Back in 1966, when Jim Swett opened his garage on Hogan Road, there was nothing else around. The outskirts of Bangor, Maine were then predominantly vacant, or covered in crops; at the time, only 6% of the land around the garage was commercial. But change came in the form of a major highway interchange completed in 1959, which connected Hogan Road in four directions to the new Interstate 95.
Thanks to President Eisenhower, Bangor—the Queen City of the East—was now plugged into the commerce and culture of the entire Eastern Seaboard. Swett had the lucrative idea of selling gas and fixing cars on the shoulder of the biggest road in the state. For the last 60 years, Swett’s Tire & Auto, Inc has continued to serve Bangor’s car owners, as well as those who might find themselves in need of emergency repairs in the middle of a road trip.
But that’s not what makes it notable. Starting in 1994, the business opted to diversify, and Swett’s began selling beer. This ordinary gas station would become Bangor’s first craft beer store, hosting tastings, selling beer found nowhere else nearby—and exposing a new generation of drinkers to all that the beer industry could offer.
In the mid ’90s, Swett and his spouse Alice decided to rebuild the shop, replacing the old garage with a new service center and adding a convenience store on the side. They hired Alice’s former co-worker, Gene Beck, who had managed restaurants in the past, to run the convenience side of the business.
From the beginning, Beck sold beer out of the Swetts’ shop. “When we first started doing beer sets, the idea at Swett’s was that the convenience store always had to have the national brands, and I don’t discount that, there’s a spot for every beer,” he says. Distributors would come in and restock the shelves themselves, placing mass-market light beers in choice locations.
For a decade, Beck sold the beers that Bangor expected, the beers that came in “red and blue and silver and white packages,” the beers that most Americans assume they can find at any given gas station. To attract business, he focused on developing a deli with prepared foods that would draw clientele away from the nearby grocery stores. But around 2005, Beck had a new idea—selling bottles that Bangor hadn’t seen before, or, as he quips, “poking the beer.”
Beck had grown up in the area drinking Michelob Gold or “Budweiser Stubbies in 16oz hand grenade bottles,” but Sierra Nevada Pale Ale had shown him that there were other options out there. To a limited degree, Rogue Ales, Sierra Nevada Brewing Co., and Pete’s Wicked Ale were accessible to curious Bangor beer drinkers in the early 2000s, but not much else was. Beck wanted to change that, and the Swetts gave him free rein over the convenience store’s fridges and shelves.
“So I turned it upside down at Swett’s,” he says. “I put all the Maine beers in line of sight at the entry door and put all the Coors and Bud all the way down to the last couple doors of the cooler. The reason being that if someone wants those brands they’ll find them, but I make them walk by the imports and the good U.S. beers so they have to be exposed to them.”
Where no other liquor store or bar in the area had craft beer, Beck embarked on an overhaul of Swett’s convenience store, transforming it into the earliest phase of the craft beer haven it is today.
Central Maine in the 1990s was a Bud Light and Jack Daniel’s kind of place. Alice Swett remembers the gas station’s early options as “basic beer” sold strictly in bombers—big, brown 22oz bottles. While the 1980s and ’90s had seen a local microbrewery push, with the growth of Geary Brewing Co. (founded in 1983) and Gritty McDuff’s Brewing Company (founded in 1988), as well as the opening of Shipyard Brewing Company in 1994 and Allagash Brewing Company in 1995, these establishments were clustered around the urban center of Portland to the southeast. By the early 2000s, there weren’t many new breweries opening, and the Maine beer movement seemed to have lost some steam.
At the time, a couple of importers in the Northeast had piqued Beck’s interest. “They were bringing into the East Coast all this really cool stuff out of Germany, Belgium, and Europe,” he recalls. He began lining the shelves with this new imported beer, and labeling sections based on country of origin, like a wine shop. This was all pretty foreign—or as Mainers would say, it was from away.
With the brand changes, Beck had to vie for his customer’s dollar. Swett’s was ahead of its time, and that meant a period of uneasy adjustment. “There was some pushback—especially with our location,” says Rick England, whom Beck hired in 2009 to assist with the beer side of the business. “Lots of people coming in after their job to get their 12-pack of Bud Light, and they would laugh at the idea of all the beers. A couple years later, the same guys came in for IPAs.”
Supply was also a pressing issue. Distributors in the region were not on board with the specialty offerings. “Our distributors in Bangor were iffy about bringing in any of the product, any of the ‘weird beer,’” says Beck. “They didn’t think you could sell it, they didn’t want to deal with it.” Beck procured what he could in Bangor, but it wasn’t enough.
“There was some pushback—especially with our location. Lots of people coming in after their job to get their 12-pack of Bud Light, and they would laugh at the idea of all the beers. A couple years later, the same guys came in for IPAs.”
In this struggle, Swett’s strategic location was an asset. Beck remembers getting in his car and hopping on I-95 South towards Portland. “A little bit of the beer came through traditional distribution channels, but what we used to do is drive to Portland and pick up beer at a few distributorships down there. We would bring it back and sell it up here—which is legal in the state, because as long as it came into the state you could buy it even if it wasn’t distributed in your own territory, so to speak. If we wanted something we had to travel to get it.” As a result, much of the beer that Beck stocked on the shelves of Swett’s Tire & Auto, Inc could not be found for another 130 miles around.
Before long, Swett’s began to attract a growing group of Bangor beer enthusiasts, who had caught onto what Beck was doing on the left side of the two-bay garage. “One thing led to another at Swett’s and we kept growing and it totally got out of hand,” says Beck. “At the end of it, I had a 12-foot set, double-sided, 5-feet high, five-six shelves of imports, micros, including in the cooler. The first thing you saw when you walked in was a wall of beer. People would look around and say, ‘Dude, you’re a gas station.’ I would say, ‘No we are a beer store, we just sell you gas at the door.’”
The gas station aspect was still key for attracting new customers who were coming off 95 to fill their tanks and pick up a quick snack. “A lot of people who were traveling would come in to get their gas and they would walk in and go, ‘Whoa, what’s this?’” says England. “They would start shopping and leave with a case of beer.”
Canadians in particular were big fans, England remembers. A second road, the Arline Road, connects Bangor to the town of Calais, just across the St. Croix River from the Canadian province of New Brunswick.
England would take orders from Canadians who crossed the border for their beer runs, and prepare case after case as he waited for them to stop by. “They bought as much as they could to take back with them. At the time, it made sense to come down to shop anyways, due to the exchange rate, so we became a place to stop.” On these long road trips, England says, Swett’s was the “first and last stop.”
“The first thing you saw when you walked in was a wall of beer. People would look around and say, ‘Dude, you’re a gas station.’ I would say, ‘No we are a beer store, we just sell you gas at the door.’”
Speaking with some of these New Brunswick beer fanatics, they know the garage as “the Hogan Road Deli.” Most of them found out about the shop and its beer by word-of-mouth. “I think we got interested because we heard they had Goose Island Bourbon County,” says Sara Ritchie, who lives in Saint John. “We were impressed because, for such a small place, they had a high-quality, well-curated selection of U.S. and European beer, as well as Maine beer. At one point, it was not uncommon to run into someone from Saint John while there!”
There was some craft beer for sale just across the border in Calais, but New Brunswickers would have to pay duty on it if they brought it back into Canada on the same day. Alternatively, Canadian customs allows each of-age individual to import 24 12oz bottles back into the country duty-free if they stay in the States for at least 48 hours. If a trip called you down to Portland or Bangor for an overnight stay, it only made sense to take home some beer from Swett’s, duty free. Chad Steeves, owner and brewer at Tide & Boar Gastropub in Moncton, New Brunswick, used to visit the gas station 14 years ago to buy beer from Dogfish Head Brewery, Allagash, and Founders Brewing Co. He openly credits Swett’s for inspiring his decision to add a brewery to his gastropub five years ago.
In view of the gas pumps, Swett’s started holding beer tastings with importers and breweries like Allagash and Harpoon Brewery every Thursday. The business received a license to serve on-premise, which meant customers could taste beers while picking up craft six-packs. The tasting events began attracting even more customers, and educated existing ones.
In all of this, who did Swett’s have to compete against? “Nobody, nobody at all,” says Beck.
“That was the best part of it, because we didn’t have any competition,” adds Alice Swett. “Sure, we had convenience stores and grocery stores, but the beer sets back then were all mass-market stuff. Now there’s big beverage warehouses. Back then, we were the go-to. We were the only ones doing specialty. It was the first one in the area, we were the pioneers of craft beer.”
For Beck, beer has been a lifelong passion. He associates it with the outdoors: “Huntin’, campin’, fishin’, ice fishin’, four-wheelin’, drinkin’ beers.” His job at Swett’s, where he was allowed near total control of the store, pivoted him headfirst into a long-term career in beer. Swett’s beer success only polished his resume.
But in 2010, after working for the Swetts for 16 years, Beck was ready for a change. “I was walking down the street one day, Main Street, and I had always thought it would be cool to own something downtown, a beer bar or sandwich shop. And I walked by this space, and there was a ‘for lease’ sign in the window, so I cold-called the landlord. And I had my entire business plan on the back of a napkin and all it said was, ‘I want to own a beer bar.’”
In April 2011, Nocturnem Draft Haus tapped its first keg. On its opening night, the members of the local homebrew club came down to celebrate the new draft room. Although Novare Res Bier Café in Portland was the first craft beer bar in the state, nothing else like Nocturnem existed in Central Maine. “People thought I was crazy,” Beck says. “They would say, ‘You will never survive without selling Bud Light.’ I said ‘I’m gonna try.’ But we never have and never will.”
“That was the best part of it, because we didn’t have any competition. Sure, we had convenience stores and grocery stores, but the beer sets back then were all mass-market stuff. Now there’s big beverage warehouses. Back then, we were the go-to. We were the only ones doing specialty.”
His work at Swett’s had prepared him well. The relationships that he had developed during his time at the garage were a core advantage: Importers, distributors, beer drinkers, and hobby brewers all knew Beck from the gas station. He knew how to get the beer to Bangor and who to sell it to. And his consumer base was growing. More and more people started coming out to downtown Bangor to drink good beer. Beck estimates that he does 10 times more business today than when his doors first opened.
Today, imports still make a consistent appearance, but plenty of the beers on Nocturem’s draft board are local, including kegs from Foundation Brewery in Portland. The brewery was founded by Joel Mahaffey and John Bonney, who were part of the homebrewing club at Bangor’s Central Street Farmhouse, less than a 5-minute walk from Nocturnem.
While Nocturnem’s local, micro, and import-only business-model remains unchanged, the beer scene around it has transformed. Many restaurants and bars in town have four to six taps that feature craft beer these days, even if most still serve mass-market brands alongside them. Local retail, too, has gotten into craft beer: Damon’s Beverage on Hogan Road, just a quick trip from Swett’s, sells craft releases.
The brewery scene is what has really transformed. Nocturnem regularly pours beers from several local breweries, including Orono Brewing Company, Bangor Beer Company, Mason’s Brewing Company, and Marsh Island Brewing, all of which opened in the last 10 years. Now, the Bangor-Orono area has seven local craft breweries. For comparison, Portland, which has double the population, has over two dozen breweries. The brewers behind Bangor’s beer are locals who were involved in the same homebrew club that christened Nocturnem’s first night. Beck and his business ventures have been the one constant within the rapid development of the city’s craft beer industry.
Back at the garage, the Swetts continued stocking “weird beer” under the management of Rick England. England also helped out at Nocturnem on Saturdays to deepen his beer knowledge. “After Gene, we expanded the selection,” he says. “I was pretty lucky when I started. Gene was general manager of the convenience store, and he would do beer when we had time, but I was focused exclusively on beer. And it was the perfect moment when more and more beers were coming to Maine.” At its height, Swett’s stocked 500 unique SKUs on its shelves.
On the other side of the business, one of the Swett’s AMC master technicians was winning local acclaim for his homebrews. Clay Randall had developed a taste for interesting beer, so he pursued homebrewing to explore flavors that weren’t on the shelves. In Randall’s words, “Having worked at the beer store, I got to try all kinds of beer and I wanted to make it my own.”
The other homebrewers in the early 2010s all congregated around Central Street Farmhouse, and began to host homebrewing competitions. In a small lot next door (known as Pocket Park), they would brew for local beer lovers who cast bottle caps to vote for their favorite beers. Randall won two years in a row.
Back at the gas station, England found a way to bring the growing homebrewing scene to Alice Swett’s attention. “We went to a holiday party and I brought some beer,” Randall remembers of a Swett family Christmas party. “One of their relatives was like, ‘What, this guy is out in your garage?! You could be making money on this!’”
And so, when Alice Swett asked her beer manager and her mechanic if they wanted to open a brewery, they agreed. The Swetts’ child, Prentiss, joined England and Randall in the new venture. At first, they did what they knew already worked—they sold beer at a functioning garage, only this time they’d brewed it themselves. At a Swett’s location in the nearby town of Orono, the store portion of the garage was vacant. They put in a 3-barrel system in the front and continued working on cars in the back. Marsh Island Brewing was born.
Brewing in a garage had its drawbacks. “We really didn’t have our own identity at that point,” says England. “We were known as a ‘small brewery in a garage.’” Luckily, the mechanics at the location were some of their first reliable customers. After laying down their tools for the day, they could walk just a few steps to pick up a fresh beer. But the site was, in other ways, a natural fit. It had a cement floor, trench drains, big doors, and was already zoned for industrial use. For Randall, his work as a mechanic helped him become the brewer he is today. “My recipe designs were super mechanical. Now I can definitely do some of the artistic side—that’s what makes it your signature beer.”
The brewery outgrew its system quickly. Meanwhile, Randall picked up another award for his brewing: He submitted an IPA to a ProAm competition, which partners commercial brewers with homebrewers, and won. The beer was Pulp Truck, named for the trucks that supply Central Maine’s paper mills. It became Marsh Island Brewing’s flagship beer. It has both the appearance and taste of cloudy grapefruit juice.
Marsh Island is a large island formed by the Penobscot River on one side and the Stillwater River on the other. The brewery is located in the first building off the island after crossing the Stillwater, conveniently near the University of Maine. As demand ramped up, Randall and England took over two of the garage’s four bays, transitioning to a 10-BBL brewhouse with 20-BBL fermenters. Over the course of four years, the brewery would slowly encroach on the mechanical spaces, finally overrunning the garage altogether.
“Everything comes and goes,” Randall says, reflecting on the tastes of local drinkers. “Fruited Sours are good up here right now, people are doing Seltzers, Lagers are making a comeback right now, but IPAs have been constant. We usually run 70% of our draftlines as IPA.” As long as demand for IPA remains a constant, so Randall will continue to brew them—even if he’s tired of them personally. “At this point I’ve run the course with IPAs, and right now I’m burnt out on them and I’m tired of drinking them.” Randall says he first discovered what beer could be through the Belgian offerings Swett’s carried, and still enjoys brewing those styles today.
Behind a set of gas pumps just off of I-95, a broad, red awning reads: BANGOR’S BETTER BEER PIONEERS. Inside, the shelves still surprise unsuspecting customers, although Prentiss Swett acknowledges, “We don’t stock as much as we used to.” His mother Alice is still stocking the walk-in cooler herself.
The old-school craft staples that started it all in Maine are there: Allagash, Gritty’s, Geary’s, and Shipyard. There are the legacy brands from across the country: Sierra Nevada, Lagunitas, Dogfish Head. Imports are there, too, from Chimay and Rochefort to less expected bottles, like hopped Nordic honey wine.
What has changed? At the front of the beer section, a cooler stands full of beer brewed in and around Bangor—a display that certainly wasn’t possible during Beck’s time there. Marsh Island Brewing is represented, of course, but there’s also Mason’s, Bangor Beer Company, Orono Brewing Company, and Foundation Brewing.
England’s personal story with craft beer started at Swett’s, and so did Randall’s. But what credit does the gas station deserve in changing the wider tastes of Central Mainers? “Swett’s has its part for sure,” England says. “Everybody kind of worked together. Gene was the one who fought hard to get it up here and change the community’s mindset on good beer. And I learned as much as I could from him. Gene was a big part of it.”
Beck, however, has a broader view of what occurred. He knows that the beer he was selling was strange to Bangor at the time, but was already big in other cities. He had noticed the wave of craft beer in other states, so he took it upon himself to spearhead the effort in a smaller, more northern city.
“It all kind of travels the Interstate. Boston to Portland, Portland to Bangor, and maybe The [Aroostook] County at some point will have something cool up there.” Supporting local breweries often means bypassing the Interstate all together. But the taste for local beer, craft beer, or weird beer had to come from somewhere. In this regard, Swett’s makes sense as the original craft beer store of Bangor. After all, the beer itself, or the newfound taste for it, had to come from somewhere before it could find homegrown roots in Bangor, Maine.
Words by N.C. StevensPhotos by Mike Lianza
