Fred Noe turned Jim Beam’s 90th anniversary party into a masterwork in storytelling
In August, the James B. Beam Distillery threw itself a 90th post-Prohibition anniversary party. The event centered on stories told by co-master distillers Fred and Freddie Noe while sips of seven Beam whiskies were poured for guests over a few hours. As the audience was invited to ask questions, the already funny stories became legendary.
If you’ve never heard Fred Noe tell stories, make it your mission to hear this natural master of the art. Most of what follows are his remarks, though some from son, Freddie—also an excellent and entertaining storyteller—are interspersed with Fred’s. Fred also refers a few times to legendary master distiller Baker Beam, who attended the event.
To have chiseled and polished these tales into a regular feature story would have wrung the humor out of them. What follows is a basic retelling of the Q&A nature of the afternoon. Read on for loads of laughs.
How did crews keep track of all the whiskey barrels before electronic scanning?
Freddie: Not very well!
Fred: We knew how much whiskey was in the tank and we knew how many barrels that went into, and we balanced that handwritten ledger with a pencil. I don’t know how many lost barrels happened back then before the computer came into the game but...
Freddie: Probably had a lot more drinking on the job back then. Is that what you’re saying?
Fred: Naw, that was angel’s share, just angel’s share. Help me out, Baker. You tell ‘em. … This is all off the record anyway.
Freddie: No, it’s not! There’s a camera right there.
Fred: Statutes of limitations on what happened then are waaaaay gone!
The old guys … and Baker can back me up on this—when I first came here 40 years ago (1984), the old guys in the warehouses always wore bib overalls. And in that center pocket they had a piece of tube—yeah, Baker’s nodding a bit—and they called it a mule. Them ol’ boys knew where the good barrels were, and they’d take a pocket knife, pop that bung out, put that mule in there and get themselves a little drink.
"Dad’s up on the stage talkin’ shit like I am now, and one of those distributors looked at (sales manager) Mike Donohoe and said, “Who’s this guy? Where’d y’all get him?” Mike said, that’s Booker, Jim Beam’s grandson. This ain’t Bartle’s & James, man, that’s a real dude!”
Those barrels, as they age, they rust some, and those old boys had big fat bellies like me. And when they’d lean onto those barrels (for a sip), their overalls would rub onto them. My dad, Booker, used to say, “You can find the sweet barrels by walking around and looking for the slick ones.” Trust me, Jimmy Russell (master distiller at Wild Turkey) will tell the same story.
Way back, Jim Beam worked some with George Wendt, who was Norm on the show, “Cheers.” We were doing a video or something with him, and an employee, Dumpy Lamar, was rolling barrels and recognized it was Norm. I said, “Come one, George, let’s go have some fun.”
So, we go over to where Dumpy is, and he looked at George and said, “I know you, you’re the guy who drinks beer on TV.” And George said, “Dumpy, can I borrow your mule?” Dumpy said, “I ain’t got a mule!” acting like George was going to get him in trouble. That guy made Dump’s day.
What was it like working with Booker Noe?
Dad and I were in Alaska once, staying at the last hotel before you get to Russia. My bed folded down from the wall, which should tell you something about it. Dad drank several Booker’s that day, so he was laying in the bed while I was writing up this report he wanted me to do. When we got back to Kentucky, that (report) went straight to the garbage. He never turned in his reports about stores visited or who he saw to the marketing people. He just wanted me to be more productive.
(On that trip) He said, “I got a question. How come you always order Knob Creek every time we order our drinks?” I said, “Well, I like Knob Creek.” He said, “Well, that’s about right. Knob Creek’s for boys. Booker’s is for men.”
Damn! I was 28 years old and drinking 100 proof Knob Creek, and I was a boy? I wasn’t drinking 130 proof, so I was a boy?
So, Dad said, “I’ll give you Knob Creek. That’ll be yours to promote on the road.” Little did I know I’d be seeing much more of the world after that. …
And, well, when Knob Creek’s sales passed sales of Booker’s, Dad asked, “Are you doing anything to sell my stuff?” I said, “Pop, barrel strength is a little tougher to sell than that 100 proof!”
How did Booker’s Bourbon come to be?
I don’t repeat marketing stories, but people still think I’m full of shit! The truth is Booker’s came about sometime in the ‘80s as Christmas gifts. Back then, Beam was giving flowers and chocolates as gifts to our distributor partners. (He rolls his eyes.) Dad ran the Boston Plant back then, and he’d have several (cask strength) samples in his desk drawer. When people would visit him there, he’d give them a taste.
Back then, the water cups had points on the bottom, so there wasn’t no settin’ that cup of water down. Dad would pour a drink for them in those, and they had to choose to throw it away or drink it. He’d watch people drink it and watch their eyes light up.
One of our executive vice presidents went to the distillery and tasted that whiskey. And when he went back up to Chicago, our main headquarters, and said, “We’re giving away chocolates and flowers? Why don’t we bottle up that liquid that Booker’s got there in Boston?” (The executive took the idea to then-CEO, Rich Reese.)
Back in those days, for Rich Reese to sign off on something, all it took was, “OK, Rich Reese,” written on a memorandum. You didn’t have to have 45 check offs like now. When the CEO said, “OK, Rich Reese,” it was done. And so it started.
There was no budget for this (whiskey gift bottling), so Dad got some old wine bottles from a warehouse in Bardstown. He poured out the bourbon from the barrel, strained out the charcoal, filled the bottles and dipped them in wax in a crockpot that he brought from home. The ladies at the distillery would hand label them, wrap them in tissue paper and we gave them as Christmas gifts.
All these distributors came back with letters asking, “What’s this product? Can we sell this?” So, they decided to take it to market, and Dad would go on the road to promote it.
We brought all our distributors to Chicago for the product launch, and Dad’s up on the stage talkin’ shit like I am now, and one of those distributors looked at (sales manager) Mike Donohoe and said, “Who’s this guy? Where’d y’all get him?” Mike said, that’s Booker, Jim Beam’s grandson. This ain’t Bartle’s & James, man, that’s a real dude!” And that’s how Booker’s got going.
We promoted Booker's by putting it in people’s mouths and letting them experience cask strength bourbon. His theory on cask strength was you could always cut it to the strength you wanted to drink it. You look around today and everybody’s got cask strength. Dad was so far ahead that everybody thought he was crazy.
"When Dad started me at Jim Beam, I was night shift bottling line supervisor. He wanted me to learn the entire business. Freddie had a better agent than I had. My agent was Booker."
Dad was never a big neat drinker of Booker’s. Once, when he was doing an interview with a whiskey writer, he was drinking what he called a Kentucky Tea. He’d take a tall glass, put a couple fingers of Booker’s in it and fill the rest with water. The reporter asked why he drank Kentucky Tea. And Booker, always quick with an answer, said, “Hell, why would I flavor my water with tea leaves when I can flavor my water with bourbon?”
What’s your favorite Booker’s release?
I like the 25th anniversary. It was the first one Freddie and I worked on together. I asked him, “What would Granddaddy say about this one?” and he said, “Oh, he’d like it, Dad.” Being able to bring him in and work on stuff together made it my favorite one.
Bringing your son into the business is what this is all about. It would have been cool if Booker had been around to see Freddie come into the business. He always said, “That boy’s gonna be good!”
What’s the story behind the Oven Buster Booker's Batch?
When Mom cooked pork roasts, she’d finish them with Jim Beam, and put the roast back into the oven. To Mom, bourbon was bourbon, and she’d use whatever bottles Dad had around the house. So, she grabbed a bottle of Booker’s, poured it over the pork roast and put it back in the oven. Well, it was an old oven door, not spring loaded, so when it went, “Boom!” it blew the oven door open.
Dad told her that high proof bourbon had a lower flash point, and when that heating element came on, that did it. It was funny to Dad, and when he told that story at tastings, Mom hated it. He’d always say it took two kicks of the mule before she learned (because) she blew it open twice.
So, when we did the actual Oven Buster Batch, I knew she hated the story, so I told Freddie, “Go present your grandmother with this bottle.” I knew that if I took it in there, I was gonna get my ass tore up. She said, “Aww, that’s nice. I bet your dad had a lot to do with this, right?” (He shakes his head.) Freddie could pretty much do what he wanted with Mom, but I was the asshole because I named it the Oven Buster.
About those batch names … When we started putting names on these batches of Booker’s, (our marketing people) would ask, “Are you going to be able to keep coming up with stories?” I said (incredulously), “Stories about my dad? … I think we’ll come up with plenty of stories.”
So, these agency folks are writing and recording while I’m telling stories, and they said, “We’re done! We’ve got plenty. We may have four years’ worth!”
My dad was a hard ass. If you met him out in public, you’d say he was big and soft … aww bullshit! If he got pissed, you knew it real quick! Five minutes after it was over, though, it was over. He didn’t keep brow beating you over how you’d screwed up. I thought my name was Dumbass since I’d heard it for 30 years of my life. Dad wanted to teach you; he wanted you to learn. That’s the way he was.
I’m a lot softer than him, though Freddie will tell people I’m as hard as Grandaddy was. Every now and then he’ll do something I think is a little silly and I’ll raise a little hell. But he usually wins out.
Was it different for you coming into the business than it was for Freddie?
When Dad started me at Jim Beam, I was night shift bottling line supervisor. He wanted me to learn the entire business. Freddie … He had a better agent than I had. My agent was Booker.
When Freddie came along, our CEO at the time, Matt Shaddock, brought Freddie to Chicago for an internship. He thought Freddie might want to be a lawyer, an accountant or a marketing person.
The second week he was there, the guy he was working with got re-org’ed out of the company. Freddie called me and said, “Dad, they just let JK go!” I said to him, “Get out of that desk, boy! You might be the first intern to get re-org’ed. Go sit with Kathleen DiBenedetto (senior director, premium seed brands, Beam Suntory). She’ll keep you safe. She’ll put you under her desk.”
Eventually, Freddie decided he’d rather be here than in Chicago. He’d gotten a good dose of the corporate world.... He’s the future, I’m the past.
How should you drink Jim Beam?
Any damn way you want! Nobody at a restaurant smacks your hand when you put salt and pepper on a steak. Who cares if you put Coke in it? That bottle of bourbon is yours. Take it home and do anything you want to do with it.