--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Young Men's Mutual Improvement Associations collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 19 number: 6 published: 1916-04 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Young Men's Mutual Improvement Associations, \"Freedom versus Rum,\" *Improvement Era* 19, no. 6 (April 1916): 546." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1906unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1906unse start_page: 546 end_page: 546 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1916-04) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1906unse publication_year: 1916 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1916, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Freedom versus Rum Freedom versus Rum "Oh, Freedom, Freedom," is the cry, made by the manwho steeps the rye. "Of freedom there is none,'' sayshe, "when fellows can't get on a spree, and live in glorygay and queer made by the fire in wine and beer. This isa land of liberty; our fathers fought that it might be;placed freedom as its corner rock, and raised a breed offree-born stock." So argues that glib whisky man, wholives by filling tank and can, and dealing out the deadlystuff, a grist of human lives to snuff. And then he fur-ther spouts away, about like this, election-day: "To turnthe houses pumping wine into a place for making twineto bind the golden sheaves of wheat, would be a lawlessact complete, and freedom then would bow her head andweep till eyes and nose were red." Fine logic this, let'sall admit—opposed to sense and all that's fit. If free-dom means the sale of vice, let's take the slavery overtwice. Again, that tipsy guy we meet on car, in grill,or on the street, shouts, "Freedom, freedom, happy land,where men can make or drink the brand that suits thefancy, taste or smell, provokes the loudest sort of yell."Thou fool, such argument is punk, and proves to all you'resoaked and drunk; that others' rights you do abuse, whene'er you gobble up the booze. This freedom that youthink divine, means not the tanking you with wine, ordealing out the pure "snake-juice," and turning hell anddevil loose. It means when I ride on the car, a-readingnews about the war, that you've no right to make me sick,the atmosphere around me thick, by blowing out yourwhisky breath, creating both disease and death. It meansyou have no right to hurl, when whisky's made your weakbrain whirl, a string of oaths into my ear, fill others withdisguest and fear. It means that you've no right totake from your own kids their bread and cake, and fromyour wife the needed shoes, and give her hunger and theblues. It gives you chance to be a man, too big to "rush"the stein or can, and empty out your weekly purse to bring-to you and yours a curse. This freedom that you hidebehind, to justify your course and kind, will revolutionizeyour life, restore your broken-hearted wife, put shoes andstockings on vour kids, if you'll start putting on thelids. Fred Waldo Crockett