As the owner of Quenchers, one of the city’s first destination beer bars, Earle Johnson tapped into the power of nostalgia to draw customers.
Mr. Johnson stocked beer from nearly every country imaginable; when people returned from vacation — say in Argentina — and wanted to tap into the memory of drinking a beer on the beach, they could head to Quenchers in Logan Square and find that particular brew.
“I don’t know how he did it. It was a lot of work carrying a beer that one person in 10,000 was interested in, but he was really good at creating his own niche market and a truly unique place, a place that people would go way out of their way for,” said Michael Roeper, a friend who owns Hopleaf Bar.
Mr. Johnson, who took ownership of the bar in 1981, was a beer pioneer decades before the microbrew craze swept the city and country.
“He was really, really ahead of the curve,” Roeper said.
After putting 39 years of his life into Quenchers, at Fullerton and Western, the tavern closed in 2018.
Mr. Johnson, then 75, felt it was time, and sold the building.
A medical clinic is now where the bar used to be.
The space, prior to World War II, was an ice cream parlor. After the war it was turned into a bar and liquor store named Jug Full Liquors.
Mr. Johnson felt lucky to have sold two years before the pandemic hit the bar industry hard.
In retirement he read, traveled (including to Antarctica), spent time with his wife and two sons, and in recent months was putting the finishing touches on his dream home on the Northwest Side, but unfortunately never had the opportunity to move in.
Mr. Johnson died Aug. 4 following a heart attack. He was 83.
It’s a wonder he ended up as a saloon keeper. His prior career trajectory was in Christian ministry.
Raised in Waukon, Iowa, a small town in the northeast corner of the state, Mr. Johnson attended Wheaton College, earned a master’s degree from McCormick Theological Seminary and for several years worked in underserved Chicago communities as an outreach minister for Youth for Christ.
He shifted his focus to hospitality in his 30s after working at several restaurants, including The Berghoff in the Loop.
In 1979 he found himself bartending at Quenchers. Within months he became an investor and two years later owned the bar and building outright.
The bar was in a working class Polish and Hispanic area facing gentrification concerns, but Mr. Johnson made it clear that, in addition to welcoming traveling beer nerds, his place was a friendly neighborhood tavern.
It accrued regulars who had bar nicknames based on the simplest things about them, like “Old Man Bill.” Another guy known as Whitey (the origin of the moniker is lost to time) folded the dollar bills he left on the bar as tips into origami animals.
“People felt at home there,” said Cindy Weisbecker, a former patron and bartender who married another Quenchers bartender.
“I had a girl friend who’d stop there in the afternoon and balance her checkbook and just sit there have a coke because she knew it’d be a safe place where no would harass her, and that tone was set by Earle,” she said.
“That’s how I met Earle, he made me feel comfortable while I was at the bar waiting for my brother,” said his wife, Nisa Johnson. “I brought up football, and no man could refuse to talk about football.”
Scuffed wood, tin ceilings and old-fashioned glass-paneled cooler doors with latches that clicked shut provided ambiance.
“It was a place where a millionaire might be sitting next to some guy who just got out of jail, and the two could be talking and having a nice conversation,” said David Weisbecker, who bartended there in the ’80s.
In his younger days, if the mood struck, Mr. Johnson was known to perform somersaults down the length of the bar.
Though his work in Christian ministry never led him to head up a church, Mr. Johnson liked to say “This bar is my mission now, with a flock of a different kind.”
He was a familiar and welcoming face to homeless people and others on the fringe of society who could depend on Mr. Johnson for a few bucks, a glass of orange juice, a working telephone and a safe place to sit for a while.
“He had a lot of empathy for people, especially people facing challenges, and he wanted to make people feel welcome and not out in the wilderness on their own,” his wife said.
He was a longtime member of the Church of the Three Crosses in Old Town.
Quenchers was also known for its annual European Beer Tour, an event where Mr. Johnson issued “passports” complete with Polaroid photos that would be stamped at “Checkpoint Earle” after sampling beers from various countries.
There was also the Walk to Wrigley, in which dozens of people set off on foot from Quenchers on a pub crawl ending at the ballpark to take in a Cubs game.
An honorary street sign reading “Earle Johnson Way” was placed outside the bar before it closed.
In addition to his wife, Mr. Johnson is survived by his sons David Johnson and Dean Johnson.
A visitation will take place on Aug. 15 from 10 a.m. to noon at the Church of the Three Crosses, 333 W. Wisconsin St., in Old Town. It will be immediately followed by a funeral service from noon to 1:30 p.m.