Bad Law, Good End

Speaking through Justice Anthony Kennedy, the majority ruled that Michigan and New York cannot discriminate against the other 48 states in regulating the interstate sale of wine. The decision was a glorious victory for 2,000 small wineries that will now have equal access to markets across the nation. So, hooray!

To come to that pleasantly bibulous conclusion, the majority had to — ah, how to phrase this? — had to close its collective eyes to the history and wording of the 21st Amendment of 1933. That amendment, you will recall, repealed the hypocritical 18th Amendment of 1919. The 21st Amendment is sensibly worded. It forbids the possession or transportation of intoxicating liquor in every state, but only in violation of the laws thereof. In last week's opinion, Justice Kennedy and his odd assortment of colleagues (Scalia, Ginsburg, Souter and Breyer) skipped over the italics. The republic will survive and probably enjoy the fruits of the wineries' new opportunities, but the laws of New York and Michigan should have prevailed.


Anyhow, the opinions brought back memories. This observer was barely a twinkle in his father's eye when the 18th Amendment became part of the Constitution. That was on Jan. 16, 1919. A year later, the long dark night of Prohibition settled upon the land. It seems remarkable, in retrospect, that so disastrous a mistake could have been ratified so swiftly. It took only 13 months for the Prohibitionists to write the "noble experiment" into the supreme law of the land.

The political consequences of the 18th Amendment were of little interest to this apolitical lad in Oklahoma City. For the record, embarrassing as it may be, the Sooner State had rushed to ratification precisely three weeks after the amendment was propounded. Before the darkness fell, the lad's father, a prudent fellow, had laid in a therapeutic supply of legal booze. When that ran out, he resorted to drastic measures. He began making his own booze. In the basement.

It became the stuff of family legend. For some reason, it was then possible to lay in a supply of pure grain alcohol. To this clear liquid, the home distiller added a stick of charcoal, kept in constant supply by the neighborhood Piggly-Wiggly. The charcoal absorbed the fusels, or so it was confidently believed. Juniper berries added a touch of flavor. After a few weeks of aging, the gin would be ripe for martinis. It also could be used for blowing up stumps.

The head of our household experimented not only with gin, but also with beer. The basement of our new house on 18th Street came equipped with two large laundry tubs. Ever the adventurer, Father tried his hand as a brewer. Here he was less successful. Relying upon a recipe drawn from Good Housekeeping or Popular Mechanics, Father fell to work. Into the tub went hops, malt, water and prayer. From some compassionate source — probably the Piggly-Wiggly — he obtained a hundred empty bottles and a supply of metal discs. The idea was to put a disc on the filled bottle, press the disc into place with a mechanical device, and store the beer in a dark place.

After the explosion, Father wearied of such economies. Oklahoma City was a growing metropolis, Coolidge was president, the Depression was far away. Thus began a long-term relationship with a professional bootlegger, name of Sebastian, who offered home delivery and monthly billing. I kept his calling card for years. He would arrive on his motorcycle, deliver the goods, chat for a few sociable minutes, and then go on his felonious way.

In February 1933, Congress offered the Repeal Amendment for ratification. The process set a record not likely ever to be surpassed. In just 288 days, 36 of the 48 states struck a blow for personal freedom. On Dec. 5 the people at last were free to make their own laws either to ban, to control, or to welcome the demon rum. Which is the way it should have been all along.

The two cases decided by the high court on May 16 will not be regarded as landmarks of jurisprudence. The majority's opinion was unimpressive, and Justice Thomas' dissent was unreadable. The 18th and 21st Amendments have now been read out of the Constitution. Maybe they never happened at all.

(Letters to Mr. Kilpatrick should be sent by e-mail to kilpatjj@aol.com.)

COPYRIGHT 2005 UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE
This feature may not be reproduced or distributed electronically, in print or otherwise without the written permission of uclick and Universal Press Syndicate.