Dow brewery

The story of Dow Brewery begins long before the industrial silhouette that now defines Montréal’s southwest. In the late eighteenth century, beer was not leisure, but necessity, tied to labor, nourishment, and survival in a changing colony. Founded by Thomas Dunn in La Prairie, the brewery emerged in a transit zone used by travelers, merchants, and workers moving between Montréal and the south.

Demand quickly outpaced production. Beer flowed through inns, hotels, dockyards, and construction sites. This success gradually pulled operations toward Montréal, where industry, port activity, and railways were reshaping the city. Production ultimately settled along Notre Dame Street, at the center of a rapidly expanding industrial landscape.

Under the direction of William Dow, the brewery expanded continuously. Buildings were added without erasing the old ones. Vats were stacked. Tunnels connected distant sections of production. The site became a single, continuous machine, operating day and night, governed by steam, heat, and the constant presence of labor.

By the early twentieth century, Dow reached its peak. Integrated into major brewing conglomerates, it became a dominant brand in Québec. Its beer supplied taverns, working-class neighborhoods, ports, and gathering places. The name Dow embedded itself into everyday life, a symbol of industrial modernity and collective habit.

That stability fractured in the mid 1960s. In Québec City, a series of sudden deaths revealed an unusual form of cardiomyopathy among heavy beer drinkers. Attention soon turned to the experimental use of cobalt sulfate, added to certain Dow beers to stabilize foam.

News spread rapidly. Media coverage intensified. Public perception shifted faster than medical certainty. Even without definitive proof, trust collapsed. A familiar product became a source of fear.

The consequences were immediate. Sales collapsed. Inventory was destroyed. Production in Québec City was halted. Within months, a century of dominance dissolved. Dow never truly recovered.

What followed was not a dramatic end, but a slow withdrawal. Ownership changed. Facilities were partially closed. Machines were shut down one by one. The vast Notre Dame Street complex slipped into dormancy, until its final closure near the end of the twentieth century.

Today, the remains of Dow Brewery form a frozen industrial labyrinth. Cracked walls, broken tiles, towering fermenters, and abandoned offices still carry the weight of what once existed. To walk through the site is to confront the rise and collapse of an empire built on barley, steel, and human error. It is not simply an abandoned building, but an industrial memory slowly decaying in place.