the Saga of Olde Frothingslosh

by Rege Cordic

December, 1978

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     “Oh, my gosh! Its Frothingslosh!” exclaimed the hardy band of imbibers in the small pub at Upper-Crudney-On-The-Thames, England. Their jubilant voices echoed through the morning mists, “By Jove! The foam IS on the bottom!” In all its amber glory, the first glass of Olde Frothingslosh Pale Stale Ale stood before the amazed crowd, the beer floating on TOP of its own foam. “Messy mussy” was a thing of the past! History had been made! The distinguished inventor, Sir Reginald P. Frothingslosh smiled. Long years of research and experiment were finished. Success was at hand; soon aft the world would sing the praises of his unique brew.

     That was a long, long time ago. Today, as we all know, Olde Frothingslosh is revered around the globe as the first and only Foam-On-The-Bottom beer.

     Some insist that its extraordinary character comes from the mystic waters of the river by the brewery just downstream of the glue factory. Others argue that the hops hold the secret. Shipped in from the far off Province of Hippity, the Hippity Hops contribute a mystic “something,” but none can say exactly what it is. The ancient formula remains locked in the vaults beneath the brewery and in the minds of a few trusted members of the “Frothing-staff.”

    Famous sequence of photos from the Archives of The Frothingslosh Brewery show the original Sir Reginald P. Frothingslosh at the magic moment of discovery when years of research and experimentation exploded into the world’s first foam-on-the-bottom glass of beer. From the look of shock on his face, some feel that Sir Reginald was as surprised as anyone when his now famous “Sinking Suds” sank. British actor Bruce Lacey portrays our hero.

THE FACT

Olde Frothingslosh Pale Stale Ale actually originated in the early 1950s on the comedy radio show, “Cordic & Co.” that I perpetrated for many years on WWSW and KDKA in Pittsburgh, PA, and later at KNX in Los Angeles. In the early morning hours between six and ten, many strange aberrations can flash through the mind of the hapless chap who stands there for four hours a day, six days a week making a valiant effort to sound awake and enthusiastic. Developing our own form of radio satire, my talented cohorts and I recorded a series of “put-on” commercials extolling the virtues of this rare beer with the famous “Sinking Suds.” While we did many fictional commercials on the program (Gizzard’s Little Cotter Pins, the Crudleigh V-9 line of automobiles, a breakfast cereal made from weeds: “Weedies”), by far the most successful was that “Whale Of An Ale For A Pale Stale Male,” Olde Frothingslosh. The audience seemed to enjoy the fables we built around it. We broadcast stories of the tragic day when a barge filled with beer malt on its way to the brewery sank in the Thames and the golden goo infiltrated the water supply of the towns downstream. The good citizens felt wonderful for days!

Shipping problems developed because the beer was so light, the refrigerator cars weighed less when loaded than when empty. They literally floated over turnouts and rough rail joints.

Another big reason for the singular success of Frothingslosh was that after a while, it became REAL!

It came about this way. A certain Mr. S. E. Cowelt was a regular listener to our show. This imaginative gentleman also happened to be president of one of Pittsburgh’s largest breweries. He suggested that we actually put the product on the market. Until he explained his scheme, I thought the poor man was suffering from an attack of “The Vapors.” The plan, however, was a clean strike of salesmanship: for the Christmas Holidays he would package his regular brand of beer under the Olde Frothing-slosh label as a special party item. The sales success of that product in the Pittsburgh area is a tribute to his wisdom.

In time, ESQUIRE Magazine would devote an entire feature story to “The Legend of Olde Frothingslosh.” Several lesser publications picked up and embellished the story. At one point, I even found my photo sandwiched in between several well-endowed lovelies in one of the better “Girly” magazines. Legend surrounds many of our early attempts to do television commercials for this “real” beer. Remember that most local commercials were performed “live” in those pre-video tape days. Thus, it was that Bob Trow, one of my stalwart partners, was induced to hang upside-down on a trapeze in the studio to demonstrate how light the beer was; when Bob was shot from the chest up with an inversion device in front of the camera lens, naturally, the beer flowed UP when he removed the cap. Would you believe that we received complaints from those who missed the gag and took us literally? Much of the confusion was a tribute to our stage hands who were able to display foam-on-the-bottom beer on television by cramming a layer of Styrofoam in the bottom of a beer glass, pouring in some “normal” beer and scraping away its genuine collar. On the small tube, one would swear that the foam WAS on the bottom—even though the bubbles were “rising” in the wrong direction. The stories go on and on.

The search for new horizons even led me to London to embellish the growing fiction of Frothingslosh. For a series of filmed commercials, I staged the invention and delivery of the first batch of Olde Frothingslosh in a glorious but rickety old castle. The British movie crew turned out to be zanier than we could have hoped and the scenes of exploding beer bottles and the subsequent delivery of the first barrels in a leaky row boat, a vintage Rolls-Royce and an old Chevy truck were sensational; to everyone, that is, except the U.S. Customs Officials. Try explaining a film can marked “Fake Historical Frothingslosh Films.”

Historical photos from the Olde Frothingslosh files in England indicate the early difficulties encountered in transporting Pale Stale Ale to an anxious public. Ships and trucks were soon abandoned in favor of the fleet of modern rail refrigerator cars that now criss-cross the nation.

THE FICTION

While the fact of Frothingslosh often borders on the unreal, I have found that the myth is very adaptable for model railroading. You can twist it any way that suits your convenience. Who can say that it is not prototype?

In fitting the story to my modeling purposes, I have decreed that my HO Gauge Lazy River Railroad has always been the sole U.S. originating point for this famous ale. Why not? It is a well-known fact on Wall Street that a major portion of the line’s stock is held by Frothingslosh interests and that their lone, top-secret American production plant is tucked in an isolated river valley served only by the L.R.R.R. [Lazy River Rail Road Company]. That takes care of the trucking competition! Close-up of Frothingslosh Water Car demonstrates difficulties encountered by painters in fitting the complete product name on such a short piece of equipment. Car is modified from an old kit.

Since there remains a vast market for the one-of-a-kind beer with the foam conveniently out of the way, the Lazy River does a brisk business originating loads for far-flung points along America’s rail network—which, hopefully, will include your road. The elements of the distribution plan obviates the need for a fleet of property decorated, privately owned refrigerator cars; which brings us at long last to this month’s [December, 1978] O.F.R.X. [Olde Frothingslosh Refrigerated Xpress] car sides. I have drawn the car side to fit a 38-foot wooden car body, so that some of the old-time flavor (accidental pun) of the fiction is retained. As Whit [Towers] has suggested several times, it is best to mount the sides over some sort of flush backing (balsa will do) to prevent the printed board from sagging from repeated handling. Ladders or grab-iron steps can be mounted to your taste and, since we do not have to worry about any specific prototype, any other details you may wish to add will certainly be appropriate.

The roof can be painted brown with matching ends or you may wish to continue the red motif of the horizontal stripes to the car ends as well. For a somewhat different look, I have also considered black as a possibility for roof, ends and underbody. A little weathering would soften the stark contrast with the white and yellow of the printed material.

Once you have trimmed the sides for your scale, you should have plenty of left-over cuttings in the other gauges for use as signs on taverns, walls, vehicles or other spots on the layout where potential miniature imbibers might be lurking.

So, here is a chance to upgrade a few more old reefers, dispatch them to a loading dock, team track, warehouse or whatever and watch the revenue pour in. (Just remember to send the billing to Sir Reginald P. Frothingslosh—not me!) Have fun, bearing in mind that these cars must be handled with care when on the line. A fully loaded reefer of six-packs contains enough “Olde Froth” to take care of the average guzzler’s needs for seventy-nine years. That is a lot of Pale Stale Ale! Better remind your crews that Foam-On-The-Bottom beer is a delicate matter. Expanding cars with suds spouting from loose boards are usually accompanied by a panic-stricken crewman shouting, “Oh My Gosh! It’s Frothingslosh!”

Click here to access the Olde Frothingslosh railroad equipment images

This article was originally published in the December, 1978 issue of the NMRA (National Model Railroad Association) Bulletin. Copyright © 1978, Rege Cordic and the NMRA. Article(s) courtesy of (and reprinted with permission from) the A. C. Kalmbach Memorial Library, National Model Railroad Association. Click here to visit the NMRA.