PROHIBITION: Prosit!

"To the White House!" directed the dispatcher of Washington's Abner Drury Brewery at 12:01 a. m. last Friday morning. "Let her go!"

Traffic was cleared as the Drury truck thundered down Pennsylvania Avenue bearing the device: PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT, THE FIRST BEER IS FOR YOU. Crowds shouted enthusiastically at the tradesmen's entrance, a Marine guard happily guzzled a bottle from one of the two Presidential cases. Six Hawaiians thumped their guitars.

The man who had fulfilled his campaign promise within 33 days of taking office, was asleep when the first First Beer was stored in his pantry. Next morning a plane brought two more cases from six Milwaukee brewers, who wished the President "Long life, prosperity. Prosit!" Also by plane, from Chicago's Atlas Brewery came a 5-ft. bottle of brew. Although his wife will serve beer "to those who like it," the President turned over his testimonial samples to the National Press Club.

In Manhattan at 12:01 the Anheuser-Busch neon-lit clock in Times Square (a replica of the pre-War one) which sounds chimes by electric transcription, broadcast "Happy Days Are Here Again." Later in the morning another great U. S. citizen got his beer. Drawn by six big brewery horses, a shiny red Busch stake wagon clattered up to the entrance of the Empire State Building. Out of the door stepped Alfred Emanuel Smith in velvet-collared overcoat. Regarded by his whooping admirers as a martyr to national Prohibition reform in 1928. he received his case of Budweiser with a grin. "This is surely a happy day for us all," said the Happy Warrior. "My only regret is that the wagonload is not all mine." The Smith case had been flown from St. Louis overnight. All the other cases were dummies.

Throughout the U. S., thirsty citizens, additionally impelled by the patriotic notion that a depression might be drowned in 3.2% beer, began lapping it up with gusto. Within 24 hours, estimated Editor Joseph Dubin of Brewery Age, between 1,000,000 and 1,500,000 bbl. of beer had been consumed.

New York City was not sure until midweek whether or not it was going to get its beer on the day of national legalization. Like most states, New York had not matched the legislative celerity of Congress. Its Legislature, haggling over the details of a regulatory code for brewers and vendors, paused in its squabble long enough to slap a $1-a-bbl. tax (Federal tax: $5) on beer. Into the breach stepped puffy Mayor John Patrick O'Brien of New York, who ordered his Health Department to license manufacturers for $100, wholesalers at $50, retailers variously at $15, $10 and $5 to operate temporarily.