Sublunar Photography

The Falstaff Brewery has been a forgotten fixture of Saint Louis for a long, long time now. I love it dearly. Unfortunately each time I return it's clear that it has continued to slip further and further into the point of no return. As one of the most historic/oldest breweries in the area, it's a damn shame. Falstaff deserves to be resurrected to its former status as a world famous brewery pumping out Saint Louis' finest ales.

For the video, click here.

Having explored the extent of the above ground sections over the years I realized a few years ago that I never truly satisfied the requirements I put on myself. I never ventured into the deepest darkest parts. The scary flooded shit in the basement at the bottom of a very rickety set of rotten wooden stairs. In my opinion: truly exploring something involves checking every nook and cranny, getting dirty and spending a lot of time mapping things out and most importantly: leaving no unsolved mysteries behind.

The extent of the flooded cellars at Falstaff, however, remained an unsolved mystery-at least for myself and those with whom I associate. And this to me is unacceptable. To be clear: I don't claim to be the first to wade or raft it or cross the quickly deteriorating stairs. But we didn't know anyone who had been to the underneath and returned to tell the tale. This created a burning anxious sensation in my gut as the realization set in that I'd have to go down there and see for myself once and for all before it's too late.

Here's the thing. There isn't much that freaks me out. I've gotten over the anxiety of heights through repeated exposure and just forcing myself through it. But partially submerged spooky ass cellars with who knows what dangers lurking in the darkness? That shit still freaks me out a little bit and I'm not entirely sure why (aside from the actual dangers involved such as drowning/etc). Apparently this anxiety has a name. It's called "Submechanophobia". But I also suffer from "Unsolvedmysteryphobia" as well as a severe case of "Adventuritis".

So in the interest of leaving no stone unturned and fully solving the mystery of the flooded cellars and, to a lesser extent, confronting my own fear/phobia/whatever it is, we prepared to head down into the darkness.

The last time I was here the staircase still stood albeit even sketchier than ever. But this time the old wooden staircase (which was situated directly above one of the flooded chambers) had rotted away completely. Only one extremely rotten side support rail remained and was ready to snap at the slightest pressure. So to get down here we had to perform a "staircase reconstruction project" which consisted of a couple of separate trips wherein I worked on "rebuilding the staircase". The new "staircase" now consists primarily of an old wooden ladder (missing a step), rotten remnants of the previously failed stair components and assorted junk we found and relocated from elsewhere onsite. The floor of the chamber beneath the new "staircase" has also partially rotted away revealing a deeper section beneath the cellars as we know them. If the staitcase fails, this is what you'll fall into. This section is inaccessible by raft (and extremely dangerous in waders) so we didn't go into it on this trip/video. Its entrance is just to the right of the rusty "ladder" that got us down into the water. The only way to truly explore this last small flooded room and whatever lies below the rotten floor is to bring scuba gear and I ain't got none (yet). If/when I do get some then as long as Falstaff is still standing I'll come back and scuba that shit.

The last and most important chamber features a naturally formed sediment floor and in the far corner is where you'll find the source of most of the water: a small natural spring. This spring is the reason this site was chosen for a brewery after all. In reality this little spring is the whole reason Falstaff even exists.

I acquired a sea worthy vessel, some good comrades and went down below to confront one of the things that freak me out the most. This experience was equally fun and adventerous as much as it was terrifying and exhausting. I now present the Underground Float Trip From Hell.

Old Crow Distillery was founded in the early 1800's. It seems that the brewery was abandoned in the 1980s, though it was likely not in use for some time before that. It borders an active business, the one that bought it out, and is therefore very difficult to access.

NOTE: For over 10 years, I called this location "Brewery X" to protect its identity online. Some time after we explored it, the site was purchased by Glenns Creek Distillery. I have since updated the site's real name.

This was actually our consolation prize. The reason we came out here was because of something else nearby. But that something else had cars on the property that moved around from time to time. We learned this through our reconnaissance and became disheartened. It was raining heavily all day and so we spent that time getting a feel for the landscape and eye-ing up what we'd be up against. It wasn't pretty.

Considering the rain and the activity on site, we drove off to a different town down the road in hopes of scoring some other consolation prize (one that would be mostly indoors, thus allowing us to continue to be productive even in the rain). We decided to scratch something off the list we had planned for later so that we could come back and re-try this one after the rain. There was some difficulty getting access to WIFI so I could get the coordinates off a map I had made. More lost time. With coordinates finally loaded into the GPS we approached the area on the map, hoping to make something out of this day. We got there but something wasn't right. Driving around thinking we were lost, we compared the coordinates with our location and determined the place had been demolished. A field of grass was all that remained.

So we returned to our objective. The "something else" was still inhabited. These people hadn't left, but their vehicles had moved. Why the fuck are they here anyway?! UGH. Through our research on site, we determined what it would take to return some day, now that we've seen what we're up against. At this point, it wasn't going to happen.

Note 2: The "something else" I'm reffering to here was the Old Taylor distillery just down the road a ways which has also since been purchased and renovated into "Castle and Key".. Even after all these years, I'm EXTREMELY SALTY that we didn't get to explore Old Taylor during its period of abandonment. That place is so damn awesome. I am, however, grateful that the new owners recognized how awesome that site is and have retained most of its character in their new business. I wish more historic locations ended up as fortunate. Maybe one day I'll get a proper tour of Old Taylor.

We headed for Brewery X. This location wasn't inherently any easier. I began to have my doubts of accomplishing anything this day. Some days are like that after all. But faced with that prospect, the thought of turning around in defeat just made us that more determined to make it happen. Our earlier research in the rain had shown us a weakness in the perimeter defenses that could be exploited. But there just wasn't any place to park. The road was a narrow and windy two-lane. The whole area was a small neighborhood. The car would be out of place anywhere around here. After deliberating for some time, we picked the least horrible place to park. This left us with a totally exposed hike to the objective. Next door was an active business with global reach. Surely they had security.

Once inside the fence, we booked it. A car drove by and we ducked in the weeds. Once it was out of sight, we ran for cover and to find an entrance. I hadn't seen any photos of this place online; no-one seemed to know about it, nor consider it to be a do-able location. It was recommended to me that I don't try it. And yet here we were, wondering if we'd regret ignoring the advice.

I didn't know what to expect. It could have been totally gutted and boring. But what we found was a nice surprise and I was relieved to see that it was all that I could hope for. Glorious remnants of the industrial age were scattered all around us. I could spend all day in a place like this. The ground floor was extremely dark and as we got further I noticed the basement was flooded. That is to say that the water was up all the way to the floor I was standing on, within inches of my feet. And the floor I was standing on was a metal grate. So I shined my light down into the terrifyingly murky water and could see strange shapes and contorted rusty objects submerged and motionless. I could think of nothing worse than falling through.. After that, I stepped carefully.

Knowing our car was totally exposed, we had to make it quick. Several cars had passed by in the short amount of time we had been inside already. We ran around frantically trying to see as much as we could in about 20 minutes. Spending much longer than that here was just out of the question. I wished we had more time to see it because it could be gone soon. But we had seen it and the day wasn't a total waste after all. We salvaged an otherwise unproductive day and made it inside a place that no-one else had blabbered about on the internet yet. Still, I won't be the first to brag about it with google searchable text. For all you know, this is Brewery X.

This is the site of the former Falstaff Brewery Plant #10 in Saint Louis.

This location was originally home to Wm. Stumpf's Brewery, and was constructed in 1853. The name Stumpf remained throughout various partnerships and acquisitions until 1877 when the short-lived Thamer Brewing Company took over. Two years later, Anton Griesedieck came into the picture, but ownership would revolve around between The Miller Bros, The Saint Louis Brewing Association and the Consumers Brewing Company before finally returning to the Griesedieck Bros.

In 1920, Joseph Griesedieck approached his good friend William J. Lemp II, of the now infamous Lemp Brewing Company with his offer to buy the rights to the Falstaff name as well as the familiar shield logo. He managed to work out a deal with Lemp to brew his famous Falstaff beer at this facility. Under Griesedieck control, the company continued to thrive-even enduring beyond prohibition-until 1957 when it became The Falstaff Brewing Company.

The next 18 years marked the peak of success for the brewing giant. All that would change, however, when on April 28th 1975 a man named Paul Kalmanovitz bought out controlling share of Falstaff Brewing Company. Under Mr. Kalmanovitz, the company plummeted, laid off thousands, and abandoned and subsequently demolished many former historic breweries. Pabst, a former competitor with family marriage ties to the Lemps, was the last to produce beer bearing the Falstaff name and recognizable shield. The beer's life finally ceased on April 15, 2005 when Pabst brewed it for the last time.

The Falstaff Brewery was designed by the renowned architectural firm E. Jungenfeld and Company. The same firm designed many breweries around the country including, but not limited to, the Lemp and Anheuser-Busch Breweries as well as many other interesting and well made brick buildings in the area throughout the late 1800's-early 1900's. Their work includes impressive brickwork and cornices, numerous tall arched windows and heavy iron staircases. A feature which makes this building unique is the caves that lie beneath the complex at the base of some very rickety stairs. The caves extent is not fully known, however, due to the fact that it is perpetually flooded.

Thanks to the unimaginably shitty leadership of Paul Kalmanovitz, this location is now abandoned and has been steadily deteriorating since that fateful day in 1977 when this plant was abruptly shut down.

Falstaff #10 has always been an iconic location. It has all the history and charm you would ever hope to find in a place to explore. Until it caught fire back in 2008, there was a large room stacked just about floor to ceiling with every single paper document Falstaff seemed to have ever acquired. There were manuals for every piece of equipment, company reports, etc. The floor was absolutely covered in old Falstaff stock certificates to the point that you were literally walking on top of piles of them. You could easily spend an hour just digging through that room, reading all about things that took place here. I always wanted to find the recipe. But everything in that room burned and was hauled off in a dump. There were various personal effects and interesting historical items left behind, like a bottle of valium in the locker room and the calendar still hanging on the wall from 1977, when Falstaff shut down. But many of these relics have since been destroyed. As time wears on, this site is getting more and more destroyed through neglect, vandalism and the current owners who have scrapped just about every piece of metal that was left behind. A lot has changed even just since these photos were taken. But it remains one of my top favorite explores of all time.

This time, we finally decided to go down to the cellars and see what we could find down there. We hadn't heard or seen from anyone else who had done it and, well, someone needed to do it. Until now it was an unsolved mystery as far as we were concerned: "How many rooms are down there? Natural cave? How big is it? Where does the boogeyman actually live?" etc. We found the answers to all these questions. For example, I can confirm that this is where the boogeyman lives. I also learned that the water down there is chest high and ice cold. It was roughly the same level as the top of my chest waders so even though I moved very slowly and carefully, it was regularly going in and I was very cold and wet by the time we climbed back out. I did manage to locate the spring itself which can be found in the very back of the floded cellar. You can see what appears to be natural rock formations through the small doorway. It didn't appear to go beyond what can be approximated from the photos here but the depth of the water prevented me from sticking my head in to verify. Having been in similar situations elsewhere, I can confirm that a spring located through a small door/window just like this with a natural "cave room" just big enough to squeeze into is pretty normal. This is how springs/caves were turned into cellars for making beer in the days before refrigeration. They end up being much more like a cellar and not much like a cave anymore. But as much as I enjoy digging into history like this, I just wish this site was still doing what it was intended to be doing: brewing Saint Louis' legendary Falstaff Beer.