Chapter X: Section 37: or a part of it--reads as follows

“A manufacturer of any beverage containing less than one-half of
1 per centum of alcohol by volume may, on making application and
giving such bond as the commissioner shall prescribe, be given a
permit to develop in the manufacture thereof, by the usual methods
of fermentation and fortification or otherwise a liquid such as
beer, ale, porter, or wine, containing more than one-half of 1
per centum of alcohol by volume, but before any such liquid is
withdrawn from the factory or otherwise disposed of, the alcoholic
contents thereof shall under such rules and regulations as the
commissioner may prescribe be reduced below such one-half of 1 per
centum of alcohol: _Provided_, That such liquid may be removed
and transported, under bond and under such regulations as the
commissioner may prescribe, from one bonded plant or warehouse to
another for the purpose of having the alcohol extracted therefrom.
And such liquids may be developed, under permit, by persons
other than the manufacturers of beverages containing less than
one-half of 1 per centum of alcohol by volume, and sold to such
manufacturers for conversion into such beverages. The alcohol
removed from such liquid, if evaporated and not condensed and
saved, shall not be subject to tax; if saved, it shall be subject
to the same law as other alcoholic liquors. Credit shall be allowed
on the tax due on any alcohol so saved to the amount of any tax
paid upon distilled spirits or brandy used in the fortification of
the liquor from which the same is saved.”

Don Marquis’s Old Soak must rejoice when he reads such stipulations! And, being a tax-payer, like the rest of us, Section 38 must fill him with added delight:

“The Commissioner of Internal Revenue and the Attorney General of
the United States are hereby respectively authorized to appoint and
employ such assistants, experts, clerks, and other employees in the
District of Columbia or elsewhere, and purchase such supplies and
equipment as they may deem necessary for the enforcement of the
provisions of this Act, but such assistants, experts, clerks, and
other employees, except such executive officers as may be appointed
by the Commissioner or the Attorney General to have immediate
direction of the enforcement of the provisions of this Act, and
persons authorized to issue permits, and agents and inspectors
in the field service, shall be appointed under the rules and
regulations prescribed by the Civil Service Act: _Provided_, That
the Commissioner and Attorney General in making such appointments
shall give preference to those who have served in the military or
naval service in the recent war, if otherwise qualified, and there
is hereby authorized to be appropriated, out of any money in the
Treasury not otherwise appropriated, such sum as may be required
for the enforcement of this Act including personal services in the
District of Columbia, and for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1920,
there is hereby appropriated, out of any money in the Treasury not
otherwise appropriated, the sum of $2,000,000 for the use of the
Commissioner of Internal Revenue and $100,000 for the use of the
Department of Justice for the enforcement of the provisions of this
Act, including personal services in the District of Columbia and
necessary printing and binding.”

And how is the law enforced?

Our journals do not make pleasant reading for good Americans these days. They are filled with headlines, which concern the Prohibition law, morning after morning. Not long ago I picked up my newspaper and found no less than seventeen columns devoted to stories of what the police in New York City alone were doing, or trying to do, to make the Volstead Act anything but a huge joke.

Up the State, where farmers are paying good taxes, I found a delicious item in a newspaper, to prove the sincerity of the Federal authorities. It seems that in a small town near Utica, an Italian was suspected of having some whiskey on his premises; and three stalwart officers, in plain clothes, pounced down upon his shop (it was not a rum shop) to see what they could find. The man was out; but his wife was at home, and a careful search of the pitiful premises revealed a quart of Scotch, which may or may not have been on sale.

It took three husky men three hours to make this startling discovery. And how much of the taxpayers’ money, I wonder? It was all-important that an arrest should take place, but there was no evidence, and nothing further was ever heard of the matter.

And this which sounds as though it had occurred in benighted Russia, greeted my eyes at breakfast one morning, in the New York _Times_:

“ACCUSE JERSEY POLICE OF BRUTAL DRY RAID

“Formed Way into Women’s Rooms and Insulted Them, Resort Residents
Charge.

“The conduct of eighteen of the New Jersey State Police who
participated with Federal prohibition agents in liquor raids on
hotels and other places in Lake Hopatcong, N. J., Tuesday night,
was such that indignant residents threatened yesterday to complain
to Governor Edwards.

“At the Great Cove Hotel at Nolan’s Point, the police are alleged
to have gone to the room of a waiter and his wife and demanded
that they show their marriage certificate. It is also charged
that they went to the room of two girls, one of whom was praying,
and insisted that they open the door. The police searched the
belongings of the girls for whiskey.

“It is charged that at the Espanol Hotel, Nolan’s Point, the police
went to the room of a mother and her three children, awakened her
and charged there was a man in her room. She was compelled to open
her door.

“Rented cottages, it is charged, also were visited and searched. It
is charged by the complainants that the State police drank the beer
and whiskey they seized.”

But of course this is all right--to a prohibitionist. The law must be enforced. It makes no difference how enforcement is accomplished.

If the police were honest, if they themselves approved of the Eighteenth Amendment, the country could be made bone dry tomorrow. But when the politicians who voted for Prohibition have no respect for the law they put upon our statutes, why should we expect integrity and honesty down the line?

How can there be any respect for a law which the minions of the law disobey, repeatedly? In a great city like New York, in the Autumn of 1922, innumerable policemen were found drunk while on duty--so much drunkenness had occurred that it was said on reliable authority that a murder a week occurred.

“POLICE MUST TELL HOW THEY GOT RUM”

was the heading in the New York _Times_ on October 16th. “Drastic regulations for dealing with policemen who drink” have been framed, and have been circulated in the Police Department. This is the text of the orders. Think of their being necessary!

“1. To the commanding officers:

“The following memorandum from the Police Commissioner is for your
information and guidance.

“In Mount Vernon any person found publicly intoxicated is arrested
and required to make an affidavit stating where he obtained the
liquor causing the intoxication. This affidavit is made the basis
of a search warrant, directing a search of the place selling the
liquor.

“This is but one of the many means which might be employed to put
an end to violation of the Prohibition law. The plan seems to work
out successfully in Mount Vernon.

“2. Intoxicated members of the force:

“Hereafter when members of the force are found to be suffering from
alcoholism to such an extent as to warrant charges signifying the
liquor has been obtained from persons who are violating the State
prohibition law, request the officers to make an affidavit stating
where they obtained this liquor. Take appropriate action in the
premises. If it is found that the officers have failed to take
proper action where the law has been violated additional charges
should be preferred against them and if the case is a serious one
they should be suspended from duty.

“3. Cabarets and dance halls:

“Cabarets and dance halls having resumed business for the Fall
and Winter season will be carefully inspected from time to time
and properly regulated. The majority of these places disregard
provisions of the prohibition law and should be given rigid
supervision.

“Commanding officers will see that music and dancing at these
places is stopped at 1 A.M., and that these places do not harbor an
undesirable element after that hour.”

I have spoken of uniformed men standing guard over a roomful of citizens in New York restaurants and cabarets. Alas! it is shockingly true. It is as though no other law existed, as I have said. To one who loves his country, his city, it is disgusting. The people writhe under the presence of the officer--but do nothing about it. What can they do? Could they not request the Mayor, or the Police Commissioner to stop such nonsense? And if the thing occurs in one restaurant, why not in all of them?

With my own eyes I have seen this petty exhibition. It is outrageous. Only one officer was in the place I visited. Yet I could not believe I was in free America.

The room was filled with beautifully dressed men and women. The dance floor was crowded. Upon every table, directly under the eye of the officer, was a drink. I am not saying that in each tumbler there was an alcoholic beverage--and probably the man in uniform did not wish to think so, either. But I wonder how any intelligent being could imagine that a lot of sophisticated Manhattanites would go out of an evening to a gay cabaret, and order lime-juice--unless they intended to mix something with it? Such folk are not plain ginger-ale consumers, as a rule--they purchase it to mingle with gin. White Rock is not their favorite beverage; neither is Clysmic. Yet bottles of these were evident everywhere. Anyone save a moron would have known why.

Yet solemnly up and down that room the officer walked, glancing here and there, hobnobbing now and again with a friendly waiter--who seemed to be on excellent terms with him. His journeys were rhythmically conceived and executed. For a moment or two he would stand glaring about him, his arms folded, after the manner of a soldier in the late War standing guard over military prisoners. Then he would amble, almost to the time of the music, to the farther side of the room. Instantly two hundred hands would slip under the tables, and flasks would be drawn forth, and a liquid that was certainly not water would be poured swiftly and deftly into various goblets. Then, when the officer swung back again on his rounds, the folk at the other side of the room would go through the same unbelievable performance. The man in uniform had eyes, but he saw not.

You see, the authorities had come out with a statement not long before, to the effect that it was not the man with the hip-flask whom they were after--only the citizen foolish and daring enough to slam his flask down openly upon a cabaret table. In other words, so delicate are the nuances of the law, that it is not an offense to drink behind your napkin, or behind a closed door; but it is a very terrible crime to reveal the fact that you have a container of alcohol on your person. Think of seriously pronouncing such a ukase, with the Mullan-Gage law still upon the records. I do not understand how City Magistrates, in New York, know how to interpret the law.

I was told that almost every evening an arrest or two is made in these hitherto happy cabarets; but generally the case is dismissed. The proprietor bails his patron out, and then the merry-go-round starts again next evening. Since this was written, the police have been withdrawn from New York cabarets--another confession of the failure to enforce the law.

But New York is full of insincerities. Conventions take place there, and we read a sanctimonious announcement in the papers that of course nothing alcoholic will be served at the banquets--that goes without saying. But up in Eddie’s room, on the eighteenth floor, a lot of grown-up men, in the city to discuss solemn business problems, find that sustenance which they desire and demand. The authorities, alarmed at the influx of so many virtuous men, give out the statement that it is well that they _are_ so virtuous, and not the kind of fellows who crave a drink; for the hootch in New York is notoriously foul (of course it isn’t, but that makes no difference to a Prohibition officer) and it would be unsafe to consume any of it. Many of these safe and sound business men, from all parts of the country, came out strong for the Eighteenth Amendment. They were Puritans--when it came to the other fellow’s habits. The little clerk would never rise to a position of importance--like theirs--if he took so much as a glass of beer. They forgot that they, in their youth--and ever since--had taken a daily nip. I am not saying that they are any the worse for it. I do know, however, that they are none the better, judging by their public utterances and their private behavior.

If there is one kind of human animal I have a supreme contempt for it is the so-called man who believes in Prohibition for you and me--but not for himself. I have heard bankers and Wall Street potentates hold forth with fervor on the salutary effects of the Volstead Act, since it has forced the poor laboring man to give up his ale and beer. He gets to work early now--there’s no need to worry about Monday morning in the factories throughout the land. There is no Saturday-night debauchery; and the bulging pay-envelope is taken home to the wife and children, with no extractions on the way at the corner saloon. Happiness reigns where penury and travail abided before. Production is mounting; there are no strikes to speak of, the prisons are emptying, crime has diminished, wife-beating is unheard of, and so on, _ad infinitum_.

Which would be delightful if it were true. Home brew goes rapturously on; and if Tim doesn’t bother to make it himself, he has a pal who does, and he purchases all the gin and beer he needs.

I am not saying this with any intention of approval. I am merely stating conditions as I have observed them. Those who shut their eyes to the facts and go blandly on their way, announcing that the country is bone dry when it is nothing of the sort, do immeasurable damage.

I remember when the Volstead Act first went into effect that I had a serious talk with myself. I came to the conclusion that nothing was more dangerous to this land of ours than a state of things which made it possible for the rich to drink continuously and the poor to be able to obtain nothing. I felt that I could not, with a clear conscience, go on having an occasional cocktail, if the laboring man down the street was deprived of his grog. For a month I absolutely followed the whisperings of that Inner Voice. Then I happened to go to a manufacturing town near Boston, and the work I was doing brought me into contact with the men in the shops there. Somehow the subject came up--I forget in just what way; and when my plan became known, a laugh greeted my ears.

“Don’t be such a jackass!” one of the fellows cried. “Why, we’re getting all we want, in spite of Mr. Volstead--we’re making it ourselves!”

My self-inflicted martyrdom ceased from that moment; and I must confess that I felt a bit foolish.

More people are drinking heavily now than in the old days--and, drinking inferior stuff, they are suffering more in consequence. The results of this have been put into a delightful rhyme by the clever James J. Montague who, in his way, is a genius. He turns out happy and technically fine verses every day for a syndicate, until one is amazed at his cleverness and seemingly endless chain of ideas. Listen to him:

_THE ELUSIVE MORAL_

Before there was a Volstead law
The village gossips used to mutter
In pitying accents when they saw
A friend and neighbor in the gutter:
“How dreadful was the fellow’s fall!
How terrible is his condition!
He wouldn’t be that way at all
If only we had prohibition!”

They knew the drunkards all by name,
And when they came around with edges
Some elderly and kindly dame
Would get their signatures to pledges.
And if they all appeared next day
Still far too merry and seraphic,
The troubled townsfolk used to say
Hard things about the liquor traffic.

To-day, when some good man goes wrong,
The villagers with whom he’s mingled
Observe his frequent bursts of song
And thus discover he is jingled.
“Too bad about that chap,” they cry,
“He might have kept his high position
If Volstead hadn’t made us dry--
What ruined _him_ is prohibition!”

There is some moral in this tale--
I fancied so when I designed it--
But I have searched without avail
For nearly half an hour to find it!