When I saw the news report I was elated.“Legislature declares official Alabama state spirit.”
“At last,” I thought, “the boys up on Goat Hill have given ‘Jeffrey,’ Cousin Kathryn Tucker Windham’s resident house ghost, the recognition it is due.
Then I read a little further and found the truth. Our Legislature, though up to its collective ears in all the problems the flesh is heir to, paused in its deliberations to pass a resolution declaring Conecuh Ridge Fine Alabama Whiskey the official spirit of this state — I think the singular noun threw me off.
Ashamed that I was unfamiliar with Conecuh Ridge, I resolved that at the first opportunity I would go to the ABC store to do what any good investigative journalist would do. And soon I found myself in possession of the most expensive bottle of whiskey I ever bought.
(At this point I recalled how my drinking habits were formed back in my college days when Gov. George Wallace got mad at the big distillers and ran most of the good whiskey out of the state, leaving us with a bourbon called “Old Mr. Boston.” Racial repression was not the only blot on his record — but that’s another story.)
My plan was to take our official spirit down to Grove Hill (my hometown), gather a group at the Poutin’ House, sip and pass judgment. Then I’d write it up so all of you, dear readers, would know whether to praise or censure our legislators for what they did. (I also figured I might get The Star to reimburse me the cost as a business expense).
But time has weighed heavily on the old Poutin’ House crew, leaving only three to gather there — me, Daddy and Jim (a real journalist whose control of local media outlets has branded him the “Rupert Murdoch of Clarke County”).
In the meantime, the story had taken a twist (as Alabama stories often do).
It seems that Gov. Bob Riley, a man of strict scruples and a teetotaler to boot, had up and vetoed the resolution. The Alabama House, whose relationship with the governor has been stormy to say the least, had overridden the veto. The Senate was yet to act.
So as we talked the subject drifted away from the quality of the whiskey over to the quality of state government.
Jim was quick to observe that Riley had a point, sorta. If the Legislature was gonna endorse commercial products, Jim reasoned, why couldn’t they declare his Thomasville Times the state newspaper. Seemed only fair.
Meanwhile I was conjuring up connections between strong drink and governors over the years: How Bibb Graves supported Prohibition and the KKK, how Big Jim Folsom supported neither (Mama always voted against Big Jim because he drank, Daddy voted for him for the same reason). And there was Chauncey Sparks, our wartime governor who didn’t drink himself, but kept a supply of good stuff at the governor’s mansion — so good in fact when bottles showed up missing after a party he began searching guests as they left — and caught a cabinet member smuggling one out. Or how Gov. Wallace, taking a dig at Folsom, promised never to serve liquor in the governor’s mansion but (according to a reliable source) kept a fifth in the drawer of his desk back at the capitol. Or of those days long ago when legislators would arrive at the start of the session and find “mystery whiskey” in their rooms as an inducement to vote right.
Then Daddy got to telling about how the community of Cat Mash got its name from when a feline fell into the kettle and became part of the brew. Or how, when some particularly good ‘shine that the sheriff had confiscated began disappearing from the evidence room, he (the sheriff) started the rumor that the State Toxicologist had found arsenic in the batch and half the courthouse went down to the Health Department to be tested.
Yessir, it was a fine evening.
But what about Conecuh Ridge — I hear you asking?
Daddy judged it “smooth. No bite at all. And no aftertaste.”
Jim, a sour mash man, declared it a bit sweet for regular consumption, but observed how it would make a fine sipping whiskey for special occasions.
As for me, I always agree with family and friends.
Now if I can just find that receipt.
