The Hilbert Brothers Sold “Municipal Whiskey”

 San Francisco newspapers dubbed it “municipal whiskey,” a blatant aspect of the rampant corruption instigated by top city officials and marketed by Christian Hilbert, shown here, and his brother Fred, local saloonkeepers and liquor dealers.  Then came the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire. The Hilberts’ world turned upside down.

The Hilberts misadventures would have been far from in their minds when they emigrated from their native Hamburg, Germany, to the United States.  Although the time frames are a bit confusing, my surmise is that the brothers arrived together aboard the SS Suevia in 1882 when Fred was 19 and Christopher was 15.  They headed for San Francisco where Fred was listed in 1888 as working for Hildebrandt, Posner & Company, wholesale liquor dealers.

Two years later the Crocker Langley directory records the brothers running their own saloon and liquor store, located at the northwest corner of Seventh and Bryant.  After two years at that address, indicating some success, they moved to 101-103 Powell Street.   It is speculated that there the Hilbert’s splurged on creating attractive highly embossed bottles and flasks for their whiskey, likely “rectified” (blended) in their own quarters. 

 

They also issued shot glasses bearing their initials that were given to favored customers such as saloons, restaurants and hotels selling their liquor.  They advertised as “Pacific Coast Agents” for Wilson Whiskey, a well known product from the Ulman, Goldsborough Company of Baltimore. [See post on this firm Feb. 24, 2017.] Below are trade cards issued by the distillers bearing the Hilbert name.

For all the fancy bottles and advertising ware, including bar tokens, evidence is that business was not going well for the Hilberts.  The San Franciso Call on October 1, 1896, carried an ad listing for sale their “old-established liquor store and bar.” That offer apparently drew no buyers and by the following January, the brothers were offering their grocery and bar enterprise for a three year lease at a measly $750 annually.  The photo below of their establishment, known as the Coronado Bar, discloses what must have seemed to the Hilberts as the answer to their financial woes.  It is the man standing at the far left.

Abe Reuf

He was Abe Reuf, the political boss of San Francisco. Born Abraham Rueff from French-Jewish parents, he was a bright student and, when barely fourteen, began studying at the University of California, Berkeley, majoring in classical studies. While attending the university, Reuf developed an interest in fighting the rampant corruption that was endemic to local politics and helped form a “Municipal Reform League.”  But a love for money and power later took him to the “dark side” of the spectrum.  Electing his own man, “Handsome” Eugene Schmitz, a violinist and union chief, as mayor in 1901 Ruef was prepared to accrue as much graft as possible.  He made the Hilberts a proposition that amid their financial woes the brothers accepted.

The brothers hired Reuf as their attorney at the then princely sum of $500 a month ($16,500 equivalent today).  Subsequently Reuf’s name on their business card was larger than their own.  They also made Mayor Schmitz a silent partner in their operation, paying him a commission of $50 ($1,600 equiv.) for every barrel of whiskey sold.  In return the Mayor and his agents pushed the saloons of San Francisco to buy whiskey solely from the brothers through their newly named Hilbert Mercantile Company.

Mayor Schmitz

Both Colliers and McClure’s magazines, known as “muck-raking” (read “investigative”) journals published expose’ articles on the Ruef-Schmitz cabal. McClure’s explained the liquor scheme:  After the Hilberts made contracts with Eastern distillers for cheap whiskey at 52-85 cents a gallon, the Mayor and his henchmen forced local saloonkeepers and brothel owners to pay $3.50 a gallon for the substandard booze to avoid trouble.  A portion of the profit was kicked back by the brothers to city officials.  The Hilberts did not always require cash for their whiskey but also took promissory notes for sales. They then sold the notes at discount through San Francisco banks. 

Because of evident ties to City Hall the Hilberts’ liquor became widely known as “municipal whiskey.”  Christopher and Fred may not have cared; the money rolled in.  As McClure’s noted:  “The saloonkeepers, of course, dared not refuse to take the Hilbert whiskey, because their licenses had to be renewed every three months and if they should insist on their right to buy where they chose, they might be forced out of business.”

That situation changed drastically on Wednesday, April 18, 1906, with the great San Francisco earthquake and devastating fire.  Some believe the Hilbert Mercantile Company was among those businesses destroyed in the conflagration; others are not so sure.  Mayor Schmitz tried to put the best face on the catastrophe by piloting a street car through the wreckage, a stunt that briefly made him popular.  There was, however, no way of restoring the “municipal whiskey" scam.  When the promissary notes came due, Hilbert Mercantile Company declared bankruptcy leaving holders “high and dry.”

As criminal investigations against Reuf and Schmitz began, authorities wanted to talk to the Hilberts.  The press reported that Fred had left California and was traveling in Germany with Schmitz.  Christopher was known to have retreated to his wife’s home in Suisun, California and had told friends that the couple were off for a pleasure trip to the Philippine Islands, then a U.S. possession.  Although speculation was that the younger Hilbert actually was seeking to join his brother and Schmitz in Germany, Christopher spent the next two years in the Philippines and apparently never returned to San Francisco.

Fred eventually came back to California but dropped out of sight.  Before the earthquake and fire he had been recorded living in San Francisco with his wife Amelia and their two daughters.  In the 1910 census the family was still there.  Fred, however, was absent from the home.  He resurfaced in Vallejo in 1915.

Meanwhile, Schmitz and Reuf were convicted of extortion and bribery in a San Francisco courtroom.  Reuf was sent to San Quentin Prison.  The office of mayor was declared vacant while Schmitz was sent to jail to await sentence. Shortly thereafter, he was given five years at San Quentin, the maximum sentence the law allowed. He immediately appealed; while awaiting the outcome, he was kept in a cell in the San Francisco County Jail.  After having his sentence reversed by higher courts, Schmitz twice ran for office again and was soundly defeated both times.

After returning to the U.S. from the Philippines Christopher Hilbert relocated to New York City working as a commission merchant.  That occupation allowed him to travel widely to Europe and Asia, often with his wife, Marie Robbins, and their two daughters.   Christopher died at the age of 61 in February 1928 at a hotel in Capri, Italy.  Cremated in Rome, his widow had his ashes buried in his natal  Hamburg.   Meanwhile Fred was employed in a variety of occupations that resulted in his family frequently moving around California.  After his wife died, Fred eventually returned to living in San Francisco and died there in 1945, age 82. He was buried in Cypress Lawn Memorial Park in Colma.

In contrast to Reuf and Schmitz, despite their active participation in one of San Francisco’s most blatant extortion schemes, inexplicably neither Hilbert brother was ever charged with a crime.  

Note:  An embossed bottle led me to the great amount of information available on the Internet about the Hilberts and their activities in a corruption-ridden San Francisco.  A prime source was material at the “Virtual Museum” of the Federation of Historical Bottle Collectors (FOHBC).  The Colliers and McClure’s articles on the Reuf-Schmitz ring were key to understanding how the “municipal whiskey” extortion operated and the integral role played by the Hilbert brothers.