Great, Great Granddaughter of William Anderson 'Devil Anse' Hatfield Carrying on Family Traditions

Spring, summer and fall in Gilbert, West Virginia, in Mingo County, most days you can find a barrage of ATVs rolling through town. 

Most of the riders are visiting for an adventurous vacation. The asphalt road runs are usually a short trip from their cabins, or hotels to the woods onto the Hatfield and McCoy Trail systems. 

Chad Bishop is the master distiller in a nearby distillery. 

“You come down here at any given time and you’ll see twenty four-wheelers over here, five over there six, ya know,” Chad said. “Those people come in here to spend their money.”

To get there, you have to drive up a steep hillside to get to the Hatfield and McCoy Distillery. Most of the customers are ATV tourists. 

“When they come up my distillery if they want a bottle of my product they’re getting the best money can buy,” Chad said. 

Credit Chuck Roberts/ WVPB
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Chad Bishop, master distiller at Hatfield & McCoy Moonshine.

Chad takes a lot of pride in making moonshine. Technically it’s whiskey according to the Alcohol and Beverage Commission, but for Chad the craft of brewing corn mash will always be moonshine. Chad said the recipe comes from the infamous William Anderson “Devil Anse” Hatfield himself. 

Chad married into the family. His mother-in-law is Nancy Justus, the great, great granddaughter of “Devil Anse”. 

Nancy’s father worked in the coal mines. But the boom and bust cycle meant he was often out of work. 

“Everybody was poor. We didn’t know no better,” Nancy explained. “He had a tough life. Coal mining’s hard. It’s a hard life. We would have starved to death if it hadn’t been for bootlegging back in the 50s.”

Her daddy made moonshine with a radiator. She said today, it would take a lot longer if they had to make moonshine that way.

But the moonshine tradition goes back even before the 50s, according to Nancy’s mom, Billie Hatfield; often people call her ‘Granny Hatfield’. 

Credit Chuck Roberts/ WVPB
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Billie Hatfield

“Back when I was 20 years old, we got married and we moved to Ben Creek a little hole in the ground; one way in one way out,” Granny Hatfield said. “To make extra money, we made moonshine and sold it. We hid it when he’d bring it out of the mountains, I would mix it in a bathtub. And I got pretty good on my 90 proof and all of that. Back then we made 90 proof and 100 proof. You had to watch the feds all of the time because they were all the time after us.” 

Today, the family business is legit, a registered, tax-paying business that helps them make a living and stay in West Virginia. 

In addition to the distillery, Nancy Justus also runs a small lodging company that rents vacation cabins and hotel rooms to tourists. She doesn’t mind sharing  her family’s story with visitors. 

“I enjoy talking to them,” Nancy said. “I talk to so many people, take so many pictures. I’m not famous or anything, but they always a picture.”

Nancy said she feels like she’s reclaiming her family’s name through her businesses, and by telling these stories. Even though the family wasn’t consulted before construction of the trail system that uses their name, both Chad and Nancy said the Hatfield and McCoy Trail system has been great for business.

Still, running a business that depends on tourists isn’t profitable year round. 

“There’s only seven months of business,” Nancy said. “It’s dead for five months and it’s hard to come back when you come back in March, first of April, because you had to spend all your money for the winter. That’s the only downfall, you know. It’s so hard.”

Credit Chuck Roberts/ WVPB
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Just recently, Nancy’s moonshine company won a long battle with producers in other states, including Missouri and California, who were trying to use the name for their own brands of liquor. 

“I got what I wanted. I want my name,” Nancy said. “I don’t want anybody to have my name that’s not the real people. It’s not fair.”          

Nancy and her company won the lawsuit. Now they get to keep the name, Hatfield and McCoy Moonshine, to label their liquor. Chad said it’s good for tourism too. Along with the Hatfield and McCoy Country Museum in Williamson, it’s just one more way to bring another layer of authentic heritage to share with visitors.    

“You can come here and go to a museum, and you can come here and watch whiskey being made the mountains you know, just like they did 150 years ago,” Chad said. “So yeah. I mean, they use the name but I think if anybody’s got the right to use it, it should be them.”

After all, the craft and recipe for this liquor was developed and preserved in the backwoods of the West Virginia hills. So the only way for it to be authentic, is to keep the name. 

“We don’t really play off of the name but we want what we want people to know is here we stick true to tradition,” Chad said. “We’re from the mountains, we make whiskey in the mountains. We do it all in the mountains.”

Reclaiming their name for their business is also about taking back the narrative that has been told over the years, said Nancy. Ever since the feud, reports have traditionally focused on the fights and anger among the families. 

“I could write a book on our family,” Nancy said. “It was Hatfields. The curse was handed down there’s a lot of temperament. They have a lot of problems with forgiving. They can’t forgive. It’s sad.”

Credit Chuck Roberts/ WVPB
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Family photos of the William Anderson Devil Anse Hatfield hang on the wall of Nancy Hatield’s house. Nancy is Davil Anse’s great, great granddaughter

While she admits that most of her family members have a bit of a temper, she’s quick to point out that there’s more to her family. 

“Hatfields are great people. My daddy would have given you the shirt off his back. I loved my daddy,” Nancy said. 

“I was his sidekick and anything he told me to do, I’d do it. And there was things I did that I probably shouldn’t have done. I should have been killed. He bought me race cars. I raced them. What was I going to do with Corvettes? I raced them. Camaroes. Daddy taught me all of that.”

This story is part of an episode of Inside Appalachia that explores tourism in southern West Virginia and the lasting impacts the Hatfield and McCoy feud has had on the region’s identity. 

Family's Moonshine Business is More Than a Job, it's a Legacy

In post-Depression-era Appalachia, moonshining was a way of life. It was a respected, although technically illegal, profession. It kept food on the table for the Butler family for over 100 years. Raymond Butler recalls his first job in the family business: “I was about six. My dad put me down in one still to clean it. If there’s any green or blue, that’s got to come out of copper — it’s poisonous. When I came out of the still, it had to look like a new penny.”

Now, over half a century later, Raymond is distilling legally in the family moonshine business that he’s been working at all his life. In 2013, his son Raymond Jr.  —  called Chuck by all —  took action to make the long-illicit business legit.

Today, at age 74, Raymond, and his son and grandson, Raymond III (nicknamed Trey), are making their moonshine legally at Dalton Distillery. Their moonshine is called TazaRay and is made with sunflower seeds, the only such spirits in the world.

Raymond looks every bit the part of a moonshiner, dressed in coveralls and his trademark felt hat, with his gray beard and slightly wild gray hair. But there is much more to the man than that stereotype. He is meticulous in his attention to detail. He is dead serious as he shows Trey when the grain has sprouted enough and how to test the fermentation tanks. He tells Trey that the testing is only one part of the process. “Knowing when to distill is somewhat of an art.”

Credit Kathleen Walls / 100 Days in Appalachia
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100 Days in Appalachia
Raymond shows his grandson, Trey, how to judge the readiness as the grain ferments in the tank.

In the old days, the local law officers would give men like Raymond’s father and grandfather a break, while they would, as Raymond put it, “cut down” the moonshiners who used unsafe methods like using radiators to make their illicit brew. It was a small town, and the sheriff knew that some men had ethics and produced a safe product, while others just made a shoddy whiskey that could kill you.

Raymond told of one time his father lost his hat while making a whiskey run. The local sheriff found it.

“They picked it up and took to a little store where my dad bought supplies and told the owner, ‘We’ll leave Mr. Butler’s hat here and you give it back to him,” Raymond said. “‘A man with polio who can outrun three revenue agents don’t need to go to jail.’”

Other times when his dad was tipped off about a raid, he would tell someone to go to bed and pretend to be sick. They would hide the jars under the “sickbed.” Back then, the law respected a sick person and wouldn’t make them get out of bed to search.

Credit Kathleen Walls / 100 Days in Appalachia
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100 Days in Appalachia
Raymond explains to Trey what to look for as grains ferment.

Raymond did have a few close calls. When he was 15 years old, he was arrested at the still site with his uncle. He finished high school on federal probation. When asked when he had last made moonshine prior to the opening of Dalton distillery, he smiled and said, “The statute of limitations on felony such as making illegal whiskey should be four years.  So I would say just over four years ago.”

It wasn’t always an easy life. Sometimes ingredients are hard to get. Everyone knows you make moonshine out of corn, but when the going gets tough, moonshiners get inventive. Raymond tells of making it from tomatoes, apples or peaches. Perhaps that’s how their unusual sunflower seed moonshine came to be. As he puts it, “If it’ll ferment, I can make you drunk.”

Making the Butler family traditions a legal, respected occupation wasn’t an easy road to take, but it was important to Chuck Butler.

“I wanted to have a business that I could work with my dad and have my dad teach my son the craft,” he says.

Chuck wanted to surprise his dad, who was having health problems and had retired from his legal job as a car salesman. Chuck first tried to open a legal distillery in Chatsworth, in a building Raymond already owned. That city wasn’t keen on the idea and refused to grant the license. When the Chatsworth City officials denied the application, Chuck called then Mayor David Pennington in nearby Dalton. He liked the idea and put him in contact with people at the Dalton Downtown Development Authority. They were so supportive Chuck named the business Dalton Distillery.

Meantime, although Chuck had meant to surprise his dad, he decided that with the complications he needed to tell his dad what was happening. Raymond was very excited, “This is the opportunity to make whiskey legally the same way I always did.”

They began searching for a still. Raymond was the expert here as they traveled around picking up parts of the still in Memphis, Tennessee and Kentucky. They found what they needed. The serial number that is registered with the TTB is Raymond’s father date of birth.

In planning the distillery, they visited a few legal moonshine distilleries. Raymond said this about those distilleries, “I won’t talk bad about people that never made illegal whiskey starting a moonshine distillery, but you can taste the difference.”

Chuck added, “Because of the explosion of small craft distilleries in America, corn whiskey is regional.  Because the sunflower seed use is so different we feel this can be a national and international brand in the next few years.  Dalton Distillery was started with passion and dedication, working hard and choosing to do without a lot of things with the goal to make it a fun, educational and relaxed place to visit.”

Credit Kathleen Walls / 100 Days in Appalachia
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100 Days in Appalachia
Raymond’s son Chuck shows off some of the older stills the distillery has used.

After those biggest obstacles came about two years of jumping through hurdles to get licensed. During this time Chuck took on a financial partner, Vann Brown, the distillery’s marketing manager, who has been a big help.

One other problem needed solving. At this time, Georgia law had what is called a three-tier system where a distiller couldn’t sell their product directly. They needed to sell to a distributor, who in turn sells to stores, who then sell to the public.

In order to purchase a bottle of spirits at a distillery tasting room, visitors had to pay to attend a tour of the distillery. To deal with this situation,  Dalton Distillery found a “legal loophole”: they would sell a prescription — similar to what was used during prohibition — for people to obtain whiskey for medicinal purposes for $25, and then get a “free” bottle of Raymond’s Reserve. The prescription is signed by Raymond Butler, MD (Master Distiller).

Things changed on Friday, Sept. 1. Georgia’s Senate Bill 85 (SB 85) became law. Georgia’s distilleries are now able to sell their spirits directly to the consumer from their tasting rooms. It changes the old alcohol laws that made it difficult for Georgia’s distilleries to do business, laws that had been in effect since the state repealed Prohibition in 1935.  Since the prescription idea was meant in fun originally, and customers love the tongue-in-cheek humor, Dalton Distillery plans to continue issuing the prescription.

Finding a distributor to get their product out to the public is an ongoing battle. They recently signed a deal with Empire Distributors to distribute TazaRay and TazaRay Red in Georgia. Currently they are offered at all locations in Georgia. They’re actively seeking distribution in other states.

Today, people often view the old moonshiners as outlaws. Raymond saw it differently. “Back then you didn’t see it as something illegal. It was a way of life. Somebody making a quality product.” That’s what Raymond is doing today at Dalton Distillery — making a quality product following an old family tradition.

When Raymond’s 15-year-old grandson, who started learning from his grandfather when he was 12 years old, was asked how he felt about learning to make whiskey, he replied, “I enjoy the math and science behind it. It is a lot easier for me to understand it now that I get to see it in process.”

He said his first tasks in learning the business were not too unlike his grandfather, “Cleaning up, moving things like corn and making malt and drying it out. We use to have an old hand grinder, so I would grind all of the malt by hand. Now we use the stone mill to grind all of our malt.”

Raymond spends his day in the distillery making sure that whiskey is the best possible quality. On a typical day, he will show Trey how to decide if the grain is sprouted enough to ferment.

Chuck may be busy milling the grain they use. Raymond never uses yeast. He uses malted grain from the sunflower seeds because he states, “Yeast is what causes a headache the next morning. Malt doesn’t.”

He will test the fermentation tanks to see if it is ready to ferment. Then, the most important step: it goes into Frankenstein, their nickname for the 200-gallon, state-of-the-art still, and is distilled out at around 140 proof. As the spirits pour out of the still, the level drops to the 111 proof desired in each bottle. Raymond smiles when he comments, “This still is nothing like what we had in the woods.”

Trey or Chuck may do the bottling and putting on the labels bearing Raymond Butler’s likeness, but the final approval is up to Raymond. He personally taste tests each batch to be sure each bottle that leaves the distillery meets his standards.

His favorite saying is, “Whiskey. It may not be the answer, but it will help you forget the question.”

Kathleen Walls, a former reporter for Union Sentinel in Blairsville, Georgia, is publisher/writer for American Roads and Global Highways, and an active member of International Food Wine and Travel Writers Association and North American Travel Journalist Association. She is the author of travel books, Georgia’s Ghostly Getaways, Finding Florida’s Phantoms, Hosts With Ghosts, and Wild About Florida series. Her articles have appeared in Georgia Magazine, Family Motor Coaching Magazine, London, England’s Country Music People, Weekender Extended and others. She is a photographer, with many of her original photographs appearing in her travel ezine as well as other publications. She has several travel guides online as well.

West Virginia Distillery OK'd for Economic Development Loan

A West Virginia distillery has been awarded a loan to buy more equipment and increase production of its distilled moonshine whiskey and flavored moonshine.

The Charleston Gazette-Mail reports the West Virginia Economic Development Authority approved the $415,000 loan this month for Ripley-based Appalachian Distillery. The company is leasing the building that houses its operations, and the loan will also help buy that building.

The company was established in June 2014. The Economic Development Authority’s loan approval document says Appalachian Distillery intends to employ eight workers in two years.

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