Kentucky Moonshine

Introduction

THE MOONSHINER is the black sheep among distillers. He is probably America's oldest continuously operating professional criminal, if we except colonial smugglers and a variety of deported British lawbreakers.

In fact, moonshining was also America's first chemical industry, unless it was perhaps preceded by the manufacture of gun powder. Since rum provided a readily disposable cash commodity, the importance of moonshining in the colonial economy was tremendous. Then rye whiskey came into fashion, largely under the guidance of one George Washington, and rapidly took the place of rum. Rye prospered in Pennsylvania, corn in the river bottoms of Kentucky, and whiskey, both rye and corn, provided a solid and reliable cash product. So, as the price of molasses went up in post-Revolutionary days, whiskey inevitably became the universal strong drink of the colonies.

The smuggling, as well as the manufacture, of illicit whiskey goes far back into the colonial past. All colonies, and later most states, went through a period of turmoil trying to regulate the production and consumption of strong liquors. Various local governments have dealt with the problem in their areas with varying success, the federal government having made the most sizable legal and social mistake in the form of Prohibition.

The moonshiner as we know him was a natural outgrowth of the dynamics—or lack of dynamics—of frontier transportation. Originally he was the small farmer who grew corn but could not get it to market as corn. Today the moonshiner is a dual personality, with vestiges of the naive mountaineer gradually being supplanted by elements of the smart, well-organized racketeer, spawned by Prohibition, and in present days often sponsored (or opposed) by powerful political machines whose groping tentacles inevitably encircle Washington.

Anyone who makes illicit whiskey might technically be defined as a moonshiner; however, this book is concerned only with those professionals whose production goes directly into a lucrative illegal market. In some areas they are undercutting the legitimate market heavily, largely because of the high taxes on legal liquor. And they aren't losing any money, either. In the mid–1950s, a high tide period in the industry, in Bardstown, Kentucky, above-average moonshine whiskey brought $10.00 per gallon delivered; in Glasgow, Kentucky, the same quality brought $12.00 to $15.00 per gallon; along the Tennessee border, where at that time it was profitable to certain nationally-known figures to maintain dry territory, and big-time politics flavored everything that came through a still, the price went even higher. During those years prices for legal liquor were somewhat lower than they are today, although the tax rate was approximately the same. Today, moonshine prices fluctuate so widely and so inconsistently that it is difficult to see a pattern. Forces of local supply and demand are not stabilized.

While large-scale moonshining goes on in several areas within the United States and Canada, Kentucky looms large historically in the production of illicit whiskey in spite of the dramatic decline in production in recent times. Additional large-scale activities (also declining) flourished in the more isolated and hilly districts of Virginia, West Virginia, Ohio, Tennessee, Georgia, the Carolinas, Indiana, Arkansas, Missouri, and Texas.

Kentucky was in the past and is now central to the legitimate distilling industry in the United States; this is not accidental since the licit and illicit branches of the industry developed side by side. Neither branch of the industry has received much attention from those who have chronicled Kentucky's history, and a search through Kentucky histories reveals a paucity of reliable information about the significance of whiskey in the development of the commonwealth. This is particularly true of those histories written before 1925. Hambleton Tapp's A Sesqui-centennial History of Kentucky (1924) is a monumental example of the deletion and suppression of information about any kind of whiskey. Tapp gives no indication in contents or index that the distilling industry even exists. The index to the biographies in this 4-volume study does not list Elijah Craig, widely believed to be the first Kentucky distiller. If the mention of legal distilling was frowned upon by the early chroniclers as indelicate, the manufacture of moonshine whiskey was heavily taboo, with only one or two writers giving it any space whatever. And even these tend to be apologetic, predicting that with the advance of civilization, the mountaineer and his moonshine will pass away.

This attitude, for the most part, continues to the present time. Minor exceptions are books by Horace Kephart, James Watt Raines, and Harriette Arnow, all written in the twentieth century, and all of which discuss moonshining in isolated districts and on a small scale. Thomas D. Clark, Kentucky: Land of Contrast (N.Y.: Harper and Row, 1968), in briefly tracing the history of both the licit and the illicit branches of the liquor industry, notes the fame of Kentucky bourbon, various important distillers, Kentucky's local option laws, and the threat of law enforcement. And a history of moonshining nationwide, Jess Carr, The Second Oldest Profession: An Informal History of Moonshining in America (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1972), has recently appeared in which moonshining in Kentucky receives minimal discussion. It depends heavily on statistics from the 1RS to the exclusion of other more interesting aspects of the craft.

Very recently two excellent books on moonshining have appeared. The first, in 1970, The Saga of Coe Ridge: A Study in Oral History, by William Lynwood Montell (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1970), gives an authentic account of the moonshine culture drawn largely from the accounts of neighboring farmers and revenue agents who have raided Coe Ridge for the past thirty years. This book has a narrow focus, however, and the moonshiners presented are atypical of Kentucky moonshiners in general. The second book, Moonshine: Its History and Folklore, by Esther Kellner (Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1971), is a rich collection of reminiscences, anecdotes, and folklore about moonshining and moonshiners, and much of its material is drawn from Kentucky. These two books constitute the best treatment we have of the subculture of the moonshiner.

For those readers who are interested in more graphic presentations of matters, I suggest a trip to the Old Barton Museum of Whiskey History, which can be visited on regular tours from Bardstown, Kentucky. This tour is particularly valuable to those interested in distilling equipment and especially the equipment used in older days in Kentucky.

The taboo on illicit whiskey manifests itself in various ways and extends through all levels of Kentucky society. The mere mention of moonshine whiskey in either wet or dry territory tends to draw undue attention to the speaker. People who do not drink it prefer not to appear to be familiar with it—an attitude fostered by the strong temperance movements of the late nineteenth century. In areas where moonshine is made and consumed, mention of it is avoided for reasons of self-protection, and close to the still site even children are carefully schooled not to mention anything connected with illegal distillation. Among moonshiners themselves these taboos are intensified, and other taboos even more rigorous, and perhaps very ancient, enter the picture. From prehistoric times, the processes of fermentation and distillation have been regarded as mysterious—supernatural forces being called upon to protect all phases of production, especially the still and its contents. It is not uncommon even today to find moonshine stills protected by juju charms, ranging from a dead turtle or other reptile hung at the site to carefully-fashioned mannikins such as those shown in the insert following page 98. Jujus are sometimes buried at the still site or worn on the body, too.

Thus, the illicit branch of the distilling industry is caught between strong external and internal taboos, and this may in part account for the scarcity of reliable published information about it. In fact, moonshining has developed a kind of subculture of its own, widely distributed geographically and agglutinating about certain communities and especially certain families associated with illicit distilling for many generations. Often existing side by side with the legitimate agricultural society, this subculture has developed many cultural indices that differ from those of the dominant culture in several respects, including its mores, acquaintance with technology, code of behavior, attitudes toward the law and the dominant culture, and its specialized language, some of which goes back to eighteenth-century England, Scotland, and Ireland. For example, the term backins or backings is universally used by American moonshiners without knowledge of its origin in North-umbrian and Scottish dialects, where it is derived from the flax industry. Backle is a type of fiber which can be reworked, and lin (as in modern linseed oil) relates the term to flax. The word's application to distillate that can be reworked is most appropriate. The subculture, notably, has also developed very effective methods of self-protection, ranging from clever camouflage in the woods to the very skilled use of political connections. Physical violence toward outsiders has long been the earmark of the subculture, although for various reasons today violence has tended to give way to more subtle forms of pressure.

In writing this book, I have tried to present the facts objectively and not draw moral judgments relating to law violation, but rather to treat the story of moonshining as a bonafide element in the history and culture of Kentucky.

Although my approach will inevitably divest the moonshiner of some of the glamour and romance cast about him by such novelists as John Fox, Jr., and James Lane Allen, the purpose of this book is to provide a realistic look at the modern moonshiner and to give a reliable account of the institution of moonshining in the state of Kentucky.

1

LET'S MAKE MOONSHINE

Get ye a copper kettle,

Get ye a copper coil…

TRADITIONAL

IT'S EASY TO make moonshine. Anyone can do it. In spite of all the secrecy which has, for thousands of years, been woven about the craft of distilling, and despite the complexity that often characterizes the modern chemical processes in progressive distilleries, the basic procedures are very simple. Not only that, but the materials are so common that they are probably right at hand in your own cupboard. And the equipment is in your own kitchen. So why not make a batch? A small batch, that is. Say a fifth or two—which is quite enough under the law to technically qualify you as a moonshiner.

Where will you make it? That is the first problem confronting every distiller, legitimate or illegitimate. Probably you'll decide on the kitchen sink, and that's a good choice, for there you have running water and a drain down which to dispose of any by-products you don't reclaim. So you can select the sink as your base of operations.

Equipment? No problem. On the stove you'll probably have a pressure cooker; a five-gallon capacity cooker of the type used in canning is preferable. This pressure cooker will become your still. In fact, it will be very close to the copper pot still that continues in use among many of the small-time mountain moonshiners. Since the cooker is already on the stove, you have only to assemble a few household accessories to convert it into a still. We'll get those when they are needed—which will be in three or four days. You see, making whiskey on the other side of the law is a leisurely process. You can't rush nature—unless you have a lot of expensive equipment. If you're of the temperament to make moonshine, you don't value your time anyway. So, knowing that you can convert your pressure cooker into a still within a few moments later on, you bestir yourself to see what you can use for raw materials.

Of course any cereal grain will do to produce whiskey, but if you respect the traditions among moonshiners you will use corn. Some corn, that is. There it is in the cupboard—a five-pound bag of cornmeal, all ground and ready to use. Also, a five-pound bag of sugar. This is good, for all Kentucky moonshine today has some sugar in it; indeed, sugar has become so popular among the moonshine boys that it would be more accurate—though perhaps confusing—to say that all good sugar liquor has some corn in it. So strong is the competition in the industry, and so unscrupulous are some manufacturers, that the age-old standards of quality are violated right and left. Thus most of the pure corn or straight corn sold by bootleggers today has very little corn in it at all. In fact, it has just enough corn to flavor it—that is, a peck or less to the barrel of mash. A very few throw caution to the wind and go all out to maintain the old-time excellence. These careless fellows use half corn and half sugar. Why, with corn at $2.92 a bushel, cane sugar at $30.00 per 100 pounds, and still labor at