The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 93: As Long As It's Legal

Episode Date: March 6, 2018

Who says you can't preach Sunday morning, and then sell whiskey Sunday night?

This is the way I heard it. The reverend had broken no law. He was just another guy standing in the pulpit, sharing the good news. True, he was not a full-time reverend. He was a Lutheran layman who also ran the general store. In other words, a reverent dedicated to serving his fellow man, though it should be noted that what he served them, along with a weekly message of salvation and a variety of household necessities,

was whiskey. Again, the Reverend had broken no law. He was just another guy who liked to make moonshine. A skill, he was still learning from his uncle. True, the Reverend was profiting from his venture, but there was nothing in the Bible that said a man couldn't make a little extra cash on the side. Point being, the Reverend was churning out a product that everyone loved,

everyone but his wife. Your still is an abomination. she said, you have to get rid of it. I've done nothing wrong, said the reverend. I run the only store in town, and this is what the people want. Besides, as long as it's legal, a man should be able to sell whatever he pleases. The reverend's wife responded with Ephesians, 518. Do not get drunk on wine, for it leads to debauchery.

The reverend replied with Timothy, 523, No longer drink only water, but use wine and spirits for the sake of your stomach. and your frequent ailments. His wife countered with Leviticus 10.9. Drink no wine, lest you or your sons die. He parried with Proverbs, 31,4. Give strong drink to the one who is perishing. Let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more.

Exasperated. His wife implored him, but you're never home anymore, she said. You and your uncle are obsessed always, kind the store, always worshiping at that cursed still. With that, she stomped off in a huff, the very picture of righteous indignation. Obviously, the reverend had broken no law. He was just another guy with a still. But now his still was starting to pay off. Under his uncle's careful instruction, the reverend had begun to filter his crystal clear alcohol through layers of charred sugar maple wood, a new technique that gave his shine, a smoky aftertaste, and a warm

amber hue. He called his uncle's method the Lincoln County process, and it was by all accounts a breakthrough and distillation that finally put some color into his product. People couldn't get enough of it, so the Reverend ramped up production and hired an apprentice, a young boy from a nearby farm. Over the next three years, with the help of his old uncle and his new apprentice, the Reverend's Whiskey became the toast

of the region, and who knows? Maybe his name would be on millions of bottles today if that traveling preacher hadn't come to town, intent on saving his flock from the wages of sin. At the camp meeting,

this Bible-thumping evangelist delivered a sermon packed with fire and brimstone and the promise of eternal damnation for all those who trafficked in hard drink. It was a devastating performance, and after the traveling preacher left, the reverend's congregation, egged on by his righteous wife, gave him an ultimatum, resign his still, or resign his ministry. And that is why the reverend got out of the moonshine business and went back to saving souls. He actually sold his still, but interestingly, not to his uncle, the man who put the color in his whiskey. Not to the man he once called the finest distiller I have ever known.

No, when the chips were down, the good reverend sold his still to the apprentice, a 13-year-old kid with very little education, very little money, and very little chance of success. Why? Because the reverend's uncle was not qualified to own a business. In fact, the reverend's uncle was not really his uncle. He was his property. Let's be clear. The reverend had broken no law. He was just another guy who had purchased another human being. On that score, the reverend's wife had no problem. After all, as long as it's legal, man. and should be able to buy or sell whatever he pleases, right? Prohibition is about more than what we allow and what we don't. It's also about what we discuss and what we won't. For decades, the tour guides in Tennessee have told the story of a kindly Lutheran minister who taught a poor country boy how to make whiskey.

It's a good story. It includes the gold medals he won at the World's Fair, the band he started that still bears his name, and the square bottles he insisted on using so that his customers might equate his product with the epitome of a square deal. And, of course, the famous limestone cave, the one with the underground spring

that still flows with water so clean and pure, it washes away the bitterness that other brands so often leave behind. Lately, though, their standard story has undergone some revisions. And today, if you journey to Lynchburg, you'll hear an updated version, a version that includes the contributions of a slave called Nearest Green, the long-forgotten uncle who taught Reverend Dan Call and his 13-year-old apprentice everything he knew about the business of making whiskey.

It's good to see credit given where it's due, especially when it's overdue. But no matter how often the story is told, generations from now, few will remember the Reverend who made the whiskey or the slave who taught him how. But the apprentice,

he will never be forgotten. The 13-year-old country boy, whose name can still be found on millions of black labels, carefully affixed to millions of square bottles, the orphan, who turned the moonshine of a reverend, Reverend Still and the knowledge of a single slave into America's best-selling whiskey.

Jack Daniel. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. If you work in University Maintenance, Granger considers you an MVP, because your playbook ensures your arena is always ready for tip-off, and Granger is your trusted partner. Offering the products you need all in one place, from HVAC and plumbing supplies to lighting and more, and all delivered with plenty of time.

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