Open Appeal to a Prominent Distiller
By L. D. Avery-Stuttle
EXERCISE OF THE WILL POWER The following letter was written in answer to an article by one of the most prominent brewers in the country. His article appeared in a leading magazine, and he offered a prize of two hundred dollars for the best answer. He advocated the idea that the sale of liquor was a real help in developing the “will power” of young men; that temptation was a good thing, and should not be removed; that they should be taught to drink “in moderation,” and thus learn to exercise their “will power.” I have read your letter in the —— magazine, with great interest. To your question, “Is there not some other solution to the drink evil than prohibition?” I most unhesitatingly answer, Yes, there certainly is. It is this: Let all the brewers refuse to brew—and this of their own free will. Let them do this without any law compelling them—just the same as we would refuse to put bowie knives into the hands of insane men, and turn them loose in the streets, to run amuck. I appeal to the intelligent brewers of the country. I appeal to them, instead of the lawmakers. Let them begin to govern themselves, as you suggest that the drinking men do. You say that in Mohammedan countries, where they drink little strong drink, they are uncivilized. I submit: Is it the lack of beer, or is it the lack of Bibles, that is the curse of the Mohammedan world? What Such Will Power Would Do
Now, if, as you say, it makes men better and stronger to exercise the “will power”—and it surely does if exercised in the right way—suppose you and your colaborers just try it. Let me predict the result of twenty years of this generous and Christlike exercise of the “will power” among distillers: There would be but one almshouse where now there are one hundred. The hospitals and the lunatic asylums would be put out of commission or be turned into libraries. There would be so few brothels that the “white slave traffic” would cease altogether. The insatiable fires of lust would go out for want of fuel, and the angels’ song of “Peace on earth, good will toward men,” would be almost realized. Can you conceive, Mr. P——, of a more glorious result? And all because the brewers of the nation and of the world have decided to follow the Golden Rule! Just think how it would develop the spiritual and moral muscles of brewers and distillers, to resolve to conquer their own selfish inclination to fatten off the pocketbooks of their fellow men. Why compel them to do this, when they may just as well be a “law unto themselves”? Why do not the long-suffering people appeal to the brewer’s conscience, to his common sense, and to his kindness of heart? Bless my soul! Do the American people think he has none? How It Would Help This Woman
Now I am sure, Mr. P——, that since you believe in the development of human beings through the “will power,” you cannot object to applying your own logical doctrine to yourself and to your colleagues. Not very far away, live, or rather exist, a woman and her three children. The home is without any of the modern comforts of life. It is a home without sunshine, and where true love gives place to consummate selfishness. The little children are ragged and neglected; and all winter long, the poor, hard-working wife has walked barefooted over a carpetless floor. Why?—Because the saloonist down town has failed to exercise his “will power” enough to refuse to pour out liquid damnation to the other poor fellow, whose “will power” has been so long blunted and dwarfed by the vile stuff, that he has none to exercise. Yes, Mr. P——, “overindulgence in a meat diet is a bad thing,” as you say. But when it becomes so woefully bad as to take the shoes from a woman’s feet, and food from the mouths of starving children; when the selling of beef becomes such a cruel traffic as to people the almshouses and insane asylums of the world; when it becomes such a demon of inhuman greed that its relentless clutches relax not even when the fingers are red with the blood of the innocent,—then, Mr.——, I trust that you as well as myriads of other humane and philanthropic citizens of this grand republic, will arise in righteous indignation, and throttle the monster. You speak, Mr. P——, about “properly conducted” saloons. As well talk about properly conducted classes for the making of young ruffians and freebooters and robbers and villains. His Mother Was His Victim
A vision of a happy home passes before my eyes. The mother was a widow. Her son, the joy of her heart, the pride of her life, was left her, tall, broad of shoulder, strong of limb, handsome as a king. One day, yielding to an insatiable craving for drink, he took one glass too many. He was not capable of determining just when to stop, you see; and the saloonist did not help him any—“he needed the money.” Crazed by223the drink, that young man, only twenty-two, the pride of his mother’s soul, and always loving and kind except when maddened by liquor, entered his home, with murder in his eye and in his heart—and the mother who bore him was the victim. But you are accustomed to stories like this. If the man who sold that poor lad the stuff which turned him into a murderer, had realized what he was doing, and if the brewer who brewed it had foreseen the bitter end, would they not have shuddered at the awful picture? Mr. P——, I appeal to your humanity, to your unselfishness, to your better nature, to your paternal affection, to your love of decency and order, to your nobility of character, and finally, to your hope of heaven. Do not wait for the strait-jacket of the law to be put upon you; but for your own sake, as well as for that of your fellow men, take the wholesome advice that you give to the other fellow, and “control” yourself sufficiently to quit distilling liquid death for your fellow men. If this humble letter of mine shall aid you in the smallest degree in doing this, I shall feel well repaid for my pains. Yours in the love of humanity, (MRS.) L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE.