During an intermission, the couple puffed on their cigarettes and raised water glasses in a toast to their fifth anniversary. “This would be so much more fun if we could toast the evening with a glass of sherry instead of plain old tasteless water,” fumed Sam. “The devil with this Prohibition nonsense; it’s getting out of hand!”
“Well, it might not be sherry,” mused Helen, “but I understand it IS possible to make our own booze. I read an article in the paper last week that explained just how to do it. What do you say, Sam? Should we make a little happy juice for our own use? Hmm?”
Sam looked at his wife and at the twinkle in her eyes and realized she was serious. “What the devil! Are you saying we should break the law and have our own still? I can’t believe my pretty little wife is saying that."
“Aw Sam, who’s gonna know? Who’s it gonna hurt? We won’t be selling it to anyone.”
Over the next week, Willard Manor took on a new look as copper tubing was brought into the basement, along with glass jugs and a heater. The kitchen counter was lined with bags of sugar, corn meal, yeast and malt. Sam called Thomas and told him of their plans. “Do you want to help, big brother?"
“Uh, sure. Count me in. Government’s getting too big as it is, telling us what we can and can’t do. Are you sure Helen’s okay with this?"
Sam laughed. “It was Helen’s idea! Now that women have the right to vote, she’s taking more interest in this country, concerned about what’s right and what’s wrong with it. And, trust me, she feels that Prohibition is just plain wrong."
“Can’t argue with her there, Sam. Wait ‘til I tell Marion. We’ll be over Saturday so we can get started.”
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