BHS believes the building that became McNeill’s was constructed in 1892 and originally served as one of the fire stations on Elliot Street. The 1892 structure was a replacement for the fire station that had been there previously.
McNeill’s moved into the building in 1990 and began brewing beer in January 1991.
Ray McNeill
Ray McNeill was very proud of his daughter and shared stories with The Brattleboro Historical Society.
Ray would tell of the trajectory of daughter Eve’s career. We reminded him of a meeting between Eve and a BUHS teacher when Eve was at Mount Snow Academy. Eve needed a history course. She came to BUHS to find out whether or not she would take a Western Civilization course. The course was described to her and she responded, “I’m not doing that s….” Ray would laugh, at times uncontrollably and say, “That’s Eve.” We would remind him – that was you, also, Ray.
We reached out to Eve and she offered these things:
Eve Remembers Ray
“For the record, I regret not taking that course. God I wish I’d studied more history. Trying to catch up, but you know, there’s kind of a lot of it.
“You may not know this, but I was one art credit short of graduating from high school, and I said ‘f… it, I’m not spending an extra semester here to finger paint.’ I know teens can be pigheaded and short-sighted, and I cringe to remember how ‘juvenile’ I was.
When I later applied to Harvard and they sent for my transcript at BUHS, it had me marked as graduated.
I don’t know who did that, and I’ll probably never have a chance to thank them, but it literally changed my life. Harvard, Dartmouth, UCSF, Stanford. None of that would have ever happened without the help of someone back at home.
“I was a horrid teen, and the hell I put people through is no doubt going to come back to me when my kids hit that age. I told my 6-year-old to put his dirty clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor and he gave me that dismissive wave, rolled his eyes, and said, “Whatever, Eve.”
Eve’s final thought was about Brattleboro. “There’s a lot of love and forgiveness in that town.”
Article in VT Digger
Kevin O’Connor wrote an article for Vermont Digger about the fire that destroyed the building: A fire, a death, a bittersweet last call: The final 24 hours of a landmark Brattleboro pub
Beer Nut: A Eulogy for Brewing Legend Ray McNeill
By George Lenker
It’s 2:07 AM on Dec. 3 as I write this. I have just confirmed some of the worst news I’ve ever heard in the beer world.
Ray McNeil is dead.
I certainly can’t claim to have been a close friend of Ray’s. But over the past decade or so, I got to know him quite well and marveled at his incredible acumen about all things brewing. In fact, he was erudite about so much more than brewing. I don’t throw the word “polymath” around casually, but Ray certainly seemed to fit the definition.
McNeill died Dec. 2 in a fire at his Brattleboro brewpub, where he had an apartment upstairs.
McNeill’s Brewery was a legendary place on Eliot Street that opened in 1990. It was the closest thing to a real Irish pub I’ve ever seen in the U.S. Rustic, cozy, welcoming, the bar was a hangout for skiers, lovable Brattleboro oddballs, and of course, lovers of great beer. Because that’s what Ray brewed. And for a while, you might even catch Ray playing his beloved cello with a jazz group on certain nights.
But along with his love for cello (and bicycles), Ray had an equal passion for brewing great beer – and he brewed lots of it. The beer board always listed a dozen or so brews, and while they all were always on tap, that was mainly because they would sell out. And Ray almost always had some real ale from a cask available. That alone set McNeil’s apart from most brewpubs and beer bars.
I never spent as much time there as I wanted to. I’m lazy, and there are good craft beer venues right in my own backyard. But the times I did visit – often with my dear friend Michael, who was a good friend of Ray’s – were always great adventures. Ray could spin a yarn as well as anyone, and he had so many wild stories about his travels, his colorful patrons and, of course, beer. He was also hilarious, with a wonderfully dry sense of humor.
I never met anyone who could break down the brewing process the way Ray did. Open the tap of Ray’s mind and a delicious blend of science and artistry would flow out. And when he spoke about beer, the knowledge gushed out effortlessly. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He didn’t have to. The proof of his expertise was in the pudding – or in Ray’s case, the beer.
McNeill’s shut down during the pandemic, of course, and before it could open again, structural issues were found with the building, so Ray couldn’t reopen until those were repaired, which he was in the process of doing. I was honored that Ray allowed Micheal and I to still visit (on the sly) a few times, during which he would serve us maybe the best beer I ever had: a Bohemian Pilsner. Ray had found a perfect yeast and malt combination. I feel blessed that I was one of the few people who will ever have sampled it. (It was so good that I did two columns on it.)
So goodbye, Ray. There will never be another you. The 1970s band Clean Living once sang, “In heaven there is no beer,” but I never believed that to be true. Why would God ban such a beautiful creation?
And here’s a sure bet: The beer in heaven is now going to get a whole lot better.
R.I.P.