J.W. James: “Noblest Man” of Crab Orchard KY

 

“On February 25th, near the somber hour of midnight, the noble and generous spirit of J. W. James, the noblest man that ever lived in all the tide of Time, took its flight from his elegant home to a far more splendid mansion in the sky.”—The Stanford KY, Interior Journal , March 2, 1906.

Thus did a local newspaper open its long laudatory obituary of John William “Willie” James, shown here.   As will be seen, this eulogy spared no adjectives in praising James’ virtues.  Missing from the entire encomium, however, was even a single word about the key to the Kentuckian’s wealth and philanthropy:  James made his money distilling and selling whiskey.

From an old and distinguished Kentucky family, James was the great grandson of   John M. James, a soldier of the American Revolution, a Virginia pioneer into Kentucky, a minister of the Gospel and an early local judge.  His grandfather, Joseph M. James, was a Baptist preacher and pastor of several central Kentucky churches.  Shown here, Joseph was known for building the Flat Lick Stone Church and additionally was the grandfather of outlaws Frank & Jesse James.  

Our subject’s father was George W. James, a reasonably affluent farmer who at 37 had married Willie’s mother, “Lizzie” Bobbitt when she was 19.  Lizzie is shown here in maturity.

The boy Willie appears to have had more than the typical education offered to Kentucky youth of that era, attending Georgetown (KY), the first Baptist college west of the Appalachian Mountains.  There he became known, according to his obituary, as “a fluent talker, an excellent penman, and an accurate and rapid accountant.” This latter skill found him early employment in Stanford, Kentucky, at a bank owned by a retired physician, Dr. J. B. Owsley.  

Although accounted a success in banking and a confidant of Owsley, James had his attention fixed on a town thirteen miles to the south of Stanford called Crab Orchard, where its springs were known for the therapeutic value of their minerals. Crab Orchard salts were much ballyhooed:  “They are pronounced to have a specific action on the liver, joined with good tonic properties, being the only salts known in the world with these valuable qualities. They are specially recommended for patients suffering from Dyspepsia, Biliousness and Piles, and for persons who indulge in strong alcoholic drinks.”

As the result of active advertising beginning about midway in the 1800s and extending into the 20th Century, Crab Orchard, as the illustration above indicates, was “booming.”  Sited near the end of the Logan Trace of the Wilderness Road and a stop on the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, the town abounded in tourists.  Hotels and tavern flourished.  What better place, thought Willie James, than Crab Orchard for a distillery.

There already was one near the town, called the Crab Orchard Distillery (RD#81, 8th Dist.). Founded in the 1880s, It was for sale in 1892.  According to insurance records, the property included the still and two bonded warehouses of frame construction and shingle roofs standing about 10 feet apart.   North of them by 150 feet was a cattle shed where cows were fed on spent mash from the distilling process.  The structures all were of frame construction.  Likely having some experience in making whiskey, James bought the distillery.

James marketed his liquor as “Crab Orchard Whiskey,” selling it in ceramic jugs like the two shown below.  The first ceramic covered with Albany brown glaze has the label scratched in the surface, indicating it may be an early example.  A second jug indicates a more sophisticated look.  It is covered in Albany slip white glaze with black letters applied with a roller and baked on.  Lest there be any mistake on the origin of the contents, James has added the slogan “made in old Kentucky.”

Working hard to expand his sales, the distiller would find that selling whiskey as prohibitionary forces intensified would have its perils.  In an attempt to reach into “dry” Kentucky counties with his advertising in 1897 James printed up order blanks on post cards that he distributed widely in nearby Rockcastle County, one that by “local option” had banned alcohol.  A liquor sale resulting from that outreach brought his arrest and conviction before a county court.  James appealed and a higher court ruled that the transaction essentially had taken place in “wet” Frankfort County.  James’ conviction was overruled and he was free to continue to make his postcard sales.

Meanwhile Willie was having a home life.  He was twice married.  His first wife was Mattie B. Evans, a local woman.  Shown here, she was the daughter of George W. Evans and likely a relative of Dr. Owsley.  After Mattie’s early death he married Margaret Buchanan, her father George cited as a noble old Scotsman. “Both wives were most excellent women of the first families,”  commented his newspaper eulogy.  There were no children from either marriage.

The cause of James’ early death at 45 years, so far as I can find, has gone unrecorded.  His obituary suggests that his last illness left him unable to eat, possibly a throat cancer.   He died on February 25, 1906 and was buried in Crab Orchard Cemetery in the shadow of King’s Mountain, where his great grandfather is said to have fought during the Revolution.  

The extravagant praise heaped on J.W. James can seem puzzling.  Here was a man who ignored his Baptist heritage and education by making and selling whiskey.  Moreover, he based his operation near a town where many “people who indulge in strong alcoholic drink”  retreated to free themselves of the effects of liquor, not to be tempted to consume it.  Finally, when finding a loophole in the law that forbade sales of alcohol in an adjoining county, James had taken full advantage of the opportunity to exploit it.  Should we take this editorial haliography with a dose of salts?

The answer lies in Willie James’ generosity.  According to his eulogist:  “His place here can never be supplied. His fortune was ample, his cash capital in the thousands, and his pockets always full to meet the demands of the borrower and the beggar…. He gave more to preachers, churches, Sunday schools, Christmas trees, and to feed and clothe the poor, than any other man in Lincoln County.”

One specific example was provided to illustrate James’ character.  “On one occasion, a poor destitute man, (William Kidd) with a withered arm, passing his place of business with an empty meal sack on his shoulder, and a coffee-sack in which he had three hens, the only property he had in the world, stopped in to warm. Willie said…How are times with you? [Kidd] Might hard. I have in my coffee-sack my only three hens. The only things I have in the world. I am taking them to the store to buy me some meal and coffee. [James] Look here at this paper and see what your hens are worth in the market – 68 cents a piece. Take them back home to lay you some eggs, and take this dollar to buy you some coffee and meat, and take your meal sack up to my miller and tell him to fill it as full of meal as he can tie it.

At James’ funeral the minister, Rev. O. M. Huey offered a a verse from his own pen to the large crowd that had gathered to pay respects to a man hailed as “…in many qualities the grandest man that ever moved in the track of time.”:

One by one our friends depart,

Who has not lost a friend?

There is no union here of hearts,

But that union has an end.

Farewell, dear Willie, we leave thee

With the new-fallen snow for a winding sheet,

And cold, bleak winter for a bier;

And every clod beneath the mourner’s feet

Moistened with a tear.

After James’ death the Crab Orchard distillery passed through several hands until shut by National Prohibition in 1920.  With Repeal, however, the earlier popularity of the label caused its revival.  Under the auspices of the American Medicinal Spirits Company the brand was heavily advertised with an “Old South” motif before finally disappearing.

Note:  As so often happens, it was the sight of a Crab Orchard whiskey jug that put me on the track of J.W. “Willie” James.  The extensive and vivid obituary that appeared in the Interior Journal newspaper of Stanford, Kentucky, on March 2, 1906, cemented the idea that James was a good subject for this blog.  The fact that nowhere in his obituary is it even hinted that the subject sold whiskey should be no surprise.  It was similar to the “silent” treatment of other whiskey men featured here.