Tales of the Last Moonshiner

[BridgeTheGap]

Bybee, Tennessee—The road to Cocke County from the Great Smoky Mountains takes us through Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, the Crabbe and Goyle of modern American tourist sprawl. You'll pass by, in no particular order, a "Ripley's Believe it or Not!" museum (ubiquitous wherever geographical oddities and commercial zoning coincide); a "Hollywood Wax Museum"; no fewer than 15 places to buy moccasins; frontier-themed amusement parks; fake waterfalls; "Hillbilly Golf"; some place called "Magiquest," which I think has something to do with magic; a dinosaur museum; a store selling nothing but "As Seen on TV" products; and Dollywood, the world's only Dolly Parton theme park. It's the real-life equivalent of an avalanche of pop-up windows, made all the more jarring by the fact that it immediately follows the serenity of the Smokies.

But the roadside SPAM ends by the time you get to Cocke County, an hour up the road. Cocke used to be the moonshine capital of the United States, but now, with bootlegging no longer worth the risk (for the most part), younger generations have turned to more modern occupations: White lightning was replaced by marijuana, which was replaced by cocaine, and now that, according to Ray Snader, who covers the area for a local radio station, has been replaced by chop shops and salvage switch operations—a process in which car thefts swap vehicle information numbers of a stolen car with that of a wrecked car. Those lines of work, coupled with perpetually high unemployment figures, lend themselves to a distrust of government and anyone who comes between you and your community, which is part of the reason why Eastern Tennessee is one of the more conservatives regions in the United States. As Ray puts it: "You talk to some of the old people, and they say, 'You can say it was illegal and we don't like to break the law, but when it comes down to breaking the law and feeding the family, or not feeding the family, we feed the family.'"

Moonshine may be entering its twilight—the Tennessee legislature recently passed a law legalizing moonshine distilleries, which means that pretty soon it'll be just another piece of roadside kitsch you can buy with your moccasins in Gatlinburg. Ray tells me the story of "Popcorn" Sutton, a notorious moonshiner who committed suicide in March of 2009 before he was set to begin serving an 18-month prison term. Popcorn, says Ray, "was the end of an era." Here's his story:

http://motherjones.com/road-trip-blog/2010/07/last-days-popcorn-sutton

[HillWilliam]

1. People who aren't mountain folk don't and will probably never

understand all the history and psychology of moonshining that go all the way back to the Whiskey Rebellion. I'd also highly recommend watching "The Prince of Dark Corners" for additional history and edification.

Moonshining wasn't just about "independence" or "rebelliousness" as outsiders want to flame and portray it. Most of the time, it was the only means left for people to hang on to their homes. There was no place else to go and there was no public safety net.

Ah, but it's so much easier to stand outside and cast stones in...

[Jackpine Radical]

2. When I was a kid, I knew some old northwoods WI moonshiners

who got into the business in the 20's and sold to Capone. They had a lot of Capone stories, generally portraying him as polite and generous in his dealings with them. One of these old-timers was an Ojibwa Indian, a close friend of my father and his brothers. I always thought of him as the first Indian to run firewater to the whites. (And by the way, "firewater" is a pretty close translation of the Ojibwa expression "ishkoote wahboo" -- "fire beverage." Beer is "jinge wahboo,"--"sour water.").