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’ THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. fascinating exceptions. They will pre- sent no social problem.except the old one of accumulated and seasoned wealth. But when we pass down the line from these generals of the strange in- dustry to colonels and captains and pri- vates, we begin to find those possibilities of trouble inherent in the liquidation of prohibition. Beer first: That quarter-measure will probably give us the first glimpse into the situation we have to face. I am writing at the moment when Congress has just passed the 3.2 per cent bill, but when the State has not yet settled the details of regulation. And the small and medium sized fry of the beer game who gathered in the lobbies. at the recent Jeby-Dundee fight seemed most amaz- ingly cheerful as they faced the imme- diate future. Frankly, all except perhaps the big violators saw prosperity and opportunity in the new law. A year or two hence, when the eighteenth amend- ment passes to the junk heap, the story will be different. But this gentry is not endowed with much foresight; for them, a year is a long time to think ahead. To understand their attitude, one must understand the present status of beer manufacture on Manhattan Island. It is no longer centralized. Modern in- vention has taken care of them. Ten years ago home brewing, whether for consumption or sale, was a trade, not a process. It required considerable tech- nical skill, and the product tended to be cloudy in appearance and unsatisfactory in taste. The first great advance came when the breweries began to put out “wurt,” or malt extract, in cans. The home brewer could buy it, without vio- lating the law, in almost any chain store. To make beer, he needed in addition only a five-gallon crock, a yeast cake, a pound or two of sugar and a box of bottle caps. The resultant product was cloudy at the bottom, but otherwise a great im- provement on the old home brew. Many small restaurants, many “beer flats” made their own by this cheap process. Then the brewers put out “ex- tract”—another great advance. This is simply unfermented beer, sold usually in five-gallon cans. It contains no alcohol whatever, so that dealer and purchaser portant speakeasies, housed not in small flats and old brick houses of the down- town quarter, but in million-dollar apartment or office buildings. Pro- prietors of such establishments cannot maintain brewing machinery or even ferment beer extract in the cellar. The owners of the Building would not permit this; the commercial risk is too great. They patronize the big shots at a current price of $18.50 for a 31-gallon barrel. The rule of our beer barons has been rather tolerant, When these places begin to expand to a point where their custom becomes worthwhile—then the agent for the beer baron steps in and adds it to his list. The New York bootlegger, unlike his brother of Chicago, usually accom- plishes this process of graft without any shooting. This city has been in the business of graft for a long time; we have refined our methods. The pressure is not the threat of death at the hands of a ma- chine-gun squad, but that of reporting him and having him raided until he behaves. This usually works. If it doesn’t, the reluctant customer may find some morning that a comparative stranger, with his own staff, has taken over the place, lock, stock and barrel. What can he do about it? Nothing. The new management stands protected all along the line. They scrap his ma- chinery and take possession of his bar fixtures. If it suits the diplomacies of the situation, they may retain him, at least for a time, as front man on a salary or on a share of the profits. Otherwise, he is out and his stock in trade has passed to other hands. The big beer men have refrained from applying this pres- sure to the horde of little people because that game seems hardly worth the candle. If prohibition had gone its serene, untroubled way, increasing com- petition might have driven them to gather up the small fry and chiselers. But when Congress passed the beer bill that time had not yet arrived. Why, then, are the boys so serene and happy over their immediate prospects? For a variety of complex reasons. To begin with the little fellow: His beer, which he usually makes himself, is not C, APRIC 2, 71933 bellywash of 3-and-a-decimal per cent. Its alcoholic content runs as high as 6 or 7 per cent. He could not keep within the legal limit even if he wished—that takes special apparatus which he does not possess. His regular run of custom- ers may thus prefer its kick to the su- perior flavor of the brewer’s product. HE has confidence, at this moment, that the State law will debar anything .resembling the old saloon. That is all to the good. His average run of customers would rather drink at the bar or at a sociable table adjacent than in & beer garden with extraneous, expensive music and solid refreshment. And, finally, the speakeasy proprietor in common with the whole beer business, actually hopes that the beer law will reduce his expenses— for a time at least. 3 As I have shown, one can manufacture Origin of Name, “Lame Duck!” By Adelaide E. Fieldin sion is rapidly waning, oldtimers on Capit6l Hill are anxiously seeking the origin of this curious term. Why should Congressmen, many of whom do not resemble any fowl, tame or wild, and who have never been known to limp, either mentally or physically, be called “ducks,” or even “lame ducks”? Now that the last “lame duck” ses- . _All departments of the Library of Con- gress have been besieged with inquiries, and both James D. Preston, librarian of the Senate, and Francis M. Sadd of the legislative reference service, have made extensive researches into the meaning and usage of the famous old American political term. But no one can say ex- actly when “lame duck” was first used in its present political sense. Even Sena- tor Norris, who for 10 years has waged a and 10 years later the same author wrote,” “I may be lame but I shall never be a duck, nor deal in the garbage of the alley.” The term continued to be popular in England in its financial sense during the early nineteenth century, when J. Beres- ford, in 1806 mentioned “attending at the stock exchange on settling day amidst the quack of ducks, the bellow- ings of bulls, and the growls of bears,” and Macaulay, in 1832, spoke of “frauds of which a lame duck on the stock ex- change would be ashamed.” Even Thackeray adds another amusing usage ‘of the term, when a character in Vanity Fair (1847), says: “Unless I see Amelia’s 10,000 down you don’'t marry her. I'll have no lame duck’s daughter in my family.” And then in 1865 comes the earliest known American record of the term, but sill in the English Stock Exchange sense, when a financial article in Harper’s Magazine, referring to Wall Street opera- tors of the day, says: “All, or nearly all, have been lame ducks at some time or other; that is to say, owe money which they cannot pay.” A year later Thomas Nast’s cartoon of the much-hated Johnson, caricaturing him as a “dead duck” came out. Since “lame duck” meant a defaulter, “dead duck” came after this to be applied to absolute bankrupts. It is probable that the cartoon drawn by this extremely popular artist started the career of the term in its purely American sense as applied to defeated Congressmen who continued to meet in session under con- ditions which the twentieth amendment will make impossible after this year. In the Senate and the House the more dignified members have seldom used the actual term “lame duck” on the floor, where offense might be taken, but have referred more often to the “embarrass- ment” suffered by their defeated com- rades in such a situation. However, it will be remembered that both Senators Bing- ham and McKellar did not hesitate to re- ferto the “so-called ‘lameduck’ joint reso- lution” in March, 1932, on the fioor, while Henry 8t. George Tucker in the House in ~1928 said, “You know that ducks always march in a long row, one after another.” And the most dignified usage of this extremely undignified term wag in the announcement which came from the Department of State on February 6, 1933, of the certification of the validity of the twentieth amendment, referred to in parentheses as the “lame duck amendment.” Loaned By Elizabeth Dillingham Hart Yes, I have put his heart away Carefully, where none can touch. Hearts tarnish, fingered overmuch And he will want his back sqme day. Gift? It’s plain you do not see! This is just a loan to me— One month, two months—maybe threc Till I can keep the feel of foam Curling round my finger-tips; Taste moon-honey on my lips And bring the fire from dragons home; Skip with cobwebs for a rope— Till that day I shall not hope Gifts are quite within his scope. b4 r—m illicit beer for a trifiing sum. The real cost lies In the overhead—graft. The art of keeping a speakeasy lies in know- ing who must be “seen” and who can be ignored. When the beer law becomes operative, the emphasis of Federal con~ trol will shift from prohibition to reve- nue. The authorities at Washington will be raiding, padlocking and prosecuting not because the offender has violated a law which has a moral basis, but be- cause he is evading taxation. However, to alter the ponderous course of Gov- ernment operations takes time. Further, the optimistic bootlegger be- lieves that the Federal authorities will make no undue effort to enforce the beer law in all its aspects. Every one realizes that it is a sop, pending settlement of the larger liquor question by repeal of the eighteenth amendment. In these circumstances, the bootlegger believes that he can cross off from his budget the very considerable item for Federal protection. . Of course, this cannot last forever. The big boys know that, if the small fry do not. Eventually, driven by the need for ready cash, the Govern- ment will get round to harrying and prosecuting evaders of the revenue law, Further, up to now the illicit liquor ¥ business has met no organized opposition from legitimate business. But as the new 3.2 brew gets its stride, the big brewers will exert powerful pressure for law enforcement. Meantime, the retail- ers and distributors intend cheerfully to carry on. They are already discussing tricks gnd devices. This, for instance:| A prosperous restaurant, now dealing in beer manufactured in its own convenient cellar, with flourish and display, will buy two barrels a day of legal brew. But it uses, in the ordinary course of busi- ness, five barrels a day. The other three will come from its cellar—as usual. Any one who knows the workings of the pro- hibition law knows how difficult it will be to detect or prosecute such violations. Astottheblctenows: In the third week of President Roosevelt’s admin« limit the alcoholic content of tioned product, whether it be controlled by the States or by private business, will pay heavy taxes and will-be held to cer« tain standards. The bootlegger, dodg« ing taxes and ignoring standards, ean and will undersell. That is happening now in some Canadian provinces. . However, this may prove only a minor nuisance, after all. The human wreck- age from our historic blunder of 1920 that, so far as any one can see now, will constitute the major problem. Big boot~ legging, except perhaps as it relates to the prohibition States, will disappear, change their habits of life, however, Even now, when bootlegging furnishes them support, they are jacks of many other criminal trades—narcotics, policy, commercialized : vice and, especially, rackets on ordinary, legitimate business, When we have knocked away their chiet economic prop they will turn in swarms to those other flelds—a nuisance to the police and a lingering plague to society.