Since 2000, Russ Melton has been keeping a low profile as the creator of Diamond Bear Brewing, the longest-running production brewery in the state of Arkansas. Sure, his name was on the Diamond Bear website, on the licensing, but there was no office with "Melton" on the door or nameplate at the small downtown brewery, and he wasn't handing out six-packs to his day job co-workers. The Diamond Bear owner preferred to stay hidden in plain sight, like Clark Kent, if thirst was Kent's crusade.
"I didn't want anyone at Michelin knowing because I didn't want them to think I was bragging, and I wanted them to look at me objectively," Melton says. "Of course, if it had gone bad, I didn't want anyone to think I was an idiot."
In November, the disguise came off. Melton retired from Michelin after 31 years and immediately dove into working with his brewery full time. He even built himself an office.
At the new headquarters of Diamond Bear, located just a few blocks north of Dickey-Stephens Park in North Little Rock, Melton's office is embellished with mementos of the life that brought him to this point. There's the replica M-1 Abrams tank, a miniature of the one he drove while stationed in Germany, and vintage Michelin Tire posters on the wall. There are framed photos from the early days of the brewery and mock-ups of their soon-to-be-released canned version of Southern Blonde. His desk, still looking fresh from the office supply store, is piled deep with paperwork and printouts. Every hour or so, Melton's iPhone buzzes with a reminder of the next appointment.
How Melton managed to run the brewery in his off hours before this is truly a superhero's secret.
"When I had the office at home, we had three desks in the kitchen, and I didn't even have a desk unless someone wasn't there," Melton says. "This is a little bit better."
With a new restaurant to run and the addition of barrel-aged beers and more on the horizon, Melton has plenty to cover his desk with now. After 14 years, Diamond Bear has become the biggest name in Arkansas beer. And Melton is ready to let everyone know his part in it.
"We haven't been any overnight success," Melton says. "But I'm very proud of our new facility. I'm proud that our guys can work here and Arkansans can know that they have a brewery to call their own."
On handouts at the brewery, the history of Diamond Bear is outlined in lengthy paragraphs like a bedtime story. In the early '80s a young Russ Melton and his family were living in Germany while he was stationed with the U.S. Army's 3rd Infantry Division. After graduating from the ROTC program at Henderson State University in Arkadelphia and doing a short tour overseas, Melton decided to stay on for the opportunity to command one of the first M1 Abrams tank companies. Even with the lengthy hours, Melton considers it the best job he ever had.
"You woke up every day with a mission you believed in, working with other folks who had a commitment to the same cause," Melton says. "Plus they gave me a tank to ride around in and paid for all the diesel fuel."
While in Germany, Melton took the time to explore the northern Bavarian region he called home. With vacations in Belgium, Holland, Italy and Austria, Melton had a chance to sample the culture and history of those European nations and their beers.
"It's a misconception that I started brewing while I was in Germany," Melton says. "But I did start appreciating their beer -- good beer."
In the small, Fayetteville-size German town where he was stationed, there were four breweries operating. The prevalence -- and taste -- of the local beer was like nothing he had seen back in the States. When he came back home in 1983, he went searching for that taste again.
BREWING'S FIRST BOON
In the early '90s, small breweries in the United States were experiencing a surge similar to the craft brewing boom of today. People's tastes in beer were changing. They were reaching for flavorful Sam Adams and Sierra Nevada instead of their usual domestic lagers. While working for Michelin in Dallas, Melton began to notice the shift.
"My boss offered me a Sam Adams on draft, and I thought, 'My gosh, that's tasty,'" he says. "It was all downhill from there. In the positive sense."
After planning sessions with a friend and looking at the craft brewing market, Melton decided to take the first step toward what would become Diamond Bear by buying a home brewing kit and making his own suds. Five years, two moves and a marriage later, Melton was on the verge of taking his brews public.
With the help of a consultant, Melton found a brewery in Washington that had gone under. He bought the equipment that had been languishing on a farm under a tarp and had it shipped to Little Rock.
"It looked like two truckloads of junk that pulled up," Melton says.
His family wasn't exactly surprised that he'd made the leap. It was his wife, Sue, who had given him the final push. His parents even invested in the business.
The agency needed to balance a brewery start-up with a full-time job? That came from his parents, too. As the son of a Reynolds Aluminum supervisor (Dad) and an HSU math professor (Mom), Melton had been raised to dedicate himself fully to whatever job he took on.
"Russell took a class from our mother when he was at Henderson and ended up with an 89.7 average," Melton's sister, Carolyn Eoff, says. "For anyone else, that would be an A, but she gave Russell a B. He needed to earn it."
Credit experiences like that one for developing the determination -- and good humor -- Melton would need at Diamond Bear.
Because at first, the beer wasn't always that good.
THE 14-YEAR OVERNIGHT SUCCESS
Melton is quick to admit that in its first two years Diamond Bear's beers weren't the consistent pours they are today. Sometimes, the beer was just bad. At the start, the brewery struggled with product quality. Though several batches were good enough to gain fans, others suffered from microbe contamination in the brewing process. It's not something that will make customers sick, but it will make the beer taste funky.
"It's not like making Kool-Aid or mixing up tea," Melton says.
Little Rock beer expert and writer John Wells says the problem with the beer is also explained by the quality of its inputs: In the early years, Diamond Bear wasn't getting consistently good hops, a primary flavoring ingredient in brews.
"It's hard to be consistent when you have to use substitute ingredients," Wells says.
After those first unstable years, Melton brought on veteran brewer Charles Kling, who helped turn things around.
"And many batches and thousands of dollars later we started putting out some products people could drink," Melton says. "And then we started putting out some products that were really good. And then we started putting out some products that were world-class."
Soon, the brewery's tours were filling up. Crowds of 40 or more visitors would cram into the tiny taproom at the Cross Street location and sample beer before the brief tour, then stick around for the rest of the beer that they hadn't sampled pre-tour. Meanwhile, down the street at the state Capitol, Melton was making headway with legislators to simplify Arkansas brewing laws.
"In 2003, there were four or five brewers working on legislation to help native brewers," Little Rock lawyer Bob Edwards says. "Russ was right there with them, instrumental in getting everything passed. He was extremely passionate."
Back in the brewery, Melton's patience was paying off. In 2004 and 2006, Diamond Bear Pale Ale took home a gold award at the World Beer Cup's Classic English Style Pale Ale category. Melton saw those first awards as a turning point. And he was determined to regain confidence in the Diamond Bear brand from distributors and consumers.
"They could have said, 'You guys don't know how to make beer,'" Melton says. "But they didn't. They didn't throw us under the bus."
Despite Melton's working for Michelin full time, he and his wife, who maintains her job as a flight attendant for American Airlines to this day, began devoting more and more time to the brewery. It was their designs that would wind up on packaging and merchandise. With each piece, they focused on Diamond Bear's Arkansas ties. They wanted Diamond Bear to be known as "The beer of Arkansas." And as the company's portfolio expanded to include 10 different brews, it became clear that Diamond Bear couldn't stay in its small downtown facility for much longer. If it was going to be the state's beer, they were going to need room to grow.
DOGTOWN AND DIAMOND BEAR
Melton's sister-in-law Sheri Collazo is still surprised when she thinks about Diamond Bear's new facility in North Little Rock. She had known her sister's husband was determined, but she never thought he'd fight for so long for the craft beer he loved.
"I went with him to several of the bank meetings when he was trying to get the money to expand, and no one would believe in him," Collazo says. "I just wanted to beg them to give him a chance."
In the late '00s, banks were holding tight, and for years Melton was unable to secure a loan, but he didn't give up.
The purse strings loosened. Melton was there with his business plan. More space was key, and Diamond Bear found that in the former Orbea bike company plant in North Little Rock.
The facility is triple the size of the old space at Cross and Fourth streets and has allowed Melton to start thinking about an even bigger future for his brand.
"Diamond Bear is like the Hogs when it comes to craft beer in Arkansas," says Melton's longtime friend, Little Rock radiology consultant Ken Robbins. "Sure, you can root for other Arkansas teams, but if you're from here, you always have that love of the Hogs."
As more craft breweries continue to open in Arkansas, Diamond Bear is poised to be the founding father, the Ben Franklin figure. It's a role Melton is happy to fill, doling out advice to breweries just starting out. That doesn't mean the brewery is slowing down or settled in its ways. Melton sees endless possibilities for expansion within Arkansas, including adding new accounts across the state and adding new products. After that, he's focused on expanding distribution to neighboring markets, including Mississippi, Louisiana and the Memphis area.
But this week, he's still settling into the new office. There are air conditioning problems to fix, brewing to embark on. Not to mention the countless tours of the new facility for state lawmakers, investors, distributors and friends.
Melton's family were among the first to see the facility come to life, sit at the bar and sip a cool, crisp pour of pale ale straight from the new taps. And as Collazo walked into the neon blue-walled gift shop, stacked wall to wall with cases of Diamond Bear beer, T-shirts and hats, she realized Melton's crazy persistence and hectic schedule have paid off.
"It's a great story: An Arkansas boy had a vision," Collazo says. "And wow. He's there. He did it."
High Profile on 07/06/2014