When Mark Evans lost his job at a bar in Bradford 12 years ago, he sat down in the car park outside, chin in hands, and decided to write a letter to Humphrey Smith, chairman of Samuel Smith’s Old Brewery, to ask for a job.
To Mr Evans’ shock, two days later, he got a knock on his door and found Mr Smith standing outside.
“He came inside the house and talked at length to me about running a pub,” says Mr Evans. “I assured him I was a fairly quick learner, and he replied ‘you better be, you’ve missed the first two days of training in Tadcaster’ [the home of the old-fashioned brewery empire].”
Soon, Mr Evans was given the keys to the Black Horse Inn in Low Moor, Bradford, along with a strict set of rules taken from Mr Smith’s unbinding vision on how a pub should operate. No televisions, music or mobile phones, not even dogs.
Those who broke the rules faced the threat of closure, with Mr Smith himself policing the 200-plus pubs with unannounced visits at the door right up to the age of 79.
“We had him turning up at 10.30pm to call in, have a drink and go through accounts,” says Mr Evans, who, despite the late-night inspections, had nothing but praise for his former boss who stood stubbornly by his principles against the modern technological age.
Taking over the North Yorkshire-based brewery from his father aged just 18 in 1963, Mr Smith enjoyed considerable early success, forging an empire of pubs that stretched from mostly small-scale locals in post-industrial towns and cities in the north of England to historic pubs in London’s Fleet Street and High Holborn.
But all were guided by the same rules, and all only served Samuel Smith beers on tap and brewery-branded snacks.
Those managers – the brewery refused to call pub operators landlords – caught flouting the commands faced instant ejection. Anecdotes shared in the brewery industry tell of a manager losing their pub, and home, after being caught breaking Mr Smith’s strict standards on beer measurements in a pint class. Too little froth was the crime, it was said.
A pub in Droitwich Spa was reportedly closed after Mr Smith overheard a drinker using the f-word, and in Sheffield, he ordered the closure of a pub after a chocolate fondant on the dessert menu could not be ordered.
Such authoritarianism from the top is one reason those in the sector believe so many of the brewery’s pubs have been shuttered. The Campaign for Real Ale estimates around 200 are shuttered- but so too are an equal number also open, many featuring the old-fashioned facets of any 1960s pub, from polished wooden tables to leather bar stools to painted pictures on the walls.
Some of the prices even go back a few years, ranging from £2.80 for a pint of dark mild to £4 for a pint stout, The Independent found out. But the low prices come under the condition punters submit to Mr Smith’s law.
“Our pubs are havens from the digital world,” reads the brewery’s website. “The use of mobile phones, laptops and other tech is not allowed in our pubs. Friendly pub conversation is encouraged (no swearing!) together with the responsible enjoyment of our beers.”
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In Bradford, where Mr Evans’ pub is one of two owned by the Samuel Smith brewery, he says the rules are followed. Those who need reminding on the mobile phone ban will often apologetically slip it back in the pocket, or go outside, he says.
“People come in to the pub for the first time and join in conversation with the locals,” says Mr Evans. “By the time they leave, they have become one of them. The ban on phones brings people out to talk to each other. We don’t get people sitting anonymously, staring down at their phones.”
In Rotherham, Paul Renshaw has been running The Saxon Hotel in Kiveton Park for nine years. Despite the restrictions on drinkers, he says the pub is performing well in the current climate, with 161 closing down in the first three months of this year.
Among those to visit is singer Katie Melua, who attended with her ex-partner motorcycle racer James Toseland for his father’s wake several years ago. Mr Renshaw says he hopes the restrictions remain on pubs after Mr Smith’s death, with the brewery reportedly being passed into the hands of his son, Samuel.
“Why change a winning formula?” he asks.
It’s a similar view at the Sun Inn in Long Marston, seven miles from York, where manager Kate Turnbull, who took over the pub with her partner Lee Starkey last year, says the unique rules imposed create a friendly, welcoming atmosphere.
“I will miss Mr Smith because he was a right character with a great sense of humour,” she says. “You have to admire his strength of sticking to these rules and not bowing under pressure like everybody else.”
The pub, she says, does not suffer from the ban on phones because “younger generation aren’t big drinkers anyway”. Those caught on their phone get a subtle telling off, she says. “My staff and I, we don’t shout across the bar, we go over to them quietly and whisper in their ear,” she says. “99 per cent say ‘oh yeah, sorry, I forgot’. I’ve only had one or two people get upset about it.”
Earlier this month, the local paper praised the pub’s fish and chips, priced at £14.20. The review also sparked to a debate on the pub’s ban on mobile phones, with many coming out in support of the brewery on its stance. “The art of conversation is dying I’m afraid,” says Ms Turnbull. “So I really understood Mr Smith’s logic for his pubs and although some of the rules, such as on children and dogs, could be relaxed, I hope many of them are upheld.”
Following Mr Smith’s death, there was an outpouring of tributes in Tadcaster, where the brewery still delivers beer using shire horses five days a week. Although media shy, Mr Smith was well-known in the community, often seen walking through the town while commonly taking a stand on local issues. A decade ago he initially refused a temporary footbridge to be built from his land after flooding, calling it a waste of public money.
His brewery is likened to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory with no one except employees said to be allowed inside.
Journalists’ attempts to interview him were also refuted, but by him, personally, before the phone was put down, Tom Stainer, chief executive of CAMRA says. “He would not delegate the task, he would do it himself, it was a measure of the man,” he adds.
“He was an enigmatic figure who would come around and inspect the pubs personally, and would take great pride in them. His rules were polarising. Some people love it, and some people thought it old-fashioned and ready to be modernised.”
Mystery now surrounds the future course of the brewery, says Mr Stainer, with a rumoured relaxation of drinker restrictions in London pubs, which Samuel Smith was in charge of up to his father’s death, could indicate a move across the entire estate.
But such direction could be a shame, argues Mr Stainer. “Samuel Smith pubs are unique,” he says. “Once they change their ethos there is no other pub like it with the rules in place, and you lose that forever, and that would be a loss to the pub industry.”
