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In Chasing the White Dog (Simon & Schuster, Feb. 16), journalist Max Watman takes a lively, if often meandering, look at the at once revered and reviled tradition of distilling moonshine, and how the industry has shaped American culture in unexpected ways.
History buffs with a taste for the hard stuff will fall in love with the tremendously researched parallels Watman draws between bootlegging and the formative years of our democracy. He discusses at length the Whiskey Rebellion, which saw liquor makers at odds with government tariffs on hooch relocate from southwestern Pennsylvania to then-unregulated states like Kentucky and Tennessee, which are now synonymous with our country's distilling tradition. The author also does a great job of spiking discussion of Hamilton and Jefferson's at-odds governmental philosophies — usually the bone-dry stuff of poli-sci science textbooks — with insights into how Jefferson deftly parlayed his distaste for liquor taxation into the presidency.
Archival dexterity aside, Watman is at his strongest when it comes to profiling the vibrant (and almost entirely male) cast of characters that serve as moonshining's surprisingly diverse ambassadors. There are the so-called "good ol' boys" of Franklin County, Va., where nearly everyone (except one despised special agent) shrugs off the federal offense; NASCAR legend Junior Johnson, who ran liquor before he ran the tracks; and a guy named "Skillet," who befriends Watman and shares with him an insider's look into moonshine's prevalence among poor African-Americans.
Watman's explorations into 'shine and the black community — it's wrongly thought of as the exclusive trade of freckled white boys in overalls with straw between their teeth — also takes the narrative to Philly, which has been characterized as the capital of illegal "nip joints," or shot bars. In fact, in 2002, a disastrous explosion on a North Philly block led to the ATF uncovering a large-scale illegal distillery producing booze with an estimated black-market value of nearly $10 million.
White Dog sags when Watman drops himself into his narrative. The multiple chapters measuring his own attempts to make liquor at home are interminable — he's an excitable hobbyist, which means he often gets eye-crossingly wrapped up in technical details. (A large chunk of one chapter recounting a visit to Home Depot for the proper metal fixtures to construct a DIY whiskey still is about as interesting as it sounds.) The chapter on Johnson focuses far too much on Watman's experience driving a race car; the portions dealing with America's burgeoning craft distilling scene are info-packed but inside baseball. It's an imperfect read, yes, but Watman's deep passion for American-made liquor — illegal or not — will appeal to those on the same high-proof high.
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