In January of 2014, I called the Steins Unlimited Museum in Pamplin, Virginia to arrange what I thought would be a simple tour of a stuffy exhibit room likely coated in a thin layer of dust due to frequent disuse. Please, no plexiglass, I remember thinking. There's just about nothing less exciting than photographing exhibits behind plexiglass. My hopes were high as I followed the route from Richmond towards Appomattox, the snowy landscape elevating my spirit. Google images and web searches had left me completely in the dark on this museum, and, even so, I was surprised when I pulled up to a ranch-style home a little less than an hour later. This just got interesting, I grinned.
 | The door was answered by an older couple who graciously invited me into a living room adorned with steins. I was greeted on my immediate left by their oldest, dating all the way back to 1594. It reminded me of Indiana Jones' Last Crusade. I knew you would come, it spoke to me. You must choose. That's the cup of a carpenter, I nodded. There were two bedrooms dedicated to their assortment along with a few kitchen shelves. They kept their most prized vessels inside their home while the body of their collection was housed in a building out back, a structure at least half as big as their home. |
George Adams led me out the back door to the storage shed where I learned he was born and raised in Germany. He began his compilation and a lifetime of beer knowledge at a young age and now has one of the largest collections of antique steins in the world along with one of the world's largest measuring in at 32 liters.
| I was fascinated by a yellowing refrigerator with a single Yuengling tap protruding from the door. Out of all the American beers he had sampled, he told me Yuengling tasted the most German-authentic. I was somewhat pleased with myself as I recalled my college days. Yuengling was our house beer. I also wondered if George had tasted many local brews. I found myself wanting to bring him a sampling of Virginia's finest, challenging him to find one that reminded him even more of home. He invited me to return in the summer with friends and our steins, saying we'd crack open a keg of Yuengling and all chat in the garden. I have yet to take him up on this, but I really should. |  |
George also buys, sells, appraises and repairs pewter steins, so before leaving I made a purchase. I love bringing home memories from my travels, so I picked out a flagon picturing a fox on one side and a wild turkey on the other, adorned with an acorn pewter lid. It was the perfect find. To this day, however, I've only used it for drinking tea. Is this sacrilege?
I was blown away by his collection to say the least. Stand-alone tankards and sets lined the entrance room consisting of two rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves. The record-holder sat at the head of a row, hard to miss. He even had several regimental steins from WWII soldiers complete with names. (Did you know soldiers were issued steins?) Steins of all shapes, colors, sizes and pictorials could entertain me for hours, especially since he had stories for so many. I had to stop asking about each one, I realized, if I was going to get any work done.
In the end, I shook hands and departed one of the best-kept secrets in central Virginia.
P.S. Did I mention I wanted to be Indiana Jones when I grew up?
P.S. Did I mention I wanted to be Indiana Jones when I grew up?
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