The Dark Days of Prohibition

Poor, poor bartenders. While the majority of folks get to spend Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s Day, Cinco de Mayo, or even Arbor Day in the throes of intoxication, bartenders are often stuck at work: salting margaritas, expertly pouring draughts of Guinness, or concocting whatever you might drink on Arbor Day (fermented tree sap?).

But don’t worry too hard about the bartenders. They’ve got December 5: National Repeal Day. The Volstead Act, which rang in Prohibition and outlawed the sale and manufacture of most alcohol in the country, was unceremoniously ushered away on December 5, 1933, and booze retook its throne.

Prohibition bracketed a dark period in American history: excessive crime, violence, and profoundly awful drinks. But while hellfire-invoking zealots are often blamed for the ban and its ramifications, it should be noted that beginnings of Prohibition were rooted in good intentions.

“If you read all through Prohibition,” said Chef George Krause of Doe's Eat Place in Baton Rouge, calling on his extensive research, “you’ll realize that the women’s temperance movement and the people who got [the law] started all had children. They were trying to save families.”

Drinking’s detractors took scornful note of the way alcohol affected family life, especially in terms of finances. “Men spent money on alcohol and had nothing to buy food and groceries with.”

The Eighteenth Amendment, added to the Constitution in January 1919, mandated Prohibition before handing the reins to the individual states to enact and enforce the accompanying laws, which were proposed in the Volstead Act. States were given seven years to ratify the act; the loose guideline was proposed by “the wet side,” who did not believe protesters could drum up the necessary votes in time. “They were wrong,” said Krause. “It was one of the fastest pieces of legislation to ever roll through.”

As any parent will readily verify, designating an object or substance as “not allowed” is simply a surefire route to making it utterly attractive.

Nipping at the heels of the restrictive laws were clever, acrobatic loopholes. Making wine at home, selling beer’s ingredients individually, hiding moonshine in milk jugs delivered door-to-door…more artistic organized crime can only be found in The Godfather.

In Cincinnati, defense attorney George Remus wove legal know-how into a fruitful bootlegging empire. Remus, purportedly the influence for The Great Gatsby’s titular character, pored over the rulebooks and soon hit upon his moneymaker: distilleries were allowed to sell their product to pharmacies, in the service of manufacturing pharmaceuticals.

Bingo! Remus quickly opened pharmaceutical and shipping companies. Then he turned to the region’s distilleries, limping and wheezing their way through Prohibition. He bought them up, drained the vats, and sold what he reaped to his own pharmacies. “He was both the buyer and seller of his own product. Then some of his shipments were ‘mysteriously’ hijacked and sold on the black market,” Krause laughed. “Yeah…he was running all the components.”

Prohibition agent Izzy Einstein made his way through major cities, rooting out the most flagrant violations of the Volstead Act. In each new city, without announcing his occupation, he’d wait to see how long it took for someone to offer him a drink. New Orleans took the cake. “Thirty-seven seconds. That’s all it took,” said Krause. “The cabbie offered him a drink from a bottle under the seat.”

But Prohibition didn’t just lead to cunning plans and crazy capers. As the government garnered more funds and resources to crack down on criminals, the country’s alcohol supply swiftly diminished. “People started stretching what little alcohol they could get. Wood alcohol, rubbing alcohol, paint thinner. It got pretty dangerous,” said Krause.

Beyond the deterioration of physical health, America was suffering from depression—specifically, Great Depression. President Franklin D. Roosevelt swooped in with The New Deal, but he lacked the capital to implement it.

And so he turned to the nation’s collective sore spot: Prohibition. On March 23, 1933, Roosevelt signed Cullen-Harrison act, legalizing manufacture and sale of certain alcohols. By December 5, the Volstead Act was repealed and order—of a sort—was restored.

Hop on a barstool this month at Doe’s, where Krause will tell you all about paint thinner-induced jank leg, the industrious Mabel Willebrandt, and a floating off-shore booze shop known as “Rum Row.” And he’ll serve you a drink….because he can.