Because no photo of Chris J. Jespersen has come to light, I have substituted a drawing of a large bartender with a somewhat belligerent look to stand in for the Gardnerville, Nevada, saloonkeeper known as “Big Swede.” The image introduces a man, described as “out of humor and a grouch for fair” who was asked about his whiskey and answered with an oration.
Jespersen’s words were captured — and possibly embellished — by a local reporter who prefaced them by setting the scene. A young whiskey salesman from the West Coast representing Cincinnati liquor companies entered the Big Swede’s Gardnerville establishment and “in plaintive tones” asked the proprietor: “Is this a saloon?” When told in no uncertain terms that it was, the drummer feebly asked: “What kind of whiskey have you got?
The Record Courier of February 18, 1908, recorded this response from Jepersen: “Why you rosy cheeked lummox, we’ve got all kinds of whiskey; we’ve got common ordinary, everyday whiskey, the kind that killed father at the age of 95. We’ve got wisdom whiskey, the kind that makes the absorber think he’s backed Solomon off the map. Throw some of it under your belt and in ten minutes you’ll be wondering why they didn’t make you president instead of Teddy. We’ve got whiskerbroom whiskey, the kind that makes you throw a fit on the floor and when you get up you dust your clothes off with a whiskerbroom.
“We’ve got honest whiskey, the kind that causes a man to pay debts when he’s drunk, and to kick him all over the lot when he’s sober. We’ve got fool whiskey, the kind that causes your dear neighbor to lead you off somewhere in Pine Nut Hills and whisper in your waiting ear a piece of news that was all over town the day before. Then we’ve got lovin’ whiskey, the kind that makes some lobster crawl up to you, put his arm around your neck and blow a breath into your face that would drive a turkey buzzard away from a dead coyote or stampede the employes of a glue factory.
“We’ve got fightin’ whiskey, the kind that gets action on Tobe Ward [a race horse] or make an Antelope Valley cowboy haul out his sixshooter and plug out the lights. We’ve got crying whiskey, the kind that makes a tenderfoot shed tears of anguish and sorrow whenever he hears a funny story. We’ve got sporting whiskey, the kind that makes you want to tackle the wheel or craps. Why, gol durn it, we’ve got the biggest stock in Nevada.
“If what I’ve mentioned ain’t enough, why we’ll give you some whoopin’ whiskey, the kind that will make an undertaker jump his job and join a circus. We’ve got screamin’ whiskey, the kind that makes a deaf mute scream for a job. We’ve got social whiskey, the kind that’ll make a man who has given you a glass eye for the past ten years hunt you up and give you the glad mitt. We’ve got family whiskey, the kind that makes a man go home and smash the furniture and call his mother-in-law unpleasant names. We’ve got…” At this point, according to the newspaper, the neophyte salesman offered a “…Guess you’re stocked up. Good day.” And he beat a hasty retreat out the saloon door. The report concluded: “And the Swede says he wasn’t halfway through the list yet.”
Despite his nickname, the originator of this declamation was from, Aalberg, Denmark, shown above, the center of the country’s third largest metropolitan area. Born there in 1865, Jespersen immigrated to the United States in 1886 from Hamburg, Germany, on a British ship, the Aston, that took him to Scotland and from there around the South America to the West Coast. The passenger list gave the 20-year-old’s occupation as farmer. Perhaps drawn to America initially by the lure of riches from mining, Jesperson arrived in Gardnerville just as the town was being established.
During his initial years there Jesperson labored as a carpenter, teamster and at a variety of odd jobs. Given an opportunity to work behind a bar, he rapidly learned the liquor trade and was employed at several Gardnerville saloons before opening his own drinking establishment at the corner of Main and Eddy Streets. It was known as the “Big Swede’s” and later the J-T Bar. The two story structure with its adjunct bath house is shown on the photo left, along with a later photo below showing the line of buildings. As a saloonkeeper Jespersen rapidly became known throughout northwest Nevada. A hulk of a man over six feet tall and weighing some 250 pounds, Big Swede’s bad disposition was legendary.
In 1892 Jesperson found time to be married in Gardnerville. His wife was Mary Louise Buerger, born in 1860 in Wright City, Warren County, Missouri, a woman older than he by five years. Over the next nine years they would have five children of whom four lived to maturity, Frederick born in 1893; Minnie, 1894, Christine, 1896, and Andrew, 1899. In order to shelter this growing family, Jesperson about 1893 bought a Victorian house in Virginia City, Nevada, and moved the structure to Gardnerville, where it remains a private residence. Below are photos as the house looks today and a historical plaque.
When Nevada went dry in 1918, Jesperson was forced to shut down his saloon and seek other employment, becoming a contract deliverer of mail. Trading on his celebrity in Douglas County in 1920 the Big Swede decided to run for constable. In that job he would be an agent of the county courts and also have law enforcement powers. His first run for office thrust him into a Republican primary election against two other candidates. Jesperson won. He then was pitted against the incumbent Democratic constable, A. W. Ramsey. The Big Swede lost in a landslide.
Two terms later Jepperson in 1928 again ran against Ramsey. This time he registered as an Independent and beat the incumbent handily. Now he walked around Gardnerville with a badge that likely looked a lot like the one from another Nevada town. The Big Swede, despite his temperament, apparently was popular because in 1928 he ran unopposed. In 1930, he stood as a Republican again and was beaten narrowly by John Brown, an Independent. Jeppersen tried again in 1932 and Brown, who would be Douglas County constable for more than a decade, swamped him. Big Swede permanently returned to delivering mail.
At age 60 Jespersen suffered a cerebral hemorrhage on the day after Christmas 1940. He was taken to Gardnerville’s small hospital, then considered one of Nevada’s best. He lingered for 28 days before dying on January 24, 1941. Chris, the voluble Big Swede, was buried in the Gardnerville Cemetery, shown above. Mary Louise would join him there in 1950, 90 years old. Their badly eroded joint tombstone is shown here.
The Big Swede’s drinking establishment has survived him in Gardnerville still bearing the name J-T Bar. With the end of Prohibition nationally and in Nevada, the whiskey began to flow again there as it had in the Jespersen’s day. Shown here is a photo of the saloon interior as it looked in 1991. Below is the building as it looks today, housing a restaurant featuring Basque cuisine.
Notes: This post was suggested to me by the book, “Saloons of (Old — and New) Nevada,” by Raymond M. Smith, Silver Plate Printing, 1992. In it Smith includes Jesperson’s disquisition on whiskey taken directly from the newspaper story. Other material on this post is from Internet sources. The vintage photos of the Big Swede’s bar are from the Nevada Historical Society. The 1991 interior photo is from Smith’s book. If someone out there has a photo of Chris Jespersen, I would dearly love to use it.
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