Join the Club

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Join the Club: Darren James and signs from the 1980s (left) and the '90s.

Everyone's a critic.

Ratebeer.com is a website where beer lovers congregate to compare brews from around the world.Brands are graded ona scale from one to five, based on characteristics such as aroma, appearance and (burp) taste.No. 1overall? Tough-to-pronounce but easy-to-drinkNärke Kaggen Stormaktsporter. With a mean score of 4.48, the Swedishstoutbests thousands of other beers, includingone that's beenan institution in Winnipeg bars and lounges, forover 50 years.

If you log into ratebeer.com and type in "Labatt Club," here's ahint of what pops up:

"...pale swill colour..."

"...notes of plastic and urinal cakes..."

"...the can states it is naturally-aged, which may be a reference to how long this crap remains sitting in the store, unpurchased..."

"...utter (excrement)..."

Darren James, a Winnipegger who has been enjoying Club beer ever since he was legally allowed to do so, is at lager-heads with those so-called expert opinions. "People don't know what they're talking about; it's an awesome beer that pours nice and dark," says James, who ordered his first bottle of Club 23 years ago, at the LaSalle Hotel. "It was like a uniform you wore back then. You had to smoke Export A cigarettes, and you had to drink Club beer."

WheneverJames hosts poker night, his buddies mock him, calling him the last Club drinker on Earth. The provincial employee responds by placing five unmarked cups of beer in front of his chums, then betting them $5 each that they can't identify which oneholds the Club.

"I'm not saying that Club has to be at the top of everyone's list. But you can't tell me it's the grossest beer ever made, either." (Now there's a catchy slogan!)

James has been a walking advertisement for Club beer for years, thanks to his extensive collection of ball caps and T-shirts. But after he and his wife moved into a new home three months ago -- one thatcame equipped witha bar in the basement -- James's mission has been to construct a rec room shrine to his favourite bevvie.

To help achieve that goal, James posted a message on Kijiji, asking if anybody had any Club paraphernalia they would be willing to part with. Almost immediately, he began hearing from people who owned mugs, lapel pins, bottle openers and mirrors emblazoned with Club's distinctive, clover-leaf emblem.

"Because of the ad, I've also met some (beer) collectors who are super hardcore -- fellows who can tell you the type of silica used to make the glass of a particular bottle," James says with a hint of admiration. "So to be clear: I'd be insulting a lot of people if I tried to pass myself off as a beer memorabilia collector. I'm just a guy who's a lifelongfan of a dying brand of beer."

Dying? Say what? Because of a few Paul-is-dead-type clues, James has become convinced that Club isn't long for this world. First of all, Club is no longer a premium brand; instead, it's marketed as a discount beer, lumped in with Lucky, et al. Secondly, bottles now come with a generic, gold bottle cap, withzero indication of what's inside.

"I called Labatt's the other day, and said, 'I hear you're shutting things down,' but all I got was a terse 'no comment,'" James says.

As to his burgeoning collection, James's prized possession is a pristine label thatdates back tothe 1950s.Originally, Club was known as Country Club, and was produced at Kiewel Pellissier Breweries on Osborne Street. James's true Holy Grail, however,remains affixed to a wall in rural Manitoba. "There'sthis wicked, three-dimensional sign that's been hangingin a bar in Tyndall forever," James says. "I've been working the owner for years to sell it to me but so far, no luck."

The oddest ad response James has received to date came from an auto-body shop in the North End. Just before Christmas, James got a call about a car that had been broughtin to be safetied.It turned out that therewas asizable Club sticker in the car'srear window, whichthe new owner wanted removed. James hurried down, heat gun in tow, but he wasn't able to peel the label off intact.

"If that ever happens again, I guess I'll just have to get theentire window cut out," he says, half-jokingly.

Come summer, James intends to tag along with his wife when she goes treasure-hunting at garage sales all over town. "In the past, I always thought that sort of thing was lame, but who knows what I'll find if I put my mind to it," he says.

And what about his better half? Does James's wife share his love for Club?

"Not a chance,"he says, offering a visitor a refill. "She's always going on about how much she hates it. But what's amazing to me is how fast she'll take one when it's the only kind of beer left in the house."

(If readers have any Club memorabilia they think Darren James might be interested in, they can contact him at deejathome@yahoo.com.)

david.sanderson@freepress.mb.ca

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition January 22, 2011 F3