• Glenn Wilson
    84
    absinthe.jpg

    By Gayle Brennan Spencer.

    Andrew Stevens, February 1912.

    The Colonel holds up his folded newspaper. “It appears the so-called green fairy will cease to cast her intoxicating spell over Americans. That hellfire-and-brimstone Secretary of Agriculture is determined to ban the importation of absinthe. Men will no longer be able to seduce young women unaware that absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. The potent French frappé will no longer summon strange, swirling monsters to the bottom of a glass.”

    Mr. K emits a snort. “While I have never taken a whiff of that stuff, banning it is wrong. Pros are like rats. A tiny chink in our wall, and in they will swarm, nibbling away at our rights. President Taft should have prevented his secretary from launching this clandestine attack. We send Adolphus Busch princely sums to hire people in Washington so things like this do not slip through the cracks.

    “And where is this Governor of yours, Colonel? While he should be backing up our efforts with big guns, he is armed with a little trowel, wandering around the grounds of the Alamo poking at the dirt as though he expected to find Travis’ line in the sand.” ...

    Continue at Postcards from San Antonio: An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Eighteen. More #PostcardsSanAntonio.

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