At Knucklehead Craft Brewing, a generational handoff is on tap

This post is one in a partnership between the Rochester Beacon and veteran reporter Will Cleveland, featuring articles published on his Substack site, Cleveland Prost.

Len Dummer swears he’s riding off into the sunset—even his phone has a countdown clock ticking toward his grand exit—but anyone who’s spent five minutes inside Knucklehead Craft Brewing knows that Dummer’s retirement will last about as long as a fresh keg on trivia night.

As the Webster brewery turns 11, Len and Kathy Dummer, who opened the brewery in late 2014 with George and Amy Cline, are officially handing the business to sons Jake and Josh. (The Dummers bought the Clines’ stake in 2018.) It sets up a next-generation takeover that’s equal parts heartfelt, hilarious, and so perfectly Knucklehead you can practically hear Len shouting from the parking lot:“Ask my sons!”

“When people ask me about live music or booking a private event, I’ve been saying, ‘Ask my sons.’ I make a mistake once in a while without consulting them and I apologize to them,” Len says. “But they need to make the decisions, not me. I am just here for support. I still do trivia until the end of the year and then I’m done with that.

“I’m 68, I’m old,” he continues with a mix of exasperation, exhaustion, and enthusiasm.

Len, ever the performer, always the center of attention, just sounds ready. He focused on the brewery once he retired. And now that Kathy has retired from her career in the Webster school district, Len is aiming to do three things: 1. travel; 2. drink bourbon; 3. spend time with his grandkids.

“This has been the plan since Day One, the plan all along,” Len says. “Nothing new from my end. I look down at the countdown on my phone and it’s awesome.”

Len then pulls out his phone and shows the clock ticking away the seconds until the end of this month.

“He makes sure the customers know, too,” Josh interjects.

Len claims he’ll be done coming in once he officially steps away. But his family knows otherwise.

“After a couple of months, you’ll be coming back in,” Josh says. “You love it here.”

Knucklehead opened in the old Seitz Grocery storefront in West Webster, a humble brick building at 426 Ridge Road that turns 100 next year and has long since earned its status as a town landmark. From the beginning, the brewery wasn’t fancy—and it still isn’t trying to be. What it was, and what it remains 11 years later, is a place built on a simple philosophy: make good beer, serve good food, and create a space where people actually want to linger.

That little taproom quickly became the neighborhood’s living room. Over time, Knucklehead expanded to fill the entire first floor (with three apartments still perched above it), added a charming beer garden outside, and doubled the size of its parking lot.

Now, as Knucklehead navigates this generational handoff, it also reflects the broader moment craft beer is in: a landscape that rewards breweries not just for what they pour, but for the kind of community they build—especially one that welcomes families and offers something for everyone.

“You’ve just got to be innovative,” Jake says. “You can sit there and keep trying to do what you were doing five years ago. But if you keep doing what you were doing five years ago, time passes you by. People want to see some stuff changing. Adapt.”

“You’ve got to change with the market and the times,” Josh adds. “I wouldn’t say times are rainbows right now. We’re surviving. We’re not thriving. We’re doing pretty well for ourselves with the climate we’re in. That’s all due to adapting to the climate we’re in. We’re not making West Coast IPAs that aren’t going to sell because I want to drive West Coast IPAs. We’re doing what people want. We’re listening.

“Our numbers are down,” he adds. “But we’re paying all of our bills and we’re paying ourselves. You’ve got to adapt with the times. Yes, this might be costing too much, so we’re doing it this way, instead. It’s just being able to change with what gets thrown at you.”

Growing up with Webster

What started as a small bar and brewhouse gradually expanded. The kitchen grew. The beer menu expanded well beyond the staples (Kathy’s Kreme Ale, Out-of-Seitz Scotch Ale, and the Tainted Haze IPA). The brewery added seasonal releases, lagers, and a lineup of hard and non-alcoholic seltzers (my 4-year-old son is seriously in love with the pineapple “spicy water,” as he calls it).

The Dummers eventually purchased the building from the original owner. A beer garden appeared outside for the warm months. Inside, the dining area grew. The place matured without losing the thing that made it work: the friendly, casual, small-town feel. Knucklehead became the kind of brewery where people go after kids’ soccer games, before date night, after work, or just because the garage fridge is empty and you don’t feel like standing at Wegmans in line behind a guy buying a single onion.

The success was steady and organic—no big hype machine, no “this is the year we’re taking over the world” declarations. The brewery has never even packaged a beer in 16-ounce cans. Just slow growth (the brewery still utilizes the original five-barrel brewing system it opened with), loyal customers, and a reputation for consistency. Knucklehead now employs 23 people.

“The community does look at us as a family business,” Len says. “And they feel like part of the family, the regulars especially.”

“And it’s also the team members we have,” Kathy adds. “We have two of them coming up on 10 years that they’ve been with us. Everyone who is here, nobody really quits unless they have some life-changing thing. They stay. We don’t have turnover. They are awesome.”

The new era begins now

Jake has long led the brewing operations, while Josh, a classically trained chef with experience in the Wegmans family of restaurants, oversees the kitchen.

The kitchen represents another huge area of growth for the brewery. As Jake jokes, the brewery is much more of a family restaurant than a brewery right now. The split between food and beer sales is nearly 50-50, Len says. Families, mug club members, and regulars often visit on the same night every week. (One regular even texted Kathy during our interview and said he wouldn’t be in this week. The regular told Kathy not to worry, he just had something else going on. That’s the level of familiarity the Dummers have gained with their customers.)

When it first opened, Knucklehead didn’t offer food. Josh did make some paninis, including a beloved crunch wrap. But a COVID-era kitchen expansion led to a commercial-grade kitchen and a constantly rotating menu that showcases Josh’s skills and creativity. In fact, Knucklehead completed all of its major renovations during the pandemic—a huge leap of faith at a time when the brewery was only open for carry-out.

“Had we not had the kitchen, we wouldn’t be where we are,” Jake says.

“And the level of food,” Kathy says. “It’s not frozen stuff that they’re buying and heating up.”

“If you’re only focused on beer, you’re probably in trouble,” Josh says. “Whether you’re small or not, mass distro across the state is nearly impossible. If you’re just small or just a taproom, it’s going to be hard to stay alive with beer as your sole income.”

“You guys are just much better at listening to your customer base than I ever was,” Len says.

Passing the torch (but keeping it in the family)

Now, 11 years after that first grand opening weekend, Knucklehead is entering a milestone moment: Len and Kathy are officially passing ownership onto Jake and Josh. It’s a generational handoff—one that feels less like a changing of the guard and more like a natural progression.

“Both of these two are in a good place right now,” Kathy says. “They’re in an excellent place in their own lives.”

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything else I can offer this business,” Len adds. “Everything I’ve wanted to accomplish, I’ve done. These guys do everything now.”

“You (Len) can’t even remember the last time you brewed,” Kathy concludes.

“I don’t know how to brew anymore,” Len jokes. “Lord knows, I don’t know how to do anything in the kitchen. I am serious, these guys have really taken it over. So it’s time for me to step away. I don’t want to be the face. I don’t want to be Knucklehead. I want to go back to being Len.”

Jake and Josh both snickered audibly as this statement was offered. They know how social their dad is. Len is a schmoozer in the best possible way. He’s able to connect with anyone. It’s part of what drew people into the brewery. Jake and Josh are definitely quieter, letting their work speak loudly.

“It’s not gonna change,” Jake says.

“He acts like he doesn’t like people talking to him, but he loves it,” Josh adds.

The sons have been doing the work for years. They’ve been at the helm in all the ways that matter: the beer, the food, the vibe, the day-to-day operations that keep a small brewery alive. Now, the paperwork simply matches the reality.

Expect small tweaks and changes around the periphery as Knucklehead moves into 2026. Josh and Jake says they will probably book more live music. Tuesday trivia will continue with a new host.

For the regulars, the transition means something comforting: Knucklehead isn’t going corporate, it isn’t chasing trends, and it isn’t getting swallowed up by some out-of-town money. It’s staying exactly what it has always been—a Webster family’s brewery.

Knucklehead’s 11th anniversary lands at the perfect moment. It’s a celebration of the place’s roots and a toast to what comes next. Few breweries make it this long without an identity crisis or a cash infusion. Knucklehead has done it by being itself.

The brewery will celebrate its anniversary on Saturday, Dec. 13. Brewery favorite Marty Roberts, along with some special guests, will provide the musical entertainment during the party. Roberts has performed during every brewery anniversary celebration outside of the pandemic.

Jake promises “a couple special IPAs and previous releases of our Russian imperial stout, some as old as nine or 10 years old.” And without giving away the surprise, Josh says the kitchen will pump out “some kind of fun sandwich special.”

Will Cleveland is a Rochester Beacon contributing writer. A former Democrat and Chronicle reporter, he writes about beer in the Finger Lakes region and Western New York on Substack.

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