All he did was mispronounce her name. "Mr. MacLardy," she said coldly, as he lay stunned at her feet, "it's pronounced 'Mah-gaow.' Not 'Muh-goo.' If you disrespect my name again, you'll suffer a fate much worse than lying on a barroom floor. "Do we understand each other Sir?"
Stakes were high in the 1920’s bootlegging scene, and Bootsie was on edge. She was being hunted - and she knew it. By the way, MacLardy soiled himself. Neither he, nor anyone else in that room, would ever mispronounce her name again.
Bootleggers Trail was no place for the faint of heart and Bootsie broke many of such during her run. Flapper by “day” and Bootlegger by “night”, she was an existential threat to the heartless traversing Bootleggers Trail.
To me, it was not a mystery why she was so successful. Everyone wanted a piece of Bootsie Magou, friend or foe, and her Bourbon was the closest you could get.
For days it had felt like something was amiss, so it was no surprise when he showed up at my door. Prior to his arrival, I frequently observed Bootsie deep in thought, her gaze intense, distracted, and her movements deliberate. I knew better than to interrupt.
"He" was Eldrid Alan Asker, perhaps the only person who may have had a clue. Bootsie's circle was small. There were few people she trusted, but "Ellee," as she called him, was one of them. He was a southern gentleman who lived in New York City and had relatives scattered along the Gold Coast of Long Island.
Eldrid proceeded to tell me that Bootsie was nowhere to be found. He handed me a box saying he'd been instructed to deliver it to me personally if she ever disappeared. His look and tone were somber, and yet something about his energy, his countenance, exuded what could only be interpreted as excitement. Maybe even hope. What was going on, I wondered. Did he know where Bootsie was? Was her absence planned?The box contained four items, well, actually five:
1. A copper penny with a mature, umber brown, honey caramelized appearance
2. A candle with the aroma of woody oak char, vanilla-soaked ripened berries with a hint of herbaceous spice
3. A taste of chocolate glazed with caramel, ripened berry puree, vanilla drizzle, roasted nuts
4. A handwritten note, "My Love, I wish to feel your warm embrace. We will be together again"
Oh, and the 5th item? A bottle of Bootsie’s Bourbon to finish.
By early 1929 it was widely known that Bootsie was a “wanted woman.” She was being hunted, not only by law enforcement, but also by intrepid bootlegger racketeers. Problem was, only intimate few knew what she looked like and her true identity. Her pursuers were chasing the lore of Bootsie and coming up empty-handed over and over and over again.
Simply, every time the police showed up, they were greeted by an empty room void of anything, except for the bar top. Bootsie always left an empty glass and a single bottle of her Bourbon, ready-to pour when informed of an impending raid. Afterall, she was never one to be rude to her establishment guests, even the ones trying to find and punish her.
My opinion, the officers appreciated her gesture, although it infuriated Capt. Babsky. They understood her struggle was against the political establishment, not the men and women that kept the streets of bootleggers trail safe.By this time, law enforcement and the masters of Bootleggers Trail wanted to shut her down. Bootsie’s booze had taken over the underworld scene of high society libation. She was the hotbed of hooch but never left a trace of impropriety for others to latch unto.
In spite of, and perhaps, because of the mystery that surrounded her, the legend and stature of Bootsie's bourbon grew as the heat was turned up on her operation. It became a symbol of defiance against the oppressive restrictions of prohibition.
If you had a Bootsie in hand, you were one of us, one of the people. It was maddening to those trying to hunt her down, and the booze (and Bootsie) lovers among us took joy in knowing that. We felt lucky to have trusted friends in high places…and in low ones.
“Kentucky this, Kentucky that…you’re all a bunch of backward shuckers if you ask me”, Bootsie answered when asked if she wanted to set up shop and distribute in Kentucky. The gentlemen at the table did not seem pleased, although no one challenged her assertion as she continued with logic. Later on, those Kentucky boys and Bootsie developed an unbreakable bond
You see, the success of Bootsie’s operation was that she maintained a small crew in areas of the Country that did not bring attention from unwanted others. Kentucky was on everyone’s bootlegger radar, but its next-door cousin Indiana was not - and that’s where it all began for Bootsie.
Being just across the Kentucky border presented a distinct advantage. Bootsie was able to source her material from the Beauvalou, a French-Canadian crew who used Indiana for their growing and distilling needs. (pronounced “Beh-u-va-loo”, not “Beh-u-va-laow”)The climate was perfect. The soil was abundant in life. The territory was off the beaten path of those sniffing around. It also didn’t hurt that Bootsie spoke fluent French. Claude Beauvalou wanted nothing more than to be the apple of Bootsie’s eye. We met a couple of times. You could pick him out in the crowd because he walked with a limp and a nuanced annoyance. By the way, I swore to Bootsie that I was not the one that knocked over the copper still can that he tripped over in the Barn
As of the day of her disappearance, Bootsie’s operation extended from Canada through Iowa, Chicago, and Indiana. It continued along the border of Kentucky, through Tennessee and finally up to the shores of Long Island. It was there, at an inlet known as Ships' Hole, that Bootsie was said to have been spotted prior to her disappearance. It made sense; Ships' Hole was tucked along Bootleggers Trail
She inspired trust, confidence and action. It’s as simple as that. Bootsie’s crew was second to none and her Bourbon was the child they were raising together - each person with their own responsibility reliant upon each other no matter the circumstance. They were the heart and soul of Bootsie’s operation.
Interestingly, when at work they created a tune that, when whistled, provided the cadence for crafting the Bourbon - each step always in tempo with the whistled song: three beats for the pour, two beats for a stir and so on and so on.
Bootsie made sure only her crew knew the intricate nuances of the whistle. Infiltrators could be identified immediately by the crew master by just listening to the whistle along the mash line, without even having to nose the mash.
The crew would riff off the whistle’s beat, making it their own when the mash was passed to their individual station.
Each person had their own musical style – some sang, some banged, some brushed, some hushed, and with everyone together, it made Bootsie blush - she was always very thankful. Also, I was a poet and didn’t even know it. Har har, I crack myself up.
Crafting bourbon is a delicate intimate process, not a masculine muscling, as exemplified by Bootsie. She used the phrase “a lady’s touch” a lot in her daily life. Whether she was entertaining as a flapper, or rolling up her sleeves as a bootlegger, Bootsie believed that the world was a better place when blessed with a lady’s touch.
In hindsight, her bourbon was that special touch. I can vouch for that. Life was infinitely better with a glass of Bootsie, just like being at her side. How is Bootsie’s Bourbon crafted today?
Lore has it, I’m the great-great granddaughter of Bootsie Magou. My name is Josephine (“Josie”).
After dinner one evening, my grandfather brought down an old box he had tucked away in the attic. He gathered us all with a bottle of Bourbon and said, “I have something to share with you…”
We were left with our mouths wide open with questions: Where did she go? Did he ever see her again? Why are we only finding this out now? Who was responsible for her disappearance? Where did Bootleggers Trail run? What happened to Ellee? Did my great-great Grandfather write the journal entries about Bootsie? Do any bottles of Bootsie still exist? Was Bootsie killed? Who was Bootsie’s crew? Am I related to Bootsie Magou?
Needless to say, the experience ignited a collective firestorm of curiosity amongst us all. Grandpa didn’t know it at the time, but as I was listening to him express the story, I noticed a single strand of red hair wedged neatly into the interior corner of the box. My only thought from that point forward was why was it inside the box, what did it mean, and from whose head did it belong?
I was determined to find the answers to all. Progress was slow until bestowed the gift of Bootsie luck. I found the handwritten journal of Bootsie’s soulmate – the love of her life. It was hidden in plain view.
Legend has it, we’ve continued with Bootsie’s relationships of old – now, the great-great grandchildren of her crew. The French from Canada; the Tinkerers from Iowa; the Chicago Families of Illinois; the Farmers and Tradesman of Indiana and Kentucky; the Blue Bloods of Tennessee’s Trail; the Global Network of Adventurists that roam New York and Long Island.
THE BOURBON: Crew Master Certified Bootsie Magou Straight Bourbon Whiskey
| Appearance: | Mature, umber brown, honey caramelized, patinaed copper |
| Aroma: | Woody oak char, vanilla-soaked ripened berries, caramel, with a hint of herbaceous spice |
| Taste: | Charred oak temptation glazed with caramel, ripened berry, chocolate, vanilla drizzle, roasted pecan, sprinkled spice |
| Finish: | Warm embrace with a kiss of Bootsie |
| Cask: | New Single-Use Charred Oak Barrels |
| Proof: | 90 Proof |
| Type: | Straight Bourbon Whiskey |
| Year: | Aged not less than 2 years |
| Price: | $40 |
| Availability: | All States except IA, UT, AL, MI, MA, NC |
| Size: | 17 individual 1.5oz. pours (delivered in single 750ML bottles) |
| Content: | 45% Alcohol by Volume |
| Defined: | Historic Classic |
| Location: | Along Bootleggers Trail USA, Distilled in Indiana Proper |
TRADITIONAL
$40 – Visa, Mastercard, PayPal
DIGITAL
Bitcoin, Ethereum, Cardano, NFT’s Contact us
BARTER
Cash may have been King, but barter may have been the Wiser. Bootleggers of the day had a problem. They had too much cash, nowhere to put it, and couldn’t figure out a way to use it in line with the law.
This introduced an unfortunate conundrum, and many who traversed Bootleggers Trail were incarcerated, and or killed, in the process of trying to figure how to move money without trouble. The task of keeping the process hidden from less sanguine bootleggers was difficult.
As was Bootsie’s nature, she had a different take on things and went about her own way of collecting her due. She would Barter.
Logic being, cash would not exchange hands for the Bourbon, but rather, just a gesture between friends “exchanging gifts”. Unbeknownst to most all, legend has it Bootsie’s barter collection filled subway cellars in the bowels of Grand Central Station New York – figure, she bartered with the station janitor to gain his silent access.
If the crew needed something and cash was of need, Bootsie would sell a piece of art or some other item she had stored away. She knew how to manage money and how to incentivize others with it appropriately. Is there something you’d like to Barter for Bootsie? – Contact us
Today, we deliver directly to the doors of our customers via authorized livery and delivery services.
At low tide, it was not possible for merchant vessels to navigate the River, they would run aground. Bootsie used this to her distribution advantage. When moored waiting out the tide, her Tinnies would approach the vessels transporting her hooch with instructions on when and where to unload. No Tinny knew the content of the envelope they delivered. It was for their own safety that Bootsie made it so.
This clandestine activity did not raise any flags under the bustling commotion of New York’s shorelines during the days of prohibition and sleuthing of spirits.
Bootsie’s crew would deliver under moonless nights to the New York speakeasies, safehouses and gold coast residences she had secured in confidence. Her Bourbon flowed freely outward from there.
Bootsie was obsessed. It was as if time slowed in her mind the moment a person touched a glass, or poured a thumb, or took a casual sip or swirl of her Bourbon. The crew noticed and in private, they lightheartedly teased her with “Did her brain also come up with her own background music to accompany the internal stare she gave imbibing customers?” There was nothing more important to Bootsie than the customer experience.
From grain to glass, and the ensuing flavor feast tastebuds reward, Bootsie’s Bourbon provided a life experience, not only a libation experience. There were 5 items Bootsie focused on when hosting a pour:
1) The environment in which her Bourbon will be poured
2) The chosen glass that her Bourbon will be settled
3) The radiant temperature that her Bourbon would be consumed
4) The culinary selection paired to compliment a nip, or two
5) The finish that would be pondered amongst friends and associates
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The first question Bootsie always asked a potential “Tinny” was “Can you whistle?”. Tinnies were considered the front-line worker bees of her operation. They were the eyes and ears of Bootsie’s crew and infiltrated most all walks of life.
To become a Tinny, an oath had to be sworn. Not one for pomp and circumstance, the oath was a simple phrase, few in words, but life changing for a Tinny. Being accepted into Bootsie’s world was akin to being delt a royal flush at a high stakes table. The oath went like this:
“If it is to be it is up to ye”, followed by the downing of a single swirl of Bootsie, a one-footed 3 beat stomp on the barn’s wooden floor, concluding with the Crew’s whistled rendition of a song titled “Ain’t Misbehavin” as a toast and welcome into the family. I believe the song’s title also communicated an unspoken message to the Tinny – don’t misbehave.
Tinnies understood the importance of a whistle. At times, their lives counted on it along Bootleggers Trail.
Notice: “Tinny” Positions Available at Bootsie Magou Contact us
Bartenders: Must be familiar with the enchantment of a Bourbon’s kiss
Distributors: All States except IA, UT, AL, MI, MA, NC
Retailers: Local Intimate Establishments
Previous releases have been sold out and or tucked away in private places. Contact us if interested in being notified of bottles we may happen to locate for Barter. What are you willing to trade?
The Bootsie Fund. Assistance for Necessities, Emergencies and Opportunities. (NEO)
It was the song Grandpa whistled. It became a tradition during get-togethers with friends and family. None of us had any idea it was the whistle of Bootsie Magou until Gramps showed us the box from the attic. Grandma told him, before she died, to make sure we knew it and never ever forgot it. Grandpa succeeded. Listen
