy.

Honestly, OBF may be approaching obsolescence. The vision at the outset was to provide a platform for craft brewers to showcase their wares. People didn't know much about craft beer in those days and OBF helped change that. That brought the industry into the mainstream. Today, you can find great beer at an endless number of bars, restaurants, taprooms and breweries. 

You might say OBF is victim of a success story it helped author. With great craft beer available everywhere, people don't get as excited about an oversized, awkward event. And the downsizing and price boosting that occurred this year probably aren't a good omen for the future.  

Portland: Provincialism and Californication

When I was interviewing industry-connected folks for Portland Beer a few years back, one of the things I heard repeatedly was that provincialism was a big reason craft beer caught on here. Portlanders have been historically inclined to support products made here.

It's clear to me that our old school provincialism is waning. I'll get to why shortly. First, its roots. Provincialism, I believe, is rooted largely in Portland's blue collar past. The city was a hub for the extraction economy from its early days through much of the 20th century.

Commerce moving up and down the Columbia and Willamette Rivers made Portland the largest and most important city in the Northwest through the late 19th century. The arrival of the railroads transformed Seattle, with its superior port, to the center of trade in the Northwest.

It's possible that being pushed into obscurity by rapidly expanding Seattle gave blue collar Portlanders a go-it-alone, do-it-yourself attitude. Residents became suspicious of products from the outside and developed rigid preferences for local goods.

Those were the embedded attitudes Portland's founding craft brewers tapped into when they were starting out in the 1980s. They'd take their products out to bars and taverns; patrons, who weren't necessarily unhappy with the macro swill they were drinking, would gladly try it. Because it was local.

The willingness to try local beer wasn't necessarily unique to Portland, but it was apparently embraced more strongly here than in other places. Provincial attitudes were crucial to putting Portland on the craft beer map, where it remains at or near the top today.

When I arrived here in 1989, the city was still in the throes of a grubby provincialism. Most of what is now the Pearl District was home to abandoned or broken down warehouses. Streets were virtually impassable, unless you were driving a Jeep. That theme was prevalent around the city.

Over the course of the last 10 or 15 years, things have shifted dramatically. The influx of newcomers has transformed large swaths of the city. The busted up or abandoned warehouse is now an endangered species, thanks to the demand for housing and retail space.

The strong provincialism of yesteryear is being displaced by something different. One might argue that was inevitable due to the migration here from around the country. With so many newcomers, attitudes were going to shift. No way around it.

If you aren't aware, the majority of our migrants come from California. Yup. It's right next door, it's an expensive place to live and they've had some significant issues in recent years. People are giving up on California and coming to Oregon, Portland being the most popular destination..

The result is a sort of Californication of our city. Old Portland is being demolished and replaced by trendy new buildings and businesses straight out of the Bay Area and southern California playbook. And there are no signs of it slowing down.

In the beer world, the strong preference for local product is diminishing. On my travels, I routinely see beer from all over the country being warmly welcomed. California breweries, and there are a lot of them, make some great beer. A number of them are doing well here.

An instructive allegory for Portland's transition may well be what happened to The Commons. Locally-owned and well-supported in its initial, quaint location, The Commons moved to a larger space and failed to attract expected crowds. Cash flow problems cropped up. The brewery crashed.

Enter San Diego-based Modern Times, which leased the space and now plays to a packed house regularly. The pub is gaudy, just what you expect to find in California. But it's wildly popular. Inoculated by a flood of Californians, Portland is losing touch with its provincial past.

Whether that's a good or bad thing is, I suppose, a matter of opinion. But it is the reality.

Fifteenth Ave Hophouse Looking Good

Spacious outdoor seating adds to the experience

We've seen a lot of new breweries and pubs opening their doors in recent times. I particularly enjoy seeing the new pubs and tap houses that bring in quality beers from around the region and beyond. These places don't brew so their only loyalty is to great beer.


The Fifteenth Avenue Hophouse (cross street is NE Brazee) opened a few weeks ago and is just now gaining momentum. This place is connected to the Hawthorne Hophouse (41st and SE Hawthorne). I visited the Hawthorne location over the summer and was impressed by the beer selection and vibe.

The Fifteenth Avenue location is follows the same line of thought. They have more taps here, 33 in all. Most of these taps pour beer, but a few pour cider and wine. There are no bottles of any kind here, which swerves away from the recent trend of pubs doubling as bottle shops.

Like its brethren on Hawthorne, Fifteenth Avenue has a pleasant ambiance. There is a spacious, comfy outdoor seating area. The interior is quasi-plush, in keeping with the general theme of the surrounding Irvington neighborhood. They had a gent playing acoustic guitar and singing when I visited, adding to the vibe.

Expect great beers here. They were pouring beers from Ninkasi, Nectar, Oakshire, Boneyard and Natian, among others. I tried Red Nectar from Nectar brewing, on the barkeep's advice. Wow. This is a perfectly matched mix of malt and hop flavor, aroma and bitterness. I wasn't surprised to learn Firestone Walker makes this beer or that it won a Gold Medal at the 2010 Great American Beer Festival in the American Amber category. Great stuff.

They are still in the process of getting their menu completely up-to-speed. Fifteenth Avenue apparently has a larger kitchen than the Hawthorne location and they expect to serve some higher end fare to go with the standard pub menu we all know and love.

They had some issues getting this place open due to opposition in the neighborhood. But it  isn't a strip club and it isn't a tavern, either. The low key ambiance goes perfectly with the surrounding area. I suspect the Fifteenth Avenue Hophouse will do well.