The West Seventh Street neighborhood of St. Paul was also known for its breweries. In 1871, Frederick Banholzer acquired the North Mississippi Brewery, which had been established in 1853. In 1886, Banholzer Park, an outdoor beer garden, opened, buoyed up with balloon rides to Lilydale, across the river. After Frederick’s son William died, the brewery declined, going out of business in 1904. The aboveground buildings hung around for decades, however. The nearby brewmaster’s house has survived intact, becoming a Hazelden halfway house, which has treated 10,000 addicts over more than half a century.
The Banholzer brewery cave, located at the foot of Sumac Street, was as easily accessible to the locals as Yoerg’s was on the West Side. Located on the river bluffs, Banholzer was the king of party caves before it was sealed in 1991. So much so that police patrol boats would routinely scan the river bluffs as they sped past. No one called it Banholzer Cave, though; it was known locally as “Frankenstein’s Cave.” But I could never figure out why so many also people called it “Schmidt Cave,” which was obviously false, given that the Schmidt Brewery was half a mile away. This was the first time I surmised that Schmidt Brewery might also have caves, and judging by the sheer size of the facility, they must be huge.
Banholzer Cave consisted of a large gridwork of passages arranged somewhat like a ladder, about a half-mile in length, and large enough to drive a truck through. More of the rooms had special names than any in other brewery cave. Newspaper columnist Don Boxmeyer recalled this gleeful “boy’s world” from his youth, mentioning names like King’s Cave, Three Sisters (three parallel passages), Frankenstein’s Bedroom, the Bear Hole, and the Dump.
One well-known entrance to this cave, by way of the Sumac Street sewer outfall, was located on the river bluff. The determined partier of yesteryear, bent double with his kegs, could shuffle through the brick sewer, chasing the rats ahead of him, until coming to a hole in the wall, by means of which he entered the cave. Or, he could brazenly come in through the cave entrance on the other side of Shepard Road, in the midst of the Lametti Construction yard, where there was a garage-like shed, which opened into a long, gently sloping passage leading into the heart of the cave.
The fact that this great party cave had two good entrances led to some interesting encounters with law enforcement. I heard that there was once a police raid where tear gas was fired into one entrance, and when the partiers tried to elude capture they ran right into the waiting arms of the police at the other entrance.
I made many trips to Banholzer Cave in the years before it was sealed. Because the cave extended below Shepard Road, a busy trucking route, there was a perpetual gentle snowfall of white sand grains into one’s hair. Some passages in the cave were so bestrewn with broken beer bottles that I was afraid to walk through them lest, like the Indian fakir, they would penetrate my feet. On one of the pillars of the cave, a life-size red pegasus had been artfully spraypainted. On another wall, someone had sketched out the blind entrance to the Mines of Moria, a reference to the Tolkien story that was so popular at the time. Another room had a very high ceiling with a skylight. The best-known, named spot in the cave, however, was “Pussy Heaven”—an excavated passage along a natural vertical rock joint in the sandstone, which got its name from its suggestive oval shape. Obviously, the names had changed since Boxmeyer’s day.
My creepiest memory of Banholzer Cave, however, dates from a late night visit. The roomy passages, usually vacant, had a very woebegone occupant this time, a deeply intoxicated paint-sniffer. As I walked up and down the passages I could see that this guy was acting strangely. He continued to follow me at a distance, taking corners only when I did, though I often hung back to observe his movements. I soon found my way to the exit.
In 1991, Shepard Road was widened and repaved and the authorities took the opportunity to seal Banholzer Cave, which had given them so much grief over the years. Chainlink fencing was wrapped into the entrances and concrete was poured into the mesh.
EXCERPTED FROM SUBTERRANEAN TWIN CITIES.