Author name: Jack Sullivan

 

                               

Foreword:  On May 9, 2022, this website featured a post that celebrated the successful whiskey making partnership of brothers-in-law William F. Bond and Christopher C. Lillard in Anderson County, Kentucky.  At that time, it was evident that some Internet sources about the Bond family as distillers contained misinformation.  Subsequently a descendant, who wishes to remain anonymous, has been in touch with me about those errors.  The informant, whom I shall call “BD” for Bond Descendant, also has added interesting new information about this prominent distilling clan.  As a result I am devoting this post to BD’s commentary and suggest it be read along with the original article.

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BD at the outset straightens out Bond family early relationships, beginning with William, who may or may not have operated a still, through the life of  his son, John, a known distiller:

Original pioneer William Bond was the Revolutionary War veteran so often referred to who travelled to Kentucky (circa 1785) from Hanover County, Virginia to claim his land grant awarded for his war service on Bailey’s Run in what is now Anderson County (Lawrenceburg), Kentucky.  After his first wife, Sarah Ballou, died in Virginia, he later married Sarah Cranson Bond of neighboring Woodford County, KY in December of 1790. 

William and Sarah Bond’s son, John, was operating his first distillery near Bailey’s Run by 1810.  This distillery was sold by John’s sons around 1850 to Jeff Mountjoy. (John had died in 1842. He was only 51 years old). This distillery was sold again and became the Waterfill and Frazier Distillery, which was eventually sold to the Dowlings, who moved it to Juarez, Mexico during Prohibition. 

John Bond’s first wife was Mary “Polly” Johnson.  John married his second wife Sarah (Sallie) Utterback after Mary died at only 29-30 years of age in 1825.  There were four children born to that first marriage of John and Polly Bond:  David, who was born in 1814; Melinda in 1816; John Wilkerson “Wix” in 1820 (my great-great grandfather); and Medley Shelton in 1822.  

After John’s second marriage to Sarah (Sallie) Utterback that took place in September of 1825, William Franklin Bond (namesake of his pioneer grandfather) was born in 1826.  Ben Jordan followed in 1829; then Lewis in 1833. Four more daughters completed the Bond family:  Eliza Jane in 1835; Frances in 1837;  Susan Margaret in 1840, and Sarah Elizabeth in 1842. 

John Bond’s second distillery was operating in the vicinity of Bailey’s Run by 1820.  In 1836 John moved it close to his home (called Forest Hill) on the banks of Cedar Brook. 

BD now takes the story to a third generation of Bonds as they continued the family distilling tradition:

John Bond died intestate in October of 1842. Court appointed overseers divided the estate among John’s 11 children, with the two eldest males, David and John Wilkerson, inheriting the house, surrounding acreage and the still.  The remaining 9 children received parcels of land. David and John W. made improvements to both the still and the house and eventually clad the existing log structure in white clapboard and added the two story Greek Revival portico that still to this day adorns the front of the home.  They also added at least one cabin to the grounds; most likely to house the enslaved. 

John W. Bond sold his interest in Forest Hill (house, land and still) to brother David on May 30th, 1845 for $335.  John “Wix” and his wife, Margaret Penney Bond, then headed to what is  now known as the Bond’s Mill/Fox Creek Road area and built a two story clapboard home on their newly purchased farm. 

BD records the ascendancy of William F. Bond as the ultimate successor of his father to the Bond distillery:

David continued making improvements to the Bond Forest Hill property and then in February of 1852, David sold the still, house and grounds to his young half brother, William F. Bond, for $1,650.  William F. would have been 25 years old at that time and had married Susan (not Sarah) Mary Hanks, daughter of Turner and Nancy Holman Hanks.  (Incidentally, William F.’s older half brother, Medley Shelton Bond, married Mary Jane Hanks, the sister of William F’s wife, Susan). So sisters married brothers.

William F. later added the east wing to the existing structure of the house.  This addition completed the home to the structure that exists today (a picture of this home is posted in your blog).  After David and his wife, Lucy, sold Forest Hill to William F, they also headed to the area that is now known as Bonds Mill Road. David purchased and operated the mill located at Salt River, and also built a large brick home up on the hill just past the west bank of the river.  David and his family ran the mill for several generations—thus the area became known as Bond’s Mill Road. 

There are numerous indications that David and John Wilkerson were still involved in the operation of the Bond distillery even after David sold to his younger brother. Family documents exist that show contracts for future delivery of Bond brand bourbon written by John Wilkerson Bond (“Wix”) in 1856, and grain for the local distilleries was also ground at David’s mill. 

BD introduces William’s brother-in-law, Christopher C. Lillard, who has joined the Bond distilling operation as a full partner:

William F. Bond brought his brother in law, C. C. Lillard, into the distillery as partner in 1869.  This was the birth of the Bond & Lillard brand.  Incidentally (or not), 1869 is also the year that David Bond died.  1869 was a horrific year for the extended Bond family. Mother/step mother Sallie Utterback Bond, brothers Ben Jordan and David Bond, John Wix’s daughter, Malinda Bond Hackley, and her infant daughter, all died within just months of each other.  

Contrary to popular but misguided assumptions, the Bond and Lillard Distillery has NEVER been located on Bonds Mill Road.  There have been other Bond family distilleries located there, such as the M.S. Bond Distillery that is now Four Roses, as well as the post Prohibition Bonds Mill Distillery, later known as the Bond & Johnson Distillery (owned by Robert E. Johnson—great grandson of John Bond) and his father Jesse M. Johnson, but the Bond and Lillard Distillery was never located there.  From the time it was moved from Baileys Run in 1836 until local operations ceased, the Bond and Lillard Distillery was always located at the end of Bond Lillard Road, just past the Forest Hill estate (now privately owned property). 

BD concludes by clarifying the background of an ad for the Nancy Hanks whiskey brand that appeared in my original article, the image repeated below: 

Now, in reference to the John Bond & Co. Distillery advertisement you posted in reference to the Nancy Hanks brand—yes, this is the same extended Hanks family that produced the mother of Abraham Lincoln. Lots of families in Lawrenceburg have blood connections to Abraham Lincoln, including Yours Truly through Lincoln’s Abbott/White great grandparents.  The Hanks and Sparrow surnames are numerous and common in Lawrenceburg, both dating back to pioneer days.  In this case, however, I believe (if I’m not mistaken and I just cannot find my records where I came across this), I do believe that this particular distillery with the Bond name but based in Lexington was born from a descendant of William F.’s half brother, Medley Shelton Bond.  I just can’t remember which one it was.  

This bourbon was most likely a triple play on the Nancy Hanks name. Nancy Hanks, the mother of Abraham Lincoln, had a champion harness trotter horse named after her as pictured on the label.  Nancy Hanks was also the name of a Bond maternal grandmother (Nancy Holman Hanks, to be specific). 

Note:  My gratitude goes to the Bond Descendant who has added so much rich detail to the Bond and Lilliard story and helped straighten out details of the Bond family that have too often been garbled on the Internet.

Foreword:  Given the leadership of Protestant clergy in the movement to halt the making and sales of alcoholic beverages in the United State, it may come as a surprise that a few preachers were themselves distillers of whiskey.  Following are vignettes of three such men, including one whose name today appears on a national selling brand.

Corn liquor distilled in central Virginia about 1620 has been cited as the first whiskey ever made in North America, sometimes hailed as “a predecessor to modern-day bourbon.”  The distiller was George Thorpe (1576-1622), who came to the New World from England with the objective of converting the indigenous population to Christianity.  It cost him his life.

Trained in British law and, by some accounts, an ordained priest of the Anglican Church, Thorpe arrived in The New World in March 1620. His contacts and reputation earned him immediate recognition as a leader at the Berkeley Hundred, a Virginia settlement on the James River.  The newly arrived Englishman put his efforts toward making Berkeley function agriculturally.  The colonists having been introduced to corn by the Indians, he looked to make the crop potable.  Earlier settlers providently had brought a copper still.  Thorpe set about to turn corn into alcohol.  In December 1620 he wrote a friend:  “Wee have found a waie to make soe good drink of Indian corn I have divers times refused to drink good stronge English beare and chose to drinke that.”   Those spirits would have been clear in color and more akin to “moonshine” or “white lightening”  than contemporary whiskey. 

Thorpe also was charged with converting the Indians to Christianity. He seemed to score an early success when a chief of the Powhatan tribe named Opechancanough (meaning “Soul of White”) agreed to meet with him.  The Indian seemed welcoming and open to converting to Christianity. Far from conversion, however, Opechancanough was the leading tribal voice for expelling white men from Native American territory. On the night of March 22, 1622, the Indians struck in a coordinated attack against English settlements along the James.  An estimated 347 men, women and children were slaughtered.   Among them was George Thorpe, apparently the object of particular fury, his mutilated body parts found strewn widely over the bloody ground.

                                                              

Anointing Thorpe as America’s first distiller seems reasonable, since he apparently was the first to write about it.  Whether his product is to be considered the forerunner of modern day whiskey requires examination.  Author Patrick Evans-Hylton makes the case that Thorpe’s “corn beer” was a predecessor of bourbon.  He cites an 1634 inventory of Thorpe’s estate in which a copper still with three small barrels of liquor were found, opened and drunk.  At that point the contents had aged at least 12 years and likely had achieved some color from the wood.  No longer just “moonshine,” the color of Thorpe’s spirits might have resembled bourbon even if the taste almost certainly did not.

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Elijah Craig (1738-1808) was born in Orange County, Virginia.  From his boyhood he displayed unusual intellectual gifts, with a strong streak of religiosity.  Virginia was state where all residents were required by law to tithe to the Anglican Church and attend Anglican worship at least once a month.  The official faith was deemed by elite Virginians as essential element of the Commonwealth’s social structure.  Other theological ideas were in the air, however, with Baptists considered by many to be particularly dangerous.

Nevertheless,  Craig was drawn to Baptist beliefs and in the mid-1860s began to hold meetings in his tobacco barn.  In 1866, along with other family members, he was formally baptized.  Full of fervor, he began to preach even though still a layman, resulting in his being jailed in Fredericksburg for several weeks for preaching without a license.  Ordained in 1771 Craig became the pastor of a small Virginia church.  Unwilling to submit to obtaining a license, he was jailed several more times.  Following the American Revolution,  Craig pulled up stakes in Orange County and led his congregation west to the newly formed “Kentucky County” in western Virginia.   There he purchased 1,000 acres of land where he planned and laid out a town.

About 1789, Craig took his place in whiskey history by building a distillery, making use of the cold stream of pure water coming from a local spring, giving rise to a legend that the preacher “invented” bourbon.  At the time, however, dozens of small farmer-distillers west of the Alleghenies were making whiskey from corn that some called “bourbon” to distinguish it from the rye whiskies coming from Pennsylvania and Maryland.  

Nonetheless, the legend prevailed, repeated over and over.  Whiskey guru Michael Veach has a plausible suggestion of how the Elijah Craig story got started: “He was an early Kentucky preacher and he was a distiller, and that is why in the 1870s when the distilling industry was fighting the temperance movement, they decided to proclaim him the father of bourbon. They thought, well, let’s make a Baptist preacher the father of bourbon, and let the temperance people deal with that.”  

Heaven Hill Distilleries in Bardstown, Kentucky, is happy to perpetuate the bourbon legend.  Elijah Craig bourbon whiskey is made in both 12-year-old “Small Batch” and 18-year-old “Single Barrel” formats. The latter is touted by the distillery as “The oldest Single Barrel Bourbon in the world at 18 years ….” It is  said to be aged in hand selected oak barrels that lose nearly 2⁄3 of their contents through evaporation, known as the “Angel’s share.”  Needless to say, Preacher Craig’s whiskey is pricey.

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A Civil War soldier, farmer, store keeper, and lay preacher of the conservative Union Lutheran Church in Lois, Tennessee, Daniel Houston Call (1836-1904)  might have fallen into the obscurity that history accords most of us, except for one decision.  Faced with the question of hiring and harboring a 16-year-old orphan boy of uncommonly small stature, Dan Call said yes and the rest is history.  The boy was Jack Daniels.

To feed and clothe his large family Call could rely in part on profits from a distillery he had built behind his general store before riding off to fight for the Confederacy.  The still apparently had been left idle during the Civil War but the machinery was still intact.  The facility was conveniently located on Louse (aka “Stillwater”) Creek, an odd name for a pristine stream that gushed from springs in a nearby glade.  The water maintained an ideal temperature and flowed in a stream a few yards from the Call homestead. With the abundance of corn grown on the family farm and some expertise at distilling, the prospects for a “cash cow” were evident.

A problem stemmed from diffidence on the part of Call.  He had become a lay preacher in a rural Lutheran Church not far from his home, a rustic house of worship. Lutherans were known to be ambivalent about alcohol. This same uncertainty seems to have infected Call.  Although his distillery was making whiskey and he was selling it, he forbade drinking on his farm or in his general store.  As Lutheran churches increasingly went “dry,” Call decided that soon he would have to give up making whiskey or lose his ministry.

While Call had been away at war, his wife had hired an orphan boy named Jack Daniels to help her with the farm and general store.  Call let Jack stay on.  Although raised a Baptist, Daniels had no compunctions about alcohol.  He was drawn to the distillery.  In his biography of Daniels, Author Peter Krass observes:  “As young Jack mulled over the contraption, he quickly grasped that whiskey was a means to escaping poverty.  He determined to learn the noble art of distilling.”   Faced with vigorous importuning from young Daniels, Call instructed his African-American former slave and master distiller, “Uncle” Nearis Green, to teach the boy all he knew about making whiskey.  And the rest is history.

Notes:  Longer pieces on each of the preacher “whiskey men” may be found elsewhere on this website:  George Thorpe, October 28, 2021;  Elijah Craig, November 30, 2021; and Dan Call, Novmber 14, 2021.

When Franz “Frank” Rhomberg arrived in the United States in 1889, he headed directly to Dubuque, Iowa, where other members of the Rhomberg clan of Dornbirn, Austria, had settled years earlier.   Among them was a Rhomberg whose reputation had been tarnished 13 years earlier in a headline-making scandal over the distiller’s cheating on taxes from making whiskey.  Undeterred by this family disgrace, Frank, shown here, and other Rhombergs earned straight reputations in the liquor trade and were recognized as eminent citizens of Dubuque.

What initially drew the Rhombergs to Dubuque goes unexplained.  It may have been the city’s heavily German Catholic character.   An internet site on the diaspora of Dornbirn residents lists three towns,  two in Germany and “Dubuque” with an asterisk and “U.S.”  Among the first Rhombergs to settle in Dubuque was Joseph, who arrived in 1854.   Shown here, this immigrant prospered right from the beginning.  Within a decade he had built and operated a distillery that boasted sixteen fermenting tubs, each with a capacity of 300 barrels.  When working at full capacity, Joseph’s distillery could mash 1,000 bushels of grain a day.

Unfortunately, Joseph apparently had a propensity to cheat.  In 1876 the U.S. Government sued the J.A. Rhomberg Company for $755,000, claiming that Joseph’s enterprise had distilled 9,000 to 10,000 barrels of whiskey upon which it had paid no revenue.  The Rhomberg distillery was seized.  The story made headline news all over Iowa and well beyond.  Claiming innocence Joseph fought the charges vigorously in the courts.  The United State Circuit Court in Des Moines, however, ultimately found him guilty and fined him $103,000 (equivalent to $2.8 million today). The Commissioner of Internal Revenue, Green B. Raum, told reporters:  “There is no doubt as to the justice of the government’s contentions.”  Joseph subsequently turned the distillery into a flour mill.

Still rich from investments in the railway industry and real estate in Iowa and Texas, Joseph sought to redeem his reputation and the Rhomberg name by gifts to the community.  He designated a 95 acre parcel of land for a public park that eventually would bear his name.  On a street leading to the park, Joseph planted and cared for a line of towering elm trees.  When drought threatened, he is said to personally have watered the trees from a specially constructed cart pulled by his horse and buggy.  Joseph also announced plans to use several hundred acres he owned four miles north of Dubuque as a vacation resort for the working classes to be called “Lakeview.”  Many in the city were willing to believe Joseph innocent.

Meanwhile a second family member, was forging his own way in Dubuque’s liquor 

trade.  He was Libertat A. Rhomberg who had established the wholesale wine and liquor firm of L.A. Rhomberg & Bro. in 1864.  This company about 1880 became Jaeger and Rhomberg when Libertat joined with his brother-in-law Adam Jaeger in a wholesale house, shown here, located at 453-465 Main Street.  [See post on Jaeger July 6, 2019.]

In 1889 Liberat left this partnership and opened his own wholesale liquor business at 531 Main.  Two years later his son, L.A. Rhomberg Jr., known as “Ollie,” joined the company.  It subsequently was renamed L.A. Rhomberg and Son.  These Rhombergs featured a variety of whiskey brands, including  “Rhomberg’s Private Stock,”  “Beaver Run,”  ”L.A. Rhomberg’s Sour Mash,” “Silver Spring,” “Rhomberg Club,” and “The Celebrated Pride,” The senior Rhomberg retired about 1900 and Ollie, shown here, kept the liquor house operating until 1906.

Meanwhile Frank Rhomberg had moved temporarily to St. Paul, Minnesota, where he worked two years in a furniture store owned by a relative.  About 1891, he moved back to Dubuque and like other Rhombergs was drawn to the liquor trade, working for his uncle, Libertat, as a traveling salesman.  After nine years at that occupation, when apparently it became clear to Frank that Ollie, not he, would be the inheritor of L.A. Rhomberg Company, he determined to strike out on his own.

About 1900 Frank formed a partnership with his younger sibling Alphonse J. called the Rhomberg Brothers Company, a wholesale liquor house.  They were not distillers but “rectifiers” who blended whiskey from manufacturers in the Midwest and beyond.  Dubuque’s position as a railroad center made it possible for the brothers to access stocks even from a distance.  They featured a number of proprietary brands, including “Key City Club” a reference to Dubuque as a key gateway to the pioneer West.  As shown here, the brand was sold as both sour mash bourbon and straight whiskey.

Although at the repeal of National Prohibition the U.S. Congress mandated that fancy “back of the bar” bottles were no longer legal alcohol containers, the result of their pre-Prohibition rampant misuse, whiskey wholesalers of the Rhomberg’s era were almost obliged to offer them as give-away items to customers.   Frank and Alphonse were no exceptions.  Shown here are two of their offerings advertising Key City Club Whiskey.  Perhaps the most unusual item gifted by the 

Rhombergs was a cigar case advertising “Rhomberg Pride” whiskey.

As Frank was maintaining the Rhomberg liquor dynasty in Dubuque, he was also having a personal life.  At age 25, he married a local woman, Mary H, Altman, 23.  They would have two children before Mary’s untimely death at 38 in 1907.  Three years later Frank remarried.  His bride was Minnie Bertha Kruse.  The couple would have an additional three children. Frank housed his family in a prominent Queen Anne architectural home at 2500 Broadway.

When Iowa in 1916 passed laws banning all alcohol sales, Frank was quick to pivot to other enterprises.  He founded and became president and CEO of the Dubuque Tanning and Robe Company, an organization that later became the Rhomberg Fur Company, an enterprise that recently celebrated 100 years in business.  Frank died in 1919 and was buried in Dubuque’s Catholic Mt. Calvary Cemetery where many of the Rhomberg clan are interred.

Beginning with Joseph in 1864 and ending with statewide prohibition, the Rhombergs from Dornbirn had been involved in making and selling whiskey in Dubuque for more than half a century.  In their efforts they successfully unlocked the doors to wealth and recognition in the “Key City.”  Today Rhomberg Street in Dubuque keeps alive the memory of this distilling dynasty.

Notes:  Although this post relied on a number of sources, an essential resource was the Encyclopedia Dubuque that contained biographical material on each of the Rhomberg whiskey men.  This excellent online research tool is affiliated with the Local History Network of the State Historical Society of Iowa, and the Iowa Museum Association.   To quote a CNN authority:  “Encyclopedia Dubuque is the online authority for all things Dubuque, written by the people who know the city best.” 

The May 1900 issue of Printers Ink, the “bible” of American advertising, published a lengthy article on the unorthodox but highly effective methods used byGeorge C. Bloss to sell housing lots in what hitherto had been farmland in northern Kentucky.  The publication hailed the pitchman’s “scheming and business ability.” An acknowledged driving force behind the founding of two new communities, Bloss subsequently applied his talent to selling “Eastern Ryes and Kentucky Bourbons.”  The results turned out significantly different.  

Born in Cincinnati in May 1855, George was the only child of Elizabeth and George Bloss, his father a newspaper editor transplanted from Vermont to Ohio.  Of George’s early life, education and occupations, the records are scant.  We can assume that eventually he was involved in real estate.  Bloss hove into public attention in a major way in 1888 when at age 33 he was named general manager of a syndicate controlling a large swath of farmland in Kentucky about six miles south of the Ohio River.  A housing development had been made possible by the construction of the Cincinnati Southern Railroad near the site, allowing easy transit to and from the Queen City.

Credited for “new ideas” of how to sell housing lots, Bloss capitalized on the laws that shut saloons on Sunday in Ohio but not in Kentucky.  He ran Sunday excursions to the site on trains hired for $120.  A round trip cost passengers only a dime.   At the pitchman’s behest hawkers roamed the cars selling beer.  Sales were brisk and helped defray the cost of the trains. Once landed at the tract other alcohol vendors greeted visitors. 

The excursions became highly popular among citizens of Northern Ohio as hundreds each weekend trekked to the land syndicate’s holdings.  Frequently as many as 20 carloads of people would arrive of a Sunday at the projected new suburbs.  Bloss saturated the Cincinnati Post with quarter and half page ads, including one shown here.  He emphasized the scenic and heath benefits of the location and the low cost of lots:  “50 cents down and 50 cents a week.”  

The development proved a huge success.  Shown below, a small business section sprang up as lots sold quickly.  In the end two adjacent towns were created, called Erlanger and Elsmere.  Both have been designated home rule cities and are continuing to grow.  Erlanger now has a population of just under 20,000 and Elsmere, 8,500.  Both are suburban municipalities of well-kept bungalows.  

Bloss was credited with making the syndicate the equivalent of more than $2 million above the purchase price of the farmland.  He subsequently was elected one of the first town trustees of Erlanger.   With Bloss’s star having risen high over the Cincinnati landscape, little wonder that when a syndicate formed to create a new liquor house in a city already chock full of distillers, wholesale liquor dealers, and whiskey brokers, the money men sought out Bloss as their chief operating officer.  With Erlinger-Elsmere developing briskly, the pitchman agreed.

In April 1903, according to State of Ohio records, the Consolidated Hopewell Company filed its incorporation papers in Columbus.  George G. Bloss was listed as “manager.”  Located at 30 Main Street in Cincinnati, the company billed itself as a distiller.  No evidence exists, however, that Consolidated Hopewell actually was producing liquor.  More likely it was acting as a “rectifier,” blending whiskeys obtained elsewhere, bottling it and selling it by mail order.  Company ads emphasized its proximity to Cincinnati’s recently opened East Side railroad depot, shown below.

In his efforts to replicate his success with the Erlinger-Elsmere Land Syndicate, Bloss found himself in a very different environment.  Instead of a large vacant “playing field” he found himself in a landscape filled with high-flying, nationally known competitors.  Only one whiskey is known under the Hopewell label, “Old Hunter Belle Rye.”  Bloss advertised his products, including wines, in newspapers and through trade cards.  Dogs and children seemed to be his favorite subject matter.

Since virtually all his competition was issuing advertising shot glasses to the saloons, restaurants and hotels carrying their alcohol, Bloss obliged with a fancy molded glass shot with no advertising on the surface.  A glance from the top, however reveals ”Consolidated Hopewell Co.” in the base.

The problems faced by Bloss’s liquor enterprise came to light in a New York circuit court case fled by the Lanahan Company of Baltimore [see post of Oct. 14, 2011].  This distiller of “Hunter Rye” sued a liquor dealer named Kissel from Brooklyn for trademark infringement for selling a brand called “White Label Hunter Whiskey.”  In the course of making his decision, District Judge Thomas researched other whiskeys then on the market that had “Hunter” in their name and found four others, including Bloss’s “Old Hunter Belle Rye.”  In making his decision, the judge noted:  “If a person inquired for “Hunter Whiskey,” he would not have received “Louis Hunter 1870 Pure Rye,” “Hunter’s Own,” “Hunter’s Game,” or “Old Hunter Belle Rye.”  He then ruled for the defendant, Kissel.  

In his opinion the judge highlighted Bloss’s problem in marketing his whiskey:  “There is evidence…that this whiskey has some sale in bottles wearing a dark label with a white medallion therein, showing a huntress on horseback, the label bearing the words ‘Old Hunter Belle Rye, 17 Years, etc.’  It is alleged  that it is bottled and sold by the  ‘Consolidated Hopewell Co.’ of Cincinnati; such company is of very recent formation and apparently is unknown to the trade.  There is no evidence that the complainants had knowledge of this brand until the evidence herein was taken.”

Judge Thomas was asserting what Bloss already must have known.  Fully two years after incorporating Consolidated Hopewell, his “Old Hunter Belle Rye” was still “apparently…unknown to the trade.”  His ads, the attractive trade cards, the fancy shot glasses, and the elaborate labels all apparently had missed their mark.  Consolidated Hopewell Co. was sliding into insolvency.  The end came about 1908 when the firm was declared bankrupt.  Although Bloss went to court to ask that the receiver in bankruptcy be directed to continue in business, by the following year according to Ohio records, Consolidated Hopewell was history.

Likely feeling the pain of the liquor house failure, Bloss retreated to his residence on Graves Street in Erlanger, above, to enjoy home life with his wife, Dorothea, and teenaged daughter, Bertha, and to look after his real estate interests.  He continued in high repute in the two towns he had fostered.  In 1915 the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune  reported Bloss successfully had negotiated the gift of an attractive woodland tract near Erlanger as public parkland and a “gathering place for all worthy organizations and nature lovers.”  He then was chosen by authorities to act as the initial park manager.  After many years continuing to be active in the towns he had been instrumental in creating,  Bloss died in 1950 while vacationing in Palm Beach, Florida.  He was 95 years old.

Note:  This article was the product of numerous internet sources, particularly the May 1900 Printer’s Ink article.

 

 

 

While living summers in Elmira, New York, Mark Twain (aka Samuel Clemens), already a world famous author, frequently found occasion to visit a local saloon run by an immigrant German named August Klapproth, and his son, Charles.  Years later the National Distillers Product Co.,, the source of “Old Crow” bourbon, as part of a series of “history re-imagined” magazine ads featured Twain at Klapproth’s.  Factual accuracy, however, left at the saloon back door.

In his 1872 autobiographical book, “Roughing It,” Mark Twain had made plain his positive view of saloonkeepers, writing:  “The cheapest and easiest way to become an influential man and be looked up to by the community at large was to stand behind a bar, rear a cluster-diamond pin and sell whiskey.  I am not sure but that the saloon-keeper held a shade higher rank than any other member of society.  His opinion had weight.  It was his privilege to say how elections would go.  No great movement could succeed without the countenance and direction of the saloon-keepers.  It was a high favor when the saloon when the chief saloon-keeper consented to serve in the legislature or the board of alderman.”

The Klapproths failed miserably when measured against Twain’s description.  They did not flash diamonds or pontificate about current politics or serve in political office.   From the little to be gleaned from the historical record, they were stolid German publicans content with running a decent tavern.  August Klapproth had been born in Darmstadt, Germany, and immigrated to America as a youth.  His son Charles, born in America, never married and lived much of his life with his widowed mother and an unmarried sister.  Fame came when Twain chose their saloon as his favorite Elmira watering hole.

From his summer home at Quarry Farm, shown above, Twain of an evening would stroll into downtown Lake Street, one of Elmira’s main commercial avenues and stop in at Klapproths.  A legend, perpetuated by the “Old Crow” “ad-meisters,” was that Twain kept 25 kegs of his favorite whiskey in storage at the tavern for his personal use and for treating friends.  An early advertisement, below, depicted Twain at Klaproth’s (misspelled) inquiring of the bartender: “Lou, which barrel are we using now?”

Another Old Crow ad featured the author at the saloon regaling a group of amused companions.  It is entitled:  “Mark Twain holds forth at Klaproth’s Tavern.”  Note that Old Crow’s adverting geniuses still do not have the family’s name spelled right.  This panorama occasioned a parody by “Mad Magazine.” The spoof depicts Carrie Nation, famous for attacking saloons with a hatchet, joining Twain’s party.   The “Mad” text reads:  “Yes, in the past, a few women like Carrie Nation disapproved of Old Crow.  But today more and more women are singing its praise.  Of course, they still may hack up the place, but only because they get loaded on this famous Kentucky bourbon.” 

It was not until the early 1980s that Old Crow’s representations of Twain finally approached reality.  The ad shown below not only spells “Klapproth” correctly but also recreates the tavern interior as it actually looked, including the wood paneling, the fireplace and the metal bas relief sculpture above it.  This ad has Twain telling his rapt audience:  “Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightening that does the work.”   The ad continues:  When Mark Twain held forth at Klapproth’s cafe, cigar in one hand, a glass of Old Crow in the other, one expected this kind of wit-filled conversation.

Was Mark Twain really a fan of Old Crow?  The  author was not merely a man of words about whiskey,  but of deeds as well.  While not given to over-indulging,  his fondness for bourbon was well known.  During his brief career as a journalist in Washington about 1868,  Twain agreed to share expenses with a roommate with a similar taste for whiskey.   Their total joint income per week was $24.   In his autobiography he recounts:  “Twenty four dollars a week would really have been riches to us if hadn’t had to support that jug;  because of the jug we were always sailing pretty close to the wind….”

When a friend sent him a case of whiskey, Twain’s thank-you note ran this way:   “The whiskey arrived in due course….Last week one bottle of it was extracted from the wood and inserted in me, on the installment plan, with this result: that I believe it to be the best, smoothest whiskey now on the planet.”  Twain unfortunately failed to mention the brand name. 

Later, while in England on a lecture tour, Twain remarked to companions that despite enjoying their company he badly missed the taste of Kentucky bourbon.  To accommodate him, friends imported six cases and even switched from scotch to help him drink it.   When he left England two cases remained. “I will be back very soon,” said he.  “Save them for me.”  Though Twain never returned, the bourbon was left untouched until World War Two when the supply was destroyed during a German bombing raid on London.

Twain’s visits to Klapproth’s can be roughly dated from 1871 when his family first adopted Elmira as their summer home and for the ensuing twenty years.  August Klapproth died in 1875 and was immediately succeeded by his son Charles, who is reputed to have become a close friend of the author.  Charles apparently continued to run the drinking establishment at 162 Lake Street until closed by prohibitionary forces.  He died in 1922.   The Klapproths are buried in adjacent graves in Elmira’s Woodlawn Cemetery, a plot that features a tall monument.  Twain, who died in 1910, also is buried in Woodlawn.

The story does not end there.  When the saloon was being torn down, the paneled wall, fireplace and decorative metal casting were saved and now are the centerpiece of the Mark Twain Archive at the Gannett-Tripp Library of Elmira College.  Shown below, note the similarity to the Old Crow ad above. Perpetuating the story is an Elmira stage production in which local actors representing Twain relatives and friends present monologues.  Among those speaking is “Charles Klapproth.”  

 

No, the doctor replies, “If you have been drinking,  you are supposed to see PINK elephants.  A WHITE elephant is a thing that is useless or troublesome.” “But Doc,” I protest, “saloons named ‘White Elephant’ are all over the pre-Prohibition landscape.  Why?”

Apparently no one really knows.  For example, in the late 1800s White Elephant saloons proliferated in Texas.  They could be found in Austin, San Antonio, Denison, Mobeetie, Panhandle, Fredericksburg, El Paso, and Lampasas — with the most infamous one in Fort Worth, represented here by its logo. 

The history of the White Elephant Saloon in Ft. Worth spans from 1884 to about 1914. It was located at two different spots on Main Street during that time, first at 308-310 Main Street and later at 606-608 Main.  After a series of owners, circa 1886 it fell into the hands of Bill Ward, a man who knew the saloon could prosper by expanding into gambling and hiring as his concessionaire a gunslinger named Luke Short.  One night Short was confronted by “Longhaired Jim” Courtright.  They dueled it out in front of the White Elephant where Short got five shots off before Courtright could fire and killed him.  Short was put in jail overnight, then released and never brought to trial.

While the White Elephant Saloon of San Antonio has no dramatic shoot on premises, it has been described as a “rough and rowdy” premier drinking establishment in town.  It was located on San Antonio’s main plaza, close to city hall and the stockyards.  Popular at night, the saloon was adjacent to the north side of the plaza where “scuffles, skirmishes and shootings were commonplace.” Only several years after it opened, this White Elephant was forced to close by a  crackdown on gambling in San Antonio.  The local newspaper commented: “When the boys come to San Antone, they can not milk the elephant any more.”

The White Elephant in Bryan, Texas, has not been as prominent as the other two Texas saloons.  Represented here by a jug that indicates it sold whiskey — “pure liquor” — at retail as well as over the bar.  Part of a land grant by the Spanish to Stephen A. Austin and named for his nephew, Bryan was the seat of Brazos County in west central Texas.   Its history seems less identified with violence and thus not as elaborately recorded.

As noted here on an ad, the White Elephant Saloon of Dennison regarded itself as “The largest and most elegant resort in North Texas.”  Founded in 1884 this “watering hole” was in business under a series of owners.  The saloon, billiards and a restaurant were on the first floor of the building on Dennison’s West Main Street.  Gambling and sleeping rooms were on the second floor.  In 1884 the establishment harbored a man named Jim McIntire, wanted for murdering two French squatters on ranch land in New Mexico.  When the law came to get McIntire, he was tipped off and hired a horse from the White Elephant livery stables and escaped to New Orleans.

Not only Texas harbored saloons under the sign of the white elephant.  They could be found throughout the West and South.  W. R. Monroe owned one in Kansas City, Missouri.   As many saloonkeepers of the times did, Monroe issued bar tokens good for drinks at his bar.  The one shown here for his White Elephant Saloon was worth five cents in trade.  This token is distinguished among representations of the pachyderm by the predominance given to one (otherwise unmentionable) physical attribute.

I am still puzzling over why Wickman’s of Knoxville, Tennessee, would name a saloon White Elephant and then represent it with a ceramic pig big bottle.  As it turns out Wickman in addition to selling whiskey over the bar also was retailing liquor to customers in glass and ceramic containers.   Obviously a figural elephant likely would have held more booze than the proprietor might have wanted to give away, so Wickman chose a pig to convey a slug or two of his whiskey.

Another Tennessee White Elephant saloon artifact is a stoneware jug covered in dark Albany slip glaze into which has been scratched a rather primitive elephant.  The crudeness of the design indicates that it was created relatively early in the 1800s.  The saloon apparently belonged to Querna Clerk, about whom I can find nothing. Nor does the jug given any clue as to the city or town in which the White Elephant was located.

Two cities named Richmond, one in Virginia and one in Kentucky each harbored White Elephant saloons.  The Kentucky example is unusual since this establishment was owned and operated by a woman, Mrs. Mary Enright.  Directories show her in business at 420 Louisiana Street during the early 1900s.  In addition to serving drinks at the bar she was blending her own whiskeys and selling them at both wholesale and retail.  Like the prior jug, this one too is scratched into brown Albany slip, but is legible. 

Called a “scratch jug” when it was offered at auction, the Albany slip covered beehive-shaped container shown here from Richmond, Kentucky in reality was covered by a stencil that masked the glaze from the body to create the letters.  It appears to be quart size.  Details about this White Elephant are lost in the mists of history.

In Tuscaloosa, Alabama, the White Elephant  was selling whiskey in a wide variety of ceramic jugs.  The one shown here offered a discount of ten cents on a refill of the jug when brought back to the saloon.  This was a popular Tuscaloosa watering hole.  Locals are said to have ridden horseback up to the place at Sixth Street and 24th Avenue of a morning to get cold glasses of beer.  In 1932, workmen excavating at a construction site unearthed 75 brown and white jugs that bore the name of the White Elephant.

Several explanations have emerged as possibilities for the prevalence of the name.  Post Civil War, a common saying referred to a returning soldier bragging about having seen something that was very common to experienced travelers. Such talk was termed “seeing the elephant.”  It also has been suggested that white paint was readily available and a pachyderm painted on a portico would have been an eye-catching graphic.  

The name might also have had a racial connotation.  In states with “Jim Crow”  laws the word “white” could warn blacks away from the establishment.  That would include Alabama, Kentucky, Tennessee, Texas and Virginia.  Notably, Ft. Worth and Brenham, Texas, both had Black Elephant Saloons whose clientele reputedly was limited to those of African origin.

Foreword:   As regular patrons of this website know, from time to time I feature the work of other writers on whiskey-related subjects.  The following guest post is by David Rakes of Belleview, Florida, with Corey Lee, from the new book,  “Florida Advertising Jugs: The Proprietors and their Jugs,” to which I contributed a foreword.  An impressive example of historical research, the volume contains 53 articles on the producers of  Florida’s 19th and early 20th Century whiskey jugs and other ceramics.

Saloonkeeper Fred

Frederick G. Wilhelm was first a career postal clerk for the railroad in Columbus, Ga. and then later a saloon keeper in Apalachicola, Fla. He was a literate Civil War veteran who was very active in veterans affairs and wrote numerous obituaries for veterans of the war.

Fred was born June 10, 1839 in Columbus, Muscogee County, Georgia, the son of Frederick George Wilhelm and Esther Wiseman Wilhelm.  Fred’s parents were from Pennsylvania and had moved to Columbus sometime before Fred was born, his father having been employed as a tailor.

In 1862, Fred enlisted as a private in the 3^rd Georgia Cavalry in the Confederates States Army. He was said to have gained the rank of sergeant in Colonel Joseph Wheeler’s army. However, he may have been mustered out as a captain since several Confederate Veteran articles addressed him as captain. Colonel Joseph Wheeler, also known as Fighting Joe, was a native of Augusta, Ga. Not only was he active as a cavalry leader in the Civil War, but he also fought during the Spanish-American War. The last war was where he got his nickname. He was only 5-foot-1 or 2, but you didn’t mess with Joe.

Postal Fred

After the war Fred stayed in Columbus and became a well-known postal clerk. He appears to have never married. Around 1883 he was a postal clerk on the Macon & Brunswick Railroad. He was a pretty good agent according to the newspapers that reported in 1885, “In an examination he handled 585 cards in forty minutes without a single error, making an average of 100. This record has never been reached by any other route in the state.” In 1889, his work required him to change his route, the newspapers announcing, “a former experienced and efficient postal clerk, has been reappointed to the Macon and Birmingham route.” 

 

Sometime after 1890 Fred moved to Apalachicola, Fla. and opened a saloon. According to the 1900 census of Apalachicola he was 60 years old employed as a saloon keeper and living with his younger brother George and his family. It’s no coincidence that Fred and his brother had moved to Apalachicola as the sleepy little town of Apalachicola was waking up.

In fact, one newspaper as far away in Bradford County said, “Captain Fred G. Wilhelm, a prominent citizen of the town, says Apalachicola is booming.” Fred was reported to have told the newspapers of how things were changing in town, like “laying cable and dredging the channel.” Mobile had a steamer that made two monthly trips that needed additional trips to handle the loads.  Fred said the two canning factories in town were extremely busy shipping oysters all over the country: “Shipping fish from Apalachicola to the west. Shipping catfish to Kansas City in great quantities. The fish are skinned, and their heads are cut off. Mr. Freer also ships great quantities of sturgeon.”

Fire Damage

In 1900, a big fire destroyed much of downtown Apalachicola. The fire broke out in the residence of Mrs. Broughton, spread to the Methodist Church and “from there to the business portion of the town. In less than three hours three blocks were entirely consumed, resulting in seventy-one buildings in the business section being burned.”

It is not known if Fred’s saloon was burned. If it was, he was not deterred because city directories show him with a saloon in 1903, 1907 and 1908. A rare whiskey jug of only four known was made for Fred. The one-gallon stoneware stenciled jug is off white in color with a dome top and says, “FRED G. WILHELM (arched) / APALACHICOLA / FLA.”

Fred does not show up on city directories with the saloon after 1908. It is unclear if he continued the saloon business or retired. The 1910 census for Apalachicola shows he is still a boarder and making his “own income.” Since he is still employed it is likely he is continuing to sell liquor.

However, Fred likely retired from the saloon business by 1915 when Franklin County had voted to go dry. The prohibition movement was gaining momentum and many saloon and liquor dealers were forced out of their jobs.

In 1920, Fred declares on a passport application that he is a “retired merchant,” and his age given is 81. The passport for Fred shows he was leaving the country for a trip to Cuba for “sightseeing and recreation.”   

After his trip to Cuba, Fred became very active in veterans affairs and as an adjutant of Camp Tom Moore, No.556, Apalachicola. Fred wrote many obituaries for the “Confederate Veteran” magazine. In 1923, in one issue of the magazine, he wrote about himself saying, “I am now in my eighty-fifth year, read and write without the aid of glasses, no corns or bunions, no bad teeth, steady nerves, as you will note by my writing, and I expect to continue my subscription probably till 1948, as I feel youthful enough for at least twenty-five more years.”

Old Veteran Fred

A picture was taken of Fred in 1923 in his United Confederate Veterans (UCV) uniform adorned with a couple of badges. UCV uniforms were not war time uniforms, they were uniforms made after the Civil War for reunions. The picture of Fred at age 85 shows he’s in good physical shape and health.

However, Fred’s prophecy of living to 1948, or the age of 109 came up short by some nineteen years. In 1929, Fred died in Apalachicola and was buried in Linwood Cemetery in Columbus, Ga. 

 

Note:  David Rake’s 174-page large format book from Peachridge Collections publishing is lavishly and professionally illustrated, and well referenced.  The price is $50 plus $4 for shipping.  Check or money orders can be sent to David Kyle Rakes, P.O. Box 2706, Belleview, Florida 34421.   Questions may be addressed to his email: Barakes123@gmail.com.  Phone:  352-817-5136. 

 

 

 

 Patrick J. Dempsey, shown here, was known in Lowell, Massachusetts, as one of its most benevolent citizens, contributing to a host of charities out of his considerable wealth from whiskey sales.  As one Lowell commentor put it:  “His obituary reads like the cause for canonization of a saint.”   Nonetheless his liquor store became the centerpiece of an 1870 melee, during which police were assaulted and shots were fired.  The event became known as the Lowell “Rum Riots.”

Born on St. Patrick’s Day in 1822 in Rathban, County Wicklow, Ireland, a village tucked in the Wicklow Mountains, shown above, Dempsey was the son of Christopher and Katherine Dempsey.  Of his early life and education, little is known.  By the late 1840’s he had arrived in the United States, eventually finding his way to Lowell where many Irish immigrants had settled.

By 1848 at age 27 Patrick found a bride in Bridget C. Hill, a 20-year-old local girl. Over the next decade the couple would have three daughters.  Family responsibilities may have provided him the incentive to strike out on his own.  He rented a basement room where he brewed root beer.  According to “LowellIrish,” a Lowell historical site, Dempsey was so successful he branched out into beer and other alcoholic products.  That led to his running saloons and opening a series of bars and liquor stores, reputedly “dealing spirits across the state.”

But Dempsey faced a challenge in a rising prohibitionary tide.  Next door, Maine as early as the 1850 had passed laws against the consumption of alcohol.  The campaign accelerated after the Civil War as returning veterans swelled the drinking public.  During the 1870s Massachusetts joined other New England states in cracking down on liquor sales.  When authorities came to Lowell, they immediately headed to Dempsey’s establishment, the city’s largest, shown above.  An outraged and rowdy opposition crowd gathered.

LowellIrish [see below] told the “rum riot” story:  “The crowds began stoning the officers.  One of the roughians used a hoe to strike an officer.  The officer’s gun fired during the melee hitting one of the crowd.    The man who struck the officer, Pender, was arrested and held for bail, but his case was quickly moved since his family was known to have small pox.  The next day the crowd returned, but was informed of undercover constables in the crowd who were ready to stop any trouble before it erupted.”

When that crowd dispersed, the Lowell melee effectively ended.  The following day, as the authorities returned ready to do battle, they were greeted by pro-“dry”

women and girls cheering them on.  Dempsey’s stock was among the hundreds of barrels of alcohol seized and shipped to Boston for disposal.   As frequently happened, the crackdown was followed by strong public backlash.  Dempsey soon was back in business, advertising his “ales, wines and liquors of all sorts.”

That included sales of one of the most controversial alcoholic beverages of the times:  Absinthe, thought to be highly addictive.   Widely known as “the green fairy,” Dempsey’s absinthe sold under a green butterfly label, one of the few brands marketed in America outside of New Orleans.  The product gained considerable public attention.  Shown below is a spoof of a Van Gogh painting showing Vincent, sitting at a bar, sketching.  A bottle of Dempsey’s “Butterfly Absinthe” sits at his elbow.

Whiskey brands featured by the Irishman’s liquor house included:  “Caprice,” “Mayfair,” “Miami,” “Milady,” “Overmarch,” “Patts Malt,” “Puritan Gin,” “Tournament,” and “Westover.”  The company waited until 1906 after trademark laws were strengthened to register most of those brands with federal authorities. “Patt’s Malt Whiskey,” which I assume was named after the founder, interestingly was not among them.

Leavening Dempsey’s business successes were the heartaches in his personal life.  After ten years of marriage his wife Bridget died, leaving him with three small daughters to raise.  Four years later, he remarried.  His bride was Margaret Deehan, a Lowell woman of 24.  Over the next thirteen years the couple would have seven children of their own. The first was George Christopher, an only son, and six more girls.  In 1865, daughter Catherine, only 15, would die.  In total Dempsey would witness the deaths of three daughters before his own passing.

None of those losses, however, dimmed Dempsey’s innate benevolence. Recognizing his status as one of richest men in Lowell, he was a regular contributor to a number of causes.  A favored one was St. John’s Hospital, shown here,  where he was accounted a founder and continuous benefactor.  His gifts to St. John’s were said to have included “preserves, sugar and a child’s bathtub.”  Dempsey was also known for sending floral displays to the funerals of friends, neighbors and employees.

Despite his wealth Dempsey chose to reside in a Lowell district known as “The Acre.” in effect an Irish “ghetto.”  In time he was able to buy considerable real estate there, living in a house large enough to contain his growing family.  It became the centerpiece of a tract known as “Dempsey’s Place,” with surrounding 

apartment buildings that he owned and typically rented to Irish immigrants.  Although rich enough to have lived in upscale parts of Lowell, his preference was to reside among his fellow countrymen.   Dempsey also bought property in Salem, Massachusetts, on the Atlantic shore north of Boston where the family had a summer home.  

After the brief prohibitionary setback of 1870, Dempsey continued to guide the fortunes of his beverage empire for the next three decades.  He carefully groomed George as his successor, seeing that the young man graduated from high school with sufficient credentials to be admitted to MIT. There George, shown here, was given special training in chemistry as a member of the class of 1888.  Upon his graduation, the father admitted him as a partner in his enterprises.  Dempsey’s wisdom soon became apparent as George demonstrated an exceptional affinity for the liquor trade.

The father-son partnership terminated in 1901 when Patrick’s health faltered and George took on full management responsibilities.  In December of the following year Patrick Dempsey died.  After a well-attended funeral Mass, he was buried in St. Patrick Cemetery in Lowell.  The drawing here graced the “whiskey man’s” obituary.

Upon taking over the operation George Dempsey made immediate changes.  He took steps to create a new partnership with Lowell resident Patrick Keyes.  He also began the process of trademarking company-issued brands of whiskey.  He moved the corporate headquarters to Boston, the building shown below, and incorporated it as “P. Dempsey & Company.”  By 1913, George had built his own distillery in Boston and was no longer dependent on outside suppliers.

George also was gaining a national reputation as an anti-Prohibition activist  While Patrick was described as a quiet man of few words, his son gained attention as an active spokesman for National Association of Distillers  and Wholesale Dealers.  “When the liquor controversy arose in 1906, Mr. Dempsey appeared before the Secretary of Agriculture to represent the intelligent thought from the liquor dealers’ side, and won high praise from Secretary [James] Wilson.” — said his obituary.  George also published a book, “The Prohibition Question” in which he excoriated the “drys” for “…making officers of the law double-faced and mercenary, legislators timid and insincere, candidates for office hypocritical and truckling….”

If he had lived, Patrick would have been proud of his son’s fight on behalf of the whiskey trade.  In the end George’s eloquence made no difference.  On January 1, 1920 National Prohibition was imposed.  The liquor empire that Patrick Dempsey had spent his life building came to an abrupt end after almost 70 years in business.

Note:  This post would not have been possible without the information provided by the article from LowellIrish of March 29, 2012.  The organization included this statement:  “The mission of LowellIrish is to collect and preserve the history and cultural materials, which document the presence of the Irish community in Lowell. As the first immigrant group in a city that continues to celebrate its immigrant past, LowellIrish will serve as an advocate to support a better understanding of the historical, political, religious, and social function the Irish played in the formation of the city.” 

Addendum:  With the current post this website has registered a milestone 1.4 million “hits” over its 12 years of existence, with interest in pre-Prohibition American whiskey history coming from all over the world.  I am very grateful for this response and hope to continue posting articles for the foreseeable future.

 

 Saloon signs:  Shown above is a unusually large and elaborate saloon sign issued by Spruance and gifted to San Francisco drinking establishments featuring his whiskeys and other products.  The sign advertises “Spruance Stanley Co., Importers and Dealers in Wines and Liquors, San Francisco,” with an unusual illustration of two fancy dressed women in a rowboat that might be tipped over at any moment.  A standing lass shows a bit of bosom; her companion flashes some leg. 

 

Meanwhile, along each side of the sign, small windows bear six other illustrations.  The first tier feature “putti,” — naked baby figures.  At left, five such seem to be engaged in a liquor celebration; at left the tots are harvesting grain.  The next tier depicts barrels, at left in a general warehouse, at right bearing the names of company products, among them:  “Kentucky Favorite,” O.P.T. Whiskey,” “O.F.C Sour Mash Whiskey,”and “Sunflower Pennsylvania Rye.”  The third tier includes a drawing of the Spruance Stanley liquor house and a primitive still.

Although wrestling a central theme from the previous sign is impossible, the picture above tells a story when closely observed.  At first glance it would seem the typical bucolic deer representation.  But look in the far distance.  High on a ridge a wagon loaded with barrels of whiskey is leaving the scene.  But not before the driver has unknowingly dropped and broken open a barrel of O.F.C. Sour Mash.  A doe is eagerly drinking up the spill while the stag is eagerly swallowing a mouthful of liquor.   There will be a hot time in the glade tonight!

The third Spruance Stanley sign, advertising “Kentucky Favorite Old Bourbon Whiskey,” is a more typical drinking establishment offering.  A comely young woman showing a hint of bosom and an elaborate hat was a standard wall decoration in the pre-Prohibition era.  Surrounding the figure with a horseshoe was a touch to be seen in other company advertising.  It apparently represented the Kentucky origins of several Spruance brands.

Labels:  Spruance’s liquor house lavished similar attention to design on its labels, making them as eye-catching a possible.  Shown above are two examples.  At left is the label that adorned the company’s African Stomach Bitters, a “medicinal” with a high alcoholic content.  Note the elaborate typography that gives this label style.  Unlike most depictions of Africans this individual is heavily clothed.  The second label is similarly ornate with a variety of type faces (often called “circus” layout).  A horseshoe is part of the motif.  

As shown below, Spruance also provided for elaborate embossed labels on the glass bottles themselves.

Other:  Spruance shot glasses, given away as advertising to the saloons, hotels and restaurants featuring the company liquor also are distinctive.  They advertise company brands, “Sunflower Pennsylvania Rye and “Old Bourbon Whiskey.”  Note that on shot glasses Spruance once again used the horseshoe motif. 

The man behind these artifacts was John Spruance, born in Pennsylvania in January 1823.  Of his early life little is known.  He first attained notice in San Francisco business directories in 1867 as a partner in a local liquor house called J & J Spruance.  That business was dissolved in 1872 and Spruance emerged as the managing partner of a new organization called Spruance, Stanley Company.  During ensuing years, although the company name remained the same, S. L. Stanley departed to be replaced by a succession of partners.  

Self-described as “Importers and Wholesale Liquor Merchants,” Spruance’s company was successful for 34 years as its imaginative marketing designs proved popular with the drinking public .  He was able to open a second outlet in Sacramento.  Spruance’s profitable enterprise came to an abrupt halt with the San Francisco 1906 earthquake and fire.  Many Frisco liquor merchants rebuilt.  Now in his early eighties, Spruance did not.  

Two years later, on December 21, 1908, John Spruance died, a month short of his 86th birthday.  His legacy is in the well-designed array of saloon signs, bottles, labels, and other liquor-related artifacts eagerly sought by collectors today.

Note:  Unfortunately I have not been able to find a photo or other picture of John Spruance, despite his many years at the head of a major San Francisco liquor house.  My hope is that a descendant or alert reader will see this post and be able to remedy the omission. 

In March of 2017 at a Philadelphia meeting of  boutique distillers I spoke briefly on pre-Prohibition whiskey-making in Pennsylvania.  That experience sparked my interest in understanding better the nature and extent of the industry in the Keystone State.  I focussed on the Pennsylvania distilleries represented among my collection of pre-Prohibition paperweights.  Shown here are nine weights, with information on the four companies that issued them.

Phillip H. Hamburger, a German Jewish immigrant, was not the first distiller to conflate Pennsylvania whiskey with the Monongahela River that flows through the Keystone State. That waterway had been identified with strong drink since the 18th Century. But Hamburger made the Monongahela the centerpiece of his merchandising and his rye whiskey was, as a writer recorded in 1904, “not only known from ocean to ocean, but in every civilized country on the globe.”

Beginning as a liquor wholesaler, Hamburger moved gradually into distilling, initially through an investing in a primitive distillery at Bridgeport, Pennsylvania, on the Monongahela River owned by George W. Jones.  After Jones died, Hamburger took it over, changing the company name to the Ph. Hamburger Co.  Once he had achieved full ownership, Hamburger moved ahead boldly to expand his facilities and his market. He built significantly onto the original plant and warehouses. A contemporary publication reported: “The Hamburger Distillery, Limited, is one of the largest plants of the kind in the world, covering about fourteen acres of ground.” 

Hamburger marketed his brands extensively in newspapers and magazines. He featured three brands, all advertised on paperweights here. In addition to “G.W. Jones Monongahela Rye,” both “Bridgeport Pure Rye” and “Bridgeport Pure Malt” boasted the Monongahela origin on their labels.  All three acquired a national and even international customer base. In 1914, Hamburger’s whiskey won a gold medal at the Universal Exhibition in Nottingham, England, and again in 1915 at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition held in San Francisco. During his lifetime Hamburger had been an important force for make Pennsylvania rye whiskey recognized worldwide. 

Beginning his career as a baker, John Dougherty, an Irish Catholic immigrant, soon moved into distilling, opening his own whiskey-making facility in 1849. Dougherty’s “Pure Rye Whiskey” met with almost immediate success, capturing a market in the Philadelphia area and beyond. The company’s first still was a wooden one of 750 gallons. It soon was joined by a second copper still with a 1,200 gallon capacity. Both were fueled by steam. A new larger warehouse was built in 1864, with a capacity of 3,000 barrels.  

In 1866 John Dougherty died at the age of 78.  Son William took over as senior manager and the company name was changed to J.A. Dougherty’s Sons. The business continued to grow. Three new warehouses were built over the next several years adding 12,900 gallons of storage capacity. The complex employed some 30 workers. In 1879 the first warehouse was enlarged to hold 4,000 barrels.  Year after year the fame of Dougherty whiskey grew.

At the age of 67 William died in 1892 at his residence in Philadelphia, leaving his brother Charles as the manager of the firm. The youngest Dougherty son continued the successes forged by his father and brother. He discarded the wooden still in favor of a second copper pot and in 1893 rebuilt one warehouse to hold 3,800 barrels and added new floors to another to increase capacity to 25,000 barrels. The continued expansion was indicative of a growing national market for Dougherty Pure Rye.

In contrast to Hamburger and Dougherty, William C. Wilkinson was born in Philadelphia and of old Pennsylvania stock.  Originally a partner in a local wholesale liquor house, when the partner died in 1893, Wilkinson bought the entire business and changed the name to his own.  His flagship brand was “Stylus Club.” Philadelphia’s Stylus Club was an organization restricted to editors, reporters, publishers and other contributors to local newspapers and magazine. Founded in 1877, it was largely a social gathering where, it has been speculated, a fair amount of drinking went on. 

Not a distiller, Wilkinson represented a growing element within the industry, that of a wholesale liquor dealer selling whiskey under his own proprietary brand.  He might be buying whiskey from a Pennsylvania distillery and bottling it as it came, or mixing several whiskeys, sometimes adding other ingredients, in his own facility.  This process was known as “rectifying.”  Frequently rectifiers would trademark these brands, as Wilkinson did with “Stylus Club” in 1891.

A variation on that model was practiced by the Flemings, part of a prominent Irish family of Pittsburgh druggists.  Under the name, Jos. Fleming & Son, Joseph and his son George, turned a drug store rectifying operation into a national whiskey powerhouse.  Doing business from its single location at Market and Diamond Streets, the company advertised “Fleming’s Export Rye Whiskey” and “Fleming’s Malt Whiskey” across America.  Bottles similar to those shown on the paperweights here have been found all across the country, including one recently discovered in a Sacramento, California, state park. 

As druggists, the Flemings shaped their advertising to emphasize the medicinal benefits of whiskey.  Their ads are redolent with statements like “physicians should recommend…” and “physicians prescribe….”  As prohibitionary forces closed in, such medical claims became the best refuge for many Pennsylvania whiskey purveyors, the majority not druggists. 

Joseph Fleming died in 1890 and son George at a relatively young 51 in 1912. Shortly thereafter other family members sold the business and the whiskey brands to a local pharmacist who continued to operate the business under the Fleming name until the imposition of National Prohibition in 1920.

None of the four liquor establishments featured here survived the 14 “dry” years until Repeal in 1934.  Their histories and those of dozens of other pre-Prohibition Pennsylvania distilleries and liquor houses document the growth of the state’s whiskey industry from small farmstead stills to companies with a national marketing reach.  The paperweights they issued serve as a reminder of that dynamic era.

Note:  Elsewhere on this website can be found more complete biographies of each of these four whiskey men:  Philip Hamburger, Feb. 21, 2012;  John Dougherty, Jan. 16, 2012;  William Wilkinson, March 1, 2014, and Joseph Fleming, Aug. 13, 2011.