Are you running a whiskey still?

[N80]

My father is a retired ATF agent. Spent time in Mississippi, Florida and here in SC mostly chasing bootleggers. He absolutely loved the work. When things started switching over to primarily firearms enforcement he hated it and retired. (He said he liked most of the bootleggers and hated every one of the weapons violaters.) (And just for the record, Dad is not antigun, he loves guns, was a life NRA member and is a pretty fair gunsmith.) I've got tons of pictures of stills and cars loaded with bags of sugar. He has endless stories about his adventures as a revenuer and believe me, they were adventures

By the time he retired in the early 90's they did not bother with any stills short of industrial size operations (and with the high price of sugar and the low price of cheap booze there were not many big operations left.) They did not even bust up small stills much less stake them out. If nothing has changed, running a small still is still illegal but very unlikely to get you in trouble.

I apologize for straying off topic but I'll tell my favorite story of his. I was surprised (and a little disappointed) as a small child to find out that not only did Dad never engage in any cool 'shoot outs' but that in all his time working moonshine he only pulled his gun once. He said most of the time the bootleggers either gave up immediately or just ran. Occasionally there were punches thrown or some wrastling around but most of the time it was very peaceful. Dad and his partner did catch most of the ones that ran....they were young and enthusiastic at the time! (On many occasions Dad and his partners knew the shiners on a first name basis and would just pop out and say, 'Bill, we gotcha, let's go'!)

But Dad told the story that they had been watching a still that no one ever came back to it when they decided to go ahead and dynamite it. They were poking around and someone shot a shotgun at them. He said the shot went way over their heads into the trees. Well, they knew whose still it was...they just hadn't caught them at the still. So, they headed up to the house where they bootleggers lived (remember this is in the Mississippi delta about 1967) and found an old man sitting in a rocker on the porch of this old house in the woods. Before they even said anything the old man told them he knew why they were there. He called into the house and a 16 year old boy came out onto the porch. The old man told them it was the boy that shot at them. He told my Dad and his partner that they could take him to jail or that he (the old man) could take care of things right then and there. Dad told him that they did not want to take him to jail and so this frail old man gets up and proceeds to beat the living dailylights out of this kid with his cane! Dad said he and his partner had to run up on the porch and pull this old guy off the kid. They told him they were plenty satisfied that the kid had learned his lesson and they they were going to go down and blow their still. The old man nodded and they destroyed the still and went home.

 

[dmccarty]

ETA: I think freezing isnt itself cause for arrest. The content/analysis hasnt changed. Youd have to remove the frozen water to get in trouble.

In your case the only 'evidence' is your recollection of the events. I doubt they care at all...then again you just never know.

Right, you would have to remove the ice to up the alcohol content. But if they found the booze they could figure out the content and I think some of the laws are based on the percentage of alcohol. So they would have ya.

Not likely though.

Later,
Dan

 

[BillyP]

For those that may be interested H.R. 3949: To amend the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 to allow distilled spirits to be produced in... (GovTrack.us)

 

[scott_vt]

My father is a retired ATF agent. Spent time in Mississippi, Florida and here in SC mostly chasing bootleggers. He absolutely loved the work. When things started switching over to primarily firearms enforcement he hated it and retired. (He said he liked most of the bootleggers and hated every one of the weapons violaters.) (And just for the record, Dad is not antigun, he loves guns, was a life NRA member and is a pretty fair gunsmith.) I've got tons of pictures of stills and cars loaded with bags of sugar. He has endless stories about his adventures as a revenuer and believe me, they were adventures

By the time he retired in the early 90's they did not bother with any stills short of industrial size operations (and with the high price of sugar and the low price of cheap booze there were not many big operations left.) They did not even bust up small stills much less stake them out. If nothing has changed, running a small still is still illegal but very unlikely to get you in trouble.

I apologize for straying off topic but I'll tell my favorite story of his. I was surprised (and a little disappointed) as a small child to find out that not only did Dad never engage in any cool 'shoot outs' but that in all his time working moonshine he only pulled his gun once. He said most of the time the bootleggers either gave up immediately or just ran. Occasionally there were punches thrown or some wrastling around but most of the time it was very peaceful. Dad and his partner did catch most of the ones that ran....they were young and enthusiastic at the time! (On many occasions Dad and his partners knew the shiners on a first name basis and would just pop out and say, 'Bill, we gotcha, let's go'!)

But Dad told the story that they had been watching a still that no one ever came back to it when they decided to go ahead and dynamite it. They were poking around and someone shot a shotgun at them. He said the shot went way over their heads into the trees. Well, they knew whose still it was...they just hadn't caught them at the still. So, they headed up to the house where they bootleggers lived (remember this is in the Mississippi delta about 1967) and found an old man sitting in a rocker on the porch of this old house in the woods. Before they even said anything the old man told them he knew why they were there. He called into the house and a 16 year old boy came out onto the porch. The old man told them it was the boy that shot at them. He told my Dad and his partner that they could take him to jail or that he (the old man) could take care of things right then and there. Dad told him that they did not want to take him to jail and so this frail old man gets up and proceeds to beat the living dailylights out of this kid with his cane! Dad said he and his partner had to run up on the porch and pull this old guy off the kid. They told him they were plenty satisfied that the kid had learned his lesson and they they were going to go down and blow their still. The old man nodded and they destroyed the still and went home.

Afternoon George,
One heck of a good read !

I guess I shouldnt mention that I got a mason jar care package from NC every once in awhile !

Great post though !

 

[PineRidge]

My father is a retired ATF agent. Spent time in Mississippi, Florida and here in SC mostly chasing bootleggers. He absolutely loved the work. When things started switching over to primarily firearms enforcement he hated it and retired. (He said he liked most of the bootleggers and hated every one of the weapons violaters.) (And just for the record, Dad is not antigun, he loves guns, was a life NRA member and is a pretty fair gunsmith.) I've got tons of pictures of stills and cars loaded with bags of sugar. He has endless stories about his adventures as a revenuer and believe me, they were adventures

By the time he retired in the early 90's they did not bother with any stills short of industrial size operations (and with the high price of sugar and the low price of cheap booze there were not many big operations left.) They did not even bust up small stills much less stake them out. If nothing has changed, running a small still is still illegal but very unlikely to get you in trouble.

I apologize for straying off topic but I'll tell my favorite story of his. I was surprised (and a little disappointed) as a small child to find out that not only did Dad never engage in any cool 'shoot outs' but that in all his time working moonshine he only pulled his gun once. He said most of the time the bootleggers either gave up immediately or just ran. Occasionally there were punches thrown or some wrastling around but most of the time it was very peaceful. Dad and his partner did catch most of the ones that ran....they were young and enthusiastic at the time! (On many occasions Dad and his partners knew the shiners on a first name basis and would just pop out and say, 'Bill, we gotcha, let's go'!)

But Dad told the story that they had been watching a still that no one ever came back to it when they decided to go ahead and dynamite it. They were poking around and someone shot a shotgun at them. He said the shot went way over their heads into the trees. Well, they knew whose still it was...they just hadn't caught them at the still. So, they headed up to the house where they bootleggers lived (remember this is in the Mississippi delta about 1967) and found an old man sitting in a rocker on the porch of this old house in the woods. Before they even said anything the old man told them he knew why they were there. He called into the house and a 16 year old boy came out onto the porch. The old man told them it was the boy that shot at them. He told my Dad and his partner that they could take him to jail or that he (the old man) could take care of things right then and there. Dad told him that they did not want to take him to jail and so this frail old man gets up and proceeds to beat the living dailylights out of this kid with his cane! Dad said he and his partner had to run up on the porch and pull this old guy off the kid. They told him they were plenty satisfied that the kid had learned his lesson and they they were going to go down and blow their still. The old man nodded and they destroyed the still and went home.

Guns, alcohol, stills, dynamite.....man that sounds like my kind of job.

GOOD STORY!

 

[N80]

He just loved it. I can remember him being gone for days staking out stills. They'd hide out, sleeping in the woods until the bootleggers came back. He and his partner had some of the highest arrest rates in the state.

Late in his career he'd find stills when he was hunting, etc and unless they were really big, he didn't do anything about them.

There is a local historic site near here (Historic Brattonsville) where an ex-moonshiner sets up and runs a still as part of the living history exhibit. I'm amazed that they got around the red tape but he runs it several times a year.

Also, in most of the pictures I got from Dad the stills don't look like the nice quaint little Snuffy Smith stills in the cartoons. Most of the sites were cobbled together and just filthy looking. Most ran on propane.

And they did use the 'sugar trail' and paths to find the stills, many of which were hidden in elaborate ways, but probably the largest percentage of busts came from information gained from informants. Usually other bottleggers or local riff-raff that had a beef with the still owner. Dad often went undercover as a wholesale buyer and caught them that way too. He usually considered that aspect of things (where real money was invloved) as more dangerous than raiding stills.

Oddly, both of Dad's partners were shot in the line of duty (both survived) after Dad had left. Both cases invloved firearms violations.

 

[BTDT]

Oddly, both of Dad's partners were shot in the line of duty (both survived) after Dad had left.

Reminds me of Kenny Rogers song--"You got to know when to hold'em, know when to fold'em". Glad to hear they are ok.

 

[jimg]

Also, in most of the pictures I got from Dad the stills don't look like the nice quaint little Snuffy Smith stills in the cartoons. Most of the sites were cobbled together and just filthy looking. Most ran on propane.

In E TN where there are plenty of sink holes and caves 'setups' went subterranean and vented somewhere inconspicuous. (In fact the modern day equivalent (the pot cave) was recently at auction. Some things never change!) Some enterprising farmers raised their own Sorghum and corn which made detection by following receipts impossible. I think though most, as you said, were found by mistake or informant.

Most folks here have no love for 'revenuers' and 'feds'. I think its on par w/ being called a 'yankee'.

Its seems funny that 'country people' are some how exclusively associated w/ bootleg liquor but I bet theres a fair %age made in cities.

 

[Logan]

I read recently that 6 or 7 % of all the people using the emergency rooms in Atlanta, Ga told them that they had consumed moonshine within the past 48 hours.

 

[redlevel]

That's an interesting story, George. Thanks.

My Granddaddy was a moonshiner in South Georgia around the turn of the twentieth century. If I'm not mistaken, he was born in 1888, so his moonshining years would have been from about 1908 until about 1915 when he made an abrupt change in his life. He told me the story many times of the day his partner in the moonshine business shot and killed the newly hired City Constable in Butler, Georgia. I guess this was probably about 1910.

The rural South was a tough place to live back then. Times were very hard, and many farmers made 'shine to help make ends meet. Somehow, two different moonshine factions existed in Taylor County, and violence including beatings, cuttings, and barn burnings had flared between them, sort of like friction between sheep men and cattle ranchers as depicted in Western movies. At this time, the rival faction, unbeknownst to my Granddaddy and his best friend and partner (HIS grandson still lives right up the road from me), had gotten their man hired as Constable and had set him up to arrest my Granddad and "Mr. Williams". His first day on the job was Friday.

It was Saturday afternoon, and my Granddaddy was bringing the likker to town in a mule drawn wagon. He said he had stopped in some brush on the outskirts of town and he and a Negro man who worked for him were pouring the ''shine from gallon containers into quarts, pints, and half pints. His partner had gone on into town, I guess to make contact with the retailers they were supplying with 'shine. His partner was pointed out to the Constable, who approached him. "Come with me, Williams, you're under arrest," the Constable reportedly said. Williams, who had never seen the newly hired Irishman before, asked, "why are you arresting me?"

"Never mind that, just come on."

"If you won't tell me why you are taking me in, I won't go."

At that point, the Irish Constable pulled a sap, or shot-loaded black-jack, and knocked Williams down in the street. Williams, according to spectators who had gathered by now, rolled up to a sitting position, pulled an owl-head break-top .32 revolver from his hip pocket, and shot the Constable between the eyes. He got up, looked at the dead Constable, and got his mule and wagon and left town. No one tried to stop him.

My Granddaddy said he heard the shot, but didn't think a whole lot about it at the time, until he got to town. I don't recall what he said about what happened to his likker. He said he and a group of Williams' relatives and friends hid him out in the swamp for a month or so until a deal could be worked out, at which point Williams turned himself in. I think Williams spent four or five years in the penitentiary.

As sort of an epilog to this story, my Daddy was born in 1912. My Grandfather told me that he continued in the moonshine business until one day when he walked across a newly plowed field to the creek and his still. He said he looked back and saw my father, who was three or four at the time, taking long steps, trying to literally follow in his tracks. He decided at that minute to change his ways. He abruptly changed his lifestyle, joined the church and became a Christian. I am sure he had been under pressure, because his family was strong Baptist. He was elected as a Deacon in the Church in which his father, my father, and now my brother and I have also served in that capacity. His former moonshine friends, whom he had cut himself off from abruptly, would hoot and derisively call him "the Deacon" when they saw him in town. I think there might have been some fist fights involved, in which my Granddaddy, like Samson in the Bible, "smote them hip and thigh." When I was a boy, almost everyone in the community, including my Granny, called him "the Deac'n" as a term of respect.