Stanislav Bernard - Vlastní cestou k poctivému českému pivu

There were such funny stories that the then-director of South Bohemian Breweries said, 'We'll hand it over to you within a month.' I said, 'Well, but it will have to be done over the weekend.'

Bad. Suddenly you find out that nothing amuses you.

We could have easily gone bankrupt. With companies that grow to the heavens, it often starts to make people think they are something more. The mission was my own path to honest Czech beer. The beer is really created, which can't be said exactly, but there must be passion, there must be love. It was like that for those 10 years, as I say, we really had no money. Then, when we joined with the Belgians, when some of that money flowed in, I suddenly realized that I was completely at the bottom. I needed to take a breath.

Well, it had several levels. The parents were great. And the regime wasn't the best. I remember that I always said something in school, and then they knew at home and said, you can't. So it was unpleasant.

It was out of necessity. At that time, I was thinking about psychology or something like that, but there was no chance to get in because my dad was expelled from the party by the communists.

Well, I wouldn't say I didn't enjoy it, but electrical design wasn't my field. However, when needed, I learned it and later did some lighting technology work, which was new and also enjoyable. I remember being recognized as an improver of the Sigma concern and going to a trade fair in Munich, which was quite funny.

It was in the undercurrent, you could feel it. But the Czech Republic was the last post-socialist country where it broke out, as far as I remember.

I don't know. I was working in textiles at the time, which was desperate work. I was in charge of repairs, and there were about 250 stores with no money, so things broke down. As the revolution approached, at a meeting of the textile union, I read a few sentences, and they asked if I wanted to be co-opted into that position. I went there with great concern, thinking it was a communist nest, but it turned out not to be bad at all. It was an interesting experience, and the people there were mostly experts. I made friends with some of them and learned to speak and present. I wasn't there long, about a year.

After the revolution, we founded an independent weekly in Opava. I wanted it to have its own resources to avoid pressure. The former district authorities started feeling criticized, so I thought about raising money. I met my current partner, Pepa Vávra, who was working as a brewer in Ostrava. We thought about exporting beer to Poland, with part of the proceeds going to the brewery and part to the region. It was a simple, naive idea, but the Poles introduced an import surcharge, so it fell through. However, Pepa was from here, and he mentioned they were considering auctioning off this brewery. So that's how it started in 1991.

Because it was an auction. The 9.5 million was the residual value of the brewery. I thought if the bidding stopped at 15-20 million, it would be great. But it kept going up. Eventually, we won for 45 million plus 7.5 million in mostly unnecessary stock. During the auction, I asked Pepa if he could brew more beer, and he said if you sell it. There were four other groups, and they kept bidding. At the last moment, just before the auctioneer was about to close at a certain number, I bid 45 million. The others were shocked and didn't bid higher.

Well, I wasn't there, so I asked to see it. But I know Pepa was praying for someone to bid more. The name came up while we were staying at Rudy Šmejkal's. We thought about names for three evenings, and Rudy blurted it out. I asked Pepa if he would brew it well, and he said yes, he would do everything. We couldn't think of anything better. We had many names like Orlík or local features, but we knew it couldn't be Humpolec because the beer had a terrible reputation then. So we wanted to separate and go our own way.

At first, we spent about three weeks just cleaning the brewery. We had to clear it out, clean all the technological equipment. At that time, we brought a few tankers from Ostrava to have some beer, and then we started brewing our own. It was the end of October, and there were funny stories, like the then-director of South Bohemian Breweries saying, 'We'll hand it over to you within a month.' I said, 'Well, but it will have to be done over the weekend.' So it was always clashing with reality. In the end, we became friends with that director, but it was interesting because I was completely new to the field. I had enormous doubts about myself, wondering if I could do it. But once we were in, we had to swim. So that helped overcome the fears and keep going.

Hard to say, but it started taking effect from mid-1995. It helped all small breweries immensely, including us. It was for independent breweries with output up to 200,000 hectoliters per year, and the tax saving was around 4-5 million depending on size. For small breweries, this could boost profitability by 4-5%. At that time, all small breweries were struggling. Big breweries like Plzeň and Budvar got investment, but small ones were in ruins, like this one. So it really helped us, and we received the relief for several years until we exceeded 200,000.

For the first 10 years, we were totally on the edge. Constantly. There were periods when we had no money to pay invoices. So we arranged with commercial maltsters, who were friends, to give us credit. We would pay them later, which allowed us to pay smaller invoices. The accountant was overwhelmed because she had to explain we'd pay but had no money. Eventually, after about two years, we paid them off. I say we were on the edge for 10 years.

No, the simple motivation was to have our own malt. Before, we bought malt from other maltsters and didn't know what barley it was made from. Our brewhouse had to react to changes in malt quality, and I wanted to control the main raw materials. The malt house in Rajhrad was for sale, and we bought it for 16 million CZK, which was less than a third of the brewery's cost. So we got our own malt, though other breweries have it too. What struck me was that you were pioneers in the republic, like introducing microbiological filtration without pasteurization. In dairy, I know what that means, but in brewing, can you explain?

Basically, we didn't have a tunnel pasteurizer then—it wouldn't fit here, and we had no money. So we thought about increasing beer shelf life and got a filter that removed bacteria and yeast harmful to beer. We learned for a long time to meet the parameters. You need to realize that before the revolution, beer might last three days in summer, which is completely different from today. We can now guarantee up to nine months for exports. When I was building or renovating a house, I often had to drive to get beer for bricklayers, and it often spoiled within days. So we gradually improved until it held, then increased again. Today, we're at several months, but beer tastes best fresh, so we try to get fresh beer to customers quickly.

From their side, there was interest, and no other offers were serious. There were some Swedes and Americans, but it dragged on. A Dutch consultant from a small firm recommended them, saying he had a good feeling about the Belgians. We started meeting and eventually signed, which was a huge process taking about a year and three-quarters, with many audits and environmental checks. We had some external help, but we worked with them the whole time.

Not exactly. From the beginning, we employed family members, so there were many people from Pepa's and Rudy's families and mine. I was inspired by Bavarian companies where 'family business' implied a concrete person trying to do it right, not cheating. That was the original intent. And did the partner help with financial stability? In that time, yes. From today's perspective, we sold it for ridiculously low prices, but we could have gone bankrupt. They invested their capital, and today I'm convinced it paid back many times over.

All in all, about 140 million CZK. I don't remember the turnover, but I know we were producing around 100,000 hectoliters of beer per year then. And today? Last year, we sold nearly 420,000.

In various ways. It wasn't just about slogans; it was the ad content. We held a tender for an ad agency. Many asked how much we'd invest in TV, and when we said our budget, they lost interest. Unlike Dean Steinberger from Euro RSCG, now Havas, who said they wanted to help create smaller brands, mentioning Peugeot. He resonated with us, so we knew we wanted to work with him. When the concept 'The world has gone mad, hold on' came, billboards were created. We often came up with the ideas ourselves, topics that moved society, and we said it's worth doing.

No, we weren't afraid because we were convinced that what we put out could fully resonate. And I think it succeeded. The first ad was with Anička Daidou from the first Superstar season. Anička really couldn't sing or speak English, but she was completely convinced she had the right to be a superstar. Students started forming websites and clubs. We convinced her to join, giving her legal guarantees, even though TV Nova threatened to destroy her. Eventually, they realized it was an ad for them too. So that ad had a huge reach, and there were more like it. You reacted to amnesties or police brutality at festivals like Technoparty. Exactly. And I see the connections even back then. It was very successful and brave for that time, because today freedom of speech is more democratic, but then it was still shortly after the regime.

Actually, at that time, there was much greater democracy than today. So today, you couldn't afford it. I could imagine doing it again, but we're doing different ads now. But I'd do it gladly again, why not?

What more to add? It wasn't product advertising; it was brand advertising. And over the years, it's confirmed because the brand has its weight, becoming a cult brand. The results we have today show it's not just by chance. The previous ads you call brave, but we didn't perceive them that way. Before '89, we lived in a totalitarian system. When it ended, I told myself, from now on, you'll say what you feel.

I wouldn't say it's ecological. When Czech beer, one of the best in the world, started being filled into plastic bottles, it was desperate. The big breweries couldn't sell, so they found ways regardless of the impact on beer. So we opposed it because it wasn't about ecology; it was about the impact on the valuable brand of Czech beer. We also didn't go into cans, even though they've grown in recent years. It was a simple decision: aluminum is mined in Central Africa, not ecological at all, then processed with huge energy demands, shipped halfway around the world, canned, filled once, drunk, and thrown away. Recycling rate for cans is about a quarter. So why go that way? We do ecology from our own conviction. Even if we filled cans, we'd be bigger now, but we don't have the capacity. I definitely don't support ESG and similar nonsense from the European Union. It's more about inner conviction and what's right.

Yes, through the strategic partner. We visited Belgium, tasted fruit beers like Kriek and Framboise, which we liked. So we made plum beer, a semi-dark non-alcoholic beer that was new then, with premium plum juice and aroma. Then came cherry beer, which we're now discontinuing due to capacity. Finally, grape came in 2008-2009 during the financial crisis, and thanks to these fruit beers, we didn't decline. Some breweries dropped by 18%, so it helped us greatly. It's also key to innovation: inspiring from what works elsewhere and applying it to your firm, constantly innovating.

Yes, exactly. Those values were chosen by the employees themselves, reflecting what we stand for.