“Quit Yer Prayin'!” How My Great Grandpa Handled Prohibition.

I've been into genealogy for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I'd skip out on playing with my cousins because I wanted to hear the stories that the adults shared of those that came before them. I have vivid memories of my mom and aunts working around a large quilt rack at my grandma's. I'd be underneath it pretending I was in a fort as the rainbows of the material above were struck with needle and thread by their aging hands. I would listen to them tell stories and gossip as I played. So it was no surprise that I took on the role of family historian, archivist, and collector of old clutter. Oh, and I love my fair share of gossip, too.

As an amateur genealogist, I've traced the lines of my family and others back several generations. As a result, I've even proven lineage to Revolutionary War Patriots that have gained membership to organizations like the Daughters of the American Revolution. I love family history. Regardless of whose family, I am captivated by the stories of where we all came from.

This particular story is from my paternal grandmother. (When I started my bourbon journey on social media, I took the moniker as Lady Bootlegger as a result of the story I tell you now.) Towards the end of my grandma's life, I spent time visiting her and clarifying stories either she or my dad had shared over the years.

A prominent German-American family, my 3rd Great Grandparents Michael and Catherine had emigrated from Luxembourg in the 1850s. They shared the adventurous boat ride to the land of opportunity where they married and settled in Kossuth, Wisconsin. It was here that they raised more than 10 children. These children grew into college graduates and very successful businessmen. The old photos I have show that this was a family of wealth: sometimes owning several businesses at once. Saloons, liquor stores, boarding houses, and hotels seem to be the common theme of records. My Great-Great Grandpa Mathew had run a boarding house in Manitowoc before he moved his wife Sallie and their 7 children to North Dakota just outside of Lisbon Township in 1910. Eventually, they owned and operated as many as four ranches in the surrounding area.

Birth of a Bootlegger

Born in 1893, my Great-Grandpa Edwin was the eldest living son of Matt and Sallie. In 1916, Ed married the love of his life, my Great Grandmother Clarissa, and together they took over the families North farm. Quite the entrepreneur, Ed also became owner of a lucrative ranch. It was here that they raised my grandma and her two older siblings.

In the mid '20s, Edwin began running rodeo horses out of Canada into the North Dakota, Montana, and Minnesota rodeo circuit. At times, as many as 75 heads of wild horses were brought to the local dirt rodeos for breaking. According to my grandma, Ed was "a hell of a rider." Standing a stout 5'8", he was a skilled horseman even though at times he was dwarfed by the enormous beasts.

Always the resourceful one when providing for his family, Edwin didn't necessarily follow the letter of the law at all times. In 1931, he was arrested for "dealing potatoes without a license." The judge gave him a 15-day continuance. Though it's not clear how long he spent in the pokey for this offense, I'm guessing it wasn't even overnight. Apparently, Ed had driven a large truck down the Red River Valley and picked up an inexpensive load of potatoes that he then hauled Northwest to sell for a higher market price. The law was new on the books at the time, and Edwin got caught in the crackdown. (The Bismark Tribune September 28, 1931)

When National Prohibition started in 1920, North Dakota had already been in prohibition since it had entered the union in 1889. However, most German American's felt it was their God-given right of this great nation to be free and to partake in their favorite pastime. Since the law was something that didn't necessarily concern dear old Great Grandpa much, he, too, felt it was his right. Now I'm not sure exactly when his bootlegging began, but I’m guessing long before the prohibition of 1920. In order to make ends meet, horses weren't the only thing that Ed brought in from Canada.

Hidden in Plain Sight

My Great Grandma Clarissa was a very devout Catholic and very much concerned about Ed's safety. The thought of losing him to prison or death caused her a lot of grief. Needless to say, she spent a lot of time on her knees praying for the family. Her prayers were thankfully answered time and time again.

Throughout the '20s and '30s, the Farm received its fair share of visits from Federal Officers. As my great-uncle, Bud, once told my dad: "If you were tryin' to hide something, they'd find it. So it was hidden in plain sight where they'd trip over it and still never find it."

On one such occasion, the law came calling to the Farm, where they proceeded in taking long wooden handles and poked around through the various haystacks on the property. My grandma's older brother teased them for looking for a needle in a haystack. Eventually, the men tore the stacks apart, looking for the large containers of whiskey. In the re-telling, my grandma described the containers as big glass jugs.

As a little girl, my grandma remembered being very scared of these men with guns. One visit she ran looking for the safety of her mother, Clarissa, only to find her in the bedroom on her knees praying. Clarissa told grandma to kneel down beside her and pray too. There they knelt with hands tightly clasped, and eyes shut praying hard that the men would leave and all would be well. A short time later, the bedroom door flew open, and there stood Edwin, and with a laugh, he told them both, "You can quit yer prayin'! They're gone!" They lived to bootleg another day.

This wasn't the first, and it wouldn't be the last time my grandma set eyes on these men. She and her older siblings attended Catholic school in town, and one day the lawmen decided they'd come to question the kids. (Can you imagine??) So while out at play, one of the nuns led my grandma and her older brother into one of the large main offices. It was here they were hidden for safety while the other Sister's removed these men from the grounds. The Federal Officers wanted to speak to the children presumably to question them and learn the whereabouts of Edwin's stash. Back then, I guess there were no rules when it came to that sort of stuff.

My grandma shared other stories of her older siblings being told to hide in the tree line away from the farm when Edwin would see the Feds coming up the road. Her older brother made it a game for them, but even at a young age, he was well aware of what was happening. Grandma said although they'd be hiding, they were always watching the men.

The Secret Under the Rock Sled

Not having grown up on a farm, I'm taking everyone's word for the following details. Apparently, while farming, you may run across rocks that may damage the farm implements. So these rocks are usually stacked on the side of the field and eventually picked up and hauled away. I guess it's still not uncommon to see pyramids of stones among the farming landscape as you drive by. Little man-made monuments, I suppose.

This is where a rock sled comes in. My research also lists these as stone boats. Great Grandpa's rock sled sat out in the field. Almost as a landmark on the property (I assume something like "turn left at the rock slide"). Edwin shared with my dad, hidden beneath that rock sled, lay a substantial hole that was stocked continuously with his bootlegged Canadian treasures. If those lawmen had noticed that the rock sled never moved from that spot, they would have found what they'd searched for so many times.

Along with the end of Prohibition and the Great Depression, there were the dust bowls and the worst drought conditions in North Dakota, leading to the family farm being lost. This forced my Great Grandparents to move into the town of Lisbon, North Dakota around 1937. North Dakota finally allowed the sale of hard liquor in 1936. So in 1939, Edwin purchased and ran the liquor store in town for many years. My grandma spent a few years working there before moving to Colorado. It was in Lisbon that Ed and Clarissa would live out the rest of their lives and where they raised my dad until he, too, came to Colorado.

Edwin took advantage of other business opportunities that arose with his brothers, like running trucks for contractors when the new state highway was being built. Edwin always had a knack to be in the right place at the right time when money was to be made.

Great Grandpa Ed was my dad's father figure until Ed passed in 1968. Though I may not have known him, through the stories of my father and the lessons he taught my dad, I feel like I know the best part of him.

And my Grandma? Well, she went into the liquor business also, owning and operating many liquor stores in Colorado. I have my own stories of being a little girl in her stores. That's for another time.