THE MOON-SHINERS
Sana was confined to a sick-bed for several weeks, at the home of Mrs.
O’Brien, following the visit to the morgue. The tragedy had well nigh
shattered her nerves and only the most careful attention on the part of
her host and Dr. White prevented a serious breakdown. But none could be
more considerate than they, and though slowly and through periods of
great suffering, Sana regained her strength.
When at last she was able to be up and about in the open air, Mrs.
O’Brien prevailed upon her to accept her invitation to go with the
O’Brien family to their bungalow in the Catskills. New York was
sweltering. It was late in August and at times the thermometer would
show one hundred in the shade.
At the earnest pleading of her friend, Sana smiled, “Oh, you are so
good--you are the kindest woman I ever met.”
Mrs. O’Brien laughed at that, saying, “My dear child, it is easy to be
kind to you.”
“I’m sure I don’t know why I am imposing upon you so much.”
Mrs. O’Brien stroked Sana’s hair and replied, “Don’t let us talk about
it. You simply come along. Your being with us will be ample reward.”
“Well, if that is the way you feel about it, I surely cannot refuse.
Yes, I shall be glad to go with you.”
“Now you are showing the proper spirit.” She rang a bell, adding, “I
shall tell the maid to pack at once. We can’t get away from here quick
enough to suit me. Perhaps you didn’t know but Mr. O’Brien is on his
way to the mountains already, to get things in order.”
The next morning they were soon on board the river steamer, sailing up
the majestic Hudson.
It was an ideal day for a river trip. The two women seated well forward
on the upper deck basked in the warm sunshine, which, tempered by the
cooling breeze that came down river, seemed so utterly different from
the sweltering sun that beamed on the city’s paved streets that they
could readily have believed themselves to be in another land. Sana
was very much interested in a book she had brought with her and Mrs.
O’Brien likewise read from the various magazines she had purchased at
the dock. So the morning hours fled quickly by, so quickly indeed that
but few words passed between them before the dinner call was sounded.
The stimulating hours spent on deck had given them a hearty appetite.
They ate leisurely and contentedly, Mrs. O’Brien more than once
commenting on the change that had already been wrought in Sana.
Returning to the deck they resumed their chairs and books. Reading soon
became tiresome, however, and they fell to talking of this, that and
what-not, as will two ladies at any time.
The boat was now sailing the upper reaches of the river; with the
mountains in the distance. Sana suddenly remarked:
“This reminds me of a journey I once took up the Rhine. Only the
castles and winefields which lend an added interest and romance to that
historic river, are missing here.”
“True, my dear,” from Mrs. O’Brien, “but the homes of our millionaires
answer the purpose of the castles. As for the vineyards--they are
‘verboten,’ as the saying is, since our country has gone dry.”
It was with a curious questioning glance, her head turned sidewise
toward her companion, that Sana said, “But there is always wine at your
home? Where does it come from?”
“Oh, my husband takes care of that. He used to import his wines from
France and Germany, but that, of course, cannot be done now. So we have
to do the next best thing and that is buy it from those who manage to
get it into the country. As for stronger liquors, anyone who has the
price can get all they wish. England attends to supplying us with her
national drinks, so we get all the whiskey and brandy we wish. The
English have seen what a wonderful market they have here for their
goods--wet goods, you understand, and they are taking the opportunity
to make the best of it.”
This was all news to Sana, and she was content to let her friend go on
with her story.
“Yes, indeed. Special ‘rum-ships’ are operated under the usual English
governmental protection. These ships come within a few miles from
shore, remaining just far enough outside to be beyond the reach of the
Federal authorities. ‘Rum-runners’--fast motorboats--go out to these
ships, get a cargo, and under cover of darkness or a favorable fog,
transport it to the land of liberty.”
“How is it they can smuggle in this contraband when your government is
so efficient and all your authorities so honest in carrying out the
law?”
“Don’t worry, child. Many of those authorities, although appearing
thoroughly honest on the face of things, get their rake-off. Every so
often we read, in the papers, of some such authority being caught at
just that sort of thing. Why, some of those fellows are getting rich on
the graft. It seems to me that laws of that kind are always enacted for
just one purpose. And that is that certain politicians, or preferably
their friends, may enrich themselves at the expense of the general
public. The rich today can get all the liquor they want, but part of
the price they pay goes into the pockets of some grafter.
“It was always the same. Why I remember the time, some ten years ago,
a law was put into effect to control the sale of drinks on Sundays.
Food had to be served with the drinks to keep within the law. It was
a farce. The protective police and their go-betweens took the graft,
and the sandwich which was served with the drinks went back and forth
between the bar and the tables, acting simply as a chaperon. The same
sandwich was served a hundred times or so, before it ended its career
in the garbage pail. Provided, of course, some hungry individual, short
a dime for food, would not swallow it with his whiskey.”
From Sana, “Why, I thought people in this country always voted on
issues of this kind--that is, if the people wanted the country dry,
they would decide it and not the government, the servant of the people,
and that for this reason you call it a democracy. Only then could it,
in truth, be called a ‘government of the people, by the people, and for
the people.’ Also, I believe you call it ‘The Sweet Land of Liberty.’
What does that mean?”
“My dear child, it can readily be seen that you have not been here
long.”
“Mrs. O’Brien, surely you do not mean to tell me that the people of
this great country have nothing to say in matters of this kind? If that
is so, could their opinions count with the government in matters of
less importance than the stability of society? Stranger as I am, I have
noticed how big an increase there has been in crime and other matters
that can be laid directly at the door of this law. The absence of
light alcoholic drinks has had an effect not to be smiled at. I wonder
why doctors, surely men of learning and understanding, prescribe such
stimulating drinks to their patients. Is it to further weaken their
bodies and characters or to strengthen them?”
“Yes, Sana, I know, we do not have the logic others have, or rather
I should say, we have no logic at all. Common sense is thrown to the
winds every four years during election campaigns and twice in the
interim; therefore of what use is it to think? Seemingly a waste of
time. Politicians, as well as others representing various interests,
will state facts or untruths, for that matter, one day and contradict
them the next just to suit their interests, so the people absolutely
do not know where they stand. And when a final issue is to be decided,
the rogues step in and find it very easy to lead the dear public by the
nose.
“Why, they do not even know the correct time,--our very clocks
contradict themselves. Take the ten o’clock train, for instance. After
running for five minutes in an effort to catch it, you find it is only
a few minutes past nine or eleven. You see, it is all part of the game.
The people must have no fixed ideas. Their minds must be as pliable as
dough--to suit the interests. That is what they do not understand, as
yet, in other countries. But at the same time, the public must be told
over and over again that they are the foremost and freest people on the
face of the globe and that settles it, as sure as the ‘amen’ in the
church.”
“And these persons, running things like that, get away with it?”
“Yes, Sana, they do, but they are only so very few that the rest do not
mind them. But should one mind them, he will be a ‘marked man,’ like
Tom Lawson who exposed the frenzies of high finance in Wall Street in
his famous novel ‘Friday the Thirteenth.’ First they drove him from
his large operations to smaller ones. Finally they ‘broke’ him. The
recent sale of his four million dollar estate ‘Dreamwold’ was the last
of the tragedies of Lawson’s life. And the same tactics are used with
others in political life. They get them in the long run, even if things
have to be ‘framed,’ as many records show. I could tell you more,
but I must not. Someone might overhear me and I would get myself in
difficulties, even though proofs are available. They may do anything
to you, but you must not get back at them, no matter how right you
are. You know, it hurts their feelings to know the truth, but don’t
expect them to show any feeling for you. But to get back to the liquor
question, Sana. I have several recipes with me, for very good drinks.
I got them from the Duncans, friends of mine, you know. They have been
making home-brew ever since the country went dry. The stuff they make
is good and has a decided kick to it. I have had some several times at
their home. I enjoy a good drink once in a while myself, you know.
“I brought copies of the recipes with me. You never know who you might
meet and it is always good to be able to compare notes.”
Mrs. O’Brien, after searching a few minutes among the puffs, rouge
boxes and other miscellany that filled her hand bag drew out two slips
of paper which she handed to Sana.
“Here they are, you may keep a copy. Might come in handy when your own
country goes dry.”
Sana looked at the papers for a moment, then commenced to read, “Peach
Wine--one pound evaporated peaches, two pounds sugar....”
Mrs. O’Brien interrupted her with a hasty “Shh. Shh. Not so loud. It is
against the law for people to know how to do things.”
Sana laughed heartily as she cried, “Oh, es ist verboten!”
She resumed her reading and having finished looked up with “So that is
what the people make in order to get what the government doesn’t wish
them to have?”
“Yes. It’s good stuff--a peach of a drink. Read the other.”
Sana did as she was told, then laughingly, “I see you people have found
a good use for that one-time useless weed to serve the pressing need
of the populace. But, if I recall aright, I saw in the papers a few
days ago that the government decided that even the poor defenceless
dandelion came within the ban of the prohibition laws. Now that
decision is being enforced I am sure that your law-abiding citizens
will see to the banishing of that innocent flower from the vacant lots.”
“Yes, the question will be, who is first on the lot, I or my neighbor?”
“Has the dandelion drink a strong kick, as you call it?”
“A decided one. They tell me that one can get tipsy and even ‘stewed’
on it, and were one to drink enough of it, he would be ‘soused,’” Mrs.
O’Brien laughed.
“Isn’t it funny? Pretty soon the government will order your people not
to eat any apples, because, as you know, there are some people who
become intoxicated on eating that fruit.”
“That is so. I have seen many a time, as a child, in the country, a
goat drunk from eating apples, and it would run around at full speed,
ending up by butting its head into trees--much to my delight.”
Sana, smiling in anticipation of her next remark, continued the
subject, “I presume the prohibition law has got the ‘goat’ of many of
your people.”
“Yes, of those who cannot afford to lay in a stock now and then. Ten
dollars a quart is a steep price. But as you can see from the recipes,
there is a way around. As I said, I have often thought that many of
our laws are purposely made to be evaded, so that the grafters can
get their rake-off. We find ways to aid them. One thing is sure.
The people are paying the piper and it has always been so in this
country. Now, they have taken the sunshine out of our homes and let the
moonshine in.”
“I see. After all, you people do some scheming, it seems, to get some
small liberties in spite of what seems to be, in reality an autocratic
government. Now, that drinking even light alcoholic beverages is an
offense, and something not to be tolerated, I suppose they will pass a
law making it unconstitutional to indulge in tobacco. Then what will
the people do?”
“Do? Why, nothing, so far as eliminating the law is concerned, but as
for obeying it--well, you know. The more the law is disregarded the
bigger the graft, and the bigger the graft the more successful the law.
But I really do not know what it will lead to. I guess you are right,
and after they have taken care of our smoking, some hypocrite will
attempt to do away with coffee and tea.”
Sana laughed, “Well there would be more sense in that. Some people
cannot sleep after drinking coffee, while a glass of good beer does
much to induce sleep. The caffeine in coffee is a dope, while there is
no nourishment in the drink itself. That could not be said of any malt
beverage.”
“Sana, you spoke of such things getting our ‘goat.’ That reminds
me of a good story. I do not believe you know this, but my brother
Pat was in the saloon business. He was quite prosperous, too, and a
law-abiding citizen in every respect of the word. He never did a mean
trick in his life and was a respected member of our church. Then came
prohibition--which by the way was rather a surprise to the returning
soldiers. They had been wined in France, to their heart’s content, but
when they returned to their own country they found they had criminal
intentions if they tried to get a drink. Well, Pat went broke. He
couldn’t be honest and make a living at the only trade he knew. And
what made him so sore was that, as he expressed, the biggest bootlegger
put him out of business. You remember that there was a time when dear
England had her back against the wall and was crying to America for
men and ships. It is a matter of history as to how willingly and well
we responded to that plea. Well, as a matter of gratitude, England,
greatly against her will, allowed us to keep, for ourselves, a few
former German vessels that had been tied up at our docks during the
war--they were not allowed coal for quite some time prior to our
entering into the war so they didn’t get away. Well, we got those boats
and, of course, we had the privilege of retaining and using the wooden
boats we built during the war. That was about all we got for the
billions of dollars we loaned and the thousands of lives that were lost
on the fields of battle. And what good were those boats when we could
not successfully cope with vessels flying the flags of other nations?
That is where Uncle Sam turned bootlegger. The boats running under
foreign registry carried liquor--that was the whole situation in a
nutshell. Americans would not travel on ‘dry’ boats when they could get
liquor on others. So it came to pass that American vessels were allowed
to carry liquors for the convenience of the passengers. And it was a
good idea. It kept American money where it belongs--in America.
“But it didn’t last for long. Complications arose so that Washington
ruled that our American vessels must not have liquor aboard.
“But while it did last, Uncle Sam was a bootlegger--serving the
interests of a few--the ship owners, and Pat and the rest of us footed
the bill, by paying heavier taxes to make up for the losses incurred
by the Government when the closing of the breweries, distilleries
and saloons wiped out many millions of dollars income in the way of
internal revenue. And making law breakers of honest citizens.”
“Why don’t the people protest against such reactionary laws?”
“Their ‘state of mind’ won’t allow them. It’s a case of follow the
leader all the time. Why, in their treatment of their own neighbors
this can be seen. Prior to the war, the Germans for instance, were
credited as being a people possessed of sound logic; hard working,
intelligent and above-board. The German-Americans in this country were
respected as good citizens, hard workers, and held a high place in the
esteem of their fellowmen. When the war came they did not change--it
was our ‘state of mind’ that changed. Another case of follow the
leader. Guided by a few we arose against them, abusing and accusing
them shamefully. Every Tom, Dick and Harry felt self-ordained to search
out their innermost secrets. There was a perfect orgy of tale bearing
and envious tattling. The police department of one city reported
receiving as many as fifteen thousand letters in one day from people
wishing to report actions of their neighbors. Actions and words that
had passed unnoticed for years, were suddenly found to be treacherous.
“And so it is with everything. The controlling caste makes one believe
things--and if you believe it, it’s so. Barnum was right.”
“Who was Barnum and what did he say?”
“Barnum was an American circus man. He had been in the business for
many years and in his contact with the American people he had learned
to know them better than anyone else could have done. When asked the
secret of his success in dealing with the American people, he summed up
with the phrase, ‘The people want to be fooled.’ And another American,
a leading railroad man, said, ‘the public be damned!’ So, there you
have it.”
An hour or so more of inconsequential conversation passed between the
two women and the boat was docking at Albany.
“Come, Sana,” urged Mrs. O’Brien, “let’s hurry to the hotel. We can get
a bite to eat before Mr. O’Brien calls for us. And perhaps we can see
whether this town is any drier than New York.”
The hotel dining-room was quite crowded, and they noticed that there
was more than the usual air of hilarity about the place. On several
tables were what appeared to be--real highballs!
This sight interested Mrs. O’Brien to such an extent that when the
waiter came for their order she remarked, “George--what kind of nice
drink can we have?”
“Well, we has ginger ale, lemonade, buttermilk--all what you sees on
the card,” indicating the beverage list of the menu--“Yassum, all
those.”
“But I mean something more substantial--something like they have,” and
she motioned with her head toward a party of women at a table nearby.
“Oh, them there ladies done brought their own substantials.”
“You mean in their hip pockets”--correcting herself, “in their own
flasks?”
“Sure enough, ma’am--but....”
“Ah, then you might be able to fix us up?”
The waiter studied the two for a moment, then, assured that he could
take a chance, replied, “Guess I can,” and prepared to go.
Mrs. O’Brien halted him with “Good stuff, remember, and some ginger
ale.”
“Good stuff is right, ma’am. Government goods, made before the war,”
and he was gone.
Shortly he returned with their food, a bottle of ginger ale and a small
flask wrapped in a napkin. The latter he placed at the side of Mrs.
O’Brien’s plate, and without further ado was away to attend to other
duties.
After pouring the contents of the flask, about a half pint, into their
glasses, Mrs. O’Brien studied the label on the bottle and with a smile
read “For medicinal purposes only.” “Yes, rye whiskey, bonded by the
government about two months ago. You see what I mean by the ‘state of
mind’?”
During the meal, enlivened by the cheering cup, they heard snatches of
the conversations of nearby diners. All were speaking of the liquor
situation. One woman admitted that prior to the country going dry she
never thought of drinking, now she couldn’t get enough. A man remarked
that he and others, belonging to his club, were operating under
protection.
When the check was presented Mrs. O’Brien noted that the whiskey was
not charged for. But the waiter stood there with his hand resting on
the table, three fingers pointed ceilingward--“Three dollars extra for
the substantials.”
The bill paid and the waiter gone, pleased with a generous tip, the two
strolled about in the lobby.
After a few minutes wait Mr. O’Brien put in appearance.
Soon the three were seated in the Benz he had brought with him from
Europe, and after taking Sana to see the State Capitol, they went
spinning over the roads towards their lodge in the Catskill forests.
The mountain life did Sana a world of good. Mrs. O’Brien loved the
outdoor life and would give Sana no rest. She would rout her out of
bed early in the morning and the two would go for a tramp across hill
and valley. Then again there would be a tennis game to be played, or
a ride on horseback that could be put off no longer. Sana rode well,
in fact her riding was the envy of all who saw her. Many a long ride
was had over the picturesque mountain roads--down old Rip Van Winkle’s
trail--down through the wonderfully beautiful Kaaterskill Canyon, or
over to Haines Falls, Tannersville and Prattsville, formerly the center
of America’s tanning industry, and where today there stands a monument,
just outside the village, dedicated to Pratt, the founder, in the form
of a statue cut out of the living rock.
So employed, the remaining summer days went all too fast for Sana, and
the cold mountain days drew on. But with their coming returned all
Sana’s youthful vigor and charm. Her face glowed with the wine of life
and her eyes sparkled like winter stars.
Before returning to New York the O’Briens took Sana to see Niagara
Falls. “The greatest sight in the world,” chortled Mr. O’Brien, “and
it’s American.” And Sana agreed with him.
Sana spent the winter with Mrs. O’Brien, a winter that sped quickly,
broken up as it was with trips to Boston, Washington, Cleveland,
Chicago and other American cities, as well as a protracted stay at
Atlantic City--the year round pleasure resort. In this way Sana came
to know America better than most Americans do in a lifetime.
With the spring came a desire to return to Paris. Her friends did
what they could to dissuade her, but to no avail. So reluctantly they
consented.
Mr. O’Brien insisted that the day before sailing be spent at Coney
Island. Sana must see it, he told Mrs. O’Brien when she frowned down
the suggestion. She knew that he was just as anxious for himself as for
Sana, but she at last consented--thankful, in her heart, that he had
made the suggestion, because it was years since she had been there and
though she would not admit it, it was only her “state of mind” that
kept her from going there before. But of course, he mustn’t know just
how she felt about it.
There was no happier crowd at the Island that day than their little
party. They “shot the chutes”--got lost in the maze, and did all the
things they thought they never would do--but that’s the spirit of
the Island. In like spirit they joined the multitude in eating the
famous “hot dog and sauerkraut,” or as Mr. O’Brien called it, “liberty
cabbage.” He regretted this remark, because his better half broke in
with “I suppose in the broadmindedness you have acquired since the
war you call these frankfurters ‘liberty dogs.’ Don’t you have enough
liberties forced down your throat without applying them to your food?
Put some mustard on your liberties and the dogs will taste better.”
The following day the O’Briens accompanied Sana to the steamship pier
to say “goodbye.”
Parting they exacted a promise that she would soon return to America
and visit them. Readily Sana agreed, little dreaming of how the riddle
of her life was to be solved by the Fates that guide us from the cradle
to the grave.