Fathers And Sons And Bourbon

From left: Rob Samuels of Maker’s Mark, Bruce Russell of Wild Turkey, your humble (and small) Yankee narrator, Freddie Noe of Jim Beam.

My dad worked for Esquire from the late ‘50s until the mid ‘80s. He never wrote for the magazine, but he did a lot of different things within the company, from subscription renewals to running their stamp and film divisions. His heyday was the magazine’s heyday, and he was justifiably proud of his association with the company even if he wasn’t going around rubbing elbows with Norman Mailer on a daily basis.

For a long time, I was too intimidated to pitch anything to Esquire, even though its glory days were behind it by the time I started writing in earnest. The great David Wondrich still had his column, and the brilliant David Granger was editor-in-chief, and even if it didn’t have the stature it had in the ‘60s and ‘70s, I still considered it out of my league. But eventually I came up with an idea that I thought was Esquire-worthy, and lo and behold I got the green light to do it. Fred Noe of Jim Beam and Eddie Russell of Wild Turkey, two of the most legendary figures in Kentucky bourbon, both had sons in their 20s who were going into “the family business.” I wanted to talk to the sons and find out what it was like to grow up in the shadow of their fathers, both of whom had become rock stars among the whiskey set, and also what it was like to work alongside them as adults. Did they feel more like Ken Griffey Jr. or Frank Sinatra Jr.? I wanted them to talk not just with me but with each other, as well. My editor convinced me to add Rob Samuels of Maker’s Mark, son of the legendary Bill Samuels, Jr., to the mix. Rob’s older than Bruce Russell and Freddie Noe, and more established at Maker’s, but it was a good call.

I didn’t get paid much, and I had to find my own way to Kentucky (I’m grateful to the publicists who flew me there and put me up for my stay), but it turned out to be an amazing experience. Freddie, Rob and Bruce sort of knew each other had never been in the same room together, so listening to them compare notes about their experiences was even more interesting and illuminating than I’d hoped. And in the end, I got to follow in my father’s footsteps and become, no matter how tangentially, a member of the Esquire family. I’m sorry he wasn’t alive for the occasion, but I can hear him from wherever he is now, telling me I should have asked for more money.

Anyway, here’s the article.