How Dry I Am

Prohibition in the Confederate Capital during the Civil War

BY ROBERT F. HANCOCK

The Drinking scene in Antebellum Richmond

Richmond, Virginia, in 1860 had a population of approximately 38,000, the third largest city in the South after New Orleans and Charleston. That population increased to more than 100,000 during the War.

In 1860 the city boasted 13 brass and iron foundries, 56 tobacconists, 17 tobacco and cigar makers, nine tobacco mills, seven tobacco warehouses, and one tobacco exchange. Besides the expected grocers, clothiers, lawyers, doctors, etc., there were also four ambrotypists (photographers), one piano forte maker, five guano dealers, four cuppers and leechers, and one bird dealer.

To satisfy the thirsty drinking crowd, the city boasted 88 saloons and 30 restaurants, all but six with accompanying drinking establishments. That is more licensed saloons than the number of dry goods merchants and hotels combined. According to the city directory, there were also 19 liquor and wine merchants. And, speaking of hotels, most during the period had a gentlemen’s saloon where the man of leisure could purchase a cigar and grab a drink and a bite to eat away from the noisy streets and disapproving wives. Women, of course, were not allowed in such places.

An English visitor to the States in 1856 had this to say about American barmen: The barkeeper and his assistants possess the agility of acrobats and the prestidigitative skill of magicians. They are all bottle conjurers. They toss the drinks about; they throw brimful glasses over their heads; they shake the saccharine, glacial and alcoholic ingredients in their long, thin tubes; they scourge eggs and cream into froth; they send bumpers shooting from one end of the bar to the other, without spilling a drop; they give change, talk politics, tell quaint anecdotes, swear strange oaths, smoke, chew, and expectorate with astonishing celerity and dexterity. I should like to be a barkeeper, if I were clever enough.

Exchange Hotel and Ballard House by D. H. Anderson

Library of Congress

The War

So, by 1860, Richmond was an established drinkers’ haven. All that would change during the War in the name of civil order and security.

Until that time, one could visit any of a plethora of drinking establishments to take the edge off after (or during) a hard workday. There was Drumhellers Saloon on Broad near First. Then there was the Grapes Restaurant (and Reading Room) at 79 Main Street whose proprietor, E.W. Usher, had twenty years in the liquor trade and kept the “best bottled liquors, Wines, &c.: also Guinness’ London and Dublin Bottled Porter and Ale; also, the best brands of Lager Beer.” Trull’s Rum, Stuart’s Mountain Whiskey, Pure old Apple Brandy, French Brandy, Baltimore Gin, Holland Gin, and Heidsick and Mum Champagnes were in abundant supply. One of the most distinguished establishments was run by John Dabney, a slave owned by the DeJarnette family, who was working as a caterer and restaurateur to buy his freedom, and was considered one of the best caterers in the city.

However, with the capital of the Confederacy being moved to Richmond and the resultant increase in population, especially with tens of thousands of soldiers passing through and camped around the city, things very quickly got out of hand. Soldiers, far from the calming influence of hearth and home, took readily to the flesh pots of Richmond, and carried their good cheer beyond the brothels and saloons.

Newspaper accounts relate “a considerable amount of lawlessness, embraced under the common heading of “drunkedness [sic],” Americus Holliday, “wearing the vestments of a soldier… disguised himself in liquor, and while in that condition, besides pelting little boys with hen eggs, had chased a number of ladies who were passing near the Old Market.” One man drew a pistol on Robert Thompson, barkeeper at the Grapes Saloon. The assailant and his friends, it is reported, “pounded the unfortunate mixer of liquors ‘without sufficient cause,’ and in a manner which was decidedly detrimental to his good looks….” After clearing out the Grapes Saloon, they proceeded to Granger’s to continue their fun.

On another occasion there was found on Main Street “the inanimate form of a young and good looking man, who, judging from his dress…was a commissioned officer. He was about the drunkest mortal we ever saw. His canteen was half full of stuff strong enough to split a brick.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures. The editor of the Richmond Examiner, in writing about adopting certain resolutions to put the city in the state of readiness against invasion, exclaimed: “The Government must do all these things [defend and secure the safety of the city] by military order, and without consulting anybody. The President is looked to for…the enforcement of the necessary though disagreeable laws. To the dogs with Constitutional questions and moderation!”

We hope the editor was not a drinker, because, on March 1, 1862, President Davis proclaimed martial law in Richmond. The Confederate government suspended the privilege of Habeas Corpus, confiscated personal firearms, instituted curfews, and, last but not least, outlawed the manufacture, sale, and consumption of spirituous liquors. A week later, martial law was also declared in Petersburg, Virginia.

Sixty-two-year-old General John Winder who, before the War, served as post commander in several U.S. forts across the country and described by one person as “impulsive, stubborn, short-tempered, profane, and aloof,” assumed responsibility for administering military rule in Richmond. Colonel John Porter was made provost marshal.

Prohibition of liquor manufacture and consumption did not come out of nowhere. The temperance advocates had been whining about the social ills of spirituous libations since the beginning of the 19th century. As part of a larger movement towards humanitarian reform (which included the abolition of slavery and the more humane treatment of the poor and other socially marginalized people) throughout much of Western Europe and the United States, the Temperance Movement sought to moderate the consumption of intoxicating liquors which was thought (not wrongly) to be the cause of many social ills — health problems, destitution, and crime were at the top of the list.

The fact that the majority of Temperance groups were composed of women suggests who, along with their children, bore the brunt of the effects of overindulgence. In the South the temperance movement was often associated with the abolitionist movement, just another branch from the same tree of social reform, and they were not in the mood for that sort of reform. If anything, they drank all the harder.

Back in Richmond, an attempt at moderating alcohol consumption was tried early in the War. The closure of barrooms on Sundays was the first suggestion. However, it was the distilleries that became the primary targets of those advocating the suppression of alcohol manufacture and sale, thus reducing (or eliminating) consumption.

People writing to Richmond newspapers pointed to other states, such as Tennessee, which had already passed laws prohibiting the manufacture of alcohol. Petitions were circulated through a number of counties and bills came to the floor of the state legislature to prevent the unnecessary consumption of immense quantities of grain by distilleries, who converted corn and rye “from a blessing to a curse.” Floyd County, in southwestern Virginia, petitioned the state to prohibit the distillation of grain into whiskey which, they stated, was “consuming in a few months the entire products of the county.” One report stated that a single distillery in Richmond consumed a thousand bushels of grain per day.

Because the profits seen in whiskey manufacturing were so great, the distillers could afford to pay almost any price for the grain from which their product was distilled. Consequently, grain prices rose sharply, and many complained that the poorer classes would unduly suffer, and “where plenty should have reigned, starvation may appear even in our midst.” Even the government found difficulty in procuring grain for soldiers and horses. At one point, they ordered the seizure of grain in the hands of the distillers, but they ended up countermanding the order because of doubt as to its legality. If moderation could not be enforced, do away with liquor altogether. However, the buzz-killers were not without cause demanding the eradication of intoxicating beverages. One only has to read the newspaper accounts of the civil court cases involving the results of heavy drinking. So, the Confederate government stepped in and declared that “the distillation and distribution of vinous, spirituous, and malt liquors, or other intoxicating beverage is absolutely prohibited.” The Provost Marshal would strictly enforce the law “against all persons found distilling, selling, giving away, or in any manner disposing of such beverages.” The distilleries were shut down and the myriad drinking establishments closed up shop throwing hundreds out of work overnight.

Richmond Mayor, Joseph Mayo

ACWM

Under martial law, the civil authorities, in the form of the Richmond City police and Mayor’s court, continued to operate as usual. If you broke a city ordinance, you appeared before the Mayor’s Court to be tried and, if convicted, sentenced. General Winder employed his own men to enforce his own general orders, edicts passed by the military authorities to enforce martial law.

So zealous was Winder in his pursuit of contraband spirits that he even confiscated Elijah Baker’s Patent Medicinal Bitters from the pharmacies. His civilian detectives, referred to by many as “plug-uglies,” (named after the “political” gangs in Baltimore and New York) ruled the streets and woe betide anyone who crossed them. The famous war clerk diarist, J.B. Jones, described martial law in Richmond as a “reign of terror!” One ill-spoken word, one derisive look, and you were off to jail and, if convicted, one month of hard labor.

Scores of people were rounded up for selling illicit liquor and tried before the Court Martial. One inventive fellow ran a sort of speakeasy from his room in the American Hotel; his customers needing a special red ticket for entrance. Others tried to smuggle into the city liquor packed in dry goods crates to be picked up later at the train depot. Some took a more direct route and sold booze straight to the soldiers in camp around the city. Sentences for offenders could be harsh. William Harrold, of Petersburg, was sentenced to have one half of his head shaved, wear a barrel shirt, and stand with it on for several hours a day for three days in front of the house where he sold the illegal liquor, and to work six months on the public fortifications with a ball and chain attached to his leg. Michael Hanley, of Richmond, received similar punishment for trying to smuggle liquor through the city packed up in barrels of potatoes. The liquor was seized as were the potatoes which were appropriated to the use of the hospitals.

The Confederate Medical Department still deemed alcohol, especially brandy or whiskey, as a medical necessity, and whiskey barrels at the hospitals had to be carefully watched. Colonel Porter’s provosts kept a wary eye on the city’s many pharmacists and a number were arrested for allegedly distributing liquor without a doctor’s prescription.

Despite the Draconian measures, enough liquor was squirreled away or smuggled into the city to keep the provosts busy. One cavalry trooper, in the city without leave, “got drunk, and amused himself riding about Seventeenth Street, in a manner precarious to pedestrians.” He was finally run to ground and he fought so furiously it took four men to hold him, and it was necessary to tie him and bring him to the watch house in a cart. On another occasion, a soldier was sent into the city with a horse and cart to pick up supplies. He discharged his duty, “then getting drunk sold the horse and wagon and stores.”

General Orders No. 15, issued a fortnight after martial law was declared, extended the prohibition on alcohol to the counties of Elizabeth City, York, Warwick, Gloucester, and Mathews. Some questioned the legality of the martial law imposed by Jefferson Davis. One of the most outspoken was the mayor of Richmond, Joseph Mayo. After the provosts made a somewhat heavyhanded arrest of one Michael Walls, tavern owner, for — according to the provosts — having in his possession illicit whiskey, the mayor of Richmond challenged the arrest, contending that martial law was unconstitutional. Based on that premise he further contended that the arrest was nothing short of assault and battery and subject to indictment by the Grand Jury.

In December 1862, nine months after the introduction of prohibition in Richmond, Petersburg, and the surrounding counties, General Order No. 41 was issued. By order of Brigadier General John Winder and in obedience to instructions from the Secretary of War, the importation into the city of spirituous liquors will be limited to 150 barrels per month. It was intended for private consumption only and was not to be sold to soldiers. The result was the reappearance of advertisements for brandy, rum, old apple brandy and fine whiskey “for family use.” And just in time for Christmas!

In the end, it was the rising grain prices that individual states sought to control by prohibiting distillation of grain spirits (unless licensed by the government) but not the sale or consumption of alcohol. Eight states in the Confederacy passed some form of prohibition laws between March 1862 and December 1863: Virginia, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, North Carolina, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas.

Liquor chest captured from the U.S. Army

ACWM

By the end of the War, there was a stockpile of government sanctioned and confiscated liquor. At the order to evacuate Richmond before the fast-approaching Union army, barrel heads were staved in and bottles smashed. The streets ran with liquor and pandemonium reigned as retreating soldiers and citizens, alike, inebriated, befuddled, potted, plastered, drunk on the free-flowing spirits, staggered about the streets, three sheets to the wind, smashing windows and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

After the War, ideas of continuing prohibition were largely pushed to the side as the country tried to rebuild itself. Such a momentous task required the occasional tipple and most historians consider the years between 1865 and World War One as the “golden years” of American tippling. However, the Temperance Movement, fragmented and regionalized by the War, was far from dead. In 1869, the National Prohibition Party was formed and they spent the next 50 years working to get their way.

Robert Hancock is the Museum’s Senior Curator and Director of Collections. He is the author of a blog on cocktails, zozzledcocktail.wordpress.com.