FAMILY REINS

In which a family that drinks together sinks together.

For generations, the Busch family was synonymous with mass-produced beer, courtesy of an empire that began with a St. Louis brewery that churned out a popular lager. “We’re the poster children of the American dream,” writes the descendant author, “that not-so-outdated belief that hard work, entrepreneurship, grit, and a positive can-do attitude can make anything possible.” Corporate intrigue and familial back-stabbing helped, too, as Busch reveals when writing of how an older sibling deposed his father in an untidy coup occasioned by the father’s grief over the death of a daughter in a terrible accident. Busch sheds some useful insight into how a mass-produced brand out of the Midwest became a national standard, a process that began with the brewery empire’s throwing itself into the industrial effort in World War II, building parts for airplanes as well as supplying yeast tablets as energy supplements, so that “drinking Budweiser made you a patriot, a true American, someone who was helping the boys at home and abroad.” His narrative also supports the old saw that the first generation or two of entrepreneurs build an empire, the next one or two generations live lavishly off their labors, and the following generation or two drive the empire into the ground. The pattern holds, and the Busch descendants sold out to a giant conglomerate in 2008 after having turned the reins over to a scion with “a drug problem [who] was probably not fit for leadership.” Once that deal was done, the family went to war with each other and especially with the author, richly revealing themselves to be a group of supremely dysfunctional people that “just weren’t the type of family to get along.”

Of modest interest in the train-wreck department but without many takeaway lessons apart from sticking to craft beer.