Running moonshine... any good stories?

I lived in North Carolina in the early 60s and gained a reputation amongst my friends for being very fast with a 4 speed transmission in my ex-super stock 1960 Chevy. A friend of mine bought a brand new 1963 Dodge with the 330 HP 383 engine with a 4 speed that came from the factory with a Hurst shifter.

He asked me to teach him how to speed shift and like a fool I said let's go. We pulled out on one of the main drags through town. I explained the basics of how it was done and demonstrated shifting it at normal traffic speed. When we got to the next traffic stop I punched it and went through the gears with rubber chirping in every gear up to about 80 mph. A mile or so down the road I turned the car around and zoomed back toward town repeating the moves as he watched.

When we arrived back at our starting point (a local gas station hangout ) he opened the trunk and showed me 4 cases of moonshine he was set to deliver that night.

I cussed the son-of-a-bitch out and he just laughed like hell at me.

 

My family came from ireland and we know why the irish were run out and sent to america. They settled in the northeast hills of bama. Even when they finally came to texas they lived in the woods where snakes wouldn't want to live.Now i herd tells , i cant say if they were true or not, but when the revenur's would come around looking for stills they would offer kids money to tell them where there pops and grandpaps still was up in the hills. They would jump at the chance to get a nickel, dime or whatever. Then they would tell the law we want the money up front or no deal, and when the law asked why they had to have payment up front they said we can tell you where its at but you go up on that hill you aint commin back.

 

"Lee Petty ABSOLUTEY ran shine. The way I know is My Grandfather, NS Poole, built all of The Petty family engines at that time, way before they had their own shops. Lees father owned a Trucking Company in Level Crossquote"


mopartim- for the record, my gramps used to talk about your gramps... small world... there were also a 'team of brothers', I can't remember their names but they were from somewhere in the Piedmont and legendary engine builders...man I can't remember their names, you would know who they were if I mentioned them...anywho... and yes, I heard the same thing, the Petty's were defenitely into the liquor.

Gramps never had a problem with the 'sugar buying' because he always grew sugar cane, in the fall they would make molasses.

By the way, I think current NC statutes say... A taxpaying citizen can produce no more than 25 gallons of liquor at one time. It must be consumed on said property and cannot be transported. If transported it becomes taxible and you must have a state and federal tax ID number as well as a license. Annually, a person without a license can produce no more than 75 gallons.

 

I was born, raised, and still live in the same place. Consequently, it was the hotbed of illegal whiskey in the region. The little town near me was raised on the illegal whisky trade, and was a resort for the same reason. Prohibition was good for us.

I made the mistake of comparing modern era pot growers with moonshiners in the presence of my grandmother during my smart-assed teenage years. I was nearly fed my teeth. I will never forget her shaking that wooden spoon in front of my face and declaring that I knew better than to say such a thing. "Never, never let me hear you say that again. God knows the truth of those times and how good people fed their families - you know better and should know the difference". By that time I had tears in my eyes, because she was right.

There is a difference between folks of her age and the current age most of us have heard tales of. Times were hard, really hard. There were no jobs at all and most in the south lived by subsistence farming with little to no cash income. Here in the highlands, across the Cumberland Plateau, and into the Applachains of NC/VA, tobacco was the only money you might make, and most of that was debt at the local store on the things you couldn't raise/make yourself. Everything else going on was to eat.

Moonshine was a way to have a little money. You grew enough corn to feed the sow and a litter of pigs for meat, the rest went to mash. The best moonshine is real sour mashed corn liquor. If you don't have enough money to eat, you sure don't spend it on sugar either. The yeild is low, but the cash outlay is low too. Your still had the same value as your mule and was a single pot sized according to your ability. Generally small, craftsman type work that you took pride in. It wasn't to have more money than your neighbor, it was to be self reliant enough to survive. Pride in doing right by your family. There were no textile mills for the women to work in, no jobs for the men other than farming. This was all you had, so you did it. This was the culture from the time of Boone and Crockett until the 50's. Proud people of firey independence, honest and felt they were made criminals by laws that didn't understand their situation.

The age most of us are familiar with is the sugar whiskey age. Entirely different culture, different time, different whiskey. From 1950 onward, greed and industrialism start taking over. Huge, multiple pots going into one worm. As the generations passed the reigns, the integrity kept notching down in the people involved and the product. By the time I came of age, taking a shot of moonshine was like playing russian roulette unless you absolutely knew who made it and what cut they were. Its still that way, with fewer and fewer good makers left.

I think Mitchum was trying to capture was was left of the "Old Guard" in his movie and show the plight they faced. It was real, and was the last days of the old ways. The church scene and the patriarchs meeting in the tobacco barn, that's the old guard in its last days. Its my favorite two scenes in the movie, because I knew men like that.

I have alot of tales to tell that would take up way too much space. I'll tell my grandpa's story, because its a little different. He was born in 1916, raised in town around the hotels etc. with uncles immersed in the moonshine trade. He married a girl out in the country who was endowed with a small farm, so out there he went and undertook the same type of farming I mentioned above. The one exception was that he landed a substitute mail carrier job.

His part-time job and an intense love for coon hunting took him out of the makings. However, he used some of his money to buy a gasoline torch and soldering set. Rather than making moonshine, he was the still maker and mechanic. Which wasn't as lucrative as making shine, but between his part time job and the still repairs, he was self reliant. He could coon hunt all he wanted to and tinker with cars.

My grandmother went to work at the new shirt factory in 1951. That was the last year he made/repaired stills. Except the occasional repair of one for his oldest buddies. She used her money to buy their first refrigerator, to install electricity, and 3 light bulbs into the house. The next year she bought an electric stove and a Wizard socket set for my grandpa. The reason I mention this is because it represents the change from having to make shine and not having to make shine. Wherever you were in the south, the first factory in your neighborhood marked the beginning of the end for the "craftsman" makers. Luxury could be had without constantly looking over your shoulder or worrying about that strange vehicle in the community. As modernity creeped into the hills, the ability to be invisible became harder and harder.

He was a substitute mail carrier until the day he died in 1978. He carried the mail through the same "whiskey highway" route during his whole career. He would hand deliver the mail to the older folks and would talk a while with them. Some still had no phones and depended on him to come by and check on them. I would ride the route with him in the summer occasionally and would climb out of his big 383 Magnum Fury III to listen to the stories. I'm glad I did. Listening to those proud people taught me the difference.

My grandma only had to remind me once.

Hud

 

Many years ago used to spend some time with an old broken down high-climber who lived comfortably in a small cabin east of Black Diamond WA., on the west flanks of the Cascades. He no longer drank, but did his share of recipes and showed me some of the hardware. They would erect the still next to an unused coal mine and vent the exhaust into the shaft. The finished product lubricated many a Polish, Italian and Irish social event!

 

Hey Hudson,
I found out some things about my family in much the same manner as you. My Grandfather moved to Ohio in the early 40's from a little place in Va. He was born in Cripple Creek Va and moved to Ivanhoe, VA.

We always heard the whispers of him running shine and and getting in trouble with "The LAW" and was told to move or do jail time. A couple of years back my Dad, Uncle and I went back to his old haunts. My dad remembered the name of one of my Grandfather's old buddies and when we asked if he still was alive, they said alive? Hell he still lives in the same Slab Cabin. Ivanhoe was a mining town and the mining company built slab houses for the workers. As a matter of fact there is a nearby area still called Slabtown.

Well we hunted down his old friend Budd Spraker and I was full of questions...I wanted the truth.

First thing Budd said when we introduced ourselves was he said you didn't have to tell me who you were.....you look like the rest of your clan, and my dad was the spitting image of my grandfather.

Stories I had heard over the years were not the truth. Granddad didn't have to leave the county because he was making shine.....he left because the mine was closing and he had an oppurtunity to go to Ohio to work for the same mining company but in a Union plant.....the moonshine was not profitable because EVERYBODY in town had a still. If you wanted to make money you had to run it across the mountain to North Carolina. My Grandfather made MANY runs in the night with no lights in a big Buick " with two carbs" according to Budd. Budd said he had a couple close calls but the police or agents never caught him because he was born in those mountains and new every rut, tree stump and hiding spot there was.

As far as being in trouble with the law it was not my grandfather but one of his brothers and his cousins that were always in trouble with the High Sheriff from petty theft to knifing a guy at the family store in Cripple Creek. Budd did say however that he was always a big guy and was a good scrapper and deadly with a knife.....people just left him alone because was big quick, could fight and always had a sharp blade ready to go.....but if he was your friend you couldn't ask for a better friend, he'd do anything for you. In hindsight I wonder how Budd (or everybody) knew he was a good fighter or quick with a knife if they didn't see it at one time or another? Dad filled me in on some stuff he remembers and said his dad would come home from work, eat dinner, watch TV and sharpen his knife for hours

Your story was dead on with what Budd said....you just had to do with what you had, lots of trading and helping each other out....we were all poor he said but we were all strong too. You traded vegetables from your garden with the hog farmer for meat on Sunday, The women would all get together and can fruits and then split it up between the families. When you shot a wild turkey you shared it with your neighbors. It was a very tight nit community and when the revenuers did come through people would hide their stills, their neighbors still and cover each others tracks.....and then turn in a bogus still in another community to get them out of town....then the other town would do the same to the next community. He said that by doing this they would keep the revenuers chasing their tails until they got frustrated and left the area. He also said every once in a while the law would go into the woods and find a still that was left for them to find, bust up the still and leave claiming victory when he said most of the time it was put together from a bunch of junk and most times didn't even work well enough to make a load!

You gotta do what ya gotta do to survive. Your character really meant something in those days and if you were tough, honest and reliable you were a good person.

 

I had a runin with a moonshiner in the military in the early 70's while stationed in Huntsville Alabama. This guy was from a long line of hard core shiners and got caught in the draft. He hated the military and came to me to help him get out. The scheme was that he would "injure" his leg and get discharged. The "injury" involved me climbing up on a top bunk and jumping off and kicking his knee. The knee caved and broke and I almost got arrested for that shit. But, the guy got his discharge and went back to shining and I never saw him again. We had that stuff in the barracks and I swear I don't know how they drank that shit. I tried and couldn't get my nose past the smell to take a sip from that mason jar. Stuff is highly flammable too!

 

I think the brothers you are referring to were The Rumleys?

 

You got it......one of the sons of them now lives in Cherryville,NC..and he builds motors and car, and what not's. He learned very well. I usually build all my engines. But I had him build me a caddy engine. I'm not sure if he reground the cam or had Eldon Davis do it.....but that fucker would run like a scalded dog.

I am from the Rutherford County, NC, and shine is still very popular. The man there who made it for many, many years was Theodore VanDyke. I bought from him even when I was in high school. Best shine I've ever had. I know of a car back home that was used to haul shine. It had the truck cut out and a 55 gallon drum welded in. I believe it was a '40 or so Plymouth with a hemi in it. Motor is long gone, car was rolled, but man the stories it could tell if it could talk.

Mott

 

Haha! Great story.

Lots of that kind of thing in Alberta (all over Canada actually) from the prohibition era. There's a church near downtown Calgary that supposedly had a still in the attic. Cops came in one Sunday when the thing was giving off a lot of heat in the winter, and they busted the church custodian. One of my friends said some of the still was built into the structure of the church, so they left some of it behind when they dismantled it rather than damage the roof.

On the west coast where my wife grew up, there are all kinds of tales of crazy boats and sketchy rumrunning areas.

 

I enjoyed reading your history, thanks.

Things were a bit different here than most other places. My hometown was a resort through the mid 50's. Very isolated for its time and had the "Las Vegas" theme of today down pat in its own time. Hotels, boarding houses, small shops, and amusement parks. The attraction was natural mineral water, but the real draw was fire-water. The town wasn't even formally incorporated until 1953, but had been a mineral resort since the 1880's. When prohibition came down, the little town exploded with activity.

About the only way in was by T-model taxi from the railroad depot in Hartsville, TN. The "runners" in our case were from town and mainly brought product from the outlying areas back into town. The haulers had to make a "round" of pickups throughout the countryside to get a load up. The deals were based on trust and vying for the product of the best makers. If the maker didn't trust you, you wouldn't get his stuff at any price. The batches were small from individual makers and became "blended" by the runners. So, the reputation around town was the quality of your "blend" and was the responsibility of the "runner/bootlegger".

That model was always how it worked here. Even in the days of the big "sugar whiskey" stills, transport was the responsibility of the buyer. The maker was responsible for making and would sell some locally to trusted consumers. The quantity buyer would move the bulk of the whiskey if it was going long distance. By that time, agriculture here had changed too and was much larger scale. Many a truckload of corn, tobacco, and any other raw commodity you can name - had 100's of gallons of whiskey under them. It was a "Smokey and the Bandit" scheme that only came into play if some heat got too close. The object was to stir up the law with a chase, get them all occupied trying to find you, then open up a gap for the big load to slip through. The "legend" of the runner was used as a decoy.

Nobody around here was ever busted for "transport", although several were busted at their stills. As the bigger boys got bigger, they began to turn in the little guys through the late 50's / early 60's. Between a better ag economy, more jobs, and a growing stigma attached to the "big boys" - most folks quit. Most stopped because they didn't want to be equated with the big boys, nor live under the possibility of being turned in by them to reduce competition.

I was lucky enough to live a small part of all this in the mid/late 80's. I'm not going to spill all the details, because you never know when times may get hard enough to fire back up in some capacity. I worked at an auto parts place and garage right smack in the middle of the town. A far cry from the town my ancestors knew, by this time it was dead and really spooky. It was the only auto parts store I ever knew that had a "drive through" window. I worked the night shift as a mechanic, which seemed like the most active time for folks to come by and pick up their parts. We did it all the "ol' timey" way. Since by this time the "big boys" were also long gone, a niche for the little guy opened back up.

I laid my former boss into the cold Tennessee clay this past summer. He had all of us "boys" who had been involved with his business to lay him into the ground. He gave me the unique opportunity to live and do what I had heard so many stories about in a completely by-gone era.

My '49 Hudson, has a history to it in this trade. How it was used was different than my own experiance, but it hauled. It came from a different region than where I live, so its experiance isn't the same as what I've known. It really doesn't matter. When I sit down behind the wheel, I know we both have secrets that won't ever be fully told.

Hud

 

Boy Hudsonater, you and Curly sure lay your stories out nice! If we just had
some pictures to go with this history lesson it would be my favorite thread EVER.

My Great Grandad made shine in the Western NC mountains but I can't get any
stories out of any of the family about any more than that. He was a pretty mean
dude and they've all kinda put that chapter of family history behind them.

He had a freakin' cool 50 Buick sedanette I got to go for a couple of rides in
before he passed. I think that might have hooked me on old cars since I was
an impressionable 8 or 10 year old at the time.

 

Thanks for the comments on my stories. When I re-read them, they are absent alot of the "action" that I expect folks wanted to read. Regretfully, I don't have any pictures of anything that would be of interest. I don't figure there are many, taking pictures of something you are trying to avoid being caught at doesn't make alot of sense. Although we'd all like to have them now.

I'll post a few pics of my car. I don't know its entire history. I was told by the guy I bought it from that it was "used in a less than admirable trade". Whether he was the guilty party, or the orginal owner, I don't know. He did say that the original owner's wife was from my own hometown and her husbad was a "character". The car was that family's only vehicle until '62 and was bought brand spanking new from Hill Motor Company in Russellvile, Ky in '49. In '67 she was parked in a barn and left until I found it. We're the 3rd owners.

This much I can say. It was driven HARD in its lifetime. Its a sound car without a rusty spot in/on/under it besides the obvious patina. However, it had been loaded to the point of bursting the forward lip of the trunk pan, which was patched with a heavy piece of metal and machine screws. The rear suspension was absolutely trashed, springs de-arched, with the differential and transmission in no-so-good shape. It has hauled alot of some heavy something. It could have been a "mule" or a "runner" - maybe a little of both. With the exception of fixing and improving the mechanical aspects of the car, we've changed little else about it. Which has netted us alot of comments/stories from folks at shows. Its exact history is something we'll never know, so we leave it as is and hope some folks with similiar memories fill in the gaps with their own stories.

Here she is right after we brought the car home and made her roadworthy again. First time my youngest daughter sat in it, she called the car Ol' Lightnin'. Fitting name that both my Dad and I have stuck with.


being the rodders, lore keepers, and Hudson enthusiasts we are - we decided to draw a "technological line" at '65 and do unto this car what a "runner" would have done. A very unsuspecting car with some extras where you can't see them. The carb will be gone by next season, replaced with a '59 Carter AFB of the right size/timeframe.


This is what it looks like now: Still the original paint, we just keep rubbing/scrubbing on it.


From what we gather from other folk's stories, it wasn't the Hudson's power that made it a good choice for running 'shine. It was that no other car could handle as well on the roads, both dirt and pavement. It was powerful enough to be hard to catch in the straights, but the twisties are what kept you out in front and the distance too great to be made up even by the most powerful "chase" car. The twistier the road, the further out front you were and could "shuck" the hounds alot easier.

What seat time I've had in a Hudson, I can understand how that works. It does snatch a curve better than any car I ever misbehaved in during the 80's. I should have discovered these cars 25 years ago myself.

Hud

 

This article was in the local news paper today.Enjoy!

http://www.charlotteobserver.com/286/story/289505.html

 

Just to clarify any misconceptions, it is a federal offense to distill *any* alcohol without a state and/or federal license. Even for personal use. You can apply for a farm permit or a permit that allows you to setup a science fair project if you care to go through the paperwork. It took us 2 years to get all the paperwork done for our MicroDistillery here in Texas.

Ownership of a still without a state/federal license is a little less clear-cut. The TTB (Tax and Trade Bureau, arm of the BATF) says you can have a still, but cant use it without a license. The TABC (Texas Alcoholic Beverage Comission) says you cant even own a still without a license. The local enforcement agent of the TABC says they take in one or two illegal stills every year (mostly in east Texas).

So, just be aware if you have grandpa's old still out back...

 

With 24" of snow in the last 24 hrs. I had plenty of time for thread searching on H.A.M,B. I got into moonshine and Thunder Road and it got me thinking. When I built my 37 Zephyr there was a couple of things a little odd. The front cross member at the spring bolt was just destroyed . and the repair was shattered also. The unibody frame was packed full of road dirt. In the forward area of the trunk floor behind the back seat you could tell by the marks that two approx 12" pieces of 3" channel had been bolted to the floor. It looks like how you would mount a tank plus there is a hole appox 3" dia cut in the trunk floor between them. When I tore it down it did.t look like the fuel lines had ever been altered.If the car had come out of Kentucky ect I would have thought Moonshiner, but it was out of central Washington State. Recently there was an article in the paper about the vast uncontroled Border between BC Canada and Wash state. Now it's drugs, but it mentioned for years it was a hotbed of untaxed Canadian alcohol being brought in on the miriads of uncontrolled logging roads back and forth along the border. Never know for sure of course, But a new 37 zephyr 4dr with a 4-11 rear would have given any thing a run for it's money in those days on dirt roads if it had to. Wondering if any one on the H.A.M.B. has found a old car that they knew for SURE had been a runner? OB

 

<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/THpp3ynOUsI&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/THpp3ynOUsI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>

 

Has anyone ever fixed a moonshine runner to be running on moonshine?
The engine, not the driver.
Would you get pulled over and charged, if your oversized tank is full, but no other cargo is found?
There gotta be some stories.

 

Is smuggling marijuana in a hot rod sedan the same as smuggling alcohol in a hot rod sedan?

 

Just a coupla words about moonshine runnin' and NASCAR - Junior Johnson. Read his book Big in Life. Did time for runnin' shine, was pardoned by President Reagan years later. Went to his raceshop years ago when it was still in Ingle Hollow over by North Wilkesboro. And I had a chance to meet him briefly, years ago at a NASCAR race down in Martinsville VA. He's the real deal. Oh and about the Pettys? Non drinkers. Richard wouldn't & won't allow beer or alcohol sponsor stickers on his teams' racecars. I think that's why cars weren't/aren't in the Busch Clash/Bud Shootout.

I was stationed at Shaw AFB South Carolina in the early 70s and one weekend went home with a buddy to west central North Carolina. We took a walk up in the mountains and came across a bunch of junk. Upon looking more closely we found glass gallon jugs and square 5 gallon cans, all busted up or with ax-made holes in them. My buddy said it was the fixins of an illegal still from years ago, and the "revenuers" found it and destroyed it.

 

My dad always claimed he ran a gas/shine mix in the runners he drove.He said that the shine gave the car a lot more 'boost"than the gas could.I asked why he didn't run a heavier load of shine in the tank and he said because gas was worth less than product so you ran just enough to outrun the feds and being local ment you could pretty much know what you needed to outrun the local law

 

Junior got busted while firing up his daddys still never got caught while driving

 

Makes perfect sense...haha...thanks for thinning out that one.

 

You are correct. It was the family business and as I understand it, running it was how he got involved with NASCAR. I heard similar stories about Morgan Shepherd's family too but don't know details. Likely others as well, probably some we'll never hear. thx for clarifying.

 

Yes you can get it out of the pump now. It's called E-85

 

Anybody know if it'd be illegal to have a still and make shine, then mix it with gas and not drink it?
I guess you still own a still and you still make shine...

 

I used to sit at my great grandmothers kitchen table in the lower Yakima valley and listen to her tell stories about how the "Fibbies" would come looking for my great grandfather. They had a garage/shop behind the house and that thing was full of mason jars, some of them were still full. I got my first taste of apricot brandy there, the apricots off the giant tree right over that same garage.

I miss my friend Mike that I used to work with. He may or may not of had a still, but every once in awhile I'd get a quart jar of clear liquid from him. My wife was looking for something in the trunk of my car once and thought it was a jar of paint thinner and poured it out. I guess it was my fault for not telling her it was there...

 

Not running 'shine, but here is my story.

When I was in the service back in the late '60's I smuggled a good bit of superb German beer back to the states inside the 2.75 rocket launchers. Those are the ones in the movies that spit out a bunch of rockets all at once. The rocket tubes were a perfect fit for the beer bottles. They shook us down as usual but never checked that stuff. I worked third shift, so unloading them was a piece of cake. I haven't been able to enjoy standard US "beer" since then. I got my orders for more easterly directions the day after I returned home from Germany.

 

Back in about '94 or '95 my Dad, a Ford dealer and collector, bought a '63 Galaxie. He was telling me about all about it before it was delivered. I was a teenager then but was really into cars like that. He told me it was an XL, which came with the nice spoke wheel covers, bumper guards, buckets and console. Factory 406,tri-power and a 4 speed. I couldn't wait to see it. When it came in, I told my Dad he was crazy, it was a 4 door! He just laughed. It was a nice all original car too. I had to drive it! Being a teenager at a Ford store, I had driven a few 5 liter Mustangs. This big 4 door tank would smoke 'em all. Anyway, my Dad was digging around and found a toggle switch in the rear tail light harness that would kill the rear lights, some helper springs in the back, and the bottom of the back seat had been cut up and hollowed out I guess you would say. That was way cool. I really wish he had kept that car. You could have put your Grandma in that car back in the day with a load under the seat and nobody would take a second look. The stories that car could tell!

 

My Grand-daddy had a garage where he and my uncle scraped out a living in Georgia.

My uncle ran w/ a girl who lived w/ shiners - they taught me how to "sandwich" (sip of water, sip of shine, another sip of water) - My uncle showed me an old chevy they put a "truck motor" into (348 or 409). I thought they were hot-rodders!

One weekend a neighbor got busted and I remember Grand-daddy sayin' "I knew it was too hot for a wood fire."

This was all about 1963 in Athens, GA.