Whiskey Men Who Loved Animals

Foreword:  A number of whiskey men —distillers and liquor dealers — during their working years also showed a bent toward animal husbandry.  Most commonly distillers had pens associated with their whiskey-making, feeding their spent mash to cattle being fattened for the dinner table.  Others seemed to have had more affection for their animals.  Here are brief stories of three such men.

As hard as it may be to believe, the young man with the cigar shown here talking to a rooster and surrounded by newly hatched chicks had an earlier, highly successful career as a distiller and liquor dealer in Kansas City, Missouri. His name was Ernest Kellerstrass, a man who truly loved chickens.

Kellerstrass, still in his 30s, showed extraordinary initiative.  About 1899 he established his company and located his main office in Kansas City, selling stock in the Kellerstrass Distilling Company at $10 a share.  He also bought a distillery in Paradise, Clay County, Missouri, that had been founded about a decade earlier. Through his distillery he was able to insure a secure supply of raw whiskey for his brands.  With success he created a separate sales depot across Missouri in St. Louis.  As shown below on his letterhead,  Kellerstrass emphasized his access to railway express to send his goods west from Kansas City and east from St. Louis.

Inexplicably, in 1904 and at the height of his success, Kellerstrass, still short of 40 years old, sold out his distillery and mail order liquor empire to a syndicate from St. Louis.  Meanwhile, Kellerstrass with wife and family retired to his chicken ranch outside of town.  He built new chicken houses according to his own design and began to breed a superior kind of poultry.  The eggs from the Kellerstrass Farm became known region-wide for their freshness and quality.  Shown below is truckload of his eggs on their way to consumers.  

Soon many in America would know about Kellerstrass and his chickens. In 1910, after only a few years in business,  he self-published a book called “The Kellerstrass Way of Raising Poultry” and charged $1 for it.  The picture that began this article, showing the author talking to a rooster, was on the cover.   

Clearly very proud of the progress he had made with his chickens, the book is full of advice to poultry raisers.  Kellerstrass introduced the volume by saying:  “It has been constant aim in writing this book to use common sense, and to give the public as much good practical advice as I possibly could,  and remember, that this book was written by a man who is out working with his chickens ever day.

Milton L. Eppstein, shown here in 1914, had two evident passions in life, good whiskey and Jersey milk cows. He managed to combine the two into a Fort Worth, Texas, liquor business that exhibited both financial success and a distinctive bovine flavor. In short, he succeeded in mixing whiskey and cream. 

When Eppstein selected a flagship brand, he looked to his hobby for inspiration. He had fallen in love with the Jersey cow, a breed known for its docile disposition, lovely eyes, and high butterfat cream. His stock farm became known as one of the finest in the Southwest. It was no surprise then when Milton named his select whiskey, “Jersey Cream.”  

Eppstein’s bovine passion was most evident in a pair of freestanding metal signs advertising Jersey Cream, cut in the form of a cow and calf. The cow stood almost four feet tall and the calf was two feet.  So notable were Eppstein’s metal cows that they were taken by members of the Fort Worth Ad Club to Toronto upon the occasion of the 14th North American convention of advertising men. As a result, Milton was twitted in a contemporary publication for being the owner of a herd of iron cows and “sacred bovines.” A 1914 caricature showed him at his favorite pastime.  

Nevertheless, time was running out for Milton and his Jersey Cream Whiskey. In 1916 Texas voted statewide Prohibition and L. Eppstein & Son became history. Eppstein retired to New York City, listed as living on Seventh Avenue by the 1920 Census. Death came five years later, while Eppstein was on a visit to Fort Worth, likely to visit his beloved herd of Jersey cows.

In 1903, with a partner, Henry Figge opened a wholesale liquor house at 353 East Water Street in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.  Figge’s company quickly met with success.  His flagship brand was Custom House Rye, with a label that featured the very elegant Milwaukee building.  Dating from 1855, it had been constructed by the U.S Department of the Treasury after the design of the noted architect Ammi Burnham Young.  The building still stands.

Figge’s animal interests involved both canine and porcine. Known as a dog fancier, the 1905 Field Dog Stud Book listed him as owning a champion beagle named “Foster Rye,” likely named by him for rye whiskey.  Registered as a “black, white and tan,” Foster Rye had a long pedigree.  Its sire was “Bellman”, out of “Florist” and “Bashful”;  its dam was “Staley’s Rubber” out of “Staley" and “Sailor’s Ranney.”

Seemingly ever restless, Figge, now with considerable wealth, retired from the liquor trade entirely in 1914 and bought a large farm on Cold Spring Road in Milwaukee County not far from the village of Hales Corners.  There he raised Poland China hogs.  The oldest American breed of swine, Poland China hogs are typically black, sometimes with white patches, and are known for their large size  For a dozen years Figge was known throughout the Upper Midwest for his prize-winning pigs.  In 1926, perhaps in declining health, he sold his farm and moved back to Milwaukee where shortly after he died.

Note:  Fuller biographies of each of these whiskey men can be found on this blog at the following dates:  Earnest Kellerstrass, July 6, 2013;  Milton Eppstein, March 4, 2012, and Henry Figge, June 27, 2015.

The Whiskey Man Who Loved Chickens

Ernest Kellerstrass and His Chickens

As hard as it may be to believe, the young man with the cigar shown here talking to a rooster and surrounded by newly hatched chicks had a earlier, highly successful career as a distiller and liquor dealer.  His name was Ernest Kellerstrass and he made his mark in both whiskey and chickens in Kansas City, Missouri.

Ernest was born “Ernst” circa 1866 in Peoria, Illinois, the son of Fredrich Robert Kellerstrass, a German immigrant who ran a candy store.  His mother was Margaretha Augustine.    Their son appears to have been a “go-getter” from an early age.  In the 1880 census, when Ernest was but 14 years old, his occupation was given as “baker.”  Moreover, he is on record claiming he began his interest in chickens about the age of eight.

Kellerstrass appears to have grown up in Illinois and, according to information in Ancestry.com, was twice married there.   His first wife was a woman named “Daisy” --no last name given and fate unknown.  He subsequently married Emily Guesewelle, born in 1861 in Atchison, Kansas.  They would have three children,  Grace, Robert and Karl,  all born in Illlinois.   What brought Ernest to Kansas City and the liquor trade is unclear but his success appears to have been very rapid.

Kellerstrass, still in his 30s, showed extraordinary initiative.  About 1899 he established his company as the successor to the Columbia Supply Co. and located his main office in Kansas City, selling stock in the Kellerstrass Distilling Company  at $10 a share.  When he

Label with Distillery Picture

listed the officers of the firm, he named himself,  his children and other Kellerstrass relatives. He also bought a distillery in Paradise, Clay County, Missouri, that had been founded about a decade earlier.  Kellerstrass illustrated the facility on his labels. Through his distillery he was able to insure a secure supply of raw whiskey for his brands.  With success he created a separate sales depot across Missouri in St. Louis.  As shown below on his letterhead,  Kellerstrass emphasized his access to railway express to send his goods West from Kansas City and East from St. Louis.

The St. Louis Depot

He packaged his whiskey in embossed glass bottles, often covered by a colorful label,  including, as shown here, a picture of his St. Louis depot.  Like many liquor dealers of his time Kellerstrass featured giveaway items to favored customers, among them gold rimmed shot glasses. He also issued  the "Kellerstrass' Dream Book", a 32-page booklet that purported to explain the meaning of images seen in dreams. Despite its intriguing cover, the publication, issued about 1903, was a thinly-veiled advertising vehicle for Kellerstrass Rye and Whiskey.

Primarily operating a mail order liquor house, Kellerstrass offered premiums to retail customers.  He issued one certificate for each gallon of whiskey ordered.  Nine certificates earned a pen knife,  38 a revolver,  80 a double gauged shotgun and 300 a buggy.  Short a certificate or two?  Kellerstrass would would give you additional chits at a cost of 25 cents each.  By 1903, Ernest had gained notice from the Missouri business community and media for his success.   Bearing the headline “The Kellerstrass Christmas,” The Kansas City Journal in its Dec. 25, 1903, edition ran the following story:

Probably the most generous Christmas giver in Kansas City yesterday was Ernest Kellerstrass, the big distiller, whose presents to those who serve him, all given in gold, amounted to just $2,710. Every man and woman in his employ, or who has been of service to him in the last year, received gifts ranging from $5 to, in one case, $1,000 in gold. The telephone girls at the Central office, the express wagon drivers, the postman and everyone else who came in touch with his enormous business, was remembered.

The princely generosity of Mr. Kellerstrass had been well known in the past, but this year he fairly outdid himself. "But the Kellerstrass Distilling Company never did such a business in its life as in this year," said he, when speaking modestly of his munificence, and I wanted all those who had helped its success to share in its good fortune."
The employees of the company did not forget Mr. Kellerstrass either. The women "chipped in" and bought him two magnificent imported tankards, while the men combined in a smoking set of horn and ivory, mounted in gold, with his monogram on the ivory. Two handsomer gifts were not given yesterday.

Leavening this local celebrity status, Ernest suffered a personal tragedy.  His wife, Emily, age 41, died, leaving him with three small children.  He married again within a relatively short time.  This time his wife was Clara Krull.  According to the record in Ancestry.com, she was the daughter of John Henry and Emma Krull and hailed from Steubenville, Ohio.  Clara was 12 years younger than Ernest.  The couple would have four more children, all girls.

Inexplicably, in 1904 and at the height of his success, Kellerstrass, still short of 40 years old, sold out his distillery and mail order  liquor empire to a syndicate from St. Louis.  The new managers operated the business under the Kellerstrass name until 1916 when they were forced to shut down.  The Webb-Kenyon Act of Congress in 1913 had forbidden mail order sales of liquor into “dry” areas of the country, killing off their freight express trade.  After that it was only a matter of time.

Meanwhile, Kellerstrass with wife and family had retired to his chicken ranch.  There he tackled farming chores with typical enthusiasm, energy and intelligence.  He built new chicken houses according to his own design and began to breed a superior kind of poultry.  The eggs from the Kellerstrass Farm became known regionwide for their freshness and quality.  Show here is truckload of his eggs on their way to consumers.   Note the antique vehicle hauling them to market.

Soon many in America would know about Kellerstrass and his chickens. In 1910, after only a few years in business,  he self-published a book called “The Kellerstrass Way of Raising Poultry” and charged $1 for it.  The picture that began this article, showing the author talking to a rooster, was on the cover.   Clearly very proud of the progress he had made with his chickens, the book is full of advice to poultry raisers.  Kellerstrass introduced the volume by saying:  “It has been constant aim in writing this book to use common sense, and to give the public as much good practical advice as I possibly could,  and remember, that this book was written by a man who is out working with his chickens ever day.”

In the 1920 census,  Kellerstrass gave his occupation as “farmer. He does not show up in the 1930 census but in 1940 he was listed as “retired.”  Shown here are Ernest and Clara in later life.  Both look like vigorous elderly folks.  In 1942, Ernest died,  age 80. His wife, Clara, outlived him by 17 years,  passing at the age of 85.

A nagging question remains:  Why did Ernest Kellerstrass leave his highly successful whiskey business for chicken farming?  Did the St. Louis syndicate make an offer too good to turn down?  Or did Kellerstrass foresee that the mail order whiskey business eventually would be doomed by Prohibition forces?  Or is it possible his third wife did not like the whiskey trade?  All are plausible explanations.  But I recall Kellerstrass’ declaration that he had been interested in poultry from an early age.  Perhaps, just perhaps, he made the change because he was a man who truly and passionately loved chickens.