The year changed not too long ago, and the bubbly reminded me of one of the greatest beer slogans ever penned — “The Champagne of Beers.” If you are not aware of this slogan you are either very young, have been living in a cave, or are not from the United States. For those who don’t know, it is not a slogan for a fancy Belgium White or a beer brewed by monks with a cork in it. No, the Champagne of Beers is Miller High Life. Originally the Champagne of Bottled Beers, Miller High Life has been brewed for over 100 years, and is often considered the forerunner to the modern American lager. It also has a long history of producing terrific ad campaigns.
Miller High Life? you ask. Well, why not? I often get too caught up in trying all the expensive imports and microbrews. In this economy, I’d thought I’d revisit an American classic instead of another $8 six-pack of Fancy Pants Silly Name Ale. While enjoying a Miller High Life, I want to make some observations on beer and drinking in 2009, and I hope this encourages you to reconnect with your American beer roots.
In 1903, Fredrick Miller came up with the Miller High Life beer at his Plank Road Brewery. It’s the oldest and longest running Miller product, originally bottled in mini “champagne” bottles to set it apart from other beers. Along with its high level of carbonation and clear color, it was dubbed the “Champagne of Bottled Beers.” I’m not sure if there ever was a “champagne” of tap beer, but I guess the bottled part was homage to the unique shape of the beer bottle. Other than a period in the 1990s, it has always been bottled in clear, odd-shaped bottled with a distinctive gold and white label.
Miller’s original 1950s TV commercials showed “sophisticated” house parties where people were drank High Life out of wine glasses (maybe it’s where the idea of the current Stella glass came from?). “Enjoy life [female voice] with High LIFE [male voice emphasis up on the Life],” they would sing. Those ads depicted a lot of women not only drinking beer, but also asking for (or demanding) a High Life. One ad portrays a party set-up: The husband has come home and is attempting to eat the hors d’oeuvres ahead of the party, only to have his wife keep catching him. In the end, she yells at him, demanding a High Life before the guests arrive. I can’t figure out why Miller moved away from this concept of High Life — all about swanky house get-togethers — toward its eventual role as Beer of The Working Man.
In the 1970s and 1980s, domestic beers began to lose market share to imports, drinks like wine coolers, and light beers. I guess that’s why beers like High Life worked to keep its bread and butter customer: The Working Man. Miller’s ads in the 1970s depict jobs such as railroad-track clearer or power line worker. “When that track becomes a railroad,” or “You’ve got enough power at your finger tips to light up the county,” was appealing to only one demographic. Miller said, “If you’ve got the time, we got the beer” And for about two decades, the only people with time for Miller High Life (as well as beers like Stroh’s or now-hip Pabst Blue Ribbon) was this mythical Working Man.
At its peak in 1979, High Life was the number-two beer in the nation behind Budweiser. This was a blessing and a curse. Since the early 1990s, there’s of course been a backlash against your father’s beer. Imports and microbrews have ruled. But here's my big bold 2009 prediction: In the coming months there will be a movement back to the old American beer standards such as Ballentine and National Bohemian. We have already started to look back to the cocktails of old like the Manhattan or Aviation and beer will soon follow suit. Maybe they will even resurrect some of the beers that are no longer brewed, like Philadelphia’s own Schmidt’s. It may not be too cool to drink your father’s beer, but it’s OK to drink your grandfather’s beer. So I look forward to finding and rediscovering these classics, starting with the High Life. It’s time to relax, it’s Miller Time.
In 2005, Miller resurrected, a century after she first appeared, the old Girl in the Moon logo on its labels and ads. These days, the Girl in the Moon actually speaks as voice over, explaining all the great things she has seen in the United States since we began drinking High Life. The Girl (by legend Fredrick Miller’s granddaughter) is modestly dressed (compared to today) and reminds us of a simpler time. Now she may have been on the Swedish Bikini Team of her day, I do not know. Regardless, Miller has the right idea here — get back to your roots. America needs to revisit the American originals, and Miller High Life has been around for 100+ years for a reason.
Let’s jump to today’s Miller pitchman, Windell D. Middlebrooks. His ads speak of taking back the High Life and Common Sense. Middlebrooks says that there is a time and place for expensive and highbrow, but that beer just isn’t supposed to be that way. It’s about smelling the hot dogs and watching a ball game while enjoying a beer. Not sitting in a sky box, “section ladee da,” not even knowing the score.
Windell even attacks politicians — very popular in these troubled times. “You got politicians talking about change . . . give me $5 and I’ll give you six of the High Life and some change.” Catch Windell’s rant on YouTube, maybe he can convince you.
Miller has a clean taste that’s nice enough — my initial thoughts were that it had a kind of wang to it, but after a few drinks I was happy enough with the taste. Not hoppy or anything, but a little sweet. It’s almost a European pilsner in style, with its biting taste, and has 4.7% abv — just under its European equivalents.
I also tried the High Life Light. Incidentally, in one of the brand’s famous Errol Morris commercials of the late 1990s, the announcer noted that you could eat one more deviled egg if you were drinking a High Life Light. “You could have it both ways,” he said. Not sure that is the point of drinking light beer, but I digress.
The Light tasted pretty similar to the regular High Life and I got to thinking, What if I shoved a lime in it? I realize that, in those same 1990s commercials, there is an ad where the announcer says the only time you’d need a lime in a beer is if you are a British sailor and it is 1740 and you are worried about scurvy. “A little risk goes along with living,” he says. But you know what? With the lime, High Life Light was like Corona, another clear-bottled beer that’s become overpriced (Corona is now $7+ a six-pack, compared to just under $4 for High Life). High Life Light is a nice enough beer to drink while playing backyard bocce once the weather warms up. Refreshing and light. That’s when I am reminded of that common sense thing again.
So, thank you, Windell D. Middlebrooks. Your big ol’ plate of common sense is telling me I need to revisit more of our American standards. I may not only save a few bucks — I might just find a few new favorites along the way.
Tyler Wilson drinks beer. Email him at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
Miller High Life photo by mapper-montag via Flickr (Creative Commons), "Booze" photograph by Lynn Brownlie and Mike Bucher, "Bottle" photograph from istockphoto.com
