Dry January Humor

It has been a while since we have discussed Prohibition in our Graphical History Tour. By 1924, cartoonists had by and large given up trying to find new jokes about Dad's stash of hooch in the coal cellar. Prohibition, it turned out, was a serious matter.

I've spared you the flurry of December cartoons warning against the dangers of wood-alcohol-based moonshine. It had also become obvious that Americans' thirst for booze was a boon to organized crime.

"Foot-sore" by J.P. Alley in Memphis Commercial Appeal, Jan. 10, 1924

Philadelphia's brand new Mayor W. Freeland Kendrick came into office determined to quash gangsterism and bootlegging. He named Marine Corps Brigadier Gen. Smedley Butler his Director of Public Safety and called on him to spare no effort to root out crime and corruption in the city.

"Frisking Him" by John L. De Mar in Philadelphia Record, ca. Jan. 16, 1924

Butler had no authority to fire police officers for being on the take, but he immediately transferred entire squads from precinct to precinct in order to disrupt connections between corrupt policemen and their criminal buddies. In the first week in office, Butler launched raids on some 900+ speakeasies — not just the corner tavern, but also the Ritz Carlton — padlocking or destroying several. 

"Wonder Why I Couldn't Do the Same Thing" by Charles Kuhn in Indianapolis News, Jan. 12, 1924

Chas Kuhn, for one, applauded Philadelphia's crackdown on bootlegging, prostitution, gambling, and official corruption, holding it up as a model for "most every city in the country."

"Wouldn't a Dustless Mop Be Better..." by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Jan. 10, 1924

Others, however, viewed with alarm Kendrick and Butler's draconian measures such as stopping random drivers at military-style checkpoints at various locations in the city.

"Look Out for Dirt" by Roy James in St. Louis Star, Jan. 11, 1924

Skeptics couldn't argue that Butler's tactics were not effective, so Harding and James suggested instead that harsh measures in Philadelphia would simply drive the problem to other municipalities.

Kind of like Governor Abbott's approach to handling immigration.

"The War in Williamson County" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, Jan. 10, 1924

Some of those other municipalities, such as those in Williamson County down in the southern tip of Illinois, had been trying the get tough approach to Volstead Act enforcement a month before Mayor Kendrick in Philly. Hundreds of raids against roadhouses and private homes were conducted in Marion and surrounding towns without any legal warrants — not by the local sheriff, but by federal agents and fellow citizens.

The Chicago Tribune reported that the raids, led by A.J. Armitage and S. Glenn Young, were conducted by federal agents "assisted by hundreds of deputized citizens, many of whom admit membership in the Ku Klux Klan." 

"Klan Law and Order in Illinois" by Daniel Fitzpatrick in St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Jan. 11, 1924

The Tribune further reported that "A counterorganization to the klan known as the Knights of the Flaming Circle sprung up six months ago [in June, 1923] after klan organizers appeared in Williamson County."

Williamson County had been  the scene of the Herrin mine massacre in June of 1922; the local klan formed to push for prosecution of labor activists charged in those deaths.  Glenn Young was himself a klansman. Charged with assault for hitting a Marion restaurant owner over the head with a revolver during an argument about his raids, he was acquitted after showing up in court backed by "a large assemblage of friends, who carried two machine guns 'for protection.'" He had also been acquitted of murder even before that, resulting in what turned out to be a temporary dismissal as an enforcement agent of the Treasury Department.

Fearing further violence, Sheriff George Galligan called in the National Guard.

Galligan also attempted to persuade saloon keepers to close voluntarily until danger of trouble abated, but these efforts failed miserably, as did his attempt to disarm Herrin citizens by having gun permits revoked. The sheriff finally agreed to meet privately with any citizen who thought he had evidence of illegal activity and rapidly made eighteen raids of his own, hoping to convince the public that he was sincere in trying to enforce the law. Satisfied that he had regained control of law and order, Galligan agreed to removal of the militia after eight days, and most of the troops left Herrin on January 15 and 16.

The sheriff would be proven wrong.

But that should probably be a story for another day.

In the meantime, if you are participating in Dry January, I hope yours is going better than Sheriff Galligan's was.