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| After the Portland Rum Riots the national press featured cartoons like this with a thuggish, heavily armed, monkey faced Irishman as the face of the Mob. These exposed the fear and prejudice that drove more and more American Protestants into the arms of the Temperance/Prohibition movement. |
A lot of people were
surprised when Maine became the
first state to enact a prohibition law way
back in 1851. None were more surprised
than the inhabitants of Portland, a
busy seaport and the home to a large, and somewhat rowdy Irish population plus a good many wine loving French-Canadians. They were
said to consume more alcohol per
capita than any other city in America—and
that was a lot even by the thirsty standards of the early 19th Century.
Over 300 establishments
served or sold alcohol along a stretch of street near the wharves, some of it
by the dram over the bar, some in jugs and bottles, and some in open tubs to be
ladled out to outstretched tin cups. Previously,
by law employers were expected to provide rum
breaks to laborers at 11 AM and 4 PM.
Although beer, wine,
and other distilled liquors were available the drink of the masses was
rum. And on the rum trade and the
distillery business most of the big and fashionable houses of the local merchant elite had been built. Raw sugar imported from the Caribbean was made into rum for
domestic consumption and for export. The
wealth rolled in.
So how could such a
state and city become the first to ban the manufacture, sales, and consumption
of alcohol? The credit or blame goes to
the tireless efforts of Neal S. Dow,
a Quaker and reformer who became
known as the Napoleon of Temperance
and the Father of Prohibition. Sailors on the ships calling in Portland and
the local Irish rabble called him more colorful names.
Born in 1804 he was a
life-long teetotaler and an early
zealot of the infant anti-alcohol movement.
He had helped found the Maine
Temperance Society in 1827. When
that group proved to be less than absolutist—they only wanted to ban the distilled
spirits and beer of working people while allowing the sale and consumption of
wine, the preferred beverage of the privileged elite—he split off and created
the absolutely 100% dry Maine Temperance
Union ten years later.
Unlike many reformers,
Dow was not above getting his hands dirty in electoral politics. In fact he turned out to be a gifted
politician. The first efforts to enact
state-wide prohibition began in the Legislature in 1837. It was soundly defeated, but undeterred
supporters came back year after year.
The influx of Irish immigrants in the 1840’s frightened Maine Yankees. Support for prohibition grew as Dow and other
supporters painted lurid pictures of depravity among the unwelcome aliens. Prohibition quickly became a vengeful arrow
point straight at the heart of the immigrant community. By 1849 supporters got enough support to get
a bill through the legislature, but failed to get the Governor’s signature.
In April of 1851 Dow
was elected Mayor of Portland. He put all of powers of persuasion and
political clout to reviving the bill.
Again it passed both Houses—many voted for it fully expecting, and
hoping that the new Governor, John
Hubbard would veto it. Dow got
Hubbard’s ear and persuaded or pressured him to sign, which he did on June 2 of
that year.
The national press
dubbed it the Maine Law and
Temperance forces around the country began pressuring state legislators to copy
it. Dow was hailed as the hero of the
movement and was invited to be the keynote speaker at the convention of the
largest national Temperance society.
Portland voters,
including not only the scummy Irish, but the small merchants who had operated
all of those dram shops, bars, and grocery stores that sold liquor, and plenty
of thirsty Protestants as well, had
a different view. They handily threw Dow
out of office in the next election.
The legislature was
also under pleasure and began to ease both the terms of prohibition and the
enforcement of the unpopular measure.
Within a few years the rum trade was almost back to normal with various
exemptions and exceptions and “home bars” serving the needs of the thirsty.
Undeterred, Dow ran
again—and lost again—on a promise of rigorous enforcement in 1854. The following year, with the public support
of the new Republican Party and the
clandestine support of the secret, nativist
Know Nothings, Dow got his old job back by a razor thin 47 vote margin.
He acted as if he had
been given an overwhelming mandate and began once again clamping down on the
liquor trade. The thirsty native grew
restless.
In late May of 1851
rumors began to spread that a large supply of liquor, supposedly belonging to
Dow, was being kept in the City Hall
basement and would be sold at the Mayor’s private profit. The rumors were half true. A large shipment of alcohol did arrive at
City Hall, and it was slated for sale.
But the booze was bought by the city for strictly controlled sale for
“medical and industrial” uses as outlined in the State law. It was to be sold by a city owned liquor
store on the first floor the building.
The angry Irish,
suspecting criminal hypocrisy took advantage of a state law that allowed any
three citizens to petition a judge for a search
warrant, if they believed a crime had been committed. Judges were required to grant the
warrant. Which a local judge did.
A crowd of about 200
men marched from the Court House to City Hall on the afternoon of June 2,
coincidently the anniversary date of the adoption of the state prohibition
law. They presented their warrant at the
door and demanded to be admitted to carry out a lawful search. Not only were they not admitted, but local
law enforcement authorities made it clear that they would not execute the
warrant or conduct a search.
A stand-off of sorts
happened. But the crowd grew as men
heard of the affair and got off work. By
early evening many, some say over a thousand, were angrily milling about and
making threats to rush the building.
There was pushing and shoving and some rock throwing.
Dow called out the
local Militia. When they arrived they gave the crowd one
order to disperse, probably not even heard by most. Then, on Dow’s personal and direct order, the
Militia opened fire on the crowd.
Twenty-two year old John Robbins,
an immigrant and first mate of a
costal merchant ship was killed outright.
At least 7 more were injured, including, apparently at least some
bystanders.
Despite heavy public
criticism for excessive use of force, Dow expressed no remorse. On the contrary, he bragged about “doing his
duty” in letters to other national Temperance leaders. He never expressed condolences to the
families of the dead and wounded. He
characterized them as members of a savage, uncivilized mob. A local group of Temperance women presented
him with a large silver cup in gratitude and he accepted it with pride.
But he could not get
re-elected. He was ousted by a wide vote
and never regained job again.
Over the next few years
the legislature alternately loosened and tightened prohibition laws. But agitation over Abolition—another of Dow’s causes—put prohibition on the back
burner.
When the Civil War broke out, Dow, still a
powerful figure in the Republican Party, had no problem being appointed Colonel
of the 13th Maine Infantry. He served under General Benjamin Butler in the capture of New Orleans and was promoted to Brigadier General and was eventually placed in command of the District of Florida. In an assault on Port Hudson in Louisiana he
was badly injured and evacuated to a plantation home for care. He was captured by Confederate forces and served 7 months in a prison camp before he
was exchanged for Robert E. Lee’s son
General Fitzhugh Lee. In broken health, he left the Army.
After the war and after
recovering from his wounds, Dow threw himself with customary energy back into
his two passions—Temperance and politics.
In 1865 he helped found a new organization, the National Temperance Society and Publishing House which became the vigorous
propaganda arm of the movement churning out books, pamphlets, and tracks that
flooded the nation. Eventually he saw
dozens of state adopt versions of the Main Law.
Politics was
tougher. Despite the cachet of being a
Union General and wounded war hero—credentials enough to launch scores of
political careers, and being a powerful figure in the most dominate Republican
Party in the country, he was still so hated by the mass of Portland’s working
classes that he could not hope to win any elective office. Moreover as the years wore on he became
disenchanted with what he considered the Republican Party’s tepid support of
prohibition policies.
In1880 he abandoned his
ties to the Republicans and at the age of 76 accepted the Prohibition Party nomination for President. He garnered only
10,000 popular votes and placed a distant fourth place with James A. Garfield, Democrat Winfield Scott Hancock, and James Baird Wheeler of the Greenbacks. He thus departed the national political
scene as something of a ridiculous figure.
Dow lived on until
October 7, 1897 when he died at the age of 93.
He left his house to the cause to which he dedicated his life. It is the long time headquarters of Maine’s Women’s Christian Temperance Union and
a shrine to his memory. It was declared
a National Historic Site in 1974.
Ironically, after the
adoption of national Prohibition in 1919, Portland became a prime center for
smuggling whiskey by boat from Canada and
Scotland.
Maine
ratified
the Twenty-first Amendment to the Constitution
in December of 1933 only after the required 36 state had acted to end
prohibition. The state law was
overturned at the same time, which was upheld in a statewide referendum in
1934.
Today, despite the 20
old ladies of the WCTU who still gather at Dow House, Maine drinks as the
nation drinks.
