❖ CHASING RUM ON PUGET SOUND ❖

Lucile McDonald (1898-1992) was an amazing journalist/historian/author on the prowl for Washington State history. Let's once more follow her trail through Puget Sound when she was beach-combing for tales of the rum-running days during the Prohibition Era.

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Roy T. Lyle,
Federal prohibition chief, 1 June 1922,
with part of the shipment of "salt fish" liquor 
seized in a Seattle freight shed.
Click image to enlarge.
Original photo from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

If one waits long enough, almost any true experience becomes a collector's piece.
      National Prohibition ended in December 1933; it was the following March before Washington's first state liquor stores were in business.
      For nearly 14 years the entire United States had been dry. Washington had suffered thirst four years longer than that because of a Prohibition Law of its own, effective 1 January 1916.
      Sufficient time has elapsed so that minor actors in the drama of the Prohibition Era feel that now their part can be told. One of them volunteered the information that he was hired to work on a farm at Washington Harbor, Clallam County, and discovered its owner was a bootlegger, ostensibly raising turkeys and hay. The main purpose of the hayfield was to conceal a ditch in which liquor was stored.
      Another told how his father had moved from Samish to Sucia Island because farming was not as profitable as repackaging liquor goods. He removed bottles from boxes and repacked them in gunny sacks.
      "Yes, but some other repackaging was done, and not always on the level," another man commented. "You might be paying $120 a case for good liquor. You received it in a straw-stuffed gunny sack with a handle. You opened it and what did you have--three bottles of good liquor and the rest of the bottles filled with tea!"
      One of the men who gave stories to the State had been employed on a railroad. He related that a small-time bootlegger proposed that a train conductor let him store cases of whiskey between the walls of the caboose.
      Space was found for four cases each trip. They had cost $50 apiece in Canada and the bootlegger doubled his money in Bellingham.
      "He made $2,500 a month easily," said the trainman.
      "He paid me $10 a day just to stay in the car so that nobody would hijack his goods."
      The same narrator recalled deliveries made in Bellingham with buttermilk jugs, painted white, filled with moonshine retailing at $8 a gallon. Painted milk bottles also were delivered, customers paying $3 a quart "for that kind of milk."
      The trainman spoke of shingles which were loaded by the carload at a Canadian mill, where a bootlegger would have an arrangement to place some of his wares on board at the same time.
      Shingles would be piled densely in front of the car door and, when customs officers inspected the car at Blaine, the contents looked innocent. Hijackers, however, sometimes received a tip on the number of the car and stole the liquor before it reached its destination.

      

Coast Guard cutter Arcata, 
with a captured "rum runner" vessel.
Stamped with date of 25 August 1924.
From the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

Speedboats carrying contraband cargo came directly to Seattle and landed cases on piers or at suburban beaches. Some commonly passed through the Government Locks and put their cases ashore on a county wharf at the foot of Stone Way. A man who worked at a boathouse nearby said that two or three trucks stopped there regularly at night to pick up liquor.

      Shipments for large-scale bootleggers left British Columbia ports on "mother" ships, ostensibly bound for Guatemala and Mexico. They hove to outside the 12-mile limit and discharged into "daughter" ships, which delivered the contraband cargo to the San Juan Islands, where they were met by speedboats. These in turn carried the goods to Seattle or nearby points.
      In 1925, the Coast Guard employed 22 vessels on Puget Sound and in nearby waters to lie in wait for the liquor craft. Frequently a thrilling chase occurred, when the sound of firing brought Whidbey Island residents out in the night to watch the pursuit from the bluffs.
      If a fleeing craft ignored a signal to halt, the Coast Guard fired a shot across the bows. If the fugitive vessel still did not stop, the Coast Guard unlimbered a Lewis machine gun.

Coast Guard with their Lewis gun on deck.
Motoring out of Anacortes, WA.
Photo dated 1931 from the archives of 
the Saltwater People Historical Society©

      Sometimes, if badly shot up, a pursued vessel made a crash landing on a beach and the crew disappeared in the bushes. Most bootleg vessels were faster than the patrol craft and could outrun them.
      Liquor commonly was packed 12 bottles to a gunny sack. Sometimes these were towed from the stern, ready to be cut adrift.
      One method of delivery was to place rock salt and cut cork with the bottles in the sacks. They sank when dropped overboard, but a few hours later, after the salt had dissolved, the sacks were floated by the cut cork and retrieved by a watch onshore.
      Liquor frequently was stowed under lumber, logs, and sawdust on barges in tow from Canada, or buried on sand scows. It might be shipped in barrels and kegs, in metal pipes that appeared to be part of engine-room fittings, or in a gasoline tank supposed to contain fuel.
      In the last years of the Prohibition Era, one former Coast Guardsman said, the heavy traffic was in canvas bags fastened underneath log rafts being towed.
      "A tugboat fellow," he related, "told me about a tow of cedar logs from Ladysmith with a queer gimmick. Several hollow logs were filled with cases of liquor and the ends were plugged with sacks of sand."
      The former officer's most unforgettable adventure had to do with a craft that always carried a cargo of scrap metal. The skipper made about three round trips every week into the San Juans ostensibly buying old iron. It always looked the same and the revenue men were suspicious.
      One night in 1925 off Point No Point, the craft went by in the kind of weather that would send most vessels to shelter. The revenue cutter went alongside and hailed the skipper.
      "One of the seamen--he was just a kid--noticed a short piece of rope trailing in the water," the former Coast Guardsman said. "He snagged it with a pike pole, gave a strong pull, and, as it came loose a case of whiskey came with it. The searchlights were turned on and we could see a secret compartment built under the keel. We had tapped that boat all over and it never gave forth an echo, the false bottom was so cleverly built. It had space for 24 cases.

Text above by Lucile McDonald for the Seattle Times 1961.

 

❖ RUM ROW WITH THE QUADRA ❖

QUADRA on Rum Row
from the photo archives of S.P.H.S©

"Prohibition reigned for nearly 14 years after the Volstead Act was passed. Washington State suffered thirst four years longer because of a prohibition law of its own; effective 1 January 1916. The nation became wet again in December 1933.
      During the dry spell the Coast Guard [U.S.] employed a fleet of 22 vessels on Puget Sound alone to cope with rumrunners in nearby waters. The MALAHAT conducted business on a grand scale. She sailed long distances and prepared to lie offshore and serve the smaller craft delivering contraband liquor to dealers on the mainland. 
      Some idea of the mother ship's routine in rum running can be gained from the account of a ship's officer on one of the MALAHAT's companion vessels, the former lighthouse tender QUADRA. Built in 1891, she was a clipper type, 265 net ton craft with a 120-HP engine. George Winterburn, second engineer, writing in B. C. Magazine in 1957, stated that the supercargo, not the captain, was 'supreme boss" of the expedition. Preparations were made to remain four of five months on rum row. If the ship's stores ran short, launches would bring out from shore whatever was required.
      'We loaded up in Vancouver with 22,000 cases of choice liquors, wines, rums, and even a large quantity of beer which was all consigned to Ensenada in Mexico. Papers were arranged to show that we had been there, discharged our cargo and left again with a clear bill of health. This we had before we even left Vancouver. It was a clear, calm, moonlit night when we were proceeding down the Strait of Juan de Fuca toward the open sea when the engine-room telegraph rang down 'STOP.' This was a fine night for doing business and we did plenty of it. Several launches came off to us and upon presenting their credentials, consisting of one half of a one dollar bill that had to be matched with the other half that the supercargo kept, the order that was written on his half-bill was filled and away the man went to shore with his launch full of liquor.
      Before daylight we again got under way and did not stop until we were abreast of Astoria, where we conducted more business. It was here that we really sent a lot of liquor ashore, that no doubt found its way to the Portland market. It began to look as if our intended four months' voyage was going to be considerably shortened and we had been at sea barely a week. 
      We left Astoria for San Francisco where we took up our position just outside of the Farallon Islands, 50 miles offshore from the Golden Gate. It was here that a bad storm hit us, causing us to heave to for a whole week. It was too stormy for any boats to come off, so we could not do any business, nor could we run for shelter from the storm on account of the contraband. All we could do was 'sacking', which mean removing the liquor from the cases and sewing it up in sacks of 12, which were not only easier to handle, but were not quite so obvious to the curious. Finally the storm blew itself out and the weather got warm and balmy. Business was brisk and in no time we were left with only half the cargo.
      Two other ships in this vicinity were operating for the same company as they had both been in these waters a long time, it was decided that we would take the remainder of their cargoes, which gave us more than we started out with. Both of these ships were wooden schooners; one a three-master COAL HARBOR, the other a five-master called the MALAHAT. The latter, like ourselves, was also ex-government owned. 
      While working alongside the MALAHAT, due to a miscalculation in seamanship, we rammed her instead, but as she was built of stout British Columbia fir, it was quite resilient and suffered no damage except a few scratches. Our own ship suffered badly, but remained afloat, as the damage was above the waterline. Our bowsprit was snapped off like a matchstick and our graceful clipper bow stove in, leaving a gaping hole into which we stuffed mattresses to keep the seas out. But each time we dipped into a wave a few tons of water would get past the mattresses and slosh along the 'tween decks, flooding all the cabins.

❖ BOOZE RUNNER ON THE ROCKS ❖

The U. S. S. GUARD Makes Large Liquor Seizure

Six Thousand Dollars Work of Canadian Liquor and Opium 

 in Hands of Federal Authorities.

The US Revenue Cutter GUARD

Jane Barfoot Hodde noted "the GUARD 

was slow and couldn't catch many rumrunners".

While cruising about Smith Island Tuesday afternoon, Captain Greene of the U.S.S. GUARD, picked up a booze runner, whose craft, the speed boat K 247, had been driven ashore on Miner's Ledge of Smith Island, during the southwest blow Sunday.

      The boat's cargo consisting of 49 cases of choice Canadian booze valued at $5,000, besides several thousand dollars worth of opium according to the owner, was being taken to Seattle for the Christmas trade. The owner of the contraband goods and boat gave his name as Giles Martin of Seattle. He was accompanied by an assistant whose name was not learned. The speed boat is a total wreck.

      The men were completely worn out by their shipwreck experience and made no effort to destroy the convicting evidence when approached by Capt. Greene. They, with the contraband were brought to Friday Harbor; late Tuesday afternoon they were taken to Seattle where the booze runners will be turned over to the federal authorities for prosecution.

       This is one of the largest and the first booze seizure by the Coast Guard since last February, and Capt. Greene is to be congratulated upon his good fortune."

Text only from: The Friday Harbor Journal
Front Page, 30 November 1922

      A few years previous to this incident, Gus Viking of Friday Harbor, served as a crew member on the cutter GUARD, as noted in the FHJ of Feb. 1916.

Prohibition Days in Deer Harbor

Photo postcard by Ferd Brady (1880-1967)
Postmarked Orcas, WA. 1931.

Brady operated a studio in Marysville, WA., 
before purchasing the Anacortes Photo Studio in 1926.

 He moved his shop several times but maintained it in that city, 
until he retired to a nursing home in Seattle.

From the Saltwater People Historical Society Collection© 

"Apparently a rumor had been going around Deer Harbor that government people looking for bootleggers were posing as two couples with their police dog, as they prowled on a boat. This was the winter of 1930 and prohibition was still the law of the land.
      My parents-to-be and my grandparents had been to British Columbia, and were passing back through the area following my parents wedding on 30 October. A business/honeymoon kind of thing, and now they were on their way home to Portland, OR. The stop in Deer Harbor was to be overnight, but good weather along with a bargain of house rent for $5 per month encouraged them to stay longer. That turned out to be a life time for all of them.
      On a dark, quiet, night the US Coast Guard cutter slipped into the harbor and tied up to the cannery. Dad and Granddad had to know why, so they rowed their skiff near, but were careful to remain in the shadows.
      A truck belonging to a local farmer came through the nearby building and started to receive cases of forbidden beverage. A few hours later the cutter slipped out of the harbor; nothing was ever mentioned about the activities of that night. If Dad and Granddad hadn't seen it, it would have been a non-happening. Many years later we have learned that on weekends, the USCG skippers were allowed to use the cutter for their own purpose. Likely not the purpose intended that dark evening.
      Because of the rumor mentioned of government people cruising through the village, the family was not well received. People were friendly but reserved and Granddad could not accept that, being very social and always looking for historic facts where ever he traveled.

Not mentioning any names, Deer Harbor, Washington
From the private collection of L.W. North©

At Norton Store he bought the necessary products to make home brew, not revealing his intended use, but everyone in the store was familiar with the recipe items. A week later he bought bottle caps, a funnel, and a ladies personal device, and went home. Later in the evening a couple of guys dropped by and still later, a couple more, and the siphon party was on. Apparently, Gramps recipe was good because he got a reputation for the best beer. When he passed away in 1936, he was greatly missed by part of the community, anyway."
L. W. North, Deer Harbor, WA. 2010