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A BEGINNNERS GUIDE TO MINING CAMPS
AND ROT GUT WHISKY
Mining History article by Harold Hough Oct/Nov 2009
There is the story of the miner who walks into a saloon and moseys up
to the bar. “I’ll take a whisky,” he orders, “and
make it the good stuff.” The bartender slaps a small glass onto the
bar, pulls a bottle off the back shelf, and pours him a shot. The miner
grabs it up and gulps it down. He pounds on his chest a couple of times
and lets out a yell. “That’s some powerful Red Eye you got their
barkeep. I’ll take another.”
Unless the miner was in a city, the chances were pretty good that whatever
was served, it sure wasn’t the “good stuff.” In fact, it
was once said that anyone who could afford the $5 for a barrel of alcohol
could open up a saloon.
Although there were good drinks that were shipped from the East like Old
Overholt, Cutter, Old Crow, and Old Gideon, the long trek overland meant
that most “whisky” was made locally from any ingredients the
saloon owner could buy.
The basic ingredient was usually raw alcohol from back east and whatever
ingredients the saloon owner thought provided the proper “bouquet.”
That often included creosote, burnt sugar, wood chips, and chewing tobacco.
If the bartender purchased his whisky “ready made” it was usually
100 proof, but he didn’t necessarily serve it that way. He would
usually cut it with such things as turpentine or ammonia to make it go
further, and quite possibly he added a few ingredients of his own like
gunpowder or cayenne.
But, bartenders didn’t limit themselves to eastern alcohol or cheap
whisky. Local brews could also be the base of their rotgut. Long before
California wines were in style, monks created vineyards in the San Francisco
area in the 18th century. Some entrepreneurs would buy the wine and distill
it into brandy, which would be the base of the local tanglefoot. In California,
there was also mescal, which was made from distilled agave juice and salt.
In the southwest Taos Lightning, a corn or wheat based liquor was a popular
base for “whisky.”
No matter what it was made of, the names were the same; Tanglefoot, rot
gut, red eye, coffin varnish, ditch water, firewater, bug juice, pine
top and forty rod. The name “Forty rod” has to do with the fact
that it was so powerful, it could kill a man before he could walk that
far after drinking the stuff.
The rotgut may be bad, but at least it was cheap and profitable. A gallon
of whisky cost the proprietor 25 cents per gallon. The customer paid an
average of 25 cents for two glasses. In a remote mining camp, you might
pay as much a 25 cents a shot. The good stuff might cost $2.50 per gallon.
Despite the low prices, it was not uncommon for the average miner to spend
a third of his wage on drink
There were some “cocktails” made in those days by mining camp
bartenders. They included Cactus Wine, made from a mix of tequila and
peyote tea, and Mule Skinner, made with whiskey and blackberry liquor.
Pisco Punch, made with Peruvian Pisco brandy, tasted like whisky, but
with a fruity taste.
But the majority of western saloon regulars drank straight liquor –
generally the saloon brand. If a man ordered a fancy Eastern drink or
sipped his drink, he was often ridiculed unless the locals knew him. Unknowns,
especially foreigners who often nursed their drinks, were sometimes forced
to swallow a fifth of 100 proof rot gut at gunpoint "for his own
good."
Which brings us to the subject of barroom protocol. A drunk miner might
not be blamed for firing a few rounds into the ceiling, but he wouldn’t
be forgiven for hitting the mirror behind the bar, which had to be freighted
over the trails from the east. Another custom was to offer to treat the
man standing next to you to a drink. If a stranger arrived and didn't
make the offer, he would often be asked why he hadn't done so. Even worse,
was refusing a drink, which was considered a terrible insult, regardless
of the quality of the rot gut that might be served. On one such occasion
at a Tucson saloon, a man who refused the offer was taken from bar to
bar at gunpoint until "he learned some manners."
Nor were saloons a place to “get in touch with your inner self or
ask intimate questions like they are today. With their varied and often
shady backgrounds, curiosity was considered impolite by most miners and
westerners. Everyone’s pasts were respected and were not inquired
about. For example, one would never ask a miner how much gold he was taking
out of his claim because that would be like asking a man to see his income
tax return today.
Although alcohol was usually shipped in, as many mining camps turned into
towns, some enterprising person would open a brewery. Bars served a lot
of beer, although it was served at near room temperature as it was in
Europe (not a problem as many miners were from Europe). Nor, was it beer
as we know it today. It didn’t have much of a head and it would go
flat real fast. This was a problem for those miners who brought a pail
of beer to the mine for a bit of lunch time refreshment. It wasn't until
the 1880's that Adolphus Busch introduced artificial refrigeration and
pasteurization to the U.S. brewing process, launching Budweiser as a national
brand.
The Old West did give America one well known beer. Adolph Coors did a
lot of things before he found his natural calling, including being a bookkeeper,
a laborer, a fireman, a bricklayer, a gardener, and a stone cutter. In
1873, Coors moved to Denver and partnered up with a local confectioner
and started up the Golden Brewery. 7 years later Coors had made enough
money to buy out his partner and take sole ownership. The rest, as they
say, is history.
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