In 1951, the Senate Special Committee to Investigate Organized Crime in Interstate Commerce was grilling a procession of gangsters. On Jan. 25, 1951, the committee was in New Orleans, where it had the man who ran most of the Crescent City’s illegal gambling, Phillip Kastel, in the hot seat. Committee Chairman Estes Kefauver pressed him on how many times he had been arrested. Asked about a 1926 grand larceny charge, Kastel was indignant: “I was tried three times in Federal court, and until my dying day, I will say I was not guilty. It was a miscarriage of misjustice. In other words,” Kastel concluded, “I believe I was framed to this present day.”
That didn’t keep Kastel from getting some working capital. Mob boss Frank Costello cosigned a $325,000 banknote Kastel used to secure the exclusive rights to sell King’s Ransom and House of Lords Scotch whiskies.
“How many years did you and Mr. Costello have that?” the chairman asked.
“Mr. Costello had nothing to do with that,” Kastel averred.
Kefauver was gobsmacked: “He just signed the note to help you out?”
“He just signed the note as a co-endorser to help me out, yes, sir.”
“He had no part of the business?”
“No part of that money at all.”
Awfully kind of Costello, that was.
King’s Ransom and House of Lords, both Scotch whisky blends made by the firm William Whiteley, were marketed as super-premium goods, first by bootleggers during Prohibition and then by the advertising johnnies after repeal. King’s Ransom was labeled the “around the world” Scotch, with the claim that barrels of the blend were stowed in the hold of ocean-going ships. As they circumnavigated the world, the whisky rocked and rocked until the constituent whiskies were perfectly melded. If that weren’t marketing spiel enough, King’s Ransom was sold as the most expensive Scotch one could buy.
The most expensive of anything has its allure, even when the economy calls for economizing. Just the other day, a magnum of indifferent champagne in a bottle studded with digital tokens called NFTs sold for $2.5 million.
But for those of us who can’t afford such stupidity, the current financial circumstances argue for finding affordable quality. Given that the price of single malt Scotch has been an alarming indicator of inflation all by itself, are there any blends (typically less expensive than the drams made of malt whisky from a single distillery) one can enjoy without creating a financial crisis of one’s own?
There are always the old standbys: Famous Grouse, Teacher’s, Dewar’s. And they’ll all do in a pinch. But there are some new options worth trying — even a surprise in the mix.
Compass Box is known for its bold blends, such as the super-smokey “Peat Monster.” It also has a newly christened whisky called the “Artist Blend.” I paid $36 for a bottle and was surprised by its depth and complexity.
Revived over the last few years is a brand named “Hankey Bannister.” Made with malt whiskies from the Old Pulteney, Balblair, Balmenach, Speyburn, and AnCnoc distilleries, it is a rich blend, mellow and remarkably good for the $18 it cost me.
The biggest surprise though came from a quirky discovery: William Whiteley, once the name of the company that bragged of producing the most expensive of Scotch whiskies, is now the name of one of the least expensive: William Whiteley’s Distiller’s Reserve Blended Scotch. That’s quite an extravagant name for a dram that goes for the almost embarrassing price of $13 a bottle.
It may not be a bottle of King’s Ransom, but what with Bidenomics, who can afford to spend a king’s ransom on whisky?
Eric Felten is the James Beard Award-winning author of How’s Your Drink?
