Adirondack guides “Red” Jack Conklin (sitting) and Ed Robertson. Photograph by Grotus Reising, about 1898.

COURTESY EDWARD BLANKMAN (THE LLOYD BLANKMAN COLLECTION)

Lloyd Blankman

Everybody up around Wilmurt knew “Red” Jack Conklin. He was youthful, strong and rugged. He liked to hunt, fish and trap and was good at all three sports, mostly for pleasure. Both Jack and his brother “Roc” the bear hunter, story teller and trapper liked their whiskey.

When the Volstead Act was passed by Congress, for a time whiskey was hard to get. Soon, however, moonshine became available at a high price. It was then Jack conceived the idea that it would be cheaper to make it than to buy it.

After searching through Utica, Herkimer and other places, he gathered enough materials and instructions to make a small still of sorts. It held only about three gallons of mash but did quite well in providing enough moonshine to drink.

Soon his friends began tapping this supply and buying some from him. He kept his still running most of the time and sold several hundred gallons. Of course, there were other stills, and markets began to shrink.

One day word came through by the grapevine that the revenue men were coming. This called for action. Out to the woods behind a log covered with brush went the still. Down the brook went the mash. The moonshine on hand was too good to be wasted, but there was more than they could drink, so why not bottle it?

Somewhat woozy but able to walk and carry a load, Jack gathered up the bottles, filled and corked them, and in some way carried them back into a swamp formed by springs. Here he pushed all the bottles down into the mire out of sight.

His work and precaution was all in vain, for the revenue officers never appeared. However, he never set up his still again. After everything quieted down a day or two, Jack decided it was time to have another drink. He went out to the swamp after a bottle, but to his dismay, not one bottle of moonshine could he find. He searched and searched but to no avail.

Many years later, toward the close of his life, Jack was ailing and thought some cowslip greens would make him feel better. So Jack went to the swamp with a large pan and started to pick some marsh marigolds, or cowslips.

After getting his pan partially filled, while reaching for a bunch of greens, he spied a cork sticking out of the water. Reaching down into the water, he found a bottle of his long-lost moonshine. Out of the pan went the greens into their place went bottle after bottle of luscious liquid. For many days thereafter Jack Conklin was a happy man.