Nestled in the in Pennsylvania’s southern section of the Blue Ridge Mountains in 1923 was a little town called Johnsonville which had a pastor who distilled the best moonshine in five counties.
Some say the parishioners who attended his Church of God were regular alcoholics who would have their sins absolved every Sunday by the benevolent man of God who called himself the high priest Elijah the Saved. Two-thirds of the town’s residents of 600 people were regular church goers. The halleluiahs rang every Sunday from the church’s roof top with enthusiasm while the towns other third of the population hunkered down and whispered dark rumors about Elijah having a still. It didn’t seem right to them.
There were two important ingredients essential to making Elijah’s whiskey. One was water. In this part of Pennsylvania that was rich with limestone the water was clean and free of impurities that can alter the taste. The other ingredient was a secret known only to Elijah. His still was located just outside the town limits and was on the forest’s edge. A river ran through the forest for miles providing the required water for his spirits.
One of Elijah’s favorite sermons, repeated every few weeks, was about the holy spirit. It would be helpful to point out that what Elijah preached was far from most known religions. The attendees were Holy Rollers, Snake handlers, and talked in tongues. All distrusted the government and any strangers that came to town. Not that there were that many.
One day a young man with bright red hair came to Johnsonville from another county nearby. He had heard about the preacher’s exceptional moonshine and wanted to taste it and perhaps steal his recipe. He arrived on a Sunday and attended the church service from the back of the room where he could discreetly study the preacher and his followers. Friends and relatives advised him to stay away from there because the town had a murky reputation of outsiders disappearing from there. After the service he approached Elijah and praised his message.
“Would you like to join us at the community center? We serve a lunch blessed by my holy spirits that will save you from eternal damnation.”
“Thank you!” the young man said politely.
The first sip took the young man’s breath away and he struggled to remain calm. He never tasted moonshine like this before. There was a hint of some ingredient he couldn’t identify, and it bothered him. He came from a long line of moonshiners and prided himself on his knowledge of spirits and how to make them palatable. He hardly noticed the simple fare of ribs, beans, potatoes, and thick slices of homemade bread. Afterwards he thanked Elijah and asked him where he might find a place to stay overnight and possibly for a few days.
Elijah’s piercing blue eyes seemed to light up for a moment and then he smiled. “There’s a little room in the back of the church with a bed in it. You can stay there if you like,” he offered.
The next morning the young man found a tiny restaurant in the center of town. While he ate his fried eggs, thick slices of ham, and still warm bread, he thought about where he might find the preacher’s still. It didn’t take him long after that before he discovered the still on the outskirts of town concealed among trees and bushes. It wasn’t that hard to find which made him think that no one ever bothered the preacher’s still. Not even government men. It was just too easy to find which oddly troubled him. As he looked at the setup, he noticed an extremely large condenser and copper distiller. There were a couple of other oddities that made him wonder just what was being distilled there. Before he could inspect the layout any further, he heard footsteps and quickly concealed himself among some nearby thick bushes.
The high priest known as Elijah the Saved came into the little clearing and went right up to the copper condenser. Kneeling he used a hook to pull out a pan from the bottom and began pulling bones out carefully and putting them in a gunnysack. When the young man saw the skull, his heartbeat instantly increased. His secret ingredient was humans! As the horror dawned on him, he panicked and bolted out from the bushes heading deep into the forest’s bowels.
Folks from Ginnery County, where the young man was from, thought he’d gone crazy. He told his story to anyone who’d listen, but no one paid him any heed. A preacher making moonshine out of human bodies? They were sure he had alcohol poisoning or simply slipped a cog when running into a tree or something.
The next Sunday service in Johnsonville.
“The holy spirit comes to us in wonderous ways my flock. Sinners can be saved here in Johnsonville by sipping spirits and forgiving them their trespasses.”
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The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff 