The End of Prohibition
Down the alley, to the right, at the back of the building. Knock, say the magic word, and gain admission to a place where there were no laws – no boundaries – that couldn’t be forgotten.
Scofflaws – the men and women who literally scoffed at the law – sipped cocktails made from harsh strong illegal liquor made thick – and drinkable – by the addition of sugar and sweet juices.
Dark-skinned musicians played jazz as light-skinned gals danced the Charleston, their short sparkling dresses catching the eyes of their gangster boyfriends who held court in the corner booth.
The men might later deliver a barrel of illegal liquor to another club or procure more product from a secret source. They were businessmen who were simply, as bootlegger Al Capone once said, “giving the people what they want.”
The lines between past and future, white and black, and right and wrong were smudged and blurry in this world, if they remained at all.
This was Prohibition-era America.
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