(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Rum Runners and Moonshiners of Old Florida [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.'] Date: 2023-12-20 Illegality Comes Natural to us Floridians The following is an excerpt from the new book Rum Runners and Moonshiners of Old Florida : A Second Batch. www.amazon.com/... The sun is slowly setting over the Florida Capitol Complex, covering the walkways along the plaza in a cool and inviting shade. Exiting this beautiful and historic sight I am bathed by the dimming light of another wonderful Florida day. Deep reds, clean yellows, and delicious oranges are painted across the downtown skies. It was visitor’s day at the Capitol and the rather large and energetic Broward delegation was my last port of call before racing back to my car. Walking down the massive steps at the back entrance of the capitol building with its large fountain and sculptures of dolphins suspended in the air, I suddenly find myself frozen. This is one of the last connections between the current state government and the golden age of Florida Politics the period between 1966-1990. So perhaps it's this sentimental attachment I have for the period that makes me pause when I see the public notice that the entire area is about to be closed for intensive renovations. But I can’t help but smile when I see the bronze plaque at the base of the sculptures, proudly proclaiming that this structure was made possible by the financial support of the company Anheuser Busch. To me, it would make sense that a company founded by August Busch Sr. who had fought the steady creep of prohibitionist forces during his entire tenure as Anheuser-Busch's president, and even prepared for national prohibition by stockpiling so much product overseas would now be featured on the back side of our state government. How strange history and by connection my home state is, that a company that had made so many state beverage agents' lives a nightmare for decades was being thanked by that state's government. That they both would be so publicly linked for decades seems to add to the strange relationship many native Floridians seem to have with their general disregard for the law. For me, it's just one of the things that I love so much about my state. Illegality just comes Natural to us Floridians. Florida is my Home. I was born in Hollywood, Florida, just a few miles away from the old hangouts of Capone, and where the mob moved its base of operations following the glory days of Prohibition. Every time I return to my ever-expanding hometown; I use this term out of habit as it was always too large to be anyone’s fabled hometown; I am bombarded by images of tourist tours to former mob hideaways and refurbished speakeasies. My father's family moved there in the 1970s after nearly a century in Brooklyn. If you google my last name you'll discover no winners of high office, no Nobel prizes for medicine, or famous inventors. What you'll find is a bunch of swarthy people with olive skin from Sicily who helped create the Mafia in Sicily and a sweet bread cake of the same name from Lucca, Italy. Legend says it was created by one of my ancestors. He was a modest person with a self-deprecating sense of humor because it’s a giant ring-shaped fruit cake. My grandfather, my father’s dad, thinks this is a bit too disparaging to my Italian ancestors, and I don’t mean any offense. I’m just presenting the unfortunate association my family has had to contend with since they immigrated to the United States. Because we were Italian, there was always an assumption that we knew what went on in back alleys, but more importantly, that we were welcomed to take part in what was going on. The reality is never that interesting. We went “straight” the second we made it to this country and have produced a continual series of successful lawyers, doctors, businessmen, appointed officials, and even a few writers. But, what is most ironic, is that I am related to a person who was an associate of organized crime in South Florida. He wasn’t Italian, he was a perfectly respectable Irish man, and he even has a middle school named after him. It was my other grandfather and someone who you would never imagine was ever involved in illegal activities. When I was born my Mother’s father, Walt Young, was a member of the Florida House of Representatives for Pembroke Pines, and mom being an unabashed "Daddy's Girl" dragged me over the next ten years on a series of long car drives from Hollywood to Tallahassee where he would finally retire. This long state would wiz past me and my “road dog” mother would take me through the back roads of 27 to save money on tolls. There I would see the real Florida of the 1940s and 1950s, the tourism traps that seemed to die out once Disney arrived. It was on these car rides with my Mom and Grandpa that I learned about Florida’s culture and its character. It was also on one of these trips that I learned that when my Grandfather first arrived in South Florida from New York, it was still something of a prairie land by the sea. He was a graduate student, married to my grandmother, my mom had just arrived, and they were struggling. While a successful and devoted student he formed a friendship with the local mayor of what was Hollywood Florida. As it turned out, even the Mayor of Hollywood wasn’t making enough on his meager salary to survive. He sympathized with my granddad and showed him how he subsidized his mayoral pay. Running numbers! There is something so insanely Floridian in the idea of a future House Chairman and Doctor of Education running numbers for an illegal gambling ring under the tutelage of the town’s Mayor. But, of course, this is Florida! There is just something about breaking or leaning on the rules that comes so naturally to us Floridians. We are to America what Australia was to the British Empire. A holding place for all the strange, outrageous, violent, romantic, and swaggering rogues that can’t seem to make it anywhere else. I suppose both this story and the humorist connection Florida has with beer producers is a testament to the continuously evolving nature of the sunshine state. As I get older I find my mind wandering more, that is to say, I find myself transported more into my past, usually during quiet moments. Driving along the slowly darkening streets of Tallahassee I think back to the numerous trips I've been making throughout my entire life across this extraordinary state. I think about all the stories that people have entrusted to me over the years and who I’ve been fortunate to include in both volumes of this story. One of the most significant parts of gathering some of the interviews and source material for the previous volume was the good-natured enthusiasm of the people I encountered. It was truly marvelous the way each interview began to take on a similar pattern. I would usually start with a local group, association, or in many cases a historical society. I would make a dry call to the main location and would usually be greeted by a very friendly volunteer, who upon hearing the subject of the book would laugh loudly. The median age on the other end of the phone calls was usually about 72. So clearly, I was speaking to someone who had first-hand knowledge. I would ask them if they had any knowledge or personal experiences that could be used in the book, and the other line of the phone would then stop laughing and like clockwork grow silent. If it was a man on the other end a moment of brief reflection was all they needed, and then they were off to the races. Almost at once, they would start up the narrative of their lives. They talked about their childhood, the community they grew up in, and the adults around them who had remote connections to bootlegging or moonshiners. If it was a woman on the other line, they tended to need another round of probing. Regardless of county, city, gender, or race, they were all natives of the panhandle or central regions of the state. Little by little they enjoyed talking to me about the past and the wild activities of their neighbors. But, of course, there was no mention of the possible involvement of their own families. They all had one final gatekeeper to prevent me, a stranger, from getting to the fruit. The men wanted you to know that this was a very religious part of the country. “Well it’s the bible belt so that kind of stuff is a bit looked down upon,” they would all say before I would instantly ask them “So, did you know anyone in your family who had any involvement?” “Oh, yes we all did.” By the oddest coincidence, it seems every elderly lady in North or Central Florida had a distant relationship that engaged in bootlegging, moonshining, rum running, or the purchasing of illegal spirits. Not their Dads Mind you! Just their distant cousins! Now for this book, as I’ve already mentioned before I have been placing more of a focus on Central and Southern Florida, which I’ve found to my delight aren’t nearly as shy about the criminal adventures of their past. “I was part of the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald! I left the crew a month before she sank,” said an aged Phil Brooks during a book event in 2020. “I used to make it for the entire crew down in a corner near the port engine!” the wonderful man said in a packed room without a care in the world. Given the fact that making moonshine can be a dangerous business and no one still knows just how the legendary vessel sank, it may be beneficial for him to limit who he tells. I am not a marine historian, so I don’t know if an exploding makeshift moonshine still could have sunk such a massive ship as the Edmund Fitzgerald, but I suppose it's an interesting theory. The casual way so many South Floridians opened up to me during this process only reinforced the perception that North and South Florida are two vastly different cultures and identities somehow forged inside one peninsula. For more information on the book www.amazon.com/... [END] --- [1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2023/12/20/2212679/-Rum-Runners-and-Moonshiners-of-Old-Florida?pm_campaign=front_page&pm_source=more_community&pm_medium=web Published and (C) by Daily Kos Content appears here under this condition or license: Site content may be used for any purpose without permission unless otherwise specified. via Magical.Fish Gopher News Feeds: gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/dailykos/