20 / 60
18
MY
ROUSES
EVERYDAY
JULY | AUGUST 2016
the
Cocktail
issue
was sentenced to thirty days and a $25 fine.
Delmonico’s restaurant was also busted the same year,
and 20 gallons of wine, 75 bottles of “good liquor” (as
opposed to “bad” liquor?), one case of whiskey and two
dozen bottles of beer were found.
Giddy patrons of establishments were comfortable
navigating hidden passageways. It was all part of the
wicked thrill of being naughty. Illegal bars were called
speakeasies. Secret knocks, peepholes in doors and
passwords provided entry. Prominent customers were
recognized and readily accommodated.
Authorities didn’t care that Antoine’s, the country’s
oldest continuously operating family-owned restaurant
established in 1840, had a seemingly unisex bathroom.
But they did care that once inside, a door led to a secret
bar named the Mystery Room. Gentlemen would
saunter through the ladies room, then depart with
coffee cups containing their favorite libation.
It was unfortunate that Count Arnaud Cazenave,
bon vivant and former liquor salesman, opened his
eponymous restaurant in 1918, the year before the
Volstead Act was passed.
Arnaud’s dodge was also to serve liquor in coffee cups.
Luncheon was interrupted by the feds “turning an
inspection into a raid when they discovered coffee cups on some tables which
contained a liquid of an amber hue too pronounced to be tea, and not dark enough
to be coffee,” according to The Times-Picayune on January 22, 1922.The federal
agents discovered 16 bottles of assorted liquors, several bottles of Italian vermouth
and two bottles of Champagne in a storeroom. The self-titled count used his
mansion at the corner of Royal at Esplanade to hide bootleg and cases of wine.
Operating several different establishments, he consistently ran afoul of the
federal agents. Nevertheless, the law finally caught up with the count. He was
imprisoned for his flagrant violations and the restaurant briefly padlocked. A
convincing explanation of his spirited philosophy won over the jury of like-
minded New Orleanians, and he was acquitted. The count turned his infamy
into promotion for his restaurant.
The Old Absinthe House fell victim to the Eighteenth Amendment’s dry
agents and was padlocked for a year by an injunction of the U.S. Court in 1926.
The handsome marble absinthe fountain and antebellum bar were removed and
languished forgotten in a warehouse.They were finally returned to the Bourbon
Street establishment.
Maylie’s Restaurant had the temerity to serve wine during a banquet earlier
that year and was subsequently raided. Equally audacious, Tujague’s waiters
circulated throughout their establishment with bottles secreted in their aprons.
Curtained booths at the Crescent City Steakhouse allowed sly additions to a
cup of coffee. Galatoire’s on Bourbon Street took advantage of its second floor
dining rooms in a well-mannered nod to discretion.
Thinking ahead, a member of the Stratford Club custom built and stocked
two huge new cellars with over 5,000 bottles of wine, taking advantage of a
loophole that stated liquor purchased before the act could be legally consumed
for personal use.
Stockpiling alcoholic beverages became the norm. The Southern Yacht Club
served their signature cocktail,The Pink Lady, under the personal use provision.
The Holland House, now Ralph’s on the Park, was also known to provide a
drink or two. Or more.
Not to be left out, the Press Club was a popular watering hole for reporters after
covering raids, legal proceedings and trials. It was a haven where they quoted
federal agents saying the offending places were “alive” with “joy-riding” parties.
Yet when it came time to announce the end of Prohibition, the local newspaper
The Times-Picayune
devoted only one column to the story.
Certainly, few in the city had waited nearly 14 years for a drink.
New Orleans greeted the news with a shrug.
[TOP] The Old Absinthe House [BOTTOM RIGHT] photo courtesy Arnaud’s Restaurant