Leo Salamandra and the Perils of Bootlegging

When National Prohibition arrived in 1920, Leo Salamandra, a successful and wealthy Trenton, New Jersey, liquor dealer still had thousands of bottles of valuable whiskey on premises — but was forbidden to market it legitimately. For months he anguished about what to do.  Late in 1921 Salamandra determined to sell the stash to a gang of New York bootleggers.  It cost him his life.

Salamandra was born in Menteleone, Spoleto, Central Italy in 1878.  Two older brothers, Louis and Rosato, had immigrated to the United States earlier and apparently already were engaged in the liquor trade in Trenton when Leo, 20 years old, arrived in 1898. He soon met and married Antonette Anna, still in her teens, who also was an Italian immigrant.  They would have a family of four children, two girls and two boys. 

For reasons unknown, Salamandra did not join with his brothers in the whiskey trade but struck out on his own, opening a grocery about 1904 at 611 Roebling Avenue, a store that emphasized liquor sales.  His quick success was evident.  By 1908, according to Trenton business directories,  Leo was operating a wholesale and retail liquor store at 200 Fulton and a bottling plant at 113 Cummings Avenue.

Salamandra was wholesaling whiskey, likely buying product from distilleries in the region by the barrel and decanting it in large ceramic jugs for sale to the many drinking establishments boasted by Trenton.  As shown here, one of Leo’s jugs could hold as much as three gallons of whiskey  The saloon would sell it by the drink over the bar probably as the “house” low cost brand.  A jug like the one shown here would serve up roughly 256 shots.

The marketing strategy adopted by Salamandra involved copious advertising.  Shown above is an ad he placed multiple times in the 1908 Trenton business directory.  He emphasized his sole bottling rights to the beers of F. A. Poth Brewing Corporation of Philadelphia.  He employed glass bottles for beer and house soft drinks with a wire mechanism holding the stopper in place.  Of note is his embossing on the glass. Looking closely one can see that the “S” is actually a snake-like critter, e.g. a salamander.  Leo was using his name as a branding device.

Along the line the Italian immigrant also incorporated.  A 1914 ad that ran in Trenton newspapers claimed that: “You make no mistake in calling on Leo Salamandra & Co. Inc, for beer, wine, whiskies and liquors of all kinds.”  The ad also claimed that: “You not only save money by dealing with us, but get the highest quality as well.”  

Salamandra’s advertising investments also may be responsible for an item in the Trenton Times extolling the musical talent of his two daughters, Theresa and Iola,  both accounted by the newspaper as musical prodigies even at 10 and 11 years old.  In the story the tots’ piano teacher predicted “a bright future for them in the musical world.”   Leo and Anna must have beamed at the publicity.

In 1920, the passage of the Volstead Act and imposition of National Prohibition dealt a blow to Salamandra.  Even though New Jersey never voted for the Constitutional amendment and resistance was strong in the state, the liquor dealer was forced to suspend all sales of alcohol.  Apparently hoping to recoup lost income, he opened a new bottling plant in Trenton, apparently to make soft drinks.  According to trade publications, his plant had the latest in mechanized equipment.  Salamandra also bought a pair of two-ton trucks.

Unable to sell all the whiskey he had on hand when the axe fell, Salamandra fretted over for months over what to do with the stash of liquor still in his warehouse.  Determined to make Prohibition work, federal agents energetically led raids all over New Jersey, shutting down speakeasies, roadhouses, stills, and breweries.  Nevertheless, virtually any resident who wished to could drink with impunity.  Bootlegging operated openly.

Salamandra made a fateful decision.  He would sell his residual whiskey supply to the mob.  Through intermediaries, likely fellow Italians, he made contact with a New York City gang headed by Meyer Lansky, shown here, who in association with “Bugsy" Siegel and “Lucky” Luiciano ran a prominent bootlegging operation.  Leo presumably made a deal to sell 51 cases of whiskey to the gang, valued then at $30,000 and worth in today’s dollar about $600,000.  The conspirators agreed to the handoff near Kingston, New Jersey, about 14 miles north of Trenton when the money would be turned over.   The route is shown on this map.

On the night of February 13, 1921, with Salamandra and a brother following in their automobile, his truck carrying the whiskey set out from Trenton for the rendezvous.  The liquor dealer apparently was apprehensive about the deal as he and associates were armed with pistols.  As they neared Kingston about 3 a.m. suddenly a Cadillac touring car with four men in it — hired by Lansky — pulled up beside them, guns drawn, and forced both the truck and Salamandra’s car off the road.

The New York Times story the next day is imprecise but it appears Salamandra and the others in his party were then escorted to a nearby New Jersey village called Rocky Hill.  Apparently the hijackers did not disarm Salamandra’s party and during a dispute a gun battle broke out. The leader of the bootleggers, a notorious gunman named Frank Walsh, was wounded with a gunshot to the eye.  Leo Salamandra was shot five times at close range and died on the spot.  A painting by W. H. Koerner (1878-1938) called “Bootleggers” captures a similar scene.

Carrying the dying Walsh with them, gang members started north toward Brunswick, New Jersey, at a high rate of speed in Salamandra’s loaded truck and wrecked.  When police quickly arrived at the scene they found Walsh dead.  Two of the bootleggers were captured and taken to the Middlesex County jail in Brunswick.  Investigation revealed they were gang members from the Newark area who had New York City connections.

At first the incident was treated as a hijacking but as evidence mounted it began to look like an illicit liquor sale gone bad.  It appeared that Walsh previously had drawn $10,000 from a New Brunswick bank, apparently to pay for the liquor.  Since that amount was only one-third of the value of Salamandra’s stash, and likely less than previously agreed, Leo and his brother may have argued with Walsh’s gang and gunfire resulted.

The dots connected back to Meyer Lansky.   Brazenly, Lansky himself drove down from New York City to New Brunswick with the cash to bail out the two incarcerated gang members.  The official investigation into the events that fatal night has been characterized by one observer:  “There was lots of lying…by both sides and the truth was never fully determined.”  As for Salamandra’s whiskey stash, federal agents confiscated and destroyed it.

None of this obviously meant anything to Leo Salamandra. At 42 years of age, he was buried in Trenton’s Our Lady of Lourdes Cemetery and a large monument, symbolic of family wealth, raised in his memory.  In addition to his widow, Anna, Leo left behind four minor children.  Iola and Theresa were in their late teens, sons Leo V. was 13 and Anthony was 10.

Perhaps to have a father for her boys, Anna remarried.  Her husband was Tito Salamandra, Leo’s brother, possibly the one accompanying him during the botched liquor sale. The 1940 census found all the Salamandras living in a large home at 736 Greenwood Avenue in Trenton, shown here as it looks today.  Anna, at 59, was head of the household.  With her was husband Tito and her two unmarried sons, Leo V. and Anthony, a lawyer.  Apparently with musical careers forgotten both girls had married and with husbands were living with the family.  Iola was wed to an undertaker and had two daughters;  Theresa was married to an insurance salesman, no children listed.

Importantly, the family was back in the whisky business.  After Repeal in 1934 Leo V. Salamandra almost immediately reopened the liquor store his father had founded.  A 1935 Trenton directory contained an ad for the firm, now located at 133 Morris Avenue, off Chestnut Street, claiming a 1904 origin.  Tito appears to have been working for his nephew/stepson as a salesman.  Despite the violent end of their “founding father,” the Salamandras had moved on from the tragic events of 1921 and crafted their lives into a close-knit family.

How Jim Douglas Became a Kentucky Colonel

Two objectives are primary in the Kentucky tradition: To breed fast thoroughbred horses and to create good bourbon whiskey. James J. Douglas made his life work both pursuits and thereby was appointed a “Kentucky Colonel” and attained legendary status among his peers. How Douglas earned his title is the core of this vignette.

A Kentuckian through and through, James J. Douglas was born in 1846 to parents who themselves were native Kentuckians.  During his lifetime he would be known by several names:  Jim Douglas,  J.J. Douglas,  Colonel Douglas and occasionally as Douglass.  He was just 14 when the Civil War broke out and even though Kentuckians fought for both sides, there is no evidence of his participation and certainly not as an officer.  The rank of “Kentucky Colonel” was first formalized in 1813 to honor military heroes, but in the late 19th Century, administered by the governor, it became an honorary and ceremonial title for persons who had achieved distinction in other fields, particularly business.

The public record says little of Douglas’ early years.  It is documented that he settled in Louisville and he likely was engaged in the whiskey trade, a leading industry of that city.  In 1879 he married Ella K.,  a Kentucky-born woman.   There was a 12 year difference in their ages.  He was 33, she but 21.  There would be no children.

In 1886 after many years in apprenticeship to other whiskey men, Douglas struck out on his own.  He created a wholesale liquor business in Louisville and called his firm, J.J. Douglas  Co.  At first he was located at 135 Third Street but with success he soon needed more space and moved down the street to 148-150 Third Street.  When that space eventually proved to be too small, the company moved to 122 Second Street, its home for the next 13 years.   Although Douglas claimed to be a distiller, he more likely was a “rectifier,” that is, someone blending the whiskey from a variety of sources in Kentucky to achieve a smoothness and taste appealing to consumers.

The firm’s flagship brand was “Jim Douglas Whiskey.” As shown on the bottle here, the whiskey was openly advertised as a “blend.”  Jim Douglas was one of the few labels that he troubled to trademark with the federal government.   A key item of the trademark application was the circular band on the label with the name in the center and “rays radiating from said band.”   The company also used a number of other brand names for its liquors, including “Yosemite Pure Rye,” "Carlton,” "Douglas Gin,” "Eagle Elk,” "Glynn Valley,” "Meleager,” “Pastime Rye,” "Pewee,” "Salvator” and "Winetrop Club.”

Like other Louisville whiskey men,  Douglas was competing vigorously for the business of saloons, bars and restaurants to feature his liquor, as well as attempting to broaden his retail base.  An essential part of his merchandising strategy was to provide ample giveaway items.  Douglas seemed to have special flair for these gifts.  His advertising shot glass is a finely etched example,  with the script the same as his letterhead. He gave favored customers milk glass paperweights or celluloid pocket mirrors featuring a long tressed beauty displaying considerable bosom.  The slogan on the latter was: “A Whiskey That Is a Whiskey.”  More unusual were an ornate metal watch fob with a compass in the center and a cardboard baseball on which to calculate innings, outs and scores.   The scorecard was particularly appropriate for Louisville, the home of the Louisville Slugger bat company and a noted baseball town.

As his liquor dealership grew and prospered Douglas became very wealthy.  When asked his occupation by the census taker in 1900,  he replied, probably with tongue-in-cheek, “capitalist.”   Moreover, his interests were growing away from the liquor business and toward horse racing.  Called “an ardent racing fan,” in 1895 he developed and owned a trotting track known as the Douglas Park Racetrack.   Later the track expanded to thoroughbred racing and competed directly with Churchill Downs, eventually becoming the home of the renowned Kentucky Handicap race.  About this same time,  Douglas appears to  have turned over management and perhaps elements of ownership of J.J. Douglas & Co. to a Louisville resident named Jacob Bloch, born in Texas of French immigrant parents. 

In 1896 Douglas moved from Louisville to the nearby village of Middletown.  There he bought a 300-acre estate from the widow of a Louisville tobacco merchant who had established it as a horse farm.  As one account put it,  Douglas lived there “in elegant style.”  He also made improvements on the property, including building a stone waiting station along the inter-urban line to Louisville.

His estate, that came to be called “Douglas Place,” proved to be an excellent location to raise thoroughbreds.  His horse barns are shown here.  Douglas imported fine Irish stallions provide stud services.  Among them was a renowned racer named “Eothan.”  When Eothan died after siring such champions as “Requital”  and “Other Crack,”  his demise made headlines in the New York Times.  Douglas named his stables as the Eothan Stock Farm.  The annals of Kentucky horses are replete with his sale of thoroughbreds.  An example:  “Epilaska,” a chestnut filly foaled on April 4, 1904, “bred and consigned by J. J. Douglas.”  It was during this period that Douglas was designated a  “Kentucky Colonel” by the governor of the state.

Meanwhile, under the direction of Bloch, J.J. Douglas & Co., was continuing to thrive.  About 1905, the company moved to 224 Main Street,  on the periphery of Louisville’s famed “Whiskey Row.”  That was followed four years later to a location in the heart of that famed strip of whiskey distillers and dealers, shown here.   In 1915 the company underwent a corporate change.   It was incorporated, capitalized for $100,000,  and the name changed to Douglas, Edelman Distilling Company.  The incorporator was Jesse Bloch,  Jacob Bloch’s son.

Douglas lived to see the business change but died two years later in 1917 at the age of 71.  Shortly after, control of his racetrack was taken by rival Churchill Downs which operated the facility until 1958.  Douglas’ liquor dealership was terminated by National Prohibition in 1919.    After his death, his horse farm went through several owners,  his home eventually was demolished and the farm developed into a residential subdivision known to this day as “Douglass Hills.”   How the extra “s” evolved into his name is unclear.  Of  the several names by which he was known in his lifetime, I believe this Kentuckian who so successfully mixed whiskey and horses should be remembered as Kentucky Colonel Jim Douglas.

Fridolin Madlener Gave the World “Fig Rye"

 In a posthumous biography,  Fridolin Madlener of Chicago, shown here, was described as “merchant of fine liquors,  lover of music, advocate of gymnastics and true admirer of the beauties of nature.”  Unfortunately, the description omitted Madlener’s most notable  achievement.  Shown here in maturity, he invented Fig Rye, a drink he called “the inimitable whiskey.”

Madlener’s story begins in Uberlingen, Baden, Germany with his birth in 1835.  His father was a miller by trade but his parents early encouraged him to become a merchant.  His early education was in German schools.  Apparently in his late teens or early twenties,  Fridolin left his homeland for the United States,  settling in Chicago that had a large German immigrant population.   He was one of the first students at the Dyenforth Business College there,  a school that had been founded by a Prussian émigré family in 1857.

Madlener, according to Chicago biographies,  embarked on his business career in 1858 at the age of 23.  He appears to have gone to work in the liquor trade and later claimed the origins of his own firm, Fridolin Madlener, Inc.,  back to 1853, although it did not show up in Chicago directories until later.   Success apparently came swiftly.  According to one account:  “Before long he was counted among Chicago’s leading merchants of liquor....” In 1866, when he was 31 years old, he married Margaretha Blatz, the daughter of the Milwaukee beer baron, Albert Blatz. She was 19, 12 years his junior.  The Madeleners had three children:  Josephine who died in infancy, Albert F. and Angelina.

The first recorded address for Madlener’s company was at 62-64 1/2 West Lake Street where the firm resided until 1879 when he moved to 147-149 Lake, as shown here.   There Madlener indicated that he was a distiller.   More accurately he was a rectifier, that is a blender of whiskeys.  At one point, however, he likely had a involvement with the Crystal Springs Distillery in Louisville, Kentucky. That distillery was providing him with product for his blends.

Madlener was said to have “perfect taste,” able to tell by sight and sampling great liquor from the purely ordinary.  He marketed his whiskeys under a number of brand names.  They included "Blue Ridge Malt", "Borderland", "Edge Hill", "F. M. Private Stock", "Gilt Edge", "Kentucky's Leader", "Old Keystone Rye", "Old Style", and "Standard Hand Made."   He might have gone virtually unremarked as a whiskey man, however, were it not  for his genius in concocting “Fig Rye.”

For years during the 19th Century the general public held the idea that figs possessed a particularly valuable laxative effect,  a belief largely debunked by the medical profession.  Patent medicine manufacturers, capitalizing on the popular fallacy, concocted and sold multiple brands of “Syrup of Figs,”  merchandising the potion as combating habitual constipation.   Madlener seized on the popularity of these nostrums,  melded it with the rye whiskey he was bottling and, eureka!, Fig Rye was born.

Madlener was not content with merchandising Fig Rye simply as  a laxative.  His advertising touted it as “an ideal health whiskey.”  Ordinary whiskey, he claimed, was distilled from grains only and “destroys the lining of the stomach, makes the liver hard as a rock, and causes disease of the kidneys.”   By contrast,  Fig Rye neutralized all those bad effects and was recommended for “the dyspeptic, the consumptive, the debilitated, the weak....”   According to one Madlener ad,  Fig Rye was used in 1,500 hospitals across America and prescribed daily by thousands of doctors.

                                                                                 

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Before passagee of the Food and Drug Act health claims such as those posited by Madlener for Fig Rye were common as more than one whiskey man decided that selling liquor as medicine was a good merchandising ploy.   The firm advertised Fig Rye vigorously in national magazines and sold it by mail all across America. One Medlener ad claimed that 100,000 bottles were sold annually. Fridolin, the German immigrant boy, became very rich.   Perhaps with the encouragement of his Milwaukee father-in-law,  he then branched out into owning and operating a brewery.  He also was very active in the large German-American community in Chicago, known for his support of the city’s Turnvereins (gymnastic associations) and Sangvereins (singing societies). 
As he aged Madlener prepared his only son, Albert, to take over the business.  He sent Albert to the prestigious Latin School of Chicago,  then to Yale University and finally to serve a wine apprenticeship in Germany.  Albert returned to assist his father in managing the liquor business.   After the senior Madlener died in January 1897, his son took over the family liquor interests and continued vigorously promoting Fig Rye.
  

Albert married a year after Fridolin’s death. His bride was Elsa Seipp, the daughter of a well-known Chicago brewer.  Three years later, as Elsa was expecting their first child, Albert commissioned the construction of a grand new house on West Burton Place in Chicago’s Gold Coast.  Shown here the Madlener House, as it still is known, was completed in 1902.  On the the National Register of Historic Homes, the mansion can be characterized as “the house Fig Rye built.”   By 1913 Albert had sold the liquor business to be succeeded by the firm of Roehling & Schultz.   The Madlener firm, however, continued to be listed in Chicago directories for several more years.

Fridolin was remembered in Chicago as a genial, outgoing man, with a wide range of friends that included persons of all races and creeds.  One obituary opined:“For everywhere and at every time a man of Fridolin Madlener’s callibre is appreciated.” The man who gave the world Fig Rye is buried in Chicago’s Graceland Cemetery with Margaretha, who died in 1929.  Their graves are side by side beneath a huge monument bearing their family name and ornamentation that looks, at least to me, like hanging figs.

Florida’s Harry Metcalf Had a Case for the Courts

 Harry W. Metcalf,  a Florida pre-Prohibition liquor merchant, frequently had a case, but not of whiskey, for the courts of justice.  The Florida State Supreme Court building in Tallahassee, shown here, must have seemed like a second home to him.  He won, he lost, but he always seems to have prospered.

Metcalf was born at the tail end of the Civil War in 1864, probably in Florida, then a frontier area.  HIs early life is not recorded but by 1887, at the age of 23 he listed as running a saloon in Jacksonville on Orange Avenue between Pine and Church Streets.   The same directory three years later records him as operating a saloon and restaurant at 132 W. Forsyth.  An 1893 directory calls him a dealer in wines & liquors.  He also appears to have branched out into business in Orlando, running a saloon there as early as 1892.

Orlando was the scene of Metcalf’s first court fight.  In 1907 an election was held to determine if the sale of intoxicating liquors, wines and beers should be prohibited in Orange County.  The Commissioners certified that in the the election 592 votes had been cast against liquor sales and only 589 for them.   Given the several million people living in Orlando and the county today, it is hard to imagine the small numbers that participated in the vote.  His saloon in jeopardy, Metcalf took the Commissioners to court, charging that the election was rigged and the results should be voided.  In a 3-2 split decision, the Florida Supreme Court  agreed with him and nulled the vote.  His saloon stayed open.

Metcalf subsequently put his emphasis in Jacksonville, Duval County, one of only two Florida jurisdictions to buck the Prohibition tide.  According to Historian James B. Crooks  Duval didn't ban the sale of liquor for two reasons:  (1) Prohibition largely depended on support from white evangelical Protestants.  Jacksonville, on the other hand,  contained a relatively large number of Catholics, Jews, German Lutherans, and Episcopalians who often were opposed to banning alcohol.  (2) Money talked in the Gateway to Florida.  Prohibition met opposition from merchant mariners, hotelkeepers, restaurateurs, and other business people who dealt with trade or tourism.  One of them surely was our Harry.

He took advantage of the Jacksonville freedoms to build a large mail order business, sending whiskey into those many parts of the South that had voted dry but still could obtain liquor through the post office.  A flyer from The H. W. Metcalf Co., Inc., shows his mail order department at 1209-1219 Forsyth Street and his executive offices and retail outlet at the corner of Bay and Lee Streets.  The Forsyth building was conveniently located right across from the train station, shown here.  No evidence exists that Metcalf owned a distillery and the facility shown in the flyer likely was a flight of fancy.

Metcalf featured a number of brands, claiming a thousand, including some under his own label.  Prominent among those were “Springwood,” “Briar Cave Rye,” Crisco Corn Whiskey,” “Sikes Malt Whiskey,” and “Kentucky Spray,” for which he issued the corkscrew shown here.  In 1915,  his Forsyth Street establishment was the target of thieves who sawed through the iron bars of the warehouse and meticulously hauled away 1,500 quarts of Briar Cave Rye and nothing else.  They worked under the tumult caused in Jacksonville by an election night rally involving a band, fireworks and high wire artists.  The culprits were never caught.

The same year found Metcalf back in the Florida Supreme Court.   In 1913 he had taken a five year lease on space in the Terminal Hotel, located on Bay and Johnson.  There he ran a saloon and package liquor store.  The Florida Legislature, in another move toward Prohibition,  passed what became known as the Davis Package Act.  It decreed that a business selling liquor by the bottle could not on the same premises sell liquor by the drink.   With other affected whiskey men,  Metcalf fought the law right up to the State Supreme Court.  This time he lost; the law was declared valid. 

Ever the canny businessman,  Metcalf had included a provision in his lease for the hotel space that if such prohibition laws were enacted the lease could be nulled.  When the Davis Package Act was allowed to stand,  he broke the lease and was taken to court by the landlord.  When the lower court ruled for the landlord, Metcalf, now very familiar with the Florida Supreme Court,  appealed the case there and won.

Even as the state and national tides of Prohibition swept around him,  Metcalf stayed in business until 1919 and then shut down his business.  Over his 32 years in the liquor trade,  he had become very wealthy and began to invest in real estate.  One of his purchases was a citrus grove near Orlando,  growing grapefruit, tangerines, oranges and valencias.  In 1930 he also bought for $120,000 a premier office building in Orlando, shown below.  He renamed it the “Metcalf Building.” It currently is on the city’s historic walking tour.

Despite his wealth, however, Harry could not stay away from the Florida Supreme Court. In 1935,  he sued a fruit wholesaler for failing to abide by a contract to buy produce from his citrus grove.  After losing in the local court, he once more repaired to Tallahassee where the Florida Supreme Court justices rewarded him by once more finding in his favor. 

Metcalf’s “last hurrah” in the courts was in 1939.  He was 77 years old. He sued to void a deal in which he had sold some road bonds, then in default, to speculators in return for warehouse receipts representing 400 barrels of whiskey.  When the bonds suddenly became more valuable and were sold at a huge profit,  Metcalf claimed he had been cheated.  This time the Florida’s highest court upheld a lower court ruling that dismissed his complaint.   That was the last time he shows up in official records.

Personal details about Harry Metcalf are scanty. Much of what we know about him comes from court records.  There is no information about his family life, social activities, his movements between Jacksonville and Orlando, or when he died and where he is buried.  As information is obtained about him, it will be added to this vignette.  Who knows, some of it may be lying on a dusty shelf in a Florida courthouse.

Philly's Two Angelos: 40 Years Dealing Myers Whiskey

Two Angelos, father and son, made the name Myers famous for four decades selling whiskey in Philadelphia and throughout the U.S. Initially rectifiers and later true distillers, the Myers popularized a wide series of liquor brands through their vigorous merchandising.

The Myers saga began in Germany when the first Angelo was born in 1844. Subsequently, exact date unknown, he came to the United States, settling in Philadelphia with his brother, Henry.  Around 1874, the pair founded A & H Myers, as a whiskey distributing company located at 405 N. Third St.. Their flagship brand was "Schuykill Whiskey," named after the river that flows through the city.

For the next 18 years the brothers prospered, as evidenced by an elegant back of the bar decanter etched with their logo. About 1881 the company moved to 311-313 N. Third Street, a five-story building. During this period Angelo married a Philadelphia woman named Julia Bissinger. They had one son whom they named after his father.

The success of the Myers brothers was recognized by an 1886 publication entitled “Philadelphia List of Leading Merchants and Manufacturers.” It recorded that A & H Myers claimed “branch houses” in New York, Boston, Washington, Hartford, Savannah, New Orleans, Memphis, St. Paul Minn., and Cincinnati. A reasonable assumption is that saloons in those cities carried Myers whiskey.  The publication said of the brothers: “It should be remarked that Messrs. A and H. Myers are upright, honorable, liberal, public-spirited merchants and citizens and are always to be found among the enterprising spirits of the city, who aid every measure introduced for the benefit of the community.”

In 1892, however, something occurred to sever the partnership between Angelo and his brother.  Henry started his own, short-lived firm and advertised himself as “successor to A & H Myers." Angelo nevertheless stayed in the Third Street building and put his name on the front. It remained the Myers central facility until closed by Prohibition.

Angelo’s company blossomed with a myriad brand names: "Ardmore", "Beaumont Gin", "Independence Hall", "Myers Pure Malt", "Neshaminy Rye", "Oglethorpe Club", "Old Barrel", "Old Schuylkill Choice Rye", "Penngleann", "Schuylkill", and "W. W. W. Rye." Some brands like Penngleann and W.W.W.. Myers registered with the federal government.  Most he did not. Shown here are bottles and a shot glass from several brands.

During the late 1890s, Myers associated with a distillery located on the Schuykill River in nearby Linfield, Pennsylvania.  It had been founded on his farm by Jacob G. Kinsey, a lifelong dairyman, possibly with help from his friend, Angelo. As a former Kinsey employee later related, Kinsey had absolutely no experience with distilling so he had to rely on Myers to guide him as a whiskey specialist and merchandiser. The liquor produced was named "Kinsey Whiskey" and became Myers’ new flagship label. In his advertising Angelo claimed ownership of the distillery.

More than that, Angelo dispatched to Linfield his son, Angelo J., who by now had learned the liquor business from his father.  Angelo J.  apparently ran the operation day-to-day for Kinsey.  In 1905, the Philadelphia company incorporated with assets of $50,000 as Angelo Myers Distillery, Inc. The officers listed were Angelo J. Myers as president and Henry J. Bissinger, likely his wife’s brother, as vice president.

Under the young Angelo’s management, the Kinsey distillery grew rapidly. A 1904 publication reported that it was operating eight months a year and employing six to ten men. The warehouse capacity gradually grew from 2,000 barrels capacity to 20,000. The expanded distillery is shown above in a postcard. Moreover, Kinsey whiskey was winning the company gold medals at expositions in New Orleans and San Antonio, Texas.  Myers trumpeted those wins on a reverse glass mirror given to favored saloons.

As Angelo J. was being groomed to replace his father at the appropriate time, he married a local woman named Corrine Glaser, the daughter of Adolf Glaser, a Philadelphia merchant specializing in lace, embroideries and handkerchiefs. In 1907 the elder Angelo died, much mourned as a philanthropist who contributed generously to local and national charities. Angelo J. became the president of the company.

Under his leadership, the Myers company continued to be successful. Angelo J. was able to arrange for Kinsey Whiskey to be distributed widely across America and provided customers with an attractive sign that showed a hunter appeasing a farmer with a swig of Kinsey. Even more unusual, in 1910 the company letterhead listing the officers included two women, Florence M. Bamberger and Miriam M. Moos. This was at a time when women were almost entirely absent from the whiskey trade.

Within five years Angelo J.’s interests had expanded to other enterprises, specifically to the infant automobile industry. He now was a vice president of the Rose Manufacturing Company of Philadelphia, an outfit that specialized in making an early form of brake lights. He also had stepped down to vice president of the liquor firm. The new president was Henry Bissinger, presumably his uncle. Once again the business name was changed, this time to Angelo Myers Distilling Co.,Inc.

With Prohibition, all activity ceased at both the Angelo Myers company and the Kinsey facility. In 1923, at the young age of 38, Angelo J. died. After Prohibition, Jacob Kinsey revived the Linfield distillery briefly until selling out to Continental Distilling Corporation of Philadelphia.  Continental continued to produce and market the Kinsey brand until it went out of business in the mid-1980’s. The abandoned buildings of the distillery remain, moldering along the Schuylkill River.

Thus ends the story of the two Angelo Myers. They provided Philadelphia and the rest of the country with good whiskey for four decades and in the process left behind a legacy of attractive labels, bottles and giveaway items. Although their history is not unique, their survival in the liquor trade for four decades sets the two Angelos apart from the ordinary.