This month we conclude our little series of excerpts from the very interesting book “The Golden Arrow and Other Stories” by Frances Isobel Horner, one of our collection at East Linn Museum.
I’ve selected a few of these to share in this column, because they present a very entertaining and informative picture of life in early Sweet Home. This time I’d like to share a few stories from the Prohibition era.
At the East Linn Museum there is a copper coil claimed to have been from a bootlegging operation in this area. Also, you might hear now and then of a spring on Whiskey Butte from which bootleggers got their water.
Yet, not much has been so far discerned about Sweet Home’s experiences during prohibition. In fact, wonder has been raised as to whether Sweet Home went wet or dry.
Wet seemed to be the case, but maybe not.
Perhaps, as Frances Horner indicates, the town meant to be dry, but not very. She answers many questions.
It Was Great But Frightening Fun for Kids During Prohibition Era in Sweet Home
From the top of the highest mountain to the valleys below, there sprang a money-making business for Sweet Home at the close of World War I; it ended with the election of Roosevelt in 1932.
Yes, I am speaking of prohibition. The industry of moonshining and bootlegging was the forerunner of the Great Depression which followed in the ’30’s.
(Following a rather complete introduction to the topic, Frances continues by telling “a few stories of exciting experiences in Sweet Home Valley during prohibition.”)
First, there was the incident of a pioneer lady who divorced her husband because he spent $250 trying to get drunk at the Strawberry Fair on Palace Car vanilla.
This form of vanilla was put on the market to satisfy the thirst before moonshine got in full production. You could buy a large, square bottle for a dollar at any grocery store. It was 98 percent alcohol.
Then there was the town marshal who stood at the door of the dance hall mumbling, “All aboard for the Palace Car;” he had previously come in contact with a bottle of Palace Car.
The hills and valleys of Sweet Home were dotted with stills.
Copper boilers, copper tubing, and oak barrels were used to ferment the mash – the consumption of sugar rose to an all-time high.
Some moonshiners had their crude whiskey-making equipment arranged so they could pick it up and beat a hasty exit before the raid. Due to the fact that rewards were paid for information, stool pigeons had to keep their identity a secret. Any way to make a little money, as it was so scarce in Sweet Home.
One moonshiner delivered his whiskey in bottles and gallon jugs. He would hide it under the wooden sidewalk up Long Street near where the Assembly of God church now stands. This area was usually deserted any time of the day.
My big brother found out where one of the bootleggers had hidden an order of whiskey for delivery. He thought it would be a joke for him to move the whiskey and when the customer would appear to get his bottles, the fun would begin.
Our recreation was going down for our groceries each week.
Each Wednesday night we would light the lantern and go to prayer meeting. Come rain, wind, storms, snow or sleet, we always studied the Word each week. We were taught to not selfishly pray for ourselves, but to always pray for others. Sweet Home in those days was such a peaceful place.
There was no trouble, illness, or difficulty to pray about. We children would pray for our government, the U.S. Army, and all the ships at sea.
My mother would caution us to always turn the lantern down to avoid wasting kerosene. Our faithful dog would sit beside the lantern and wait until the service was over and then we would climb the hill home above the Long Bell Pond.
This recreation of moving whiskey bottles I wanted no part of, but I didn’t want my brother to have trouble either.
Anyway, my brother made the mistake of taking the whiskey out from under the sidewalk before he had a place to hide it.
We heard a horse and rider coming up the street at a fast gallop. My brother quickly handed me the whiskey and I put it in the wagon and set my little brother upon it.
The rider jumped off the horse and swore at us, asking what we were doing there. I turned the wagon around and started home, but I couldn’t explain this to my mother without my brother being punished, so I walked to the crosswalk by the church while “Mr. Good Customer” was counting the boards on the sidewalk to find his whiskey.
I saw a nice old-timer sitting in a rocking chair on his porch, so we quickly opened his gate and went in to visit with him.
The old-timer asked us how we were and I told him that we were thirsty. He said, “Law, Law, I will get you some water.” He went out on his back porch, and as soon as the pitcher pump began to creak, I hurriedly put the whiskey bottles in the flower bed next to the steps by the porch.
We couldn’t leave just yet, as “Mr. Good Customer” was down on his hands and knees hunting the bottles which were supposed to be under the sidewalk. He was swearing a blue streak and I was plain scared. He would probably hit us with a rock or throw a board at us if we tried to pass. We waited until he got on his horse and rode up to the pool hall.
This old-timer was not a steady drinker, so my brother heard; he only drank a nip each day and would sweep the steps and find the whiskey for him.
One moonshiner would sit on his porch after his whiskey was ready for delivery. His customers would come by and pay him and then go out in the garden in the cucumber patch and find their bottles, sometimes in gallon jugs and again in quart bottles. The moonshiners were paid $4 a gallon, sometimes more, and again, less.
Because of the ignorance of processing, some whiskey was pure poison. Occasionally a customer would die or become blind from drinking this stuff.
It was my understanding that the Sweet Home moonshiners made good whiskey. Some of them enjoyed their product so much they drank up all the profits.
At school we knew which of the children’s clothes were bought with whiskey money. I was always glad that my mother bought ours with cream money from the check we received each month for our necessities.
One moonshiner became suspicious of strange tracks in the trail to his still. He realized that the revenuers were waiting for him at the still. Leaving his family and all his equipment, he escaped in the night to a neighboring state, where he worked and sent money home to his wife until the situation cooled down.
The tragic side of law enforcement was also present. An Albany minister and the sheriff of Linn County were both shot and killed in an old barn just as it was being raided.
The minister had accompanied the sheriff to the raid because he was gathering material for a book on prohibition.