Summit Wahl's Brew: January 2012

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Welcome to Summit Wahl's Brew

This is the blog of the co-authors who write with the pen name of Summit Wahl. Our family saga about a fictitious Milwaukee Brewing Dynasty -- BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew -- is available on Smashwords, Amazon's Kindle, Barnes and Noble's Nook, and other e-book sites, to be announced.

BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew

Price: $3.99 USD. 107390 words. Published on February 2, 2012. Fiction.
A compelling family saga beginning in the 19th century brewing industry, Birthrights: A Dangerous Brew follows the passions and desires of three generations, as the family rises to wealth and power. BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew tells the dramatic story of passions, revenge, chilling tragedy, and the ultimate triumph of love.

ISBN 978-1-4658-4220-6

Sample or purchase BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/129111

Smashwords Author Page:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/summitwahl

Amazon Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0074YV5SG

Barnes & Noble Nook:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/BirthRights--A-Dangerous-Brew?keyword=BirthRights%3A+A+Dangerous+Brew&store=nookstore

BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew

A compelling family saga beginning in the 19th century brewing industry, Birthrights: A Dangerous Brew follows three generations through their relentless desire for success. As the family rises to wealth and power in America, they are forever threatened by the dishonor of scandal and heartbreak.

Set in an era when great breweries were born, Adam Koenig’s dream is to own his own. His first job is to drive a delivery wagon carrying barrels of fresh beer to Milwaukee’s neighborhood taverns. His ambitious marriage to the wealthy widow of a brewer paves the way for his fight to the top. The dynasty Adam founds results in great fortune and success, but also calamity and sorrow for Adam, his children and grandchildren.

Adam’s fiery desire for his first love, the beautiful Kate Englund, transcends all loyalties and ambitions. Even the devotion of his wife Trude and their children cannot tame his desire for Kate. The animosity of Wolf Schander, Kate’s husband and Adam’s avowed competitor, causes endless struggle and retribution. Birthrights: A Dangerous Brew tells the story of turbulent passions, the tangled impulses of revenge, and the ultimate triumph of love.

The tale moves from humble beginnings of immigrants on Milwaukee’s Galena hill to the Gay Nineties in Chicago, from Franz Josef’s glittering court in Vienna to the bloody trenches of World War I and a German-American family in a city of divided passions, to Paris after the Armistice. Back in Wisconsin, Prohibition threatens the very foundation of the family’s power as premier brewers face the viral tempers that lead the drys. Set in an era when vast fortunes were won and lost, BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew captures the hearts and dreams of a family destined for greatness.

BirthRights was first published by Pocket Books in 1983.

The cover portrait was painted by the famous cover artist Pino and is copyrighted to him. So we have a lovely new cover (above) created by James Bolen.

We hope you will return here every week or so to learn more about the authors, about the book, and about the interesting history of beer. In the meantime, how about a foaming glass of golden brew? As we say in Milwaukee: Prosit!!

BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew -- excerpt

Chapter One

1870

Adam Koenig felt free—liberated from the sadness of the past few years—alive and bursting to tackle the world. For the first time in his twenty years, he was steering his own life. The grip of the farm and his father's failure, his recent grief over his mother's death would never be gone, but looking ahead was the best tribute he could pay to their love.

The uncertainty of his first weeks in a strange new city, desperately hunting for a job and facing disappointment at each turn, was past. He had stuck it out and, blessedly, he had won Gus Schander over. For the last four months he had been
doing what he craved to do. He was learning to be a brewer. It was victory number one and it was sweet.

He finished loading, double-checking to be sure the heavy beer kegs were securely lashed to the giant wagon. With luck he would pick up yet another account this morning. And he felt lucky today. Just minutes ago in his crusty way Gus Schander had handed him a plum. While Gus's son Wolf was in New York, Adam would learn at the old man's side. Gus knew all there was to know about making beer.

Adam's only regret was the poor start he had made with Wolf Schander. They should have been friends. They were the same age. Adam was sure they both shared a love for the business. But Wolf flicked away Adam’s overtures like a fly. Why should Wolf feel threatened by Adam, who had nothing? Of course he had pulled a stunt getting this job, but he had no choice.

Adam swung aboard the high seat and headed the team
out of the brewery yard. A change of scenery would give Wolf time to mellow. Three months might bring a change of heart.

Whistling now as the wagon lumbered along, Adam grinned. Damned if Schander’s wasn’t a beautiful sight, nestled into the
hillside like a glove fits a hand. Someday he would have his own brewery. Milwaukee was the ideal place to make good German beer. Fine water, a ready supply of barley, hops grown not far away, a network of caves that burrowed through the hills and kept the beer at perfect storage coolness and thousands of beer-drinking Germans.

He straightened in the front seat and sat tall, feeling the early morning sun on his forehead. It was going to be a great day.

“Drop my bags at the station on your way, Jake,” Wolf
Schander said sharply. The burly driver from Schander’s Brewery pulled the luggage onto the high wooden seat. “Mach schnell, Herr Schander,” Jake winked. “Too many kisses and you’ll miss your train.”

Wolf started to protest, but instead he shrugged Jake’s words away with a wave of his hand. The driver meant no harm; he had been with his father’s Brewery for as long as Wolf could remember. He strode quickly down Galena Hill. Jake might think this was a sweet good-bye from Kate, but Wolf felt every muscle stretched tight, and his heart thumped nervously. What should have been a romantic farewell last night, topped by his proposal of marriage, had come out all wrong.

As he walked, Wolf absently slapped his fist against his palm. If he left town without having her pledge, the months spent as an apprentice at Hoyt’s Brewery in New York would be nothing but frustration. For an instant he wished Kate were more like other girls he knew, girls who measured their lives by the marriages they made, who dreamed conventional dreams – dreams within their reach. But it was just that maverick quality of intelligence and sureness, as well as her beauty, that had
attracted him from the beginning. With her by his side, he knew he could prove himself to his father.

Schander’s Brewery could make twice as much beer and sell every drop of it. Why, if his father only took Wolf’s advice seriously, they could work together and really build something to be proud of. As things stood now, it was hard to be anything
but Gus’s twenty-year-old kid. Complacent, Wolf thought. That’s what Gus Schander was. Their family, his father was proud to say, lived comfortably and he had fifteen well-paid employees. Who could want more? But just mention Milwaukee’s largest brewers, Phillip Best and his son-in-law Captain Pabst, and even Gus’s eyes would glitter with envy.

Last night had been a perfect setting; the moon shone in iridescent beams. Through the trees a soft summer breeze made the leaves dance silver against a deep violet sky.
There had been a light shower before he arrived, and the air smelled clean and grassy. He and Kate had shared the porch swing, rocking it gently, and she hadn’t pulled away when he slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her close, aware of the heat where their shoulders touched, feeling the tight firm
line of her thigh against his.

But something went wrong. He had been clumsy, too nervous to deliver the lines he had practiced. She had talked on and on about her kindergarten, her plans to take on six more children next term, hardly pausing for a breath. He couldn’t remember how they had traveled from that discussion to his own unhappiness at work, and in minutes his complaints had become a tirade. The mood was spoiled, and he could never get it back. Now he had only forty minutes before his train left.

He breathed deeply as he walked along the wood-planked sidewalks. The sun was high now, shining on the small frame houses that were Milwaukee’s trademark. Behind him on Galena Hill was the Brewery, ahead he could just make out the sparkling blue waters of Lake Michigan. Already he saw a woman hanging out her wash; another closed her garden gate and walked toward him, market basket over her arm. “Guten tag,” she smiled. “A fine morning.”

Here seventy thousand people lived. Over a third of the population was German-born, and they had stamped their identity on the community. It was neat and tidy and friendly, a comfortable place where men worked hard and prospered. Family life was important and so were German traditions
of music, good talk and the neighborhood saloon, where old world lager fueled fellowship and Gemütlichkeit.

It was a solid town, and when he and Kate were married, they would have a slice of it together. With her he truly knew what love meant. She was a natural beauty, blond and shining, Her wide eyes blazed cobalt and her smile made him feel warm
and soft inside. She was as fair as he was dark. He had inherited his mother’s lean and wiry frame instead of his father’s stout build. When he and Kate went to the Stadt Theater, heads turned. He had met her a year ago, and if he
admitted it, he had loved her for every hour of that time.
He wiped his forehead and straightened his tie. He was hot and sweaty, even though it was still morning cool. He felt his stomach muscles tighten, his pulse race. St. John’s bells echoed the factory whistles. It was eight o’clock and he broke into a run. Even from a block away his eyes found her and his heart took an excited flip. Suddenly in the same instant, he saw the second Schander’s wagon parked right outside her house, the wagon Adam Koenig had commandeered four months ago. Adam himself stood in the road like penny pocketbook hero. Wolf could see the flash of his smile, hear his deep voice as Koenig swung one of Kate’s kindergartners onto the broad back of the big gray horse. Kate’s happy laugh traveled the block and rocked in his ears. His anger white hot, Wolf sped faster.

“Koenig,” he shouted. “What are you doing here?” Wolf’s sharp face was crimson and his dark eyes burned with rage as he grabbed Adam’s arm.

“Wolf,” Kate gasped. “What’s wrong?”

Wolf ignored her and pushed Adam up against the wagon. “How dare you come here? Is this part of your new route? You may have my father bamboozled, but…”

"Calm down, Mr. Schander.” Adam’s voice was level and even, in marked contrast to Wolf’s frantic pace. “I was on my way downtown and the children called out as I passed.”

“For heaven’s sake, Wolf,” Kate broke in. “Why such a fuss?”

“Stay out of it, Kate.” Wolf tightened his grip on Adam’s sleeve. “Get that wagon going and stay away from here. Permanently.” He stared with contempt at the tall sandy-haired driver. “Do you understand?”

“To be honest, I don’t,” Adam began, but stopped when he saw the rising fury in Wolf’s face. He shook loose from Wolf’s
grasp and handed the frightened child down from the horse. He smiled at her whispered thank you, then tipped his hat to Kate and climbed aboard the wagon.

“Have a good trip, sir,” he called as he flicked the reins and slowly moved off.

Kate Englund was white-faced and trembling as she called to her assistant Hildy Lutz to take the children into the yard. Without a word to Wolf, she walked into the modest frame house. When she faced him in the parlor, she was livid. “What in the world possessed you to flare up in front of the children and Mr. Koenig?”

Wolf was struggling for control. “Oh, you know his name?” he asked acidly.

“I just heard it from you. The children were excited about the beer wagon and he was very friendly. Your future customers, Wolf,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry I’ve upset you, but I couldn’t help it.” He rubbed his hand over her forehead. “Adam Koenig is like a belly ache that never stops hurting. He’s got my father and old Peter romanced into thinking he’s some kind of wizard. And to think he got his job by stealing a wagon. Something my father has conveniently
forgotten.”

His voice trailed off. When he looked at Kate, her jaw set, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown, he could kick himself. He had only minutes left now to talk to her!

“What happens at the brewery is your business, Wolf, but you have no right to come here and make a scene. I don’t care a fig about your Mr. Koenig, but I don’t want the children frightened by some silly fight. I thought you were happy about going to New York.”

Wolf willed himself to breathe deeply, to shake off his anger. With a great effort he smiled and made his voice easy. “I’m glad for what I’ll learn, but I’m not so happy about leaving you. That’s what I tried to say last night, Kate.” He took her hands and they were cold in his.

“Oh, fiddlesticks, Wolf. New York will be an adventure for you,” she said quickly. “You’ll have dozen of stories to tell me when you get back. Some new ammunition to keep the little terrors amused.”

“When I get back, you can give up this hobby, darling.”

This time her eyes flashed blue ice. “What do you mean by that? This is no hobby! I earn my living teaching these children.”

“You’ve put me off long enough, Kate. We’ll announce our engagement as soon as I return.” He almost gulped aloud and his face reddened in shame. His planned proposal, romantic and tender, had escaped in a tactless blunder.

“Is that a question or an order?”

Her words stung, but he deserved them. He put his arm around her, and now his voice was soft. “Forgive me. You know I love you. All I want is for us to get married. Say yes, Kate. That’s what I really need to hear.”

His eyes begged her for the answer. When she spoke, her voice was honeyed and low. “I can’t say yes, Wolf. I’m not ready yet.”

He felt tight inside, as if he would burst with disappointment, and the words tumbled out before he could call them back. “I can’t wait for someday, Kate. Whenever I try to talk about us and our future, you cut me off.”

“I just don’t know.”

“When will you know?” His voice was sad, almost a whisper. He pulled her close to him and caressed her arm with his fingers, but she held her elbows stiff at her side. "If I did’t love you so….What can I do to convince you?”

“If I knew the answer to that, there wouldn’t be any question.”

His father was right; he was a bumbler. He had wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, but his words had gotten twisted on a wave of anger, trapped by his own bad temper. He stroked her wheat blond hair and kissed her forehead, wishing she could know all the longing that he felt. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said softly, and there was hesitation in her voice. “But maybe we both need some time away from each other to sort out how we feel.”

“November?”

She nodded, then pulled away abruptly and smiled brightly at him. “Oh, Wolf. New York! I envy you.”

“I’d rather be here with you. Promise me you’ll think about it, Kate.”

She put her hand on his cheek. “I promise.”

He wished she would fall into his arms and tell him she understood the demons that nagged at him. But she only smiled at him in a half-sad way and said nothing. As he pulled open the door his hurt spilled over again, fresh and acute. “And
Kate, stay away from Adam Koenig. He’s nothing but trouble.”

Kate Englund watched from the window until Wolf was out of sight, but still she didn’t move. Wolf’s proposal of marriage was no surprise to her. He hadn’t lied when he accused her of avoiding it. Last night when he had struggled to get the words out, she had struggled equally hard to keep them from being said. This morning’s incident with the wagon had left her
with her guard down, and his words had tumbled out. Of all her troubled thoughts, she was sorriest that Wolf had been forced to say it in a way that did neither of them credit.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the train whistle away, but it was only a brief reprieve. She had given her promise to Wolf. When he came back in November, whatever her decision, she would tell him.

It seemed to her that with each year, instead of becoming easier, decisions became harder. When she was younger, from the time her parents died she knew exactly what she had wanted from life. Not at nineteen there were no easy answers, only persistent questions.

Up until last year or so, the fantasy she had devised of her parents' great and beautiful love for each other had been her guiding spirit. She had weaved countless daydreams of an imagined family for herself, romantic thoughts spun into a splendid tapestry invulnerable to any doubt. She had been only ten when her parents had died of cholera. From the day she had arrived in Milwaukee to live with her Aunt Sophie, her father’s spinster sister and her only living relative, Kate had embroidered each tiny captive memory until it had become the standard for life itself. Every day she found a few precious moments alone when she knit her imaginary life into the fabric of her existence. Not that Sophie wasn’t kind to her in her own practical way. She had tried hard to make a home for the two of them, but the glow of a shared love lived mostly in the recesses of Kate’s heart.

She still remembered, or believed she did, the safe and warm feeling of her father’s arms as he carried her to bed after she fell asleep in his lap. Had her mother been playing Mozart? Their goodnight kisses, then her own eyes half-closed, watching them leave the room with their arms locked around each other. The bright feel of the kitchen early in the morning, fresh-baked muffins and bacon frying. Her own mug of milk to which her father would add a teaspoon of coffee and sugar, so she could pretend it was like his.

During all the years of growing up, her conviction never wavered. She would be a wife and a mother. But as she continued her education, staying in school longer than
most girls, her ideas expanded. She met women who accomplished things themselves, who had a sense of self-worth and identity. She didn’t have to wait for marriage to participate in life. When Sophie died, she acted. She had no money but she had the little house. And so the kindergarten was born. Yet walking alongside everything she did was her never-forgotten dream of romance, and when she had first met Wolf Schander, she thought love might live through him. She still thought it possible, but whenever she was convinced he was the one for
her, doubt crept in and she pulled back, frightened and unsure.

Kate sighed and walked back to the window. Hildy Lutz, waving a baton and singing, was leading the children in a disorderly march around the yard. The banged mostly out of time on small paper drums she had made, and Kate smiled at their enthusiasm. Life was sweet for them at this moment.
She fingered the knifelike edge of the curtain and closed her eyes. Wolf had a keen intelligence that usually hid his volatile temper. She knew he protected himself from hurt with a peppery wit, but underneath he was sentimental and giving. Over the last year he had tried hard to please her, always a gift, a story, a joke in hand, some little something to bring a smile to her face. She had found in him a person looking for love and security, just as she was. Today’s outburst had been a departure, and she knew it must have cost him a good measure of pride to have lost control in front of her. If she were to post Wolf’s assets as a prospective husband on a balance sheet, she would not find him wanting. If an important part of the romance of marriage was the knowledge that a man desired you for his alone, wasn’t Wolf perfect?

As she put away some scattered blocks, Kate had a sudden vision of herself at fifty, a spinster as her aunt had been, picking up after the children, the same blocks, the same worn spot in the rug. Sometimes she felt doomed to chase illusions forever. When Wolf kissed her, she didn’t feel fabled rushes of the heart. Maybe tumbling emotions were as much a fairy tale as Goldilocks. Maybe they would lead her to the devil’s own lair. Was that where she belonged with her secret thoughts of warm lips on hers, of gentle hands exploring her body, of
strong arms crushing her? Was that the lair she longed to visit? She leaned against the bookcase and closed her eyes, savoring the wickedness of her thoughts.

Thechildren burst into the house, catching her by surprise.

“Please play Red Rover, Miss Englund. Please!”

She brushed her hair back and retied the ribbon, forcing herself to match their sunny smiles. “Go sit with Hildy under the big tree. I’ll be right out.”

She had opened the school last fall, filling the parlor with toys and turning the patch of front lawn into a playground. Whatever she had accomplished she had won with her own efforts. No one could ever take the pride and satisfaction
away from her, not even the frumpy gossips, aghast tht an unmarried woman could run a business and live alone.

It was warm and sunny today, and she read to the children under the spreading elm tree until it was time for them to leave. They were caught up in Goldilocks as they had been the first time they heard it. Then English had seemed foreign to
them. Most of them spoke only German in their homes, but she insisted they speak English at school. It was controversial in Milwaukee’s German community, but she explained again and again to their parents that knowing both languages would give them more opportunity.

Billy fastened his arms around her knees. “Gotcha, Miss Englund.”

She lifted him into her arms and he gave her a sticky kiss.

“I love you,” he giggled.

She hugged him, and in an instant the other children were around her, begging for kiss. Was she willing to give this up for Wolf? When a man married, he could have both his wife and his work. Why couldn’t a woman?

After school, Kate and Hildy gathered up the dolls and balls and drums scattered around the yard.

“Stay for tea, Hildy. I don’t feel like being alone.”

Hildy Lutz was more than Kate’s assistant at the kindergarten. They had been friends since Kate’s first bewildering week in Milwaukee. She had been sent outside to “get out from underfoot” at her aunt’s insistence and had immediately been surrounded by German-speaking children curious to meet the orphan girl. Kate had burst into tears when she couldn’t understand a word they were saying. It underlined her lost and abandoned feeling, the pain of her parents’ death. Smiling a
friendly hello, Hildy had taken her hand. “Let’s be friends,” she had said in a soft accented English. Kate had never forgotten.

They had walked to school together, taken piano lessons together, shared their childhood games and dreams—the timid little orphan of Swedish parents and the impish German-American girl. Hildy’s loyalty helped Kate through the toughest
years. As Kate matured, the slender flaxen-haired blond and her robust dark-haired friend were constant companions. Hildy’s flair for the dramatic was a natural asset at the kindergarten, and she had been eager to help Kate, while
she marked off the months before her marriage to her schoolboy flame, Clay Oliver. As far as Kate could see, Hildy was without problems. She made her decisions quickly—with a stunning ease Kate envied but couldn’t duplicate.

For Kate life seemed to be spiked with hooks and nails that caught her in complicated peaks and valleys. Hildy chided Kate for delving too deeply, thinking too much. “Be dumb like me,” she advised. “It makes life beautiful.”

Dumb she wasn’t, Kate knew, but somehow Hildy happily escaped the gray clouds.

“Wolf seemed pretty upset this morning,” Hildy began with her usual directness, then sipped her tea and leaned back. “Or is it just leaving his ladylove?”

Suddenly tears clouded Kate’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

Hildy threw her hands up and smiled. “I knew it! He proposed?”

Kate could only nod as a tear slid down her cheek.

“Du bist eine Gans. You’re a goose. If Wolf Schander looked twice at me, provided I wasn’t already batty over Clay, I’d know what to do. He’s crazy in love with you. What more do you want?”

“He says I have to give up the school.”

“I’m not surprised.” Hildy smiled sympathetically. “A good German wife must specialize in Küche, Kinder und Kirche,”
she parroted. “But you’ll have the other things you’ve always wanted, someone who loves you, a family, children of your own. We all make trade-offs. What’s more important to you?”

“Clay wouldn’t be that way,” Kate persisted.

“I’ll tell you something. If Clay asked me to give up eating and sleeping and wearing blue, I would.” She laughed. “Once Wolf is secure with you, Kate, he’ll be more flexible. You’ll see.”

“It isn’t just that. How do you know if it’s really love? For all time?”

Hildy looked at Kate, hair wind-tossed, her slender body tensed. “Could you imagine never eeing him again?”

“Sometimes I think it would be a relief” Kate smiled but her eyes were sad. “Other times I know I’d miss him terribly. I know he loves me and I should be proud that he wants me to be his wife. But another part of me says this shouldn’t be a logical evaluation. This is for life; this is love.” Kate pushed away her cold tea.

“Nobody but you can decide. Maybe you’ll just wake up some morning and know.” Hildy stood and took Kate’s hands. “I want you to be as happy as I am. I want us to sail through life.”

Kate shrugged but managed a weak smile anyway “With my luck the rudder will break and the boat will spring a leak.”

When Hildy left, Kate poured a fresh cup of tea and took it into her office. On the desk the pile of bills deepened her gloom. If she married Wolf, the school would fold; it was barely above water anyway. If she didn’t she might miss her chance for happiness. At this moment more than any other she wished her mother were alive to help her. She put her head down on the desk and let the tears come.

End of Chapter One, BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew