Commodore Perry, Japan, & American Whiskey

In 1852 Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry was assigned a mission by President Millard Fillmore to force the opening of Japanese ports to American trade, through the use of gunboat diplomacy if necessary.  Perry, shown here as he was depicted by Japanese artists, led a squadron of ships to the Far East shores but early had decided that gifts, not gunfire, was a better approach.  What better “ice-breaker” than whiskey?  Fast forward to 2022 when Japan and American rye would ignite a controversy involving American whiskey historians and spreading as far as Australia.

Perry’s flotilla apparently carried ample supplies of booze. It was still the era when each of his sailors was issued a pint of spirits a day. (Non-drinkers were compensated with pennies.)  His first stop was Ryukuy (Okinawa), still a separate kingdom but claimed by Japan.  Welcomed there, Perry and his officers were treated to a feast complete with sake, the rice wine.  Reciprocating, the Commodore broke out a keg of American rye. Thus it was noted in Perry’s expedition record:  “The first person to drink whiskey in Japan” is a high official of the Ryukyu Kingdom.”

Pressing on to the Japanese isles Perry landed near the capital at Edo in 1854.  He had brought gifts for the Emperor, meant to emphasize American technical skills.   Among them was a barrel of rye whiskey likely holding 32-40 gallons There seems to be no record of where or how it was presented.  Note the print below.  In the lower left hand of the picture is a barrel that may have held whiskey.  The caption reads “Delivering of American presents at Yokuhama.” In addition, Perry is recorded giving an additional 100 gallons to members of the Japanese High Commission led by Prince Hayashi.  The Commodore’s diplomatic visit ended with an agreement called the Convention of Kanagawa that opened two Japanese ports to American trade.

Fast forward to current times.  In his 2013 book “Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey: An American Heritage”  author Michael Veach made this claim:  “The first legal challenge to the rectifiers came not from American distillers but from the government of Japan, which in 1869 objected to the practice of imported rectified whiskey being advertised as straight whiskey. This case ultimately came before the Ohio Circuit Court, the presiding judge, Alphonso Taft (the father of William Howard Taft), ruling that a product containing neutral spirits could not be called whiskey. While the decision did nothing to change the U.S. law—the rectifiers continued to do business as usual—it did set a legal precedent that would influence the regulation of whiskey under the 1906 Pure Food and Drug Act.”   A similar account can be found in Fred Minnick’s 2016 book: “Bourbon The Rise, Fall, And Rebirth Of An American Whiskey.”   Neither author provided documentation for the account.

The story of the alleged Japanese legal challenge might have ended there if Greg Miller, a professor of chemical engineering at the University of California, had not become interested in the matter and sought information on the decision Veach and Minnick claimed had been rendered by Cincinnati Judge Taft, later to become U.S. Attorney General.  Miller was in touch with Jason Alexander, a division manager for the the Hamilton County (Cincinnati) Clerk of Courts where the Japanese suit presumably was filed.  Meanwhile in Australia, Chris Middleton, an Australian liquor specialist, sought information for his column entitled “Whiskey Wash.” 

Alexander, clearly fascinated with the case, reached out to others from whom he thought assistance might come.  When he contacted me, I was flattered and while having no notion of the “Japanese suit” knew of a Cincinnati liquor dealer of that period who had created an international incident involving the U.S. Secretary of State by being accused, probably correctly, of adulterating whiskey he shipped to Bermuda.  His name was Andrew Pfirrmann and he was in the liquor trade by 1866 so the timing was right for pointing a finger his way.  But there was no real evidence.

Other elements of the story, however, puzzled me.  The supposed suit had been launched only 15 years after Perry’s visit to Japan.  Because Japan was still largely closed to Western trade at that time it was difficult to believe that any substantial quantity of American whiskey had been imported during that period.  Furthermore, testing whiskey to determine if it has been adulterated, including addition of water, requires an alcoholmeter, used to determine the volume of alcohol known as “proof.”  Shown below, the instrument is calibrated to the density of pure ethanol and is used on distilled spirits.  Although invented by a Frenchman in the mid-1800s, it is unlikely that the device would have been in use in Japan as early as 1869.

In a three and one-half page memorandum written for the Hamilton County Clerk of Courts,  Jason Alexander cites similar skeptical views he received from other parties.  His conclusion:  “Thus, we believe, unless new evidence comes to light, that this case never existed.”   The memorandum cites the fact that outside of the authors mentioned above, nothing else has been located to corroborate anything that pertains to a Japanese lawsuit over whiskey.  “We believe that it is entirely within the realm of possibility that this alleged case was confused with Attorney General Taft’s opinion issued in 1876 since it was connected to the definition of whiskey or alcohol.”  My conclusion:  A case -- one that never really existed --  has been closed.

As a postscript it is worth noting that today Japanese whiskey is sold worldwide and Suntory now owns Jim Beam.  May we credit Commodore Perry and his gift of whiskey for generating this $6 billion dollar Japanese industry as the Huffington Post did several years ago?  Probably not.  Although given a taste of American rye by Perry, the Japanese from the beginning have preferred Scotch as a model for their whiskey.

Note:  Thanks to Jason Alexander for including me among those consulted.  The case opened up a fascinating area of exploration, one that allows me to include Commodore Perry among my identified “whiskey men.”  For further information on Andrew Pfirrmann and a seemingly valid international case of whiskey adulteration, see my post of December 7, 2011.

  

 

P. E. Payne’s Whiskey Window to the West

 

The label for “Davy Crockett Pure Old Bourbon” shows a hatted gentleman handing a bottle of whiskey to a man with a rifle and coonskin cap that we may assume is Davy.  My fantasy is that the other figure is that of Peter Edwin “Ed” Payne, a distillery employee of the M.V. Monarch Company in Owensboro, Kentucky, who was given the unique privilege of marketing his own brand of bourbon through a liquor house in San Francisco.

So unusual was this arrangement that almost all commentators have assumed that Payne had married into the Monarch family, brothers whose liquor empire was one of Kentucky’s most formidable.  Not so says Aileen Blomgren, Payne’s great-great granddaughter.  Rather, Payne’s wife, Mary Ellen “Mollie” O’Bryan had two sisters and a brother who married Monarchs.  Payne’s rise to prominence was not the result of direct family connections.

He was born in February 1848 in Meade County, Kentucky, the son of Jane Frances and William Meredith “Meady” Payne, a reasonably prosperous farmer. Both parents were born in Kentucky of Irish parentage.  Payne’s boyhood was marked by the deaths of three brothers:  Robert, 16, when Edwin was 8;  Stephen, 1, when he was 9; and Lawrence, 7, when he was 11.  His father died in 1864 when Edwin was 16 and his mother passed two years later.  Following the death of both parents, Payne was sent to work on a farm near Owensboro.  That occupation ended after one season when he was called to the city to tend bar for an uncle, Robert O’Bryan.  

In the Spring of 1869, having learned something of the liquor business, Payne entered the employ of M.V. Monarch.   According to the 1880 census, he began his career as bookkeeper, a highly important post in any distillery since faulty accounting could bring the wrath of federal officials and stiff fines.  Later in that decade he would be raised to vice president of the company, second only to M.V. Monarch in the management structure.  By 1893, the Monarch Distillery, shown above, was considered one of the largest producers of sour mash whiskey in America.

Payne’s activities appear to have extended beyond management and sales to the art of making whiskey itself, an individual designated as a “master distiller.”  In a highly unusual arrangement, Monarch allowed his employee to create his own brand of whiskey, solely to own it, and to sell it apart from Monarch whiskeys.  Payne called it “Davy Crockett Bourbon,” named for the American frontiersman, soldier, and politician — a folk hero celebrated in song and story as “King of the Wild Frontier.”

The brand was sold exclusively by the San Francisco liquor house of Hey, Grauerholz & Company.   Known as one of the best salesmen in the trade, Payne is said to have traveled by train frequently to the West Coast despite a distance of more than 2,000 miles.  As a result he was able to open this “window on the West” for his brand.  The relationship was central to Hey, Grauerholz ads and indicated in the embossing on company bottles.

John Hey, who had started in the liquor trade as a porter for a San Francisco wholesale wine and liquor company, moved out on his own in 1883 and with partners Henry J. Grauerholz and Henry Faust opened a liquor house.  Faust departed in 1887 and the remaining partners reorganized as Hey, Grauerholz & Company.  After locating successively at two San Francisco addresses during a period of rapid business growth, in 1897 they moved to 224 Front Street.  Shown here are their bottles for Payne's Kentucky whiskey.

For the next seven plus years, the liquor house thrived at that address.  As was customary in the trade, Hey, Grauerholz issued shot glasses.  Although they marketed other brands, including “New Century Bourbon,” their shots emphasized the connection to Payne’s Owensboro-distilled Davy Crockett Bourbon.  After the  San Francisco earthquake and fire destroyed the company quarters in 1906, Hey departed the firm, leaving Grauerholz to rebuild and continue in the wholesale liquor trade until 1913.

Meanwhile in Owensboro, Ed Payne was living a life that reputedly “…rendered him a universal favorite….Yet the home and the family circle and the company of his children were his chief delight…”  During their marriage, he and Mary Ellen had nine children, three of whom died prematurely. In 1890 Payne built a spacious house for his family amid homes of the Monarch clan in an area known as “Distiller’s Row.”  Sitting on a hill overlooking the Ohio River, the house has been described as “…One of the finest and most comfortable residences of Daviess County.”   Shown below, the Payne house, still standing, is considered an excellent example of Queen Anne architecture. 

A devout Catholic, Payne took a lead role in the founding of St. Paul Catholic Church in 1887.  Chief contributors to the church included the Monarch, Field and Payne families, all prominent and wealthy bourbon distillers, known to critics as the “Irish Whiskey People.”  Payne was on the building committee.  His gift of a decorative and costly sanctuary lamp to the church was inscribed: "From P. E. Payne to St. Paul's Church.”

Unfortunately Payne was not destined to live an old age as a wealthy man in a fine home surrounded by a loving wife and children.  In September 1895 at the age of 47 he died.  His youngest child was only three years old. The distiller’s Requiem Mass at St. Paul’s was described as drawing “a vast congregation” and his funeral procession to the Catholic cemetery stretched for several blocks.  Payne’s gravestone is shown here.  

 

P. Edwin Payne’s passing drew commentaries emphasizing his affable manners, gentlemanly  bearing and high sense of honor.  Perhaps the most effusive obituary appeared in “The Record,” a newspaper of the Louisville Catholic Diocese:  Mr. P. E. Payne, one of Owensboro's very best citizens, is one on whose tomb can be justly chiseled: "Here lie the remains of an honest man, who was just and up right in all his ways, whose heart was without guile; and who was ever ready, with kind words and generous deeds, to relieve the sufferings of his fellow man."

Notes:  I was drawn to the story to P. Edwin Payne because of his being permitted to market his own brand of whiskey independently while working for the Monarch distillery.  I know of only one other incidence in pre-Prohibition whiskey history in which that occurred:  Dr. James Crow working for the Pepper family was accorded that privilege.  Among numerous sources for this post was Aileen Blomgren, Payne’s descendant, who earlier provided an article on Richard Monarch for this website. [See post for Jan 4, 2017].  Bottle images are from the FOHBC Virtual Museum.

Whiskey Men with Iconic Bottles II

 

Foreword: What makes a bottle iconic?   I skirted that issue in a previous post on January 29, 2020 on three whiskey dealers whose bottles have been deemed iconic.  In that case, all the bottles were figurals.  That is, they had or contained the shape or likeness of other objects.  This post features three bottles that are simply bottles.  They have achieved vaulted status by their unusually attractive appearance, scarcity and value in the marketplace.  

At the age of 25 Julius Goldbaum, shown here, moved to Tucson,  working as a bartender at the Park Saloon and subsequently at the Gem Saloon, owned by his Uncle Isador.  Several years later  Goldbaum moved to open his own establishment. The Arizona Daily Citizen reported that in 1885 he had purchased a saloon on Church Plaza.  He called it “Jule’s Club Saloon” where he sold whiskey, beer, cigars and other smoking materials.  Almost immediately successful, within eight months he relocated his establishment to Congress Street a move that allowed him to expand to include wholesale liquor.

In addition to his business acumen, Goldbaum had a sense of design that translated into the styling of his liquor bottles and labels.  He was a “rectifier,” that is, mixing and blending raw whiskeys obtained by rail from distillers in Kentucky and elsewhere in the East, and selling the results as his own proprietary brands.  Among them were “Old Hoss Pony Whiskey,” “Three and Six Stars Bourbon,” “Jule’s Bourbon,”  “Liberty Bell Bourbon, and “Jule’s Diamond Monogram.” 

As a wholesaler, Goldbaum understood the value of providing his saloon, hotel and restaurant customer with advertising items, among them “back of the bar bottles.”  Those were fancy glass bottles meant to be displayed behind the bartender to attract the eye of potential drinkers.  Shown here, Goldbaum’s bottle advertised “Jule’s (Six Stars) Bourbon.  It is particularly notable for its rich amber color, with the enameled stars and lettering blending perfectly into the gold decor.  One observer has called the bottle “a magnificent display of craftsmanship and art” adding: “Some back bar collectors will view this example as possibly the finest back bar bottle in existence.”  One recently sold for $22,000 plus the 15% auction house premium.

Shown here is just a  portion of a label-under-glass Gold Dust Whiskey “back of the bar bottle” that has been termed “The Holy Grail” of Western whiskey bottles. Some speculate this bottle may be one of a kind while knowing that at one time others certainly did exist.  John and Nicholas Van Bergen whose San Francisco liquor house issued the “Grail” circa 1880 would be stunned at the current value of a bottle that originally was given away.  If another were found it might well sell for six figures at auction.

The Van Bergens  had moved to acquire rights to a Kentucky whiskey called “Gold Dust,” named for a nationally famous race horse.  The brothers saw the brand name, redolent of the California Gold Rush, as a natural for the San Francisco drinking public and contracted to become the sole West Coast distributor for the bourbon.  The brand proved so successful in California that in 1880 they purchased all rights to the name and became sole proprietors.

Gold Rush Whiskey bottles came in both amber and aqua.  A number of variations exist in both colors, some more rare than others, sparking considerable interest in the collectors of Western whiskeys.  All are considered rare and fetch fancy prices when upon rare occasion they come up for sale.  Several years ago an aqua Gold Dust whiskey bottle sold for $38,000, a record at the time. 

The highly elusive Van Bergen Gold Dust back-of-the bar bottle is speculated to be even more valuable.   Some have identified the one shown in detail here as “one of a kind,” but the economics of creating a label under glass bottle would indicate that more were created under the direction of Nicholas Van Bergen, shown here. 

The mid-19th Century amber bottle at left is accounted a singularity with nothing like its shape and decor before or after in American whiskey annals.  It was the product of the Bevan Brothers — Ebenezer,  Thomas and Benjamin — immigrants from Wales who fashioned a thriving liquor business in Pittston, Pennsylvania.   

Benjamin possibly drawn by the discovery of gold at Sutter’s Mill, left his brothers and went to California in 1849.  Whatever his occupation there, when he returned two years later he had sufficient cash to help set up the Bevans in the liquor trade..  Thus in 1852 the wholesale whiskey and wine house of “E. & B Bevan" was born.  It is shown below.

Although many U.S. liquor dealers were content to market their wares with labels on plain flasks and quarts, the Bevans determined to issue their “I.X.L. Valley Whiskey” in a more costly uniquely shaped, embossed glass container.   They  designed and directed a Pittston area glassworks to craft the special bottle that opens this post.   

Benjamin Bevan

Blown in a mold and bearing a pontil scar, the whiskey bottle features a small cylindrical base with a larger octagonal paneled body tapering at the shoulders into a long neck and applied double collared mouth.  The embossing features the name of the whiskey and company along with four five-pointed stars.  The color varies from a brilliant amber to a darker hue.  Like the other two iconic bottles featured here, I.X.L. Valley Whiskey bottles fetch fancy prices at auction.

Unfortunately, the Bevans had limited time to fashion unique bottles for their whiskey.  Ebenezer, died at 44 in 1868, followed by Thomas, 48, in 1876 and Benjamin, 54, in 1881.

Note:  Longer accounts of the creators of each of these iconic bottles may be found elsewhere on this website:  Julius Goldbaum, March 2, 2017; the Van Bergens, November 1, 2020, and Bevan Brothers, May 1, 2019.

Boston’s Burke Went Cuckoo for Whiskey

 

Possibly originating with the term “cloud cuckoo land” from the play “The Birds” by the ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes, the word “cuckoo” is often used to describe a  person who is out of their mind.  Boston liquor dealer Michael Burke was not bothered by that connotation when he named his flagship brand “Cuckoo” and adopted the slogan:  “East and West, Cuckoo Whiskey is Best.”

Shown right, Michael Burke was born in Boston in July 1856, the son of Richard Burke, who had immigrated from Ireland about 1840 and died 15 years later.  Of Michael’s childhood, education, and early career, the record is silent.  We can assume, however, that he early was educated and well-practiced in the liquor trade when he opened a liquor house he called “M. Burke, Importer & Wholesale Dealer in Wines & Liquors.”  The year was 1892 and he was 36 years old.

Burke located his establishment in Andrew Square in South Boston, a densely populated Boston neighborhood of located south and east of the Fort Point Channel and abutting Dorchester Bay, an area colloquially known as “Southie.”  Originally farmland annexed to Boston in 1804, the district had become a densely populated Irish neighborhood.  Burke’s customer base was assured.

The company used a variety of brand names. Among them were "Burkedale Bourbon, ”Fairmount Bourbon,” "Harrison Rye,” “Beacon Hill Whiskey,” Orient Club Bourbon,” "Pease Rye,” "Sorrento Rye,” “Trimore,” and "Wayside Rye.” Burke never registered any of these names for trademark protection, not even for“Cuckoo Whiskey” his flagship label.

Burke was not thinking about “nut cases” when he named his whiskey but referencing the cuckoo bird.  That avian, however, is not with its detractors.  The American species is a brood parasite, meaning that it lays eggs in the nests of other birds.  Although cuckoo eggs are larger than those of its hosts, the victimized birds often do not recognize the difference.   As a result the cuckoo chick is raised as their own.  That chick often shows its gratitude by shoving its smaller siblings out of the nest to their doom.  

By decorating his bottles with a picture of a cuckoo, Burke gave them a unique look that has captured collectors ever since.  The bottles range in size from half pint, right below, and pint flasks, to quarts, left below, each with an embossed picture of the bird.  One of the more interesting examples is a small bulbous carafe that held a drink-sized amount of whiskey.  Those bottles were specially made to be served to customers on the lounge cars of railroad trains.  It is indicative of a widespread market for Burke’s whiskeys.

As noted in the ad shown here, by 1897 Burke had expanded his operation to three addresses in Boston: 49 Causeway Street, 145-147 Staniford Street, and 141-143 Merrimac Street.  Some of his success could be  attributed to the advertising items he gifted to his wholesale customers, including shot glasses and serving trays. 

  

About 1909 Burke, now employing his son, Michael Junior, changed the name of his enterprise to “Rex Distilling.”  In reality, he was not a distiller but instead was  creating Cuckoo Whiskey and other brands by receiving product from area distilleries and blending their contents to arrive at desired color, smoothness and taste.  “Rectifiers” like Burke, courts had ruled, could call themselves “distilling companies” but not distillers.  Many liquor dealers around America had moved to this nomenclature.  Note that tray shown here, the product of Charles W. Shonk Co. of Chicago, bears the Rex Distilling name.

Throughout his long career at the head of a leading Boston liquor business, Burke was raising a family.  In August 1879 he had married Annie E. Colline, shown here in advanced age.  Like Michael, she had been born in America of Irish immigrant parents.   At the time of their nuptials, both were about 23 years old.  Over the next 11 years couple would have five children, two sons, Henry and Michael Junior, and three daughters, Dorothy, Margaret, and Lillian.  Burke provided them with a spacious house on Dorchester Avenue.  Shown here as it looks today, the home is recorded as having five bedrooms and two baths.  In both the 1900 and 1910 census the household included a female servant from Ireland.

The Burkes continued to operate Rex Distilling Company until at least 1918 when the company ceased being listed in Boston directories.  The coming of National Prohibition meant the end of Michael Burke’s successful liquor enterprise and the demise of Cuckoo Whiskey.  The brand was not revived after Repeal despite its earlier success.  

Note:   This post was drawn from a variety of sources.  Unfortunately, however, none of them identified the death dates and burial sites of Michael and Annie Burke.  I am hopeful some sharp-eyed descendant will see this vignette and provide that information.