The Ohio Town That Launched a Whiskey War

At 9 a.m. on July 1, 1875, the fire department, churches, and other institutions throughout Westerville, Ohio frantically rang their bells, summoning citizens to the southeast corner of West Main and Knox streets. There, Henry Corbin faced the crowd of about 1,000, a pistol in each hand.

Just the night before, vandals had broken into Corbin’s building, dumped his whiskey, and bore holes into the beer kegs to prevent him from opening Westerville’s first saloon. Somehow, Corbin restocked before morning and was set to open at 9 a.m. when the bells drew the crowd. Anticipating trouble, he emerged armed and swore to defend his business.

Instead of violence, the crowd sang and prayed before dispersing, but the battle didn’t end there. Over the next few weeks, vigilantes bombed the saloon four times, destroying much of the building on the final attempt.

Corbin refused to give up, though. In 1879, he purchased the Clymer Hotel and opened a second saloon in its basement, only to have vigilantes destroy it with two 26-pound kegs of gunpowder. Although he vowed to rebuild, Corbin moved his family to nearby Columbus, ending what became known as the Westerville Whiskey Wars.

The fight against Corbin wasn’t the beginning or the end of Westerville’s anti-alcohol stance. However, the Whiskey Wars demonstrated the city’s resolve to keep itself alcohol free and led to it becoming a major player in the fight for Prohibition.

The city’s position on alcohol pre-dates its founding, according to Jim Seitz of Westerville History Museum. Many homesteaders moving into the region were religious, and Methodist circuit riders held revivals to minister to them. When someone at a revival suggested opening a religious school, brothers Matthew and Peter Westervelt donated the land for the Blendon Young Men’s Seminary, which opened in 1839.

Although the seminary failed a few years after its opening, one of the school’s trustees convinced the United Brethren Church to take over the campus. Renamed Otterbein University, it welcomed not only young men but also women and African American students as well.

Seitz says the city wanted to foster a moral environment for the students, so the already pious citizens took an even harder stance against alcohol. Not surprisingly, when Westerville incorporated in 1858, one of its first ordinances — even before establishing a fire department — prohibited the sale of alcohol except for medicinal purposes.

In March 1875, the state threw the city a curve ball by forbidding local governments from banning saloons. This is when Corbin decided to first try his luck in Westerville. Given the fierce resistance he encountered, it’s no surprise that no one attempted to open another saloon after he left.

Meanwhile, the Anti-Saloon League of America (ASL) was looking for a place to relocate their Washington, D.C. headquarters where they could set up a publishing company. Westerville seemed ideal because of its pro-temperance stance, its excellent postal and train service, and its offer of free land, according to Jackie Barton, Westerville History Museum’s manager.

But Westerville’s reputation likely sealed the deal. ASL lobbyist Wayne Wheeler once described Westerville as “so dry that you have to sprinkle the streets after a rain.”

Following its relocation to Westerville in 1909, the group quickly established the American Issue Publishing Co. and began churning out 40-plus tons of anti-alcohol materials in 16 languages every month. Proceeds from the sale of those materials funded the war on alcohol, and the ASL made progress in the battle where other groups hadn’t because they focused solely on alcohol, according to Barton. (Other groups, such as the Women’s Christian Temperance League, were also lobbying for women’s suffrage.)

“They weren’t the only temperance group, but they were the most successful because this was the only thing they cared about,” she says.

Naturally, ASL leadership and workers relocated to Westerville, too. At the height of the movement leading up to the enactment of Prohibition on January 17, 1920, ASL members occupied no fewer than 20 houses near Otterbein University. Today, those houses are part of the Temperance Row Historic District.

Seitz says after the repeal of Prohibition in December 1933, the ASL’s presence in Westerville began to dwindle until 1973, when it dissolved and gifted its headquarters to the Westerville Public Library. The building now houses the Westerville History Museum.

Despite Prohibition’s repeal, Westerville continued to fight against alcohol. A month before the 21^st Amendment went into effect, the city voted to go dry again and remained alcohol-free until 1998, when voters approved a measure permitting a newly annexed section — and that section only — to sell alcohol.

The following year set the stage for even greater change. In 1999, the state of Ohio legislated that residents could vote to allow individual businesses to sell alcohol. Still, it would be five years before voters approved the sale of alcohol at the Old Bag of Nails, which reopened as Michael’s Pizza in 2006.

Other establishments followed, including Temperance Row Brewing Co. and High Bank Distillery Co. With an influx of new residents from other parts of the country, Westerville has become even more lenient in recent years, establishing a Designated Outdoor Refreshment Area (DORA) in 2022 that allows guests to stroll from business to business with alcohol in hand, as long as they remain within the DORA’s boundaries.

Across the street from High Bank Distillery Co. at Westerville City Hall, Seitz stops at The American Issue sculpture, named for the ASL’s weekly publication.  A wedge with arguments for temperance on one side and against it on the other divides a large boulder meant to represent the American people. On top of the wedge, a broken barrel symbolizes the unraveling of Prohibition.

“It was a wedge that divided people so completely that there was no room to sit on the fence,” Seitz says, pointing out that temperance is more complicated than being pro- or anti-alcohol. It was about government oversight versus personal responsibility.

It’s a lot easier to get a drink in Westerville today than it was in 1875, but the spirit of the temperance movement still makes its presence felt in the names of streets and businesses. It’s a short walk from the High Bank Distillery Co. to The American Issue sculpture, where you can read the words of women’s rights advocate Catharine Beecher: “Intemperance in drink has produced more guilt, misery and crime than any other one cause.”