Roger Miller worked as a shoeshine boy, but also peddled alcohol on the side

Roger Miller of Newport has always been a businessman. A former insurance man and still an active maker of one-of-a-kind wooden furniture, Miller got his start in the business world in Johnson, Vermont, during the prohibition era - as a teenage shoeshine boy who peddled alcohol on the side.
Not ashamed of his short walk on the dark side of the law, yet not proud of it either, Miller spoke very little of his illegal capers over the years. He said he figured it was better his children knew their father as a good, honest law-abiding man who he grew into, not the curious, ambitious young teenage alcohol dealer of his youth. However, now, at 84 years old and his children grown, he enjoys talking about those days.

A very young Roger Miller is seen with his father at a line house in
Highwater, Quebec during Prohibition

Alcohol - most people have a strong opinion about it one way or another. Some look at the relaxing effects as a good, social way to unwind. Others blame alcohol for just about every societal and physical ill imaginable. During the mid and late 19th century a clash of views of alcohol that had simmered for years began to intensify - a clash that would eventually lead the United States to the passage of the 18th Amendment to the Constitution and almost total prohibition of alcohol.
Vermonters have dabbled with the idea of the prohibition of alcohol almost since the time the state was founded. Between 1853 and 1902, an attempt at a statewide ban failed miserably. A "dry" state in a country predominately dominated by "wet" states, made enforcing "dry" laws nearly impossible. However, during the mid and late 19th century, a movement began that would amend the U.S. Constitution to outlaw alcohol and make the entire country "dry". Few people at the onset of this movement thought this vocal minority would ever succeed in their lofty goal. Anti-alcohol forces, such as the Women's Christian Temperance Union and the men's group, the Anti-Saloon League were two of the driving forces pushing the anti-alcohol agenda forward. Members of these groups argued that banning alcohol would bring moral integrity back to a country, they said, was soaked in alcohol.

The Canaan line house in Canaan, Vermont was a popular watering hole for
people living in Essex County

To make a long story short, on January 16, 1919, the anti-alcohol forces won their battle when at least three-fourths of the states voted for the passage of the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, an amendment that outlawed the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol. Exceptions were made for alcohol used in mechanical processes, medicinal purposes, and for religious purposes.
The law may have looked good on paper, but lawmen quickly learned that having a law and enforcing a law were two different things. Large numbers of people flaunted their disobedience to Prohibition. No matter how many seizures lawmen made, alcohol always seemed to make its way into the hands of thirsty Americans. For example, people living in border regions, such as here in Vermont, the law, at best, was only a minor inconvenience for those wishing to drink alcohol.
Frustration permeated the ranks of law enforcement. The government adopted Prohibition but failed to allot enough money to enforce the new law. The lack of funding made it impossible for the lawmen to stop only a fraction of the alcohol that flowed into the U.S. Many Americans, even some of those who had ardently worked for the adoption of Prohibition, quickly became disillusioned with the law, especially in the wake of the Stock Market Crash of 1929. Americans suddenly had more to worry about than who was drinking what - the Great Depression - an event that threw countless thousands of Americans out of work and into poverty. Franklin Roosevelt, then a candidate for president, went as far as to promise people if they voted for him they could have their beer back.
Roosevelt took office in 1932. He quickly made the drinking of beer legal and did little to encourage the enforcement the remainder of the Prohibition law. Prohibition was totally repealed on December 5, 1933, with the passage of the 21st amendment. The question of prohibition was left up to the individual states. Some chose to remain "dry". Other states allowed individual communities to make the decision between "wet" and "dry", making a checkerboard like arrangement of "dry" and "wet" communities.
"Prohibition was ridiculous," Miller said. Tell people they can't have alcohol and that becomes exactly what they want. From his boyhood observations that is just what, he said, happened during Prohibition. The law created a challenge or a hurdle for people to overcome to get alcohol. Some who might never have drunk if it weren't for the challenges put in place by the Prohibition law, he said.
Compared to many of today's youth, he said, he and most of his young friends were totally naive about alcohol as teenagers. He remembers hearing rumors that so and so was making money selling booze. Then there were the never-ending booze laden cars that passed through town south from Quebec, sometimes at high rates of speed with lawmen tight on their tails.
Getting alcohol was really no big deal for most people who wanted to drink, Miller said. There were plenty of illegal drinking establishments, including one that was blown up when a stick of dynamite was dropped down the chimney by one of its disgruntled owners during an ownership dispute. Nobody was hurt but that was the end of that place.
Then there was Quebec, 40 miles to the north, a province where alcohol was legal, a province that welcomed alcohol thirsty Americans. People from all around New England passed through Vermont to go drink in Quebec, Miller said. Some traveled by cars, others by train. A favorite destination for both "locals" and "visitors" was Abercorn, Quebec. Drinking establishments in Abercorn ranged from plush hotels where tourists could spend the entire weekend drinking, to buildings that were little more than warehouses where people could travel to, load up cases of booze, and head back south across the border, hopefully undetected by lawmen.
A trip to Abercorn was a family outing for the Miller family. Miller said he vaguely remembers the family loading up their Overland automobile and heading north across the border. He doesn't ever recall spending the night, but he remembers how the family never knew whether they'd make it home in their unreliable car. Miller also can't recall his father ever having trouble with the Customs officers at the border during his return trip because of his bottles of booze he'd bring home with him to last him until the family's next trip to Quebec.

While some people ignored Prohibition, others fought to enforce it

His father also brought the family to another favorite drinking destination - Highwater, Quebec. Located just across the border from North Troy, Vermont, Highwater earned a reputation as a town where booze flowed freely, and welcomed Americans from far and near with open arms.
Although Miller grew up around alcohol and the sight of outlaws speeding through town, he said, he knew very little about what the liquid was all about and had no burning desire to drink it. He still remembers the day that he lost his innocence to the world of alcohol. Working in a pool hall in Johnson as a shoeshine boy of 12 or 13, he was approached by a local man he knew. The fellow asked whether he'd like to make a little extra money on the side selling alcohol to some of his trustworthy shoeshine customers.
Endowed with a good business sense even at a young age, Miller remembers the first question he asked the man. "I said, 'what's in it for me?'"
The man explained to the young Miller that he was to sell each pint bottle of liquor for a dollar. For every bottle of liquor he sold, Miller was to get 25 cents. Realizing the potential of making decent money in bad economic times, he quickly accepted the offer, not even thinking about, or realizing the consequences if he should get caught. He said he was cautious salesman. He only sold to people he knew he could trust, and he seldom actively tried to sell booze to customers. Instead, he waited for them to come to him. Over a short period of time the young businessman built up quite a clientele of customers, including some prominent Johnson residents.
About 70 years later, Miller still laughs about how his mother, a non-drinker, found out about his sideline business. Tired from a night's work, the young Miller walked in the house, tossed off his clothes onto the floor, and jumped into bed. To his surprise, he was awakened to the sound of his mother screaming at him. When he had tossed his pants on the floor he'd forgotten to remove the pocket full of quarters, his share of the night's earnings. Seeing the pants on the floor, his mother picked them up, grabbing them by the ankles to give them a good shaking out before putting them in the wash. To her surprise, quarters flew out of her son's pockets.
"What the hell are you doing?" his mother demanded to know. "There is money going everywhere. You're making more money than your father."
Knowing there was no sense in lying to his mother, the young Miller confessed to his illegal deeds.
His mother could tolerate his father's drinking, and she even went along on the trips to Abercorn and Highwater, but she wasn't about to have a son who peddled booze. "Well, you're going to stop that business right now!" she scolded her son. With a smirk, Miller said he agreed to his mother's demands, knowing full well that he had no intent of retiring.
A lot of people around town made their own booze, Miller said. Many made it for their own use, others sold it. Some was made simply from ingredients people found around them such as sap beer made from the sap of the sugar maple, and dandelion wine made from the greens of dandelion. Miller said he and a buddy decided to try brewing beer, not exotic beer, just plain homebrew to pad their pockets with a few extra dollars. Not wanting his parents or lawmen to catch on to their illegal deeds, Miller and his friend hid their operation deep in the woods.
There wasn't any one way to brew beer, Miller said. He and his friend brewed their beer in a 10-gallon wooden keg. Little more was eded than yeast, malt, and water, in addition to two or three weeks of patience for the brew to "work". No heat was needed because the yeast did all the work. The yeast kept the contents of the covered keg brewing and bubbling 24 hours a day.
Everybody claimed they made the best tasting beer, Miller said. The Newport man never made such a claim. For that matter, he said, he thought the beer he made was nasty tasting.
"How could anyone drink that stuff?" Miller laughed as he remembered the taste of his brew.
The two boys learned to brew beer through trial and error. Miller said nobody could fully understand the power of yeast until they'd bottled beer in quart bottles before the yeast had stopped "working". In a hurry to sell a batch of beer, the two boys bottled the beer knowing that it wasn't quite done. They didn't figure buyers would notice, but they didn't realize the power of yeast. The yeast created so much pressure; the bottles blew apart before they could sell them.
One aspect of their brewing operation that is still vivid in Miller's mind are the swarms of bees, especially yellow jackets, attracted by the smell of the brewing beer. Miller insisted that all a lawman would have had to do to find his operation was to find a bee and follow it long enough, and it would have eventually take him to the brewing operation.
Fear of being caught by his mother was greater than the fear of being caught by the law, Miller said. By the time he began his illegal activities people, including most lawmen, were tired of Prohibition. Discouraged by the lack of respect people had for the Prohibition law and the lawmen who enforced it, many lawmen turned a blind eye to illegal alcohol activities, he said. Some went as far as to work on the side of the law yet dabble in the alcohol trade.
Most officers didn't go out of their way looking for violators, Miller said. They didn't bother the smalltime operators as long as they didn't get too brazen. The federal officers, many from the Internal Revenue Service (Revenuers), had a different mindset when they made one of their random visits to town. These officers, hired specifically to enforce Prohibition laws, seldom played favorites and weren't prone to turning a blind eye to anybody. The local bootleggers and still operators knew they had to be particularly careful when the Revenuers were in town.
If the local lawmen did make a particular large seizure, or a seizure they were particularly proud of, Miller said smashing the bottles became a public display. However, the Newport man insisted that sometimes that's all it was - a display. He said while a percentage of the alcohol was dumped, some of it found its way into the homes of the lawmen who either later drank it, or sold it to their friends to supplement their meager incomes.
The boys did have one close call with the law, though. Miller's friend, the nephew of a local lawman, overheard his uncle talking about plans to raid a small beer brewing operation in the woods of Johnson. The friend, realizing the operation his uncle was talking about was his and Miller's, quickly notified Miller of the unfolding events. Miller still remembers the phone call he received from his scared friend.
"Roger, we're in trouble. My uncle knows all about the still but he doesn't know it's ours," Miller said. The two boys then hightailed it into the woods and quickly dismantled their operation then ran home.
The boys thought they were pretty smart. They thought they'd outsmarted the law. They were wrong. After the lawmen went to the scene and found the operation gone. The uncle confronted his nephew and asked if he was somehow involved in that particular brewing operation. The nephew confessed. In response, the friend's uncle said something to the effect of, "thank you for being honest." The uncle never made mention of it again, and the lawmen never came in search of them.
People also made liquor in addition to beer, Miller said. Some people died or were made terribly sick by drinking "bad" liquor. That, looking back on those years, comes as no surprise to him. He told of a couple of the common myths about how to either to purify liquor or how to test its purity. For example, people thought that if they strained questionable liquor through a loaf of bread, the bread would remove any of the impurities. To test the purity and safety of liquor, a small amount was poured into a spoon, then a lit match was used to light it on fire.
"If it had a blue flame, it was good," Miller laughed as he told about the test. "There was no sense to it because there are so many things that would make a blue flame."
Looking back in time, Miller said, it's no wonder so many people became sick, or even died, from drinking bad alcohol.
Prohibition did have its humorous side, Miller said. For example, the "fronts" people used for their booze sales operations were imaginative. The one that sticks out in his mind the best is the "fish salesman". The man, under the guise of a fish peddler, went to his customers' houses peddling what neighbors thought were fish. He had many of his customers' neighbors and the young Miller fooled. Miller said he remembers each time the fish peddler left the family's house he'd ask his mother what kind of fish they were having for supper. More often than not, his mother said they weren't having fish at all. This perplexed the young Miller. Why would the fish man stop at the house if not to deliver fish? It took him a while, but he figured out what the fish man was up to - selling booze. He later learned that the "fish salesman" also operated a taxi service for the same purpose.
From Miller's observation, most of the people in the Johnson area who took part in the booze trade, whether running booze across the border or making their own, were good people looking to make a few extra dollars to help them make ends meet especially during the Depression years following the Stock Market Crash of 1929. They weren't gangster types, although big time smugglers did pass through town, with at least one local man providing them a place to hide their cars and stash for a time, he said. From his viewpoint, few, if any, "locals" grew rich from prohibition activities. Although arrests were few in the later years of Prohibition, Miller said, those captured often paid a high price. A jail sentence and fine were tough enough, but many were unable to make their house payments while in jail, which caused some to lose everything.
Miller doesn't seem to recall any fanfare with the end of Prohibition on December 5, 1933. For that matter, he can't even seem to recall its demise. By that time he was away at high school, sheltered from the booze trade. The one thing he does remember about the end of Prohibition was that the family no longer traveled to Abercorn or Highwater. Instead, because after Prohibition voters in Johnson voted to remain a "Dry" town, his father had to travel to Hardwick, the nearest "Wet" town, to get his booze.
Looking back to Prohibition, Miller said, he thinks that in reality Prohibition caused more troubles than it cured. Almost overnight, Prohibition turned many good, law abiding Americans, including Vermonters, into outlaws. Whereas he has a tendency to believe that the law encouraged some people to drink, he said, the repeal of Prohibition took away the thrill, lessening many peoples' thirst for alcohol.

Miller's story is one of many stories I collected during the last three years as I traversed the state recording memories of people who lived through the Prohibition era - people who walked on both sides of the law. Later this year, New England Press of Shelburne, will publish a cross-section of these interviews in a book I have written, entitled Rumrunners and Revenuers: Prohibition in Vermont.