Cincinnati Commercial Gazette 1 April 1893, Images extracted from microfilm by Greg Hand
If you were to wander into one of Cincinnati’s tonier watering holes some evening in the 1890s, you would surely not be surprised to find beer on tap and a few bottles of rectified whiskey gracing the backbar shelves. A selection of fruit cordials and liqueurs might not raise an eyebrow. But absinthe?
It’s true. Cincinnati had its devotees of “La Fee Verte,” the “Green Fairy” so beloved of habitués of the Parisian demi-monde. According to the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette [4 February 1894]:
“Absinthe is a fascinating tipple. It is drunk in various forms in all the high class saloons and cafés in Cincinnati.”
In this particular review, the Commercial Gazette suggested that this infatuation was a relatively recent phenomenon:
“Absinthe has not been observed in the Cincinnati bars for a very long time. Within the past five years, however, it has gradually but surely made its way into the favor of the man who is fastidious in his habit of ingurgitation. At first, absinthe was used by the barkeepers to give an added flavor to a whisky cocktail. ‘A little whisky with a dash of absinthe’ is now an order that a barkeeper hears frequently.”
Finding absinthe in Cincinnati may have been a novelty for the reporter, but absinthe drinkers had been imbibing this ‘fascinating tipple’ for decades by then. An 1871 advertisement for Joseph R. Peebles’ Sons grocery – then still located at Fifth and Race Streets and not yet relocated to Peebles’ Corner – offered absinthe along with anisette and chartreuse. A steamboat manifest from that same year revealed that the J.H. Groesbeck was carrying two boxes of absinthe, shipped from New Orleans to August Fix, who ran a liquor store on Walnut Street. Typically, Cincinnati got its French culture filtered through New Orleans rather than direct from Paris.
Cincinnati Commercial Gazette 1 April 1893, Images extracted from microfilm by Greg Hand
While exotic French liqueurs were easily imported to Cincinnati, it appears that the hallowed ritual of absinthe preparation was less transportable. Per the Commercial Gazette:
“The American barkeeper has never mastered the art of dripping the water into the absinthe so patiently and thoroughly that the bitter oil of the liquor is slowly brought to the surface of the tiny liquor glass, from which it is carefully gathered with a spoon.”
Cincinnati’s bonifaces preferred a simple concoction of water, absinthe and a dissolved sugar cube. The locals didn’t seem to mind, and the Commercial Gazette approved:
“In this form absinthe is extremely attractive to the palate of the experienced tippler. As a ‘pick-me-up’ after a rather industrious night of drinking, it is unsurpassed. It soothes the discordant nerves, effectually removes the ‘deep seal brown taste’ that tipplers find in their mouths in the morning, and gives a ‘tone’ to the disordered stomach that is as insidiously soothing as the soft touch of a pellet of morphia.”
Diluted with water, sweetened with sugar, absinthe may have been “soothing,” but those who drank it straight were reputed to have cast-iron throats. Al Thayer’s 1894 book, “Pickings From Lobby Chatter” describes one such human:
“I saw an actor in one of our saloons, last week, take a tumbler, fill it to the brim with absinthe, and drink it down with a relish. Eugene Brown, who was in charge of the bar, offered him a paper of tacks to wash it down with.”
Because of that formidable scratch, absinthe most often appeared in Cincinnati libations mingled with a veritable pharmacopeia of liqueurs and bitters. The Cincinnati Post [20 October 1897] described one such concoction:
“The ‘brain duster’ is a local invention, and as you would judge from its name, is the right thing to get rid of the early morning cobwebs. It is made of absinthe, sugar, lemon juice, ice and whisky.”
Cincinnati Commercial Gazette 1 April 1893, Images extracted from microfilm by Greg Hand
Another Post reporter, interviewing a local barkeeper [21 July 1883], inquired why so many of his cocktail recipes called for a dash, or more, of absinthe.
“It is a wonderful stimulant for the brain, and is valuable to counteract nervous spells after long drunks. The absinthe used in the cocktail above mentioned is a powerful stimulant imported from France. Its main ingredient is oil of wormwood. It acts directly and powerfully on the brain, and is sometimes used to overcome sleepiness. Used to excess, it produces a peculiar and incurable brain disease resembling epilepsy, and soon puts a man in the deep box.”
Although failing to import the protracted ritual of absinthe presentation, America absolutely imported absinthe’s dangerous reputation. All the while Cincinnati drinkers were chasing the Green Fairy, legislators in France and the United States were conspiring to ban the liqueur altogether and succeeded in 1914. Cincinnati newspapers blamed absinthe for any crime committed by anyone who ever drank the stuff.
While the coroner concluded that Albert Strong, a Mount Auburn salesman, died from a morphine overdose, the local newspapers implied that a nearly empty bottle of absinthe in his room revealed the source of his suicidal outlook. Similarly, Guy Means, a medical student rooming on Ninth Street must have been “frenzied by the effects of absinthe” when he rushed into a neighboring doctor’s apartment and swallowed a bottle of morphine and a bottle of potassium bromide.
John Monpetit, a French Canadian living in the West End, allegedly gave up an absinthe addiction to join the Salvation Army, but relapsed and was thrown into the insane asylum when he attempted to paint his wife red. The courts awarded Margaret Bain a divorce from Ambrose Shaw, who had lost his position with the Emery real-estate development company because of his drunkenness. According to the Enquirer [12 February 1910]:
“Absinthe was his favorite drink, she said, and he became a slave to it.”
It wasn’t only the lowlifes and the bohemians who liked their absinthe. The Enquirer [5 March 1895] reported on a very formal dinner at the St. Nicholas Hotel for ex-Congressman Bellamy Storer. As the after-dinner speechifying began, cigars were lit and absinthe passed around in “frosted glass.”
Still, most local barkeeps followed the lead of Cincinnati Reds pitcher Jack Sutthoff who tended bar at a West End establishment during the off-season. A gang of Sutthoff’s pals showed up one evening, having conspired to order the most outrageously complicated beverages they could imagine, several involving absinthe. Sutthoff stared them down and issued an ultimatum:
“You guys’ll drink beer or whisky straight or you don’t drink.”
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