Moonshine flows - and feds crack down

Today, a new style of family-based operations has supplanted the small stills and developed into real money-making propositions.

As far as the Hale gang, alcohol-control agents estimate that they produced 1.5 million gallons of liquor from 1992 to 1999, ducking some $19.6 million in taxes. When the law caught up with Climax local Paul Henson a few years ago, officers found this new kind of operation. - a 36-pot behemoth set up just a few miles from here at Smith Mountain Lake. It was the biggest still ever wrecked by federal agents.

Still, even such high-rolling rumrunners don't exactly live the Riviera lifestyle. A small-time operator may bring in $30,000 a year, while paying still hands $150 a day under the table. One pick-up truck full of spirits may bring in about $5,000 for a distiller.

To be sure, many see the distilling and running of "white lightning" through these mountains as a sinister business. Teetotalling wives were often the first to call the law on their husbands. Even today, Smith has received bad publicity over the appropriateness of his Jamboree. Similarly, Asheville, N.C., recently changed the name of its baseball team from the Moonshiners to the Tourists.

The first reaction of a moonshiner to scrutiny is to run. In Pittsylvania County, Va., the late Aubrey Adkins was as much known for his sprints as his spirits. Usually, the agents would wait at the still as Mr. Adkins crashed through the woods - to soon return.

At the same time, Agent Bart McEntire knows it's tough to ferret out these close-knit mountain communities. Over the years, agents have employed citizens to get the scoop on moonshiners' whereabouts.

But it can be a tough sell. Indeed, the reason Franklin County became known as the "Moonshine Capital" in the 1930s is that federal agents arrested nearly every judge and lawyer in the district for sheltering bootleggers. Even today, fines and penalties at local courts tend to be lenient.

For now, law officials say the flow of "white lightning" from this region has largely been stemmed, as Mr. Hale faces a possible life sentence and many of his 26 lieutenants settle in for what will likely be a few years in the federal pen.

"This was one of those situations grown to the magnitude where it was time for somebody to basically shut it down," Mr. McEntire says. "It's not fair to a common citizen who goes to work eight hours a day while another guy is bringing in $4,000 a week with illegal activity," he adds.

Still, a growing number now celebrate the heritage of the moonshiners, if not the moonshine: New Prospect, S.C., hosts a Moonshiners Reunion every October, and, around the same time, Dawsonville, Ga., celebrates the Moonshine Festival.

Indeed, the moonshiners' gruff legacy has caused even ex-revenuers to grow nostalgic.

When Mr. Powell, for instance, came to Climax to help shoot a documentary on moonshiners, he ran into Mr. Henson, the famed distiller. Powell was so excited, he got Henson a part in the documentary - as a still hand who takes off into the woods when the agents show up.

Page: 1 | 2