Blue Ridge Heritage Archive of Ferrum College

If there’s one thing that’s always fueled the moonshine trade in Franklin County, it’s taxes. Starting in the late 1700s, the U.S. government began collecting an exise tax on alcohol, and plenty of mountain folks decided to keep distilling off the books. 

By the Civil War, federal whiskey taxes had jumped to $2 a gallon — much more than it cost to make — pushing many distillers into the shadows. Still, by the 1880s, dozens of licensed distilleries were running across the Blue Ridge, especially after apple and peach harvests. In 1893-94, Franklin County had 77 legal stills.

But by the early 1900s, the tide was turning. New laws shut down rural distilleries, and one by one, Virginia counties went dry — though Franklin County kept voting “no” on the bans. When national Prohibition hit in 1920, moonshine wasn’t just a tradition anymore — it was big business. Local bootleggers made serious money, even flying planes to scout hidden still sites.

And the hustle? It never really stopped.

By 1914, Virginia had gone dry — and six years later, so did the rest of the country. But in Franklin County, that didn’t stop the stills from bubbling. In fact, Prohibition kicked the moonshine industry into high gear. With legal liquor off the table, local bootleggers found themselves in the middle of a full-blown underground economy stretching all the way to Roanoke, Philadelphia, and even New York City.

What started with wood-fired stills beside mountain streams evolved quickly. Farmers, millers, orchard owners, coopers, drivers, and financial backers all had a part to play. As the demand grew, so did the size of operations — and the stills. By World War I, new submarine-style stills could pump out more liquor than ever, and cars and trucks replaced wagons as the hauler’s tool of choice.

During sugar rationing in World War II, moonshiners adapted again, turning to molasses and canning jars — a now-iconic symbol of backwoods whiskey. “Nip joints” popped up in towns and hollers alike, but the real money still flowed to the cities.

Even after Prohibition ended in 1933, the business kept booming — quiet, profitable, and deeply woven into the hills of Franklin County.

The building that now houses Olde Town Social House has one of the wildest moonshine stories in Franklin County — and that’s saying something.

Back in 1930, the buliding was home to the Turner Motor Company, a local car dealership. On a summer day that July, two employees cranked up a pair of Model T Fords — both loaded with moonshine — and stepped across the street while the engines warmed up.

As fate would have it, one of the cars had a leaking fuel pump, and within minutes, flames engulfed the garage. The fire weakened the wooden floor, and both Model Ts crashed through into the basement, landing upside down and still ablaze. The building was repaired, but the burned-out cars? They were left exactly where they landed — untouched for 85 years.

Later, as Helms Farmers Exchange, the building found itself at the center of an FBI probe. The owners had bought over 12 million pounds of sugar — second only to Hershey’s — fueling an estimated 1.4 million gallons of illegal liquor.

Turns out, this little corner of Rocky Mount has been moonshine-famous for nearly a century.

By the 1930s, moonshining in Franklin County had grown into a full-blown underground empire — and the feds were paying attention. In 1935, the so-called Great Moonshine Conspiracy Trial threw Rocky Mount and Franklin County into the national spotlight, exposing a complex system of bribery, protection payments, and political corruption.

Despite countless busts during Prohibition, moonshine operations thrived. Local officials were taking “granny fees” — protection money — from distillers, and even the county sheriff was in on it. Between 1930 and 1935, illegal whiskey that passed through Franklin County could have generated $5.5 million in federal excise taxes (that’s nearly $100 million today).

After going undercover, federal agent Colonel Thomas Bailey built a case against 80 people — moonshiners, government officials, even a corporation. The trial included 68 criminal counts and 176 witnesses. It was the second-longest trial in Virginia history, filled with drama: jury tampering, threats, and even murder. One key witness — the sheriff’s treasurer — was gunned down in his car.

Thirty-one people were convicted, though most walked away with light sentences or probation. The industry barely flinched. And when parts of the trial records vanished decades later, the legend only grew.

To this day, locals still debate who was guilty — and who got away clean.

By the late 1990s, Franklin County’s moonshine legend was alive and well — and still making waves.

To respond, authorities launched a joint federal-state effort — Operation Lightning Strike — to crack down on illegal liquor. 

Agents tracked their target — a well-known local businessman named Jody Alton “Duck” Smith — from across dirt roads and wooded hollers near Rocky Mount. They couldn’t turn on lights or engines becausae the moonshiners were watching, too. Surveillance cameras were hidden on both sides of the law.

The raid came in 2006. Federal agents and Virginia ABC officers stormed a barn near a wildlife preserve and uncovered a massive operation: four large stills, nearly 2,000 one-gallon jugs, and over 600 pounds of sugar and grain. Authorities said it wasn’t some backwoods setup for sipping on the porch — it was a commercial-scale pipeline moving liquor from Virginia to cities as far away as Philadelphia.

Smith and five others were indicted. Agents said the operation pulled in more than $6,000 a week and ran like a drug ring, with still hands, haulers, and big-city buyers. Locals were divided, some calling Smith a crook — others supporting him. 

Whatever your view, one thing is clear: Moonshine is more than history in Franklin County — it’s a culture and a heritage. 

Franklin County’s moonshine legacy even made it to reality TV. The hit Discovery Channel series "Moonshiners" features the Law family, longtime residents of the county and proud keepers of the tradition. The show highlights the challenges, risks, and deep cultural roots of moonshining in the Blue Ridge, proving that the spirit of ‘shine is still alive in Franklin County.

Franklin County’s moonshine past hit the big screen with "Lawless," the 2012 film based on true events during Prohibition. Set in the hills of southwest Virginia, the movie tells the story of the Bondurant brothers, bootleggers who defied corrupt lawmen and built a liquor empire. While the film takes some creative liberties, it’s inspired by real Franklin County history and the violent tensions that surrounded the illegal whiskey trade. With its gritty storytelling and star-studded cast, the film brought national attention to the legends — and the legacy — of the Moonshine Capital of the World.