Upcoming Supper Club

The Whiskey Rebellion of 1794 was the result of George Washington's tax on liquor, which was so unpopular it was repealed in 1803. By the mid and late 1900s, "revenuers" were quasi-law enforcement officers empowered by the federal government to shut down stills, raid encampments, collect taxes on legally sold liquor and confiscate that which was illegally sold. Like the rebellion in the 1800s, moonshiners did not take kindly to these taxes and restrictions and often retaliated violently. When Prohibition passed, brewers were no longer just evading taxes, they were breaking laws written into the Constitution, which came with serious consequences that many mountaineers felt were unreasonably punitive. Predictably, mountaineers' resentment of the "G man" hardened and they became even more clever about where, and how, and when to make and move their illicit product.

With the High Country of North Carolina to its east, and the good highways running through Virginia to the northeast, Johnson City, Tennessee became a hub for "midnight runners," a nickname given to the bootleggers who continued to operate their stills and sell their liquor despite prohibition, often moving that liquor at night under cover of darkness to escape detection. Over time, Johnson City became one of several important distribution hubs for mafia big-boss Al Capone who, purportedly, was a part-time resident at Montrose Court, a luxury apartment complex now listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

Johnson City residents held mixed attitudes towards prohibition, much like the rest of the country, and the state of Tennessee's relationship to Prohibition generally-speaking was even more complex. Tennessee residents and temperance leaders like Carry Nation played a significant role in the passage of the 18th Amendment. Nation was aggressive in her advocacy against the consumption of alcoholic beverage, which she believed to be the root of society's problems. As tough as the bootlegger's and mob bosses she fought, Nation was arrested several times for smashing up saloons and bars with a hatchet; hence her nickname "Hatchet Granny".

To many across Johnson and Washington counties, it seemed the vice Granny Hatchet railed against had indeed taken over and corrupted its youth, common folk and even some preachers and political leaders. It wasn't uncommon to open the Johnson City Chronicle and read about the latest speak-easy raid or seized liquor haul or some related corruption of body or spirit. In short order, Johnson City made the "sin city" list, a list of the top 25 most sinful cities in the country, though by what measure I do not know. Indeed, it's connection to Capone and its excess of moonshiners making and running Capone's dubious enterprises resulted in the city's enduring nickname, "Little Chicago of the South."

As the temperance movement lost traction, and the 21st Amendment repealed the 18th, ending Prohibition nationwide, speak easies gave way to more legitimate dining and entertainment enterprises. Though the safe haven of underground supper clubs, saloons, and juke joints were no longer needed, the spirit of the supper club persisted. The social clubs of the 40s and 50s that followed offered patrons an upscale experience with live music, dancing, cabaret performances, and sophisticated food and drink that celebrated (some may even say flaunted) their new found liberty of public libation. 

The old time supper clubs in Johnson City were a unique blend of town and country. A little Muddy Waters and a lot of Maybelle Carter. They were rough and tumble places serving cornbread, creasy greens, and wild rabbit stew, chased down by what was then a not-so-smooth Tennessee whiskey, some of which was so poorly made it could give you a case of the "jake leg". Over time, brewers perfected their craft and now Tennessee is known for producing some of the best bourbon and smothest whiskeys in the world. 

Today's underground eateries and pop up diners enjoy something of a revival across the world. They often serve restaurant-quality meals and tasting menus in intimate or unusual setting that highlight specific cultural histories and food legacies. Like our forbearers, the hubs and I try to grow most of our vegetables, consume consciously, and extend the unreasonable hospitality for which mountaineers are known. And while Johnson City no longer makes the list of "sin cities" and nobody much calls the town "Little Chicago" anymore,  the Midnight Runner's Supper Club was imagined as a place where you'll meet good people,  cut the rug, and sample sinfully good food.