Couldn’t have said it better myself, Mr. Hanauer.
The following was written by Albert M. Hanauer of the famous Hamburger Distillery (Bridgeport, PA). It was published in 1914 in The Wine & Spirits Bulletin, a pre-Prohibition industry journal “devoted to the Interests of the Wine and Spirit Trade”. A.M. Hanauer was Phillip Hamburger’s business partner and brother-in-law. (The article was accompanied by similar articles written by other prominent industry men representing their own spirits.)
RYE WHISKEY
“Rye whisky and wry faces do not go together. Sit down at home, at the club or cafe, and when the choice, mild, mellow, and matured rye whisky is served, you see before you the finest drink man is capable of distilling from grain. You smile in contemplation, and comprehend how the expression arose, “Give me a smile,” meaning a drink*, around which clusters only smile, laughter and joyousness, the good story brimful of wit and humor and laughter. One can understand why the salvation lassies get their best pickings from the lovers of rye. One recalls Bobby Burns and his sweet songs of the rye fields, taught us in childhood’s happy hours. Was it not Bismarck, the greatest statesman of the nineteenth century, and himself the proprietor of a distillery, who remarked, “Beer is for women, wine for men, and rye for heroes.
“In our country, with its rush and bustle and perpendicular drinking, one finds that some men do not understand the fine art of eating and drinking and living. You sometimes see such a man rush up to the bar, order a fine old rye, gulp it down, take some water, and rush out again. That is like turning somersaults in church—it is a sacrilege. Oh, no, my friend; that is not the way to do. Don’t start a conflagration in your stomach and then start the fire department after it. Perpendicular drinking leads to oblique vision. The right way is to greet King Rye with ceremony, reverence, and affection, which his age, his strength, his spirit, his purity, and his birth demand. Treat him right, and he will see that you are treated right; abuse him and he will see that you suffer. He permits you to look into nature’s mirror. The law of compensation holds fast—” whatever you do to him you do to yourself.” Sit down, my friend, and ask for a choice real old rye, a nectar fit for the gods. Pour it slowly; feast your eyes on its golden hues. Is it the golden fleece for which the argonauts of old strived? Inhale its exquisite aroma; enjoy its superb bouquet; it brings to the mind’s eye the smiling rye fields, the rye waving joyously in the sun, and the troop of happy children passing through. Look again, and the liquid amber, coupled with the word Monongahela, bring remembrances of George Washington (who also owned a distillery) and the stirring days of the whisky insurrection. Look again, and you see another of the immortals, Lincoln, selling it. Pour a little more; that is incense, indeed. See the crown of nature’s beads that puts a diadem on King Rye. It is the essence of summer days concentrated in crystal. A proper palace for King Rye.
“Pick him up carefully, handle with care; Fashioned so charmingly and debonair.”
