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 The Story Behind Brandy from the Cherry
This song was written
and recorded as a 79th birthday present to my father John Morris
Parks. This is a true family story chronicling the curative effect
of Cherry Brandy. The story begins at the turn of the last century
along the Wabash river in West Lafayette, Indiana where my grandfather
Morris (Mode) R. Parks would go fishing. Morris loved sports.
With clubbed feet though many sports were beyond his stride.
Legend has it though that there was no better short stop on a
baseball team and no one better at fishing. On many lazy summer
afternoons you could find him down on the riverbank fishing with
the bootlegger's sons, a fact that greatly annoyed my great grandmother.
He made great friends with one Ed Lucas and they spent many a
childhood summer along the Wabash at their favorite pastime.
Little did he know then that his association with Ed would change
his life.
With childhood behind them and mostly forgotten, they lost touch
with one another. In those days sons were expected to take on
the occupations of their fathers. Accordingly, Ed became a bootlegger
and my grandfather an attorney.
Prohibition was in its infancy in the year 1922 when my grandfather
was elected to the most undesirable position in the county, that
of prosecuting attorney of Tippecanoe. His son John, in fragile
health from fighting diphtheria for 4 years, now was running
a high fever with pneumonia as well. The doctor came out and
gave my grandfather the sorry news that he was unlikely to live
through the night. Desperate, my grandfather begged him for any
advice he could offer. The doctor said, "I've heard of an
old folk remedy that has sometimes worked in these cases. If
you can procure a bottle of cherry brandy and administer to him
a jigger at a time, your son may have a chance at life."
Immediately Morris was on the phone to his old friend Ed Lucas.
This was an awkward request in these times, especially from the
likes of Mode. However, in nearly one hour flat, Ed Lucas came
to his doorstep with a bottle of cherry brandy. "What can
I give you for this Ed?", he said. Ed replied,"Nothing
Mode, its on the house."
My father then swallowed the charry brandy a jigger at a time
with the stroke of the town's bell tower, every fifteen minutes,
and with the early morning dew his fever broke. Not only was
he rid of the pneumonia, but the diphtheria as well. Though he
was left with only 60% lung capacity for the rest of his life
my father outlived every member of his immediate family. I too,
obviously, owe a great debt of gratitude to a bottle of cherry
brandy and the son of a bootlegger.
Victoria Parks
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