liquor clung to the air.
It was a smell that would haunt Wayne Wheeler for the rest of his life.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
By 1893, Reverend Howard Hyde Russell was one of the nationâs leading crusaders against alcohol. He had founded the Anti-Saloon League, preaching against the perils of the demon drink, while a student at Oberlin College. Now, on a return visit to campus, he delivered a lecture on temperance that enthralled many of hislisteners but none more so than the student in his early twenties who found the abolition of alcohol to be a mission from God.
Wayne Wheeler, who had followed his fatherâs wishes and entered college at Oberlin, sought out Russell after his speech. The reverend was so impressed by Wheelerâs passion and zeal that he offered the young man a job on the spot. He believed heâd found a worthy apprentice. He was right. In fact, heâd found someone who would take the Anti-Saloon League to heights few had imagined.
Wheeler got right to work. As one of only a handful of permanent employees of the Anti-Saloon League, he rode his bike around Cleveland, evangelizing the masses during visits to churches and temperance meetings. He later enrolled in law school, knowing full well that his legal training could only help the cause.
Haunted by the memories of a childhood torment, Wheeler believed that only the full-scale abolition of alcohol across America could bring safety and comfort. Men could not be counted on to restrain themselves from their vices; the perfect world required absolute control. Besides, he wasnât going to let any other children cower in fear under their beds, loathing their own helplessness, while the devilâs water turned men into demonic savages.
Turning the tide of public opinion against the powerful liquor industry was not going to be easy. And it wasnât going to be pretty. But it had to be done, regardless of the cost.
Wheeler put together a temperance army that didnât care about party or ideological labels. The âdrysâ would support any candidate from either party who adopted temperance as his campaign platform. They would use leaflets, advertisements, letter-writing campaigns, and visits from temperance advocates to increase public pressure on wavering legislators. Wheeler even coined the term pressure group to explain the Leagueâs tactics. This pressure was justified, of course, because Wheeler knew what was best forthe communities. The freedom to decide whether to drink alcohol responsibly didnât belong to individuals, because those decisions affected the collective. Only sobriety could cure men who tormented their communities, people like Old Soak and Hank.
The first target was Ohioâs governor, Myron Herrick, who was hostile to the cause. If Wheeler could unseat the powerful sitting governor, he knew the Anti-Saloon League would demonstrate its political power and terrify other politicians into getting in line.
Wheeler, now head of the Ohio Anti-Saloon League chapter, began to encircle Herrick by slowly helping League allies get elected to the Ohio legislature. From this base of power, he built alliances to form a massive campaign against Herrick, finally defeating him in the 1905 election. Having enforced his will on Ohio, Wheeler then turned his gaze toward the rest of the country.
In 1915, he left behind his dry comrades in Ohio and went to Washington, D.C., to become the general counsel for the entire Anti-Saloon League of America. He scaled his pressure-group tactics up to a nationwide level and became one of the most effective lobbyists of his time.
In 1920, thanks in large part to Wheelerâs efforts, the Eighteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, whichbanned âthe manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquorsâ in the United States, went into effect. Prohibition was now in force across the nation. But instead of creating a new, perfect world, the law opened
It was a smell that would haunt Wayne Wheeler for the rest of his life.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
By 1893, Reverend Howard Hyde Russell was one of the nationâs leading crusaders against alcohol. He had founded the Anti-Saloon League, preaching against the perils of the demon drink, while a student at Oberlin College. Now, on a return visit to campus, he delivered a lecture on temperance that enthralled many of hislisteners but none more so than the student in his early twenties who found the abolition of alcohol to be a mission from God.
Wayne Wheeler, who had followed his fatherâs wishes and entered college at Oberlin, sought out Russell after his speech. The reverend was so impressed by Wheelerâs passion and zeal that he offered the young man a job on the spot. He believed heâd found a worthy apprentice. He was right. In fact, heâd found someone who would take the Anti-Saloon League to heights few had imagined.
Wheeler got right to work. As one of only a handful of permanent employees of the Anti-Saloon League, he rode his bike around Cleveland, evangelizing the masses during visits to churches and temperance meetings. He later enrolled in law school, knowing full well that his legal training could only help the cause.
Haunted by the memories of a childhood torment, Wheeler believed that only the full-scale abolition of alcohol across America could bring safety and comfort. Men could not be counted on to restrain themselves from their vices; the perfect world required absolute control. Besides, he wasnât going to let any other children cower in fear under their beds, loathing their own helplessness, while the devilâs water turned men into demonic savages.
Turning the tide of public opinion against the powerful liquor industry was not going to be easy. And it wasnât going to be pretty. But it had to be done, regardless of the cost.
Wheeler put together a temperance army that didnât care about party or ideological labels. The âdrysâ would support any candidate from either party who adopted temperance as his campaign platform. They would use leaflets, advertisements, letter-writing campaigns, and visits from temperance advocates to increase public pressure on wavering legislators. Wheeler even coined the term pressure group to explain the Leagueâs tactics. This pressure was justified, of course, because Wheeler knew what was best forthe communities. The freedom to decide whether to drink alcohol responsibly didnât belong to individuals, because those decisions affected the collective. Only sobriety could cure men who tormented their communities, people like Old Soak and Hank.
The first target was Ohioâs governor, Myron Herrick, who was hostile to the cause. If Wheeler could unseat the powerful sitting governor, he knew the Anti-Saloon League would demonstrate its political power and terrify other politicians into getting in line.
Wheeler, now head of the Ohio Anti-Saloon League chapter, began to encircle Herrick by slowly helping League allies get elected to the Ohio legislature. From this base of power, he built alliances to form a massive campaign against Herrick, finally defeating him in the 1905 election. Having enforced his will on Ohio, Wheeler then turned his gaze toward the rest of the country.
In 1915, he left behind his dry comrades in Ohio and went to Washington, D.C., to become the general counsel for the entire Anti-Saloon League of America. He scaled his pressure-group tactics up to a nationwide level and became one of the most effective lobbyists of his time.
In 1920, thanks in large part to Wheelerâs efforts, the Eighteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, whichbanned âthe manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquorsâ in the United States, went into effect. Prohibition was now in force across the nation. But instead of creating a new, perfect world, the law opened
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