Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

A hundred years ago, Prohibition was happening. Let me give you a little refresher on Prohibition, in case you, like me, spent high school Social Studies class trying to write science fiction and pass notes to your crush. On January 17, 1920, the government added an amendment to the Constitution outlawing alcohol in America, which may have seemed like a good idea at the time.

The thing that interests me about Prohibition is how little most people took it seriously. The feds were running around confiscating whiskey and breaking up stills, and groups of women protested a lot of taverns, but otherwise people just found ways to drink alcohol and went on with their lives. And this was exemplified very thoroughly here in central Pennsylvania.

In Sugar Valley and points north, we had Prince Farrington bootlegging whiskey and selling it all over the place. He donated a lot of the money to good causes, for what it’s worth. This led to a few ridiculous situations, such as the time he went to check on one of his stills, found the federal agents already there, pretended to be outraged, and helped them demolish it. (It was said that the only reason Farrington was ever arrested was when the cops needed confiscated whiskey for a party over the weekend, which shows you how seriously everyone took this.)

Helen Keller got pulled over on suspicion of being a bootlegger in 1926. Arriving in Lock Haven late at night for a speech the next day, her car was pulled over when the police thought she was smuggling booze.
It’s said that the statue of Peter Meitzler, at the top of Highland Cemetery, once had a beer mug or brandy glass in his hand, but it was smashed off by the temperance women.

And Mary Coira once made a meatloaf with a spoonful of whiskey and served it at an anti-alcohol meeting without telling anyone.

And, in Jersey Shore, there was an interesting little controversy about a hundred years ago involving the chief of police.

On November 26, 1924, the newspaper ran a short article about it: “Says Chief and Friends Drank Confiscated Beer.” The article ran for one paragraph, and mentioned the Burgess of Jersey Shore, E.S. Schleesley, had reprimanded the police chief for unethical behavior. (Again, this particular chief was not the only person ever accused of this particular act. And, for the record, “burgess” seems to be another word for “mayor.”)

“The recent controversy between E.S. Schleesley and Chief of Police Christine following the burgess’ suspension and his reinstatement by the borough council continues,” the article began.

Schleesley (I’m not sure that’s the correct spelling, but that’s what the article said) had accused Christine of drinking some confiscated beer with a few of his friends. In a somewhat brilliant plan, he’d substituted some brewed non-alcoholic beer for it in evidence, and kept the good stuff for himself. Also a quart of Canadian Club whiskey, which also appeared to have disappeared from the evidence locker.

Amusingly, the chief essentially confessed to this. He admitted to having committed “indiscretions,” but agreed to “walk the straight and narrow path in the future.” Borough council believed him and let him keep the job, but the burgess didn’t and continued to push for his being fired.

I haven’t been able to find any follow-ups in the newspaper archives about this, but I’m curious. I may just keep browsing a bit, and see if I can find out what happened. Think I’ll read over some 1924 newspapers while I have a beer.