BLOOMING STILLS

A visit today to a United States District Court in most any section of

the Blue Ridge Country where makers of illicit whiskey are being tried

shows that the name moonshine no longer applies to the beverage. It got

its name from being made at night. Now operations in the making are

conducted by day, while only the transportation of the liquor is carried

on after nightfall. Trucks and even dilapidated Fords with the windows

smeared with soap to conceal the load are pressed into service. The

drivers consider it safer to travel with their illegal cargo under the

shades of darkness.

During the questioning of witnesses and offenders in court you learn

that tips provided by law-abiding citizens are the usual means of

bringing offenders to trial. In rare instances, however, members of a

moonshiner's own family have been known to turn him in.

The process of capturing the moonshiner has changed considerably from

that of other days. Then the revenooer (mountain folk usually call him

the law) slipped up from behind the bushes on the offender and caught

him red-handed at the still. In those days the men who were making had

their lookout men who gave warning by a call or a whistle, even by gun

signals, of the approach of the law while the moonshiner took to his

heels, hiding in deep underbrush or far back under cliffs. Today these

mountain men have learned not to run. For the officers of the law are

equipped with long-range guns and with equipment so powerful the bullets

can penetrate the steel body of an automobile. The method of locating

the still has changed too since the airplane has come into use. Looking

down from the clouds the flyer spies a thin stream of smoke rising from

a wooded ravine. He communicates by radio to his co-workers of the

ground crew, who immediately set out at high speed by automobile to

capture the still.

It is estimated that of the 170,000,000 gallons of liquor consumed in

this country in 1939, at least 35,000,000 were illicit and that for

every legal distillery there are at least one hundred illegal ones. The

southern mountain region has always lent itself admirably to the making

of moonshine and for this reason has been a thorn in the flesh of U. S.

Alcohol Tax Unit. During the year 1939, according to _Life_, it is

estimated that more than 4000 stills were captured in the states of

Georgia, Alabama, South Carolina, and Florida.

However, it is not the moonshiner who reaps the richest revenue from

corn whiskey, which he sells for ninety cents a gallon, but the

bootlegger and others down the line who add on, each in his turn, until

the potent drink reaches a final sale price of ninety cents a quart and

more. The tax on legitimate whiskey is $2.25 a proof gallon which makes

it prohibitive in a community competing with the moonshiner's untaxed

product.

Through the southern mountain region Negroes frequently are employed by

white men operating stills on a large scale, where many boxes are used

for the fermenting mash. The fines and sentences vary with the output

and number of offenses.

The mountaineer, on the other hand, who operates a small still usually

is a poor man. When brought into court he pleads that he cannot haul out

a load of corn over rugged roads miles to a market and compete with a

farmer from the lowlands who is not retarded by bad roads. Or again, if

he is from an extremely isolated mountain section, he offers the old

reasoning, "It is my land and my corn--why can't I do with my crop

whatever I please?"

If the federal judge is a kindly, understanding man he will listen

patiently to the story of the mountaineer who has made illicit whiskey,

and if it be only the first or second offense, a sentence of six months

in prison is imposed. "But, judge, your honor," pleads the perplexed

mountaineer. "I've got to put in my crop and my old woman is ailin'--she

can't holp none. I've got to lay in foirwood for winter, judge, your

honor, my youngins is too little to holp." Often the understanding judge

replies, "Now, John, you go back home and get your work done up, then

come back and serve your sentence." Rarely has the judge's trust been

betrayed.

Blue Ridge Country · 第 89 / 101 题