The first three years I worked in this county, it was "dry," but I lived in a
"wet" county nearby. Every Thursday for those three years, I came into the
courthouse trying not to let others on the elevator (lift) hear the sloshing
noise of what I had in the big paper sack, which was a half-gallon of Scotch
whisky for Judge Bullard's secretary, who was one of my favorite people. (No
romance there; she was at least 30 years older than me.) Then the county
finally voted "wet" (1973 or '74, I think) and there were at least three liquor
stores that sprang up on her way to and from the courthouse, so I was relieved
of my bootlegging duties. Folks used to talk about "crossing the river," which
was "code" for going over the Chattahooche to Fulton County to buy booze.
Walt
--
"Anything more than 500 yards from
the car just isn't photogenic." --
Edward Weston
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