A Century Later
17/01/20 03:03
Yesterday was the centennial of an amendment to the US Constitution that didn’t work out the way the sponsors thought it would. It is a centennial that would have been celebrated by my forebears even though it didn’t work out. So, since I have a personal connection to that centennial, I guess I should give some background.
My maternal grandfather was a staunch Methodist, a conservative Republican, a lawyer and a legislator. 100 years ago he was a senator in the Montana legislature from Chouteau County. He was definitely a grass roots politician. We have a few of his campaign materials, which amounted to glorified calling cards. He campaigned by going around the county and talking to farmers and ranchers and by being known as a lawyer who served the people of the County. In the hard times of the Great Depression he accepted eggs and chickens and milk as payment for his services, even when he was milking his own cow to support his five daughters. His religious principles didn’t allow charging or paying interest and he did neither. He didn’t play cards. He didn’t gamble. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t dance. And he didn’t drink.
In other words, he was a perfect sponsor for the bill to ratify the 18th amendment to the US Constitution.
He wrote impassioned speeches about the evils of alcohol. He told stories of situations he had witnessed where alcohol had led to violence and poverty and criminal behavior and all sorts of social evils. And he was convinced he was right. He honestly and seriously believed that things would suddenly get better in the United States as soon as it became illegal to sell, make, import or transport alcohol. He had the backing of the minister of his church and the dozens of other Methodist ministers he knew through his work with the Montana Circuit and the national setting of the Methodist Church. He believed that he was doing God’s work as he worked for prohibition.
He came by it naturally. His mother was a leader in the WCTU. His mother-in-law had been thrown out of the town saloon, the only building in their rural western town that had a piano, which she wanted to practice, for playing temperance songs and threatening to break every bottle in the place.
His daughters all took a pledge to never allow tobacco or alcohol to touch their lips as part of their Christian Endeavor groups. They kept that promise, too. In the case of my mother and at least some of my aunts, they also imposed temperance on their husbands.You never saw alcohol at a family reunion in my family, and my Uncle Irving’s root beer and ginger bear were suspect enough for the sisters to avoid drinking them.
My grandfather lived another 25 years after prohibition, so he must have been aware of how seriously it failed. By 1933, the amendment had been repealed, the only constitutional amendment to be repealed in the history of the United States. As a small town lawyer he must have known how much local law enforcement agencies hated having to enforce the ban, chasing down those transporting and selling liquor when they felt that there were more important criminal matters in need of their attention. He must have known how immensely organized crime profited from prohibition and how banning alcohol didn’t improve the lives of those who were addicted. Alcohol proved to be way more popular than temperance campaigners believed.
I don’t know for sure how my grandfather felt. He didn’t leave behind any speeches about the repeal of the amendment. He didn’t live long enough for me to have a serious conversation with him about the topic. His church continued to be a temperance church. His wife continued to be active in WCTU. He continued to practice law in a small Western town where problems that were directly connected to alcohol turned up in court on a regular basis. He protested the granting of liquor licenses to businesses. He worked to shorten the hours of operation of the State of Montana Liquor Stores. After the repeal of prohibition, the State was the sole vendor of hard liquor for decades.
A century later, only one of his grandsons is a minister and only one of his grandchildren ever became a lawyer. At least one of his grandchildren has worked on campaigns to end the prohibition on the sale of marijuana. I’m guessing that the majority of his grandchildren enjoy a glass of wine from time to time. I know I do. And, truth be told, I’ve been known to tip a glass with colleagues who are Methodist ministers from time to time.
The most serious and perplexing problems of society don’t have simple solutions. Increasing law enforcement efforts to arrest users and distributors of Methamphetamines and spending millions of dollars on advertising campaigns does little to treat addiction and the powerful grip that the substance has on its users. Making something illegal doesn’t mean that it will go away.
I am proud that my grandfather cared so much about others. I am proud that he stood up in favor of prohibition as well as the fact that he stood up for women’s suffrage when he was a student. I feel honored to be related to a man of courage and conviction and honesty. I might not have approached the issues the same way that he did, but I am honored to have inherited a bit of his passion and energy. I am proud that we share the same faith and devotion to the church, even though I picked a different denomination from his choice, and I wonder how he might have felt about that.
A century later what he did and what he said remain important. I wonder if anyone will remember the causes for which I took a stand a century later. His legacy is part of what makes me what I am. I wonder what legacy I will leave for my grandchildren.
My maternal grandfather was a staunch Methodist, a conservative Republican, a lawyer and a legislator. 100 years ago he was a senator in the Montana legislature from Chouteau County. He was definitely a grass roots politician. We have a few of his campaign materials, which amounted to glorified calling cards. He campaigned by going around the county and talking to farmers and ranchers and by being known as a lawyer who served the people of the County. In the hard times of the Great Depression he accepted eggs and chickens and milk as payment for his services, even when he was milking his own cow to support his five daughters. His religious principles didn’t allow charging or paying interest and he did neither. He didn’t play cards. He didn’t gamble. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t dance. And he didn’t drink.
In other words, he was a perfect sponsor for the bill to ratify the 18th amendment to the US Constitution.
He wrote impassioned speeches about the evils of alcohol. He told stories of situations he had witnessed where alcohol had led to violence and poverty and criminal behavior and all sorts of social evils. And he was convinced he was right. He honestly and seriously believed that things would suddenly get better in the United States as soon as it became illegal to sell, make, import or transport alcohol. He had the backing of the minister of his church and the dozens of other Methodist ministers he knew through his work with the Montana Circuit and the national setting of the Methodist Church. He believed that he was doing God’s work as he worked for prohibition.
He came by it naturally. His mother was a leader in the WCTU. His mother-in-law had been thrown out of the town saloon, the only building in their rural western town that had a piano, which she wanted to practice, for playing temperance songs and threatening to break every bottle in the place.
His daughters all took a pledge to never allow tobacco or alcohol to touch their lips as part of their Christian Endeavor groups. They kept that promise, too. In the case of my mother and at least some of my aunts, they also imposed temperance on their husbands.You never saw alcohol at a family reunion in my family, and my Uncle Irving’s root beer and ginger bear were suspect enough for the sisters to avoid drinking them.
My grandfather lived another 25 years after prohibition, so he must have been aware of how seriously it failed. By 1933, the amendment had been repealed, the only constitutional amendment to be repealed in the history of the United States. As a small town lawyer he must have known how much local law enforcement agencies hated having to enforce the ban, chasing down those transporting and selling liquor when they felt that there were more important criminal matters in need of their attention. He must have known how immensely organized crime profited from prohibition and how banning alcohol didn’t improve the lives of those who were addicted. Alcohol proved to be way more popular than temperance campaigners believed.
I don’t know for sure how my grandfather felt. He didn’t leave behind any speeches about the repeal of the amendment. He didn’t live long enough for me to have a serious conversation with him about the topic. His church continued to be a temperance church. His wife continued to be active in WCTU. He continued to practice law in a small Western town where problems that were directly connected to alcohol turned up in court on a regular basis. He protested the granting of liquor licenses to businesses. He worked to shorten the hours of operation of the State of Montana Liquor Stores. After the repeal of prohibition, the State was the sole vendor of hard liquor for decades.
A century later, only one of his grandsons is a minister and only one of his grandchildren ever became a lawyer. At least one of his grandchildren has worked on campaigns to end the prohibition on the sale of marijuana. I’m guessing that the majority of his grandchildren enjoy a glass of wine from time to time. I know I do. And, truth be told, I’ve been known to tip a glass with colleagues who are Methodist ministers from time to time.
The most serious and perplexing problems of society don’t have simple solutions. Increasing law enforcement efforts to arrest users and distributors of Methamphetamines and spending millions of dollars on advertising campaigns does little to treat addiction and the powerful grip that the substance has on its users. Making something illegal doesn’t mean that it will go away.
I am proud that my grandfather cared so much about others. I am proud that he stood up in favor of prohibition as well as the fact that he stood up for women’s suffrage when he was a student. I feel honored to be related to a man of courage and conviction and honesty. I might not have approached the issues the same way that he did, but I am honored to have inherited a bit of his passion and energy. I am proud that we share the same faith and devotion to the church, even though I picked a different denomination from his choice, and I wonder how he might have felt about that.
A century later what he did and what he said remain important. I wonder if anyone will remember the causes for which I took a stand a century later. His legacy is part of what makes me what I am. I wonder what legacy I will leave for my grandchildren.
