Copyright 1921
By W. H. Fawcett
Edited by a Spanish and World War Veteran and dedicated
to the fighting forces of the United States.
Drippings from the Fawcett
By CAPTAIN BILLY
Along about the first of September last year, my cellar supply gave out and on the second day I had a look of languor like a homesick bum. Then it was that I met my old “Turk” friend, Casey, who immediately shanghaied me while he was cockeyed on a mixture of fusel oil, barbed wire, turpentine, tuba, rotgut, red-eye, wood alcohol, ether and dynamite. In fact, his mixture would make the Dove of Peace challenge the American Eagle to mortal combat.
Casey is a vagrant minstrel of human interest and I was only too glad to accept of an invitation to join him at his country home in Golden Valley. But here it is necessary to explain that Golden Valley is different than most communities in these good old dry United States. In Golden Valley it doesn’t appear to be necessary to distill the corn. Nearly every shock contains its gallon jug hidden away in the darkened recesses. The farmers merely leave the empty receptacle and come back later to find it has been mysteriously filled.
Well, friends and fellow-countrymen, Casey and I surely worked hard that night in the corn fields and about the last thing I can remember was Casey mumbling a story about a colored family in St. Paul named Henderson—man, wife and two grown daughters, who had been suspected of bootlegging for some time.