CHAPTER IIITHE 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, soquickly 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 usedto 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 factsor 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 minutesamong 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 citizenswill 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 findways 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 builtduring 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 atennis 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 thisway 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 libertiesforced 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.