The last day of operation at Granville Brewing Company was a celebration of life, not a funeral.
Sept. 27 marked the last day that the taproom sign, proudly proclaiming “Open” on a blue, white and red banner flag, beckoned customers into the Granville Brewing Company taproom, located just southwest of Granville.
The gravel driveway led cars in from the road, curving to the right around a copse of trees to reveal the bright red roof of the barn-turned-taproom where the Granville Brewing Company had opened its doors every week for the last seven years. Underneath the crunch of gravel, the voices of customers sipping their beers on the concrete patio drifted past.
The burnt orange door beckoned customers inside the taproom cheerfully. Stepping inside, a mix of high tables and benches meshed agreeably, strategically spaced to give a clear path to the bar. Waiting for a beer gave just enough time to view the hand-drawn chalkboard, which laid out options for beers like ‘The Destroyer’ and ‘Funkytown’ amidst colorful stars, exclamation points and percentages from 4.8 to 9.5% ABV.
A large sign next to the bar warned about petting Bluto the “grumpy working cat.” Lucky customers might see a lazy gray tail disappear behind the counter.
Patrons were always greeted by Echo Durant, the taproom manager, alongside a rotating cast of other friendly faces, including head brewer Steven Wagner, co-owner Ross Kirk, his wife Gale, and various other members of the Granville Brewing Company family. No matter who was behind the bar, customers were guaranteed two things: a friendly face and a great beer.
A few days after his last evening operating the brewery, Ross Kirk sipped a beer at The Lot in Granville, the flashing lights of the Skee-Ball machines dancing off the large letterboard showcasing their tap beers. Looking right at home with a local beer in hand, he reminisced on the journey his business had taken over the last 14 years.
Kirk and co-founder Jay Parsons began the Granville Brewing Company in 2011. Kirk remembers fondly that the idea to brew beer together was “just an excuse to hang out together more” outside of their jobs at The Shelly Company, a local supply company. Parsons had been chatting with Kirk and another friend about finding a place to start a brewery.
“I had the building,” Kirk said. “So I was just like, ‘well, I’ll do it. I’ll brew.’”
By 2013, the Granville Brewing Company was born as a one-barrel brewing system and began selling 22-ounce beer bottles at local spots like Granville’s Ross’ Granville Market.
“It was fun creating something, and then it just kept kind of steamrolling from there,” Kirk said.
Two years after the brewery opened, Steven Wagner– known at the brewery as Pinto– joined their team. Wagner’s enthusiasm and knack for brewing gave Kirk and Parsons the freedom to open a taproom to sell their own beer, which opened its doors at the end of 2018. Kirk says they never looked back: not after the early success of the taproom, not after they upgraded to a seven-barrel brewing system, and not even after the COVID-19 pandemic began in 2020.
The Ohio Craft Brewers Association reported in the last quarter of 2020 that 37% of Ohio’s 359 breweries stated their business were “in peril” due to conditions directly after the COVID-19 pandemic.
For Granville Brewing Company, this was not the case.
“We probably came out better than most–probably because we weren’t really killing it before,” Kirk admits, hiding behind a sip of beer.
When the business became labeled COVID-essential, Pinto began 64-ounce growler fills on Thursday and Friday nights. Customers placed their empty, clean growlers on a barrel outside the door. They called the taproom’s phone, gave their order, then retreated back to their car. Pinto cracked the door open just enough to grab the jugs, dunked them for the required three-minute sanitation process, and filled each growler before setting them back on the barrel outside. The process was a perfect contactless solution – so much so that the taproom always required Kirk, Pinto and at least one other employee to keep things running smoothly.
Kirk attributes their success to the “focus-local” mentality that many people adopted during the pandemic. “People really started looking around their backyard and Google-mapping their neighborhood. They’re like, ‘Oh my God, there’s a brewery right here!’”
“We had people that became regulars during that shutdown, and they’re like, ‘I can’t wait to see the inside.’” He leans in closer with a chuckle. “I’m like, ‘I can’t wait for you to see it either!’”
The inside of the taproom was an eclectic mix of dive bar and local hangout. An Ohio-shaped “Drink Beer Made Here” sign hung next to a paper hand turkey and an old framed photo of football players in red jerseys. Stickers from other breweries littered the sage green wall. Tiny lights dripped from strings wrapped around the ceiling’s oak beams. If it was Thursday, one regular walked laps around the taproom and offered people homemade scotcheroos or a slice of fresh-baked sourdough.
Book clubs, special events and fundraisers often occurred amidst the cozy decor. One memorable December, the Brewing Company hosted a charity auction to support Walking Wild Rescue, a local fox rescue non-profit. Local artist Tom Markgraf donated 24 mugs, magnets and ornaments to be auctioned off. The entire month of December, the mugs were displayed amid the sparkling lights of the taproom. Echo Durant, sitting on the patio almost a year later, still remembers that December particularly fondly.
Deals were struck, secrets were kept and customers placed bids on every single mug. At the end of the month, swarms of people gathered in the taproom, and waited anxiously to see the results of the auction.
“It got quiet,” Durant remembers, placing her hand underneath her chin. “Everybody was really interested to see who got what mug.”
To her surprise, Durant found out that a group of her regulars had pooled their bids together to buy her one of the mugs on auction: a brown coffee mug with an orange band around the bottom, a one-of-a-kind design that reminded her of a soybean field. “It’s like looking off my front porch. I just absolutely fell in love with it.”
Taproom events like these took place right up until the last day, featuring five-dollar pints, food trucks and the third annual GBC Chili Cookoff, which showcased the many community members who called this place a second home. By the final Saturday night, a bittersweet energy filled the air, as customers came to take pictures, give hugs and share stories about how the Granville Brewing Company had impacted their lives. Kirk tried his best to listen to every one.
And as Kirk explained, the end may turn out to be a new beginning. “To treat the brewery right, it needed to get a lot bigger…and we just ran out of room.” He shrugs, taking one last sip of beer and looking around The Lot’s lively restaurant.
However, multiple groups are interested in buying the equipment and the brand, meaning the Granville Brewing Company “may be making an announcement by the first of November” about its next steps– and its new owners.
The Granville Brewing Company was a place rich with character. Conversations over a pint of the taproom’s classic Granville Amber turned into birthday parties, first dates and Friendsgivings inside the walls of the taproom and beyond.
“Any one of these people would come and pick you up from anywhere,” said Durant, sitting on a picnic bench during a break from behind the bar during one of her last days of work. She gestured to the customers soaking up the last rays of sunset on the taproom’s patio. “They’d help you do anything. They’ve helped us fix our door on multiple occasions, run to the hardware store, run home for stuff. We have an incredible, incredible community.” The laughs of two men echo in the evening air, and Durant smiles.
The morning after the taproom’s closing, Kirk and Pinto walked out to the end of the gravel driveway together and took down the Granville Brewing Company sign that sat just off the road. “Steven and I were just sitting there, and we were just joking about, you know, how good it was.”
For Kirk, taking the sign down was a moment of finality: they had done it.
“I was relieved that we landed the plane successfully and that, you know, everybody had a good time. We made good beer to the end.”
Grace Lukens writes for TheReportingProject.org, the nonprofit news organization of Denison University’s Journalism program, which is supported by generous donations from readers. Sign up for The Reporting Project newsletter here.