ATF North Carolina

March 27, 2009 by admin.

ATF North Carolina

In about 1959 my Dad left the Marines and became a Federal Agent for the ATF (Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms), the agency that enforces the federal laws of the aforementioned three categories.

The ATF sent us to North Carolina, where my Dad primarily chased moonshine bootleggers. The feds wanted their tax money revenue off legal alcohol and the bootleggers paid no tax, so therefore the chase was on. Hence the bootleggers referred to ATF agents as “Revenuers”.

The moon shiners would build transport cars that Jesse James of Monster Garage would be proud of. They would take old junk cars with large trunk capacities and put in a souped up Cadillac engine in it. They would then weld a huge sealed tank into the trunk, which is where the many gallons of shine would be stored. From the outside, the cars did not look like much, but that was the idea. The moon shiners also knew the back roads of North Carolina like their own back yard, which it was. As soon as my Dad would get behind one of these cars, the race was on. They went zooming through the back dirt roads at tremendous speeds. Mind you that both players were bombs with four tires. The shiner’s car was topped off with volatile moonshine and my Dad was carrying dynamite in his trunk. Not the modern and safe dynamite, but the kind that sweated nitro. If it got bumped too much or overheated, bam, game over. Why was he carrying dynamite? Because when he found the shiner’s still (cooking apparatus) he would set a charge and blow it sky high.

One day he did find a still with no owner in sight. So he placed the explosive charge and set it off. The still lit up like a rocket from NASA, and flew in the air many more feet than expected and it almost landed on the moon shiners house. This rocket still then exploded with a massive fireball. My Dad dodged that potential problem by the skin of his teeth. He said that from then on, he planned his trajectories better. Booze in space?

Even the moon shiners had an intelligence network. They would drive by my house and see if my Dad’s car was parked there. If he was home, then Katie, bar the door. I am sure my Mom was not pleased that criminals were driving by while I was playing in the front yard. But like most Federal Agents, my Dad worked weekends and holidays, practically all the time. He was truly a dedicated thorn in the side of those that broke the law.

During this period of chasing shiners, my Dad went into his “James Bond car envy” period, which he never recovered from. He bough a red convertible and wore sport shirts with his .45 ACP pistol concealed under his shirt tails. He hardly looked like a federal agent. One day he got tangled crossways with two criminal types while driving out in the country. Once he had them pulled over for a traffic stop, the passenger immediately jumped out of the car and proceeded to come at my Dad. Without hesitating my Dad drew his .45 ACP pistol (Marine training), and pointed it at this thug. Suddenly the thug saw the business end of the gun pointed right at him. He froze, and then retraced his steps like he was in rewind, moving backwards, and got back in the car. My Dad said it was the weirdest thing that he had seen in a long time.  If you have ever seen the barrel of a .45 ACP, it looks like a bazooka. That explains why my Dad got so much respect from the ambusher. The next day my Dad was in the Sheriffs office doing some paper work and the Sheriff asked if he had an encounter out in the country yesterday. My Dad answered yes, looking quizzical. The two thugs complained to the Sheriff that some maniac in a red convertible had pointed a cannon at them. Guess they learned their lesson about trying to jump my Dad.

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