Review of "Love and Whiskey" (The True Story of Jack Daniel and Nearest Green)

Let me start by stating this is unlike any review I’ve ever written. I’ve reviewed a handful of whiskey-centric books before. But today’s review is decidedly different (and perhaps long). I received a copy of Love and Whiskey, which was included with my sample of Uncle Nearest 777 Anniversary Blend: The Lost Chapter. Fawn Weaver, the founder of Uncle Nearest Premium Whiskey and the Uncle Nearest Distillery, wrote the book.

 

Love and Whiskey struck a nerve with me – but not in a wrong way. It is the story of Uncle Nearest Green, except that’s not quite it. It is really the story of Fawn’s journey to research the life of Uncle Nearest and how her whiskey brand was birthed.

 

I won’t pretend to know what it is like to be Black. I can tell you what it is like to be Jewish. From everything I’ve learned during my life, despite the differences in our pigmentation and how our ancestors came to America, we share many commonalities. We are (still) the targets of hatred. We’ve been subjected to bigotry, exclusion, vandalism, and demeaning talk (not only behind our backs but to our faces). We’ve been enslaved, shunned, and targets of genocide. There are still plenty of “unrefined” people out there who treat us like we’re less than human.

 

Another unfortunate similarity is that we both have a hell of a time researching our family trees. Most Blacks can’t go back more than a handful of generations; neither can most Jews. For Blacks, it was because enslaved people were considered property, and thus, birth, death, and marriage records were rare, and when listed in census records, Blacks were referred to as either numbers or just first names. For Jews, most of our ancestors came from Europe, and Hitler purposefully destroyed those records. Earlier this year, I attempted to find my roots. I got as far as a single fourth great-grandfather. The other branches of the family tree ended at great-great-grandfathers.

 

In contrast, my wife, whose roots come from some of the same European countries as mine, can trace her origins to medieval times. The difference? Neither she nor her ancestors were Jewish.

 

While reading Love and Whiskey, Fawn stated things she felt I had also experienced. One passage in particular stood out:

“[…] I realized all eyes were on me. I was like a speck of pepper in a saltshaker. Every face around me was white, and literally everyone was wearing camouflage.

Keith raised his eyebrows at me.

[…] I ordered the grits with butter and brown sugar, scrambled eggs, and a biscuit with gravy - one of my absolutely favorite breakfasts growing up. I later learned it was the first day of a limited dove-hunting season – they don’t all wear camo all the time.” – Page 31

 

I’ve been there. Not to the café Fawn was in, not even in Lynchburg (that’s on my to-do list). As a Jew, I have been in the very uncomfortable position of assuming the worst when I felt out of place, surrounded by people who, stereotypically, don’t like me. I can tell you that while it is almost instinctual due to generations upon generations of bigotry; I find myself ashamed each time it happens.

 

If you don’t know the story, Uncle Nearest Green was an enslaved person owned by Dan Call, a Lutheran minister and owner of a grocery store that sold whiskey distilled by, you guessed it, Uncle Nearest himself. Jack Daniel was a young boy when he asked Reverand Call to teach him how to make whiskey. Reverand Call told him he should learn directly from Uncle Nearest because nobody made better whiskey than he did.

 

The crazy thing is that Uncle Nearest's teaching Jack Daniel how to distill was never a secret. The Green and Daniel families were very close; many generations learned and worked at Jack Daniel’s side by side. Parents would tell kids about Uncle Nearest and Jack. Don’t forget Lynchburg was a small town.

 

What changed was when Brown-Forman purchased Jack Daniel’s in the 1950s, any mention of Green was scrubbed. Tours never mentioned Uncle Nearest or his relationship with Jack Daniel. It wasn’t until several years after that scrubbing that Brown-Forman showed any interest in the history, and by that time, the folks who knew about it had died. A June 25, 2016, New York Times article stated:

 

“The Green story is an optional part of the distillery tour, left to the tour guide’s discretion, and the company is still considering whether it will flesh the story to new displays.”

 

Fawn had known about the article the first time she visited Jack Daniel’s, and the first guide failed to mention Uncle Nearest. Neither did the second or the third. She took several tours throughout the day, with nary a word about the man who taught Jack Daniel how to make Jack Daniel’s.

 

Fawn’s journey is fascinating, and I don’t want to ruin it for you by spilling too many details. There are plenty of ah-ha moments, and it sometimes reads like a mystery novel. What’s fascinating, at least to me, is how an outsider from California felt called to a mission, packed up, and interacted with the people in tiny Lynchburg. Much of it is her overcoming preconceived notions of southern Whites and building great relationships with the locals while uncovering intentionally and unintentionally forgotten history.

 

Love & Whiskey is divided into Parts I, II and III. The first is all of the above. The second is about how Fawn transformed the idea of Uncle Nearest Premium Whiskey into a reality. At this point, the book reads more like a thriller than a mystery, with Fawn moving forward while simultaneously watching over her shoulder to see how Brown-Forman would react:

 

“I feel like I’d been living a story somewhere between the movies Spotlight and Concussion since I started researching Nearest’s story. Brown-Forman had lots of avenues available to them to slow us down once they found out. They could shut down our barrel supply or throw their weight around and hire our distilling partner to distill a large amount for them instead. They had armies of attorneys they could use to try to intimidate us into halting the product before it ever made it to market…”  - Page 213

 

Part III tells us what transpired between 2017 and 2024, including how Brown-Forman attempted to derail Nearest Green’s success by planning a limited-edition “small run” release called Nathan Green and Uncle Nearest’s issues with distributors, to opening the Uncle Nearest Distillery and its Visitor Center.

 

Fawn had two missions she would not deviate from – she wanted to tell the true story and honor the country’s first Black master distiller, all while not denigrating the story of Jack Daniel, whom Fawn had immense respect for.

 

Bottle, Bar, or Bust: Strangely, while I’ve never interacted with Fawn, I feel almost a kinship with her. I cheered for her when she found something huge. I sensed her despair over the disgusting Civil War-era violence that unfolded in Lynchburg. I appreciated how she overcame her fears and concerns as she wandered into unknown territory. I’ve been there when, as an older teenager, I ventured outside of the safe, predominantly Jewish surroundings I grew up in.

 

Love and Whiskey moved me – emotionally and spiritually. Fawn’s adventure and what she discovered along the way entranced me. I finished this 323-page story (plus an additional 30 pages, primarily notes and source material) in two sittings and can’t begin to say enough good things about it.

 

Learn about the history of America’s first Black master distiller. I assure you will not be disappointed. On my Bottle, Bar, or Bust scale, Love and Whiskey commands my Bottle rating.

 

And, Fawn, if I’m lucky enough for you to read this review, thank you so much for bringing the incredible history of Uncle Nearest Green to the world. Cheers!

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Much to my delight, Fawn did read this. She attempted to comment and ran into an error. When that happened, she contacted me via Instagram. This is what she said:

This is amazing—thank you! I can’t figure out how to get the comment to display my name instead of “Anonymous,” but this is Fawn. Thank you for tagging me on IG so I could see this remarkable review. What moves me the most is how you’ve interwoven your own family’s struggles, stemming from your heritage, with those of Nearest’s. I think many African Americans don’t realize that your records were intentionally destroyed, leaving you with the same result as my ancestors, who had no records at all.

 

Our head of PR is Jewish, but I never knew because her last name is Davis, and she was unmarried until recently. After working together for a few years, I noticed that she always took time off to celebrate Jewish holidays. One day, I finally asked her, “What’s your maiden name?”—confused by the Davis of it all. When she said her last name was always Davis, I was even more perplexed.

 

It turns out that when her grandparents came to America, they couldn’t find work under their Jewish last name. So, her grandfather changed the family name to something he thought would help him get a job. Learning about her family’s history was a huge aha moment for me.

 

Anyway, thank you for sharing your story as part of this review. I believe the world would be so much better if we all took the time to learn about the ties that bind us.

 

My Simple, Easy-to-Understand Rating System

• Bottle = Buy It
• Bar = Try It
• Bust = Leave It

 

Whiskeyfellow encourages you to enjoy your whiskey as you see fit but begs you to do so responsibly.