Constance Caraway P.I. ~ Episode 218
…Whack, just like that… I like whack, whack is a good word…
Back where all the Holy Rollin’ action is going to take place, Comiskey Park home of the Chicago White Sox American League Baseball Team, the team is on a road trip after opening the season on April 17th against the Saint Louis Browns. They have started well, 5-1, considering they finished with a 60-94-2 record in the 1950 season and 38 games behind the dreaded Yankees. But hope springs eternal with each new season. Surely Nellie Fox and Minnie Minoso will lead them to the World Series; surely.
Even more surely, is the fact that the baseball facility must get prepared for a good old-fashioned bible meeting from the right Reverend Billy Graham.
“I’m here to deliver the wine,” a burly man wearing a Wirtz Beverage shirt pulls up the rolling rear door of his delivery truck, revealing not a bottle or two of wine, but 6-55 gallon oak barrels of ceremonial spirits. He muscles the vats onto the loading dock, with the aid of a barrel-mover, an ingenious dolly invented by someone with a bad back, brought on my muscling wine and beer barrels by hand.
“How do we get the wine out of these things?” asks vending captain Joseph Winters looking at the barrels like they are a big mystery. (Note to the wise: They don’t serve wine in hell)
The expert in potable alcohol produces six spigots and a wooden mallet. “Do you see this cork here on the bottom? All you do is position the spout in front of it and give it a steady whack and bam it pushes in the cork and takes its place, 1-2-3.”
“Whack, just like that… I like whack, whack is a good word.”
“I’m not telling you what to do, but if you put the wine into smaller containers, like milk pitchers, it will make it easier to dispense.”
“Yes, we want to make sure everyone gets a good sip! You never know, it may be their last.”
The delivery guy thinks to himself, ‘A little wine won’t kill anyone.’