The Still, Part Three

Somehow without her even suspecting, Leta’s husband Albert had built a still in their basement. Although she was surprised when he first showed it to her, she knew that both of them were frustrated with Prohibition and the few, but often awful, choices of alcohol available to them. When she examined it, she was impressed with the quality of workmanship he put into constructing it, yet she wondered where he acquired all of the pieces. After all, the contraption was still illegal.

“It wasn’t that hard, sweetheart,” he answered. “Woolworth’s carries most of that stuff. The clerk even told me not to purchase everything all at one time, so it didn’t look suspicious.

“Woolworth’s? But they knew us there!” she protested.

“Not the one we go to. I went to another. Jesus, Leta, I have some sense.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

“And I got a couple of pieces from Paulie,” Albert continued. “You remember how his wife wouldn’t let him keep one.”

“Just like Florence did with Aaron,” she added. By this time, she had begun to examine the still with her hands, checking the security of the system.

“Yep, but I did get a few of the jars from Aaron.”

She looked at her husband over her shoulder. “So my brother knows?”

“Yes,” Albert answered, “and he offered a couple of tips.”

“Lord, I hope you didn’t listen to him,” she said. “His own attempts were barely drinkable, even before Florence shut him down. What about ventilation—the smoke from the fire?”

“Look real close at that grill,” he suggested, and she did.

“Well, I’ll be—“ she started. “It’s electric.”

“Yep,” Albert answered.

Leta stepped away from the contraption and looked at him with her arms akimbo.

“We’re going to have to test it out first,” she declared. “I don’t want the reputation of passing around lousy liquor.”

Albert’s face lit up. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he queried.

“And what do you think it means?” she teased.

“That you approve?”

“Yes, I approve,” she laughed.

He ran to her, threw his arms around her and lifted her into the air.

“Yessiree, we’re going to make our own bathtub gin!” he exclaimed with excitement.

And that they did. Their first few attempts were rather dismal, but over the period of only a few weeks, Leta put her wits to good use and before long, they were making a gin that went down smoothly on its own, and was quite refreshing with tonic and a bit of lime. After trials with a select sextet of friends and relatives, they began to share with others in their personal circles. In a few months, it had turned into a little moneymaking enterprise for their family.