Moonshining and Moonshiners

Many people know about the term “Moonshining”. It conjures different images to different people. To some, it is a sinister group of thugs like in the movie “Walking Tall”. To others it is a glamorized version where the moonshiners are good ole boys just trying to make a dollar. They don’t mean anyone any harm.

Now, I have never seen a moonshine still or a moonshiner in the woods. I have traipsed around in woods all over central and north Georgia. I know I must have been where some were but wasn’t alert enough to see them, maybe. I do know some people that were involved in the business “back in the day”.

A former neighbor of mine never produced any moonshine but he drove for several different “moonshiners” and told me stories, some no doubt embellished, of his escapades in avoiding getting caught. He did not have a ’40 Ford with a Cadillac motor. He was not out trying to outrun the sheriff. He was trying to outsmart them. In his young days, he said he always had a girl in the car, snuggled up, and looking like they were on a date. On one such run he was actually flagged down by the local sheriff and asked for a ride. The sheriff claimed his car was broken down and he needed to go to a local “juke joint” where his deputy was waiting. He just happened to flag this guy down when he had a trunk load of moonshine!

As they were driving to where the deputy was waiting, the sheriff ask him if he was one of the guys who had been hauling moonshine in his county. The sheriff said he had heard that he was.
Of course my acquaintance said, “Oh no, not me. I wouldn’t think of hauling moonshine.” The sheriff replied that that was great and that he had better never catch him with any. My acquaintance put him out at the juke joint and laughed all evening about what an old fool the sheriff was. He had really pulled the wool over his eyes.

The next week, when my acquaintance was making a run through the county, he was stopped by the sheriff and his deputy. They arrested him, destroyed his load, and then worked him over pretty good. The sheriff said, “You didn’t get my message last week, I see. I knew you had a load of liquor in the car last week but I wanted to give you a chance.” The old fool was not as much a fool as the guy thought. This cost him a trip to the magistrate, a big fine and probation. He was warned that if the sheriff caught him again in his county there would be big jail time. He did not get caught again. He did his hauling in other areas.

The sheriff in the rural counties was a pretty powerful official back in those days. They also had to be somewhat practical in how they enforced the law. Arrest too many relatives and you did not get reelected. Arresting the drivers did not get rid of the actual moonshiners. Arrest no one and you did not get reelected either. So, who got arrested mostly were the drivers and the still workers. Usually poor black guys or poor white guys with no money for lawyers and no money period. The guys making the money were at the American Legion Hall playing cards or the First Baptist chicken social and putting money in the offering plate.
You could go by the sheriff’s house and see the cars they had confiscated carrying the moonshine that belonged to the big moonshiners. Souped up Fords and Chevy’s and Oldsmobile’s. Sometimes Studebakers and Hudson’s. All with modified engines or some Cadillac motor squeezed in to make it faster than the average sheriff’s car. Extra thick treads on the tires, and built to take the extra weight without squatting down too much in the rear. While some may think this was folklore, you could see them sitting at the sheriff’s house. And, most people knew the people that were building them. The car builders did not haul. They provided the cars. The producers, except the very poor independent operator, did not drive the car or work the still. The expendable low level guys did that. So it was a game of cat and mouse. It was when the “revenuers”, the federal law officers came that things were tougher. Tougher sentences, fewer walk away’s and more and heftier fines and sentences. And, they would arrest the producers when they could.

One night, before my wife and I were married, we were coming home from the movies in Macon. We were in Lizella, Ga. at about 11:00 and we came up on three or four cars stopped on the shoulder of the road. There were several young black men standing around one car that had a flat tire and they were trying to wave me down. I wasn’t sure that stopping was safe but the situation looked like someone with a legitimate need. I stopped, with the doors locked, the car in gear ready to go in a hurry if necessary, and I let my window down as one of the young men walked over to my driver’s side window. He was very nicely dressed and I recognized him as being from a well-known black family in the county.

He said, “Thank you for stopping. We have a flat tire on the car there and none of us has a jack that will work to lift the car so we can change it. We really need to get the tire fixed and get going. Do you by chance have a jack?” I did not feel we were in any danger so I got out, got my jack out and they made fast work of the tire change. He brought the jack back and put it in my car. Then, he asked if I would walk up to his car, he had something that he wanted me to see.
Thinking back, I guess I was not too smart but I walked over to his car. He opened the trunk and it was full of quart jars of clear liquid! He said; “Get you a couple of quarts! It’s the best moonshine you’ll ever see and I want to repay you for your kindness.” I thanked him, shook his hand and told him that I did not drink but I was glad I could be of help. With that, he waved goodbye and took off. A lot or really nice people, it seems, were moonshiners.

Now, in the 1920’s, my grandfather was having it tough. He was a farmer and my grandmother was sick. They had run up a pile of doctor bills, according to the story he told me, and he did not have the money to pay. His brother in law was also having some money problems. So they decided to become moonshiners. My grandfather said the plan was to go over to the Vining Place (Property my grandfather owned) and put up a small still. They would produce enough moonshine to make themselves enough money to cover the doctor bills and what his brother in law needed to catch up and that would be it. No long term career but a “short” venture to solve a “case of the shorts”. They weren’t being greedy.

So, they embarked on their venture. The still was constructed and fired up. They were at the still when my grandfather saw someone coming. It was the revenuer! Apparently, someone had turned them in and it was time to run and that’s what they did but my grandfather’s brother in law did not have good eye sight, did not run well and got hung in the barbed wire fence long enough for the revenuer to grab him. There was no shoot out, car chase or knock down drag outs! They were caught before they ever ran off the first batch. Things were not going well.

They were taken to the magistrate in Macon and since it was their first offence and they had not actually sold any, they were let off with a fine. The fines were $250!

Now, my grandfather had the doctor bills and had to pay back the $250 he had to borrow to pay the fine. So, they did the only logical thing they could do. They fired up the still, produced enough moonshine to pay back the doctor bill and the magistrate fines. They hauled it in a Model A Ford and it was not souped up. My grandfather said they broke the still down and his life of crime was over. He pointed out once where they had hollowed out a spot near the creek to locate the still. There was not much to see.

Note: the county sheriff when I was growing up was Lucius O’Neal, Sr. He served the county from 1941-1960. His oldest son, Lucius O’Neal, Jr. followed him and died in office. He served from 1961- 1983. And his youngest son, Kay, was deputy. They never seemed like tough guys but they seemed to do ok. On January 25, 1975 Kay stopped a drunk driver, a person he knew, late at night on a lonely stretch US 341 north of Roberta. Since he knew the person, he got out of his car, left the motor running, and approached the driver without strapping on his police revolver. He did have a small Derringer in his pocket as back up. A struggle ensued and Kay O’Neal was killed in the line of duty with his own gun. This was a sad time for the county.