Tag Archives: Prohibition

The Farming Story Part 4: Prohibition, Depression, Floods, and War

As in the Civil War, so in World War I. The young farm hands went into uniform even as agricultural demand boomed. (We were helping feed France and Britain, as well as ourselves.) There was local agitation to create a Farm Bureau, which as we know was effective, and the Farm Bureau quickly set up tractor workshops. Farms mechanized, BUT the war ended unexpectedly in 1918. Farm prices crashed, and many farmers were now left struggling with time payments on their equipment.

*Then, at the same time, Prohibition came in! This closed the wineries and ruined the grape growers. We think of the Great Depression as starting in 1929. But for many farm families it started ten years earlier, in 1919. With widespread use of the motorcar, community and economic life began to dry up in the hamlets. They had had their own stores, schools, doctors, churches, undertakers. But who needed the little store in Coss Corners or Harrisburg Hollow when you could drive to Bath… or from Perkinsville to Wayland, Bloomerville to Avoca, Hornby to Corning? The rich man of Risingville now ran a shabby little shop in the sticks, with an outhouse in the back, and a kerosene lamp on the counter.

*This is the period in which thousands of Steuben people joined the Ku Klux Klan, which then as now exploited fear and turned it into hate by telling lies about people who are Not Like Us, and blaming THEM for all the trouble.

*When the Great Depression truly set in, one bright star locally (besides the evaporation of the Klan) was the repeal of Prohibition in 1933. Charles Fournier came from France to revive Gold Seal with up-to-date practices. Taylor, which had eked its way through the dry years, expanded its operation, and new wineries opened. Every Labor Day growers and buyers met in Penn Yan to hammer out “the grape deal,” establishing prices that would be paid that year.

*This is also the period in which County Agent Bill Stempfle took the lead in reviving and modernizing potato production in the mucklands, bringing in growers from Maine and Long Island who were grateful to find lower land prices, and whose intensive farming practices could offset worn-out land. And, of course, there were New Deal programs to help the farmer.

*BUT this is the period in which the bill came due for almost 150 years of short-sighted land use practices… especially when catastrophic floods struck in 1935, 1936, and 1946. The ’35 flood, which killed 44 people regionwide, was in many ways far worse than the ’72 flood. One Avoca sharecropper in 1935 received as his share for the year one calf. Avoca became a pilot program for New Deal soil conservation practices. From this period we get diking and re-routing of the Conhocton and Canisteo Rivers, the Almond Dam, the Alfred Dam, tree plantations, drainage ditches… much of the work carried out by Civilian Conservation Corps lads from their main camp in Kanona.

*When the New Deal started, 10% of American farms had electricity. When it ended eight years later with the advent of World War II, 10% of farms did NOT. However, that 10% included Steuben County. R.E.A. got about 50 miles of wire strung before the needs for another world war cut off their materials. But demand for farm producrs, once again, went up… even as, once again, the prime workers were siphoned away.

The Prohibition Story

It’s probably no surprise to know that Prohibition wreaked havoc in our grape-and-wine producing region.  Grape juice, table grapes, and sacramental wines didn’t generate enough business to fill the void.  World War I ended at the same time, and the Curtiss plant in Hammondsport closed, laying off over 700 workers.  Then the soldiers came home, looking for jobs.

Now organizations such as the Finger Lakes Association (now Finger Lakes Tourism Alliance) tried to drum up business by boosting tourism, especially “fully independent traveler” tourism by car, and also spearheaded a push to improve the roads.

Prohibition was not just a “killjoy” thing.  Alcohol abuse was a staggering problem in America at the time, and few Constitutional amendments enjoyed more popular support, even popular demand — 46 states ratified the amendment, and only two rejected it.

Even in our area, Prohibition had a lot of support.  I identified 33 nineteenth-century temperance organizations just in Steuben County, and four temperance newspapers (including the Tribune and the Courier).  Two local railroads required total abstinence from their employees, and several Steuben municipalities permitted no liquor licenses.

Prohibition did not ban drinking.  It banned the manufacture, transport, and sale of alcohol.  Our local wineries put on big advertising pushes to sell their stock before the amendment kicked in.  The famous Taylor Wine Company “Wine-Type” marketing… selling juice, setups, and instructions so consumers could make their own wine… may have titillated buyers with the sense that they were being naughty, but it was perfectly legal.  Besides drinking up stock on hand, individuals could make up to 64 gallons a year for private use.

Enforcement was never staffed or funded at the needed levels.  Indeed, in Washington, D.C. the attorney-general and the director of the Bureau of Investigation (now F.B.I.) established standard rates, based on population, as to how much you would pay them to block enforcement in your community.  One elderly woman from a winery family told me about driving as a little girl by night with her father on what she later realized were bootlegging deliveries. 

Still, some local owners of restaurants and the like were arrested and fined for serving liquor, while White Top winery in Pulteney was raided with considerable damage resulting.  But many flouted the law, provoking the wrath of the Ku Klux Klan, who ran nighttime patrols on Long Island hoping to stop bootleggers, and descended upon a Corning roadhouse, burning a cross and threatening the owners.

It’s a legend that people drank even more during Prohibition, BECAUSE it was forbidden.  Considering that most of the bars, liquor stores, and manufacturers were closed, it’s clear that that’s not the case.  In fact, some scholars say that consumption not only went down — it STAYED down after Repeal, not getting back up to pre-Prohibition levels until the early 1970s.

But Prohibition did enrich organized crime, and over time even supporters had to admit that it wasn’t working.  By then, though, it had become the third rail of American politics — a public official supporting Repeal was quickly clobbered with the cry that he promoted drunkenness.

In 1932 the wily Franklin D. Roosevelt proposed Repeal as a jobs measure, to get more people working in the Great Depression.  That worked, giving people who needed it an excuse to support repeal, or at least an excuse to stand aside and let it happen.

A onetime-librarian told me that he had checked the records to see how rock-ribbed Republican Hammondsporters voted in 1932 and found that, like much of the rest of the country, they went strong for Roosevelt.  Repeal came nine months after F.D.R.’s inauguration but, according to the librarian, in 1936, eschewing gratitude, they went back to the Republicans, making Hammondsport one of those very rare communities that gave their votes to Alf Landon.  Roosevelt won anyhow.  And Prohibition stayed repealed.

Three Ordinary Lifetimes: High Schools, Unions, Bibles… and the Ku Klux Klan

Last week we looked at the fact that three lifetimes… just ordinary lifetimes of 75 years each – would take us back to 1790 and George Washington’s first full year as President. And we looked at what a person born on that day would have experienced, as he or she lived from the beginning of Washington’s first term to the end of Lincoln’s.
Now imagine with us a second child, born on this day in 1865, on the 75th birthday of the one we looked at first.
On this day in 1865 people were feeling the wondering realization that the end of the Civil War was in sight. Local men with Grant were, as they had been for months, hammering away at Petersburg, the key to Richmond and Lee’s dwindling army. Local men with Sherman, having already marched from Atlanta to the sea and captured Savannah at the end of it, were kicking off for a northward drive into the Carolina’s, chasing Johnston’s also-dwindling army.
In March Lincoln was re-inaugurated, promising malice toward none, and charity to all. Listening in the crowd was an infuriated John Wilkes Booth, who was in love with malice but a stranger to charity.
In April Grant broke through the defenses of Petersburg, sending Davis’s government and Lee’s both army on the run. Grant cornered Lee a week later, and captured his entire army. Lincoln remarked in an impromptu speech that maybe “some” of the black soldiers should be allowed to vote. Booth, again lurking nearby, gave in completely to rage. Just days later he finally took up arms for the Confederacy, shooting a middle-aged man from behind in the dark. With telegraph lines limited, many local towns didn’t get the news for days.
Over the next couple of months the remaining Confederate armies tossed in the towel, and the boys came marching home. Released soldiers in Bath got drunk and embarked on a race riot, attacking black people on the perverse “logic” that they had been “responsible” for the war.
Two years later, after lengthy debate, Bath integrated its schools.
The year after that, Brooklyn Flint Glass Works moved to Corning. Good rail connections let them move product out, but a one-track shortline, moving coal, wood, and sand up from Pennsylvania, sealed the deal.
Out along the lakes, grape and wine production grew feverishly.
Laws and Congressional amendments established African Americans as citizens and protected their rights, but most northern whites turned their backs and allowed white southerners to mount what boiled down to a race war.
As we hit our nation’s centennial in 1876, both the nation and the region were becoming more industrial. Our local cities of Corning, Hornell, Geneva, Canandaigua, and Ithaca were incorporated during this period. Ithaca, of course, also boomed with the new land-grant college system.
Local farm families formed Granges for mutual support and encouragement. Built-up areas started providing themselves with water, phone, and electric systems, though electricity was often part-time. Electric trolleys appeared, but would be gone within fifty years or so.
When George Armstrong Custer led his men into annihilation at the Little Big Horn, Bath men named their Union veterans post in his honor.
In 1879 New York opened its State Soldiers and Sailors Home in Bath, “to care for him who shall have borne the battle,” in Lincoln’s words. A great many local communities formed public libraries.
In 1872, most Corning businesses gave their employees the day off for Christmas. But for many workers, December 25th and the 4th of July were work days well into the new century. In 1890, firings at Corning Glass Works led to 200 men and boys walking out, and the start of a long unionization struggle.
Christian Science appeared during this period, along with the Jehovah’s Witness and Pentecostal movements. The first new English Bible appeared since 1611.
Niagara Falls became America’s first state park. Watkins Glen followed some years later.
Even small towns across the region opened high schools, or paid to send their kids to school.
In 1876 AND in 1888, our ridiculous electoral college system torpedoed us again. In both cases the voters chose a president… and the electors seated the guy who lost.
Two presidents — Garfield and McKinley — were assassinated.
In 1894 New York voters approved the Constitutional provision that state forest lands ‘be forever kept as wild.” In 1901 President Theodore Roosevelt established he first National Wildlife Refuge.
We had a war to free Cuba, during which we grabbed Hawaii, Wake, Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines, besides setting up our own puppet government in Havana.
As the new century dawned, internal combustion became a force in the land. Nowhere locally was this more evident than in Hammondsport, where factories for motorcycles, blimps, and even airplanes – not to mention the engines themselves – sprang up. The spark plug for all this combustion was of course Glenn Curtiss, who made millions on the First World War.
That war left more empty seats around the table, meanwhile vaulting America into world prominence. The Spanish Influenza rushed in as the war neared its end, killing millions. Hundreds died locally.
The “Great Migration” was in full swing, as African Americans freed themselves from the south much as Jews would soon flee Germany.
Prohibition clobbered the economy of the Finger Lakes, which tried to make it up by paving the roads and promoting tourism. The Finger Lakes Tourism Alliance came to be.
As Catholic city-dweller Al Smith rose to prominence, hysterical rural folks formed Ku Klux Klan chapters. State headquarters were in Binghamton, and Yates County Fairground was a favored site for rallies. African Americans from Bath took the lead in fighting the Klan, which dwindled considerably (but did not vcanish) by the 1930s.
Franklin D. Roosevelt contracted polio in 1921. In 1928 he ran for governor, barnstorming every county by auto caravan, proclaiming his progressive record and asking delighted crowds, “Do I look sick to you?”
Across the country what looked like a boom proved to be a bubble, and the world plunged into a Depression that some economists compared to the Dark Ages. Hammondsport was one of many communities that helped sweep Roosevelt into the White House. He’d promised to end Prohibition, and did, and they immediately went back to voting Republican.
In one year of Depression Steuben County aided something like 5000 homeless people in transient camps and bureaus, and 3000 in the poorhouse. Public works from Washington and Albany helped. These included Glenn Curtiss Memorial School, Dansville High School, Painted Post post office, Stony Brook State Park, and Watkins Glen State Park. Civilian Conservation Corps worked on the parks and on soil conservation. After the catastrophic 1935 flood, which killed far more people than the 1972 flood, work got under way on Almond and Arkport dams.
As his second term neared its end in 1940, F.D.R. was desperate to retire and concentrate on his physical therapy, which bode fair to vastly improve his mobility. But Hitler had invaded Poland just months earlier, while Japan had been savaging China for a decade. With war at the door and depression still snapping at our heels, a soft-spoken sentiment grew slowly but steadily louder – we want Roosevelt again.