WASHINGTON — In an overlooked corner of the nation’s capital, among an array of discarded furniture and brewing apparatus that seemed more like relics than functional equipment, Bardo, one of America’s most eccentric breweries, found its home. The locale resonated less with the charm of cozy, traditional beer gardens and more with a bizarre tableau of urban decay. Yet, in its era, it was christened one of the best beer gardens in the country by Time Out in 2015. Its story, interwoven with flair and chaos, mirrors a complex tapestry of innovation and madness in the craft beer industry that struggles against changing consumer tastes and logistical nightmares.
In 1995, the brewery landscape was dramatically different, essentially unrecognizable from today’s vibrant scene. Jonathan Reeves, then a novice immersed deeply in the rudimentary yet passionate world of brewing, joined Bardo, a business operating under a guise of normalcy in a repurposed car dealership. The facade was barely convincing with the “Oldsmobile” sign still visible beneath the newer “Brewery” banner. Inside, beer was not only brewed but lived — amid the echoes of paint chips falling from the ceiling, it was more a sanctuary for the bizarre, embracing its identity fully with no remorse or restraint.
Bardo’s founder, an idiosyncratic visionary of sorts, Bill Stewart, embarked on this chaotic journey much by accident rather than design. In 1993, noticing the scarcity of good beer in his bars, Stewart leased the old dealership in Arlington, Virginia, transforming it into one of the pioneering brewpubs in the nation. The operations were crude, often using equipment bought at auctions and assembled in odd, innovative fashions. What emerged through those doors was not just beer but a series of creations that symbolized rebellion — from a car crashing out from the building serving as an anarchic entrance to their unique brews.
The brewery saw a patchwork of tumult and triumph. Reeves, who had survived hazardous pranks by his less-than-professional predecessors, found his ground, moving from a novice to the main brewer in a matter of months. Under his stewardship and that of later team members, Bardo produced acclaimed beers, including a ginger beer and barleywine that received nods from national competitions such as the Great American Beer Festival.
However, the brewpub was more than its beverages; it was an experience — unfiltered and raw. Tales of tufts between patrons, or accidents that seemed more fitting for a slapstick comedy than a business, were commonplace. Bardo wasn’t just brewing beer; it was fermenting a legend.
By 1999, bureaucratic red tape and a restlessness for change led Stewart to move operations to Rappahannock, far from the urban sprawl. This relocation marked the beginning of a downshift, exacerbated when Stewart packed up and moved to Australia, leaving Bardo’s legacy hanging by a thread. The brewery oscillated between revival and closure, eventually returning to a semblance of operation in Northeast D.C. without its hallmark brews, utilizing a ramshackle setup that left many questioning the quality and safety of its product.
Despite the adversities, or perhaps because of them, Bardo remained a testament to the unruly and unrepentant spirit of the craft beer movement of its time. It was a place where adventure in taste and experience met, where not all experiments were successful, but were daring nonetheless.
Stewart’s vision, as chaotic as it appeared, was perhaps before its time or too raw for the evolving sophistication of the craft beer palate and market dynamics. As craft breweries face an onslaught of new challenges, from hard seltzers to a generational decline in alcohol consumption, Bardo’s story stands as a rugged beacon of creativity and daring — elements that both defined and, ultimately, delimited its success.
The tale of Bardo, from its inception to its transformation into a mere memory with tanks lying idle at “The Cove,” encapsulates more than the lifecycle of a brewery. It is reflective of a broader, tumultuous journey of craft brewing in America — one punctuated by bold personalities and even bolder choices. As the industry looks forward, perhaps there’s a leaf or two to be taken from Bardo’s unapologetic playbook: innovate, dare, and sometimes, be prepared to face the music. As the craft beer scene continues to unfold, the legend of Bardo serves as a poignant reminder of the thin line between pioneering success and precarious survival.