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It's the number one question we hear, "Why Cantilever?" Learn more about the historic event that inspired the hotel and distillery.
The next morning, Harry Erickson warmed up his sturdy ton-and-a-half Ford and parked it alongside the boxcar. Charles Houska directed the men to roll the barrels onto the truck. They stood them on end, one by one, until there were six or seven aboard.
Harry was instructed to drive down to the village dock in front of Duluth Street. The government officials were there waiting, standing around a large hole chopped through a foot of Rainy River ice beside the dock. By this time, a crowd of bystanders was following Harry’s truck.
“Drop the barrels so that they break on the iron cleats on the edge of the dock,” an official instructed, but the men dropping the barrels were poor marksmen and some of the barrels landed on the ice, still intact. The customs officials foresaw misses, and they were poised with axes to break the intact barrels. One by one, the barrels were ruptured and the golden whiskey flowed out onto the ice.
They intended for the whiskey to flow into the hole that the men had worked so hard to chop, but the law of physics worked against them. The liquor rather spread into a wide pool, contained by a rim of whiskey-candied snow.
By now, the cluster of interested citizens had grown to a substantial audience. Some of them pulled cups from their pockets and scooped up the stubborn whiskey and sipped it approvingly. Others lay at the edge of the whiskey puddle and lapped up what they could get. A few arrived with buckets, but Customs discouraged the carry-out trade and kicked over the buckets. Word spread quickly and soon nearly the whole town of International Falls was there scooping up whiskey. Some even came running with coal scuttles and wash tubs. A local bootlegger tested the liquid with his hydrometer - 100 proof.
Downriver, George Westermeier retrieved water for some tea from his water hole offshore from his house. As he boiled the water, his home smelled like a distillery. It was discovered that a crack in the river ice led from the whiskey hole to George’s water hole. Angry, he threatened to sue the government but never did get around to it.
The men rolled the last barrel of fine Canadian whiskey out of the boxcar and onto Harry Erickson’s truck, and they discovered something very peculiar. During the night, someone had drilled a hole up through the floor of the boxcar beneath where the barrels stood.
The barrels were dry.
There were no known fatalities from the whiskey dumping, but up to 79 barrels were added to the river that day. Which made everyone think about that odd number. Maybe the shipper in Winnipeg had overlooked the 80th barrel, or possibly Charles Houska knew where it went.
We will never know for sure.
Share your stories in the comments below!
Cantilever Bridge Distillery will feature a boutique hotel, a cocktail room, private events space, and distillery tours. It will open in Summer 2019.
We are commonly asked "why Cantilever?" The following story is the interesting mystery behind the name and inspiration.
Adapted from the Rainy Lake Chronicle article published on February 17, 1974
George Westermeier, the bridgekeeper of the Cantilever Bridge, watched across the bay from his home. He was technically off duty, but regardless he always had an eye on the bridge.
It was 1932. The last year of the Prohibition. Bootlegging was at an all-time high, and the Cantilever Bridge was at the center of importing Canadian contraband into the U.S.
The borderland was an ideal location for a “blind pig” (or speakeasy) for the illegal sale of whiskey and other spirits. Despite the occasional raid, resorts across the region sold alcohol to patrons. It wasn’t too difficult to smuggle whiskey across the border, partly due to its location and partly because police turned a blind eye.
But this particular day, the United States Customs wanted to set an example. A tip led them directly to the freight train as it was leaving Ranier, a little after 9:00 pm.
Eighty barrels of Candian’s finest whiskey were on a carload, hidden under bundles of shingles. The train coming from Winnipeg was on its way to Chicago for The Chicago Christmas trade. The bootleg was worth $63,200 wholesale if it had made its way to Chicago.
Across the bay, George noticed the huge flood lights were on full blast as government officials searched the train cars. The car of shingles was detached from the train, double padlocked, and quickly was surrounded by a mob of officials, guarding the contraband from anyone who sought to rescue the barrels.
Charles Houska, the Customs Inspector, noticed irregularities in the papers covering the particular freight car, the only one that mattered to the people of Chicago. The inventory of 400 shingles rather than the usual 1,000 was odd. His suspicions were confirmed when the train rolled across the Rainy River Cantilever drawbridge and they slid the door aside. The doorway was packed tightly to the roof with bundles of shingles.
“I know from experience that it takes 1,000 to 1,200 bundles of shingles to fill a car that tight” Charles said. “Search it!” he shouted to the officials.
The officials began unloading the bundles of shingles and soon discovered a strange frame arrangement holding them tightly in place. The bundles of shingles were removed and the investigators encountered curious wooden boxes, strapped with steel bands.
One of the investigators grabbed an ax and chopped at one of the boxes. It gave way, and they found sawdust. Another hit, more sawdust. Sawdust poured out of the box until they were able to peer inside and find a wooden keg. They moved the box and could hear the gurgle of the liquid moving inside.
Charles Houska said to an official, “Go to the nearest store and ask to borrow a brace and a bit, a siphon hose, and a cup.” The man went to Joe Oster’s bar where the lights were still burning bright. Joe retrieved the items and delivered them in person to Charles.
The investigators tapped the keg and filled the cup. There was no doubt it was whiskey, but they were unsure if it was good or bad. Whiskey is best to drink at room temperature, and it was around 20 degrees below zero. Drinking whiskey in these temperatures would mute the aroma giving them clues to its quality.
Charles ordered the Customs officials to seal up the boxcar and stationed a guard to protect it. They needed a truck. That would have to wait until morning.
Comment below what you think happens next!