Written by Mike Matulewicz.
For many, the term “Prohibition” conjures up images of Al Capone’s Chicago. A city resplendent with gangland killings, raids on speakeasies, and Elliot Ness’ untouchables brigade. However, few realize that they can tap (no pun intended) into a rich Prohibition history in the Philadelphia area that gives “the windy city” a run for its money.
For the City of Brotherly Love, the 1919 ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment placed a long alcohol tradition in serious jeopardy. Since the arrival of William Penn, city liquor establishments had played a famous role in its history, economy, and culture. Colonial taverns had provided venues for meetings of revolutionaries to plot American Independence. Later, German immigrants created dozens of independent breweries in the aptly named Brewerytown section of the city. It was estimated that at the time of American independence there was 1 tavern for every 25 residents. However, one by one, breweries and watering holes were ordered to shut down as enforcement officers of the “great experiment” descended upon area establishments.
Yet alcohol consumption was not about to go quietly in a city containing such a heavy drinking tradition. Most flaunted the Prohibition laws and maintained illegal brewery operations and speakeasies; activities that were made possible by a corrupt, machine-run Philadelphia police force. Where alcohol was curtailed, bar owners would produce sometimes poisonous concoctions of liquor. Often made of isopropyl mixed with sugar and food coloring to imitate whiskey, these brews were even laced with chemicals as dangerous as formaldehyde. Such liquor was to claim scores of deaths in the city during Prohibition. One Philadelphia magistrate coined the phrase “block and fall liquor” noting that after taking a drink, a person would walk one block and then fall down.
Denounced by the governor for its approach to Prohibition, Philadelphia was targeted for a major enforcement overhaul in the mayoral election of 1923. In January of the following year, Marine general Smedley Darlington Butler was appointed Director of Public Safety. Given absolute control over the police and fire departments, Butler was an appropriate pick for the position. He had served illustriously in military campaigns from the Boxer Rebellion to the First World War and was well regarded for his honest reputation and commitment to discipline. True to his record, Butler attacked his task with unbridled tenacity, raiding saloons across the city and dismissing police lieutenants that he found derelict of duty.
As Dr. Charles Hardy III recorded in his 1982 oral history radio program, “I Remember When: Butler on the Beat,” the director’s forceful leadership and moralist attitude were not enough to eliminate the massive corruption that continued among his ranks. Speakeasies were tipped off before raids, graft was still prevalent, and the “Tenderloin district” between Callowhill and Spring Garden Streets continued to be a hotbed for liquor use and prostitution. Butler soon became frustrated and continually vocalized this to the press, causing rifts with public officials. He further antagonized the power brokers of Philadelphia when he extended his crackdown by raiding the hotels of the Philadelphia elite along South Broad Street. In December 1925, Butler left his post; bemoaning the one battle that veteran experience couldn’t win him.
After thirteen years of attempts at compulsory temperance, it soon became increasingly apparent that the handwriting was on the wall for National Prohibition. The Great Depression plunged the prosperous ideal-minded nation into despair. Inadequate federal funding and a lack of cooperation among federal and state officials created a nightmare of enforcement. On December 4th, 1933, Pennsylvania ratified the twenty-first amendment, putting an end to Prohibition in the Commonwealth.
Even though it may have ended over seventy years ago, remnants of Philly’s Prohibition past can be found in places across the city. In Center City, the Drake, a Spruce Street apartment building built in 1929, contains a secret door to a former speakeasy in a recently refurbished reception room. Chestnut Hill’s McNally’s Tavern is famous to locals and baseball fans for its “Schmitter” sandwich, named in honor of Phillies third-baseman Mike Schmidt. However, patrons may also notice the search warrant hung next to the front door recalling a 1920s raid on the establishment.
Mike Matulewicz, B.A. St. Josephs, is an adjunct professor of history at Atlantic Cape Community College. His senior honors thesis work documented the history of prohibition in Camden. His current field of study includes Philadelphia and American Urban history. His favorite drink: the Manhattan.
