The bar was a magnificent
stream of mahogany extending the width of the room. Behind it, a
gold-embossed mirror reflected a piano player. He thrashed around
the keys, pumping out a new ragtime tune — not so loud as to drown
out the constant din and not so well as to make it recognizable. To
his right, six men played poker at a table beneath a picture of a
reclining, half naked, painted woman imagined to be of dubious moral
character. Other women, more fully clothed, no less painted and of
moral character unknown, circulated through the room encouraging men
to order another drink.
There were a few
Freemasons in the crowd, even in this obscure saloon in western
Missouri... or maybe it was eastern Kansas. Most in the crowded room
hadn't given that much thought and most weren't sober enough to care.
Drunk or sober, however, the Masons, along with everyone else in the
crowd, were certainly aware of the presence of a very famous Brother
that evening.
In the back of the room,
Samuel Clemens — better known as Mark Twain — held court
surrounded by several amused patrons. It was long before the 18th
Amendment ushered in prohibition in the U.S., but even at the turn of
the century, the battle lines were drawn and the debate was heated.
Given the setting, Twain had selected that as his topic for the
evening.
"I
don't think prohibition is practical," he began. "The
Germans, you see, prevent it. Look at them. I am sorry to learn that
they have just invented a method of making brandy out of Sawdust.
Now, what chance will prohibition have when a man can take a rip saw
and go out and get drunk with a fence rail? What is the good of
prohibition if a man is able to make brandy smashed out of the
shingles of his roof, or if he can get delirium tremens by drinking
the legs off his kitchen table?"
As the crowd roared, Twain
stoked the fire, "Temperate temperance is best. Intemperate
temperance injures the cause of temperance, while temperate
temperance helps it in its fight against intemperate intemperance.
Fanatics will never learn that, though it be written in letters of
gold across the sky. What marriage is to morality, a properly
conducted licensed liquor traffic is to sobriety. In fact, the more
things are forbidden, the more popular they become. It is the
prohibition that makes anything precious..."
The mirror behind the bar
suddenly shattered as if someone had thrown a bomb at it. The piano
playing stopped and the hushed crowd watched in horror as an angry
woman smashed bottles, tables and chairs with a small menacing ax.
Ranting about the evils of demon rum, she turned the mahogany bar
into splinters.
Furious, Twain stomped to
the bar. The two glared at each other, nearly breathing fire. For
a few seconds each said nothing; they just stood, meeting for the
first and only time in their lives, face to face — Mark Twain and
Carrie Nation.
"Madam," hissed
Twain, "This is insanity."
She shot back, "Drinking
is insanity."
"Women like you drive
men to drink as the only way to be sane," he sneered.
"I married a fine
man... a doctor," she wailed, "He was a pillar of the
community, until he started drinking. It ruined him and led him to an
early grave."
Twain asked, "A
doctor married you?"
"Yes," she
replied.
"He must have been
looking for a cadaver."
Their meeting was short,
but auspicious. As usually happened during Carrie Nation's
escapades, the authorities came and took her away, screaming about
the alcohol-flooded road to ruination.
"And exhibiting,"
thought Twain, "exactly the same ugly behavior you might expect
from some poor sot who was falling down drunk."
Disclaimer:
Accounts of Brother Twain's encounter with famed teetotaler Carrie
Nation are, at best, sketchy. All reports of the incident appear to
have the same source, making corroboration difficult. It is likely a
meeting of this nature took place. While Twain's words about
prohibition are his own, the remaining details above are...
enhanced... under the authority of liberal use of the doctrine of
licentia poetica.