What they have left us is a collection of artifacts, modern votive objects that archeologists could study millennia from now in hopes of understanding something fundamental about us. Like Greek vase painters, who reflected the changes in their civilization by subtly varying the stock Homeric legends over the centuries, those modern image makers approached that bottle of beer as a means of expressing their version of a changing Texas. For Barry Sullivan and the men who preceded and followed him, that cold Lone Star was more than just a product.
How Barry Sullivan and a handful of men like him turned a down-home Hill Country brew into the alcoholic archetype of Texas chic is not simply a story of marketing and advertising expertise. This is a story of beer, brains, and the stuff that modern myths are made of. He had targeted his market dead on center.
When Murphey got to the part about “Lone Star sippin’ and skinny-dippin’ and steel guitars,” the crowd let out a roar at the brief litany of homemade pleasures, and in that instant Barry Sullivan sensed that his beer was on its way to becoming part of a greater cultural vision. There he was, a vice president at the Lone Star Brewing Company, a good corporate soldier pushing fifty, watching Michael Murphey up on the stage in his white cosmic cowboy outfit and surrounded by 25,000 screaming country rockers of prime beer-drinking age. And on the evening of July 5, 1974, he got it. So what he was really looking for at Willie Nelson’s second Fourth of July picnic was some subjective clue that his instincts, developed over twenty years of selling beer, were still steering him in the right direction.
LOANSTAR BEER ARCHIVE
Read more here about our archive digitization project.īarry Sullivan knew he wouldn’t have the numbers yet after all, as he put it, “image dimension changes precede the predisposition to buy by nine months,” and he had just started his radio campaign a few months earlier. We have left it as it was originally published, without updating, to maintain a clear historical record. Find out the latest San Antonio dining news with our Flavor Friday Newsletter.This story is from Texas Monthly ’s archives. The cost of the property, being marketed by Chicago-based real estate services firm JLL, hasn't been made public. “We still will probably be developing portions of it, but we’d like other developers to come in and sort of help execute.”Ī website for the project describes Midway and GrayStreet as “the master developers” who “invite other partnerships to create an enduring and remarkable destination in San Antonio.” “The plan was to open this up for other developers to help come in and execute in a more timely fashion than we would be able to do by ourselves,” he said. However, GrayStreet managing partner Kevin Covey told the daily that selling chunks of the site to other firms had been part of the plan all along. However, the developer didn’t address how a sale would affect the planned project. In the latest twist, Midway told the Express-News the partners are looking to sell all or part of the property. Previous efforts failed because of costs, bankruptcies and environmental problems, the Express-News reports. That came after at least three prior attempts to redevelop the site, which hosts a handful of vacant, derelict buildings left over when the brewery closed in 1996. Last summer, city council unanimously approved $24 million in incentives for a partnership between GrayStreet Partners and the Midway development company of Houston to remake the complex into a trendy collection of restaurants, hotels and apartment complexes à la the Pearl. Another sale is brewing for San Antonio's decades-defunct Lone Star Brewery.Īfter multiple changes of hands and scuttled redevelopment plans, the 32-acre site south of downtown is back on the market, the Express-News reports. This rendering shows the proposed redevelopment of the Lone Star Brewery site.
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