Some things from my childhood I still carry on. Like my father and mother before me, Christi and I enjoy taking carriage rides around our property together. Like Grant’s Farm, our place, Blue Heron Farm, which we bought in 1997, is home to many animals. We have horses of all kinds, including miniatures, Thoroughbreds, Belgians, and of course, Clydesdales. We have a variety of farm animals, including different species of cattle, pigs, donkeys, alpacas, chickens, and sheep. We also have camels, capuchin monkeys, kinkajous, parrots, and a variety of dogs and cats. The beauty of the farm is breathtaking, with rolling hills, open meadows for planting, streams, lakes, ponds, and an abundance of hardwood and conifer trees. It will never replace Grant’s Farm, but I know it holds memories that are no less precious for my children than those at Grant’s Farm were for me. And like my father before me, we’ve opened the grounds to the public, as well as the brewery and distillery. It’s truly magical and we are blessed for it. Though we don’t have throngs of audiences watching as my dad and mom did, it’s special all the same.
Currently, the family has been discussing doing a second season of our reality show, The Busch Family Brewed, but with the kids growing up and doing their own thing, it’s hard to get everyone on board. It’s never easy to wrangle seven kids for any event, let alone for a show. After the first season aired, the feedback from people who watched it was amazing. Even August IV, who loves his privacy and usually lies low, called and said that his popularity and image had grown more positive because of it. It showed the Busches in a positive way. We were a wholesome family who cared about each other and our community. It was a fun experience, and I am glad we did it.
As many fans of the show know, when Christi and I are driving the horses, we do much of our talking about the day’s events, our children, and what really matters. We’ve come to believe that the legacy we leave isn’t so much about beer but our new definition of what it means to be a family, what it means to love, what it means to dedicate your life to something bigger than yourself. It means love, laughter, hope, and seeing your kids’ dreams as your dreams; not necessarily passing the dreams of our ancestors on to future generations, but rather allowing future generations to rethink what is possible for their own future.
Our children are as unique and different as each one of my siblings and I were, but unlike me and my siblings, my kids have the opportunity to imagine their lives as their own creations, to be the architects of their own destinies, their own legacies, and to create their own identities. They can be real and not live a fairy tale.
They are free and unbridled; the family reins that were once held so tightly no longer hold them—or me—back. We still keep a lot of the traditions that were passed on to me. The kids—Billy Jr., Haley, Abbey, Gussie, Grace, and Maddie—come home on holidays, some weekends, and in the summer to enjoy our beautiful lake. And the youngest, Peter, still lives with us.
Christi and I have so many dreams and things we want to do and achieve in whatever time we have remaining in this life—outside of running a brewery and running a farm. Our ultimate hope is that our children grow up knowing they are loved—have always been loved—and that they grow into kind and contributing members of society. I know they aren’t perfect. Christi and I aren’t perfect parents either. We are all human. But we have always put them first and want them to realize that we will be there for them, no matter what. I also hope that, come what may in life, they treat each other with respect and dignity.
We are a tight family already, and I think that’s because of how open we’ve been and how much we’ve communicated with each other. We raised our kids and set them up so that history won’t repeat itself. Now, I know there’s no way to say that it can’t happen. There’s always a possibility that division and hurt can erupt within families. But my one continuous prayer is that no matter what happens, they at least try to see each other’s points of view. I don’t think there is anything that can’t be forgiven or salvaged, and as a believer in Jesus Christ, I believe all can be forgiven. It’s my hope that I am forgiven for all the ways I’ve caused others harm too.
In life we’re bound to encounter people who have different outlooks, different perspectives, different ways of interpreting experiences. Everyone has different ambitions, hopes, and dreams as well. In our family, we work hard to remember this. We all understand that we may not be the same or want the same things or believe the same things, but we can still be supportive of each other. I hope what I pass on to my kids is respect for another human being’s choices for their own life as long as that choice is positive, helps others, or improves society.
In my family right now, several children are pursuing different things. They aren’t too crazy about going into the brewing business. That’s not a dream of theirs. They have their own paths to walk in life—real estate, fashion, horse jumping, polo, and acting, to name a few. They also have extremely different personalities and lifestyles. It’s my job as a father to support and love them, not dictate what they should or shouldn’t do. And their siblings don’t have a say either. No one votes on what the other does. Rather, we are all there to support and encourage each other. They all know there isn’t one Clydesdale to hitch your coach to in life. There are a lot of different horses to ride. There are lots of different paths to try. And there are a lot of different ways for people to grow and flourish.
For a long time, I thought my great-grandfather, grandfather, and father’s legacy was brewing beer. But their true legacy, the one I will be passing on to my children, is, as trite as this sounds, to find your own path—make your own way. My great-grandfather left his homeland and his father’s company and started his own here in America. My grandfather wanted to go West, and for a time he did. Though he ended up running the brewery, he did things his way every step of the way. He bought Grant’s Farm and made it his sanctuary. He loved and adored his wife and family. My father did everything his own way—he carved new paths, over and over: building amusement parks, running a baseball team, and turning Budweiser into a global powerhouse. Each man had a dream for his life and was uncompromising in his pursuit of it. Similarly, I have my own path. And though among many dreams of mine is continuing the brewing legacy, my primary dream is to raise a family that is good to each other and that breaks the dysfunctional cycle that has endured for decades.
Another thing I inherited and hope to pass on to my children is the Busch resilience. Time after time, the Busch family was tested. We endured a lot of tragedy and setbacks, and every single time we rallied. We made it through hard times, heartbreaks, and disagreements before, and we have come out the other side wiser, stronger, and more determined than ever. I understand that everybody in my family is doing the best they can with what they’ve got and the tools they were given. Not everyone had the same advantages or support. I was so fortunate to have found a woman like Christi to be my wife. We have each other’s back. Not all my siblings have had such supportive spouses. I have also had my faith, which has sustained me through some of the darkest moments of my life. I have had the good fortune to read a lot of wonderful books that have helped me and guided me, and lastly, I have been able to grow up alongside my children. As most parents will tell you, children teach you more than you will ever teach them.
I also know I am constitutionally a positive, glass-half-full, everything-works-out-in-the-end, cockeyed optimist. I never shared in some of my siblings’ bitterness or disappointment. Unlike some of them, I never expected anything to be handed to me—even Grant’s Farm. I made the offer. It didn’t work out. That’s how things go. Instead of holding on to bitterness or hate, I just decided to let it all go and move on. Life doesn’t give you much of a choice but to do so. Life keeps moving whether you like it or not. And though things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, I wish them all the best. I know this is an abundant world, and there is enough for everyone. We’ve all benefited such a great deal from our lives as Busches, and I, for one, am incredibly grateful for it.
My ultimate goal in writing this book was to tell my story—as I remember it. I am aware that my childhood is completely unique. There are not many children who have elephants as pets; private railcars, jets, and yachts; have the run of a baseball stadium; or live on the grounds of an amusement park. My siblings and I share not only the Busch name but a childhood wholly unlike anyone else’s. It’s true, we didn’t always see eye to eye; over the years we have had our share of ups and downs, but in the end, I know that love remains. It always does.
I hope my children remember this one final note: I hope when they, like you, finish reading this book, they see that they have a choice to make every day. They can choose to continue a vicious cycle of dysfunction, or they can choose to stick together and put each other above all other things. I hope they remember that it’s more important to understand each other than it is to compete with each other. I hope they’ve learned from my mistakes and the mistakes of my siblings, and I hope all who are reading this remember: When things get tough, go out, grab a beer, and talk through it. Listen to each other. And do whatever you have to do to move forward.
To my children specifically: My hope for all of you is simple. I hope you stay close to me, to Mom, and to each other for the rest of your lives. Nothing else is worth it. Not for all the riches in the world.