Mayberry’s Most Wanted Moonshiners

by Nelson

Aside from a would-be bank robber or two, the occasional chop shop, or just plain, old-fashioned horse stealing, Mayberry wasn’t a town that had much criminal activity. This left Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife without many day-to-day responsibilities aside from issuing parking tickets or confiscating bicycles from spoiled rich kids who insist on riding on the sidewalk. The leisurely life of local law enforcement is one of the main sources of humor in The Andy Griffith Show and one of the many reasons that the sitcom is timelessly funny and unlikely to ever stop airing. 

The most persistent crime Andy and Barney are forced to contend with is Mayberry’s thriving moonshine market. Mayberry County is one of those pesky dry counties, and this forces locals like Otis Campbell to rely on bootleggers. Otis is the definition of a repeat customer. If the man doesn’t get to enjoy his weekly drunk, spend his evening in a cell, and wake up to a hot, heaping breakfast courtesy of Aunt Bee, then his marriage is in serious trouble. No matter how many stills Ange and Barn take an axe to and bust up (“Pow! Pow! Pow!”), there’s always someone ready to take up the reins and keep the party going. 

Mayberry Moonshiners were a diverse group. A few were sneaky, mean, and depicted as the villains of the episodes they appeared in. Others were on great terms with the police and more than willing to either turn themselves in or stand down and watch the sheriff and his axe-wielding deputy do their civic duty (“Pow! Pow! Pow!”). It was always funny to see Andy be so friendly with offenders to the chagrin of his neurotic deputy, so the show usually took the benevolent bootlegger route, but there were more than a few who were unapologetically embarking on careers of evil with stills of sin. 

So, this week on DoubtFire, let’s take a look at some of Mayberry’s most notable suppliers. 

Rafe Hollister/Ben Sewell 

We meet Rafe Hollister in Season One when he’s going by the name of Ben Sewell. Either Ben decided to change his name for professional purposes, or the writers just decided that “Rafe” was a better name. Whatever you call him, this guy is the most frequently featured and friendliest of all the town offenders. He’s also quite the singer and more than willing to offer vocalizing tips to the tone-deaf and rhythm-less Barney. Impressive pipes aren’t Rafe’s only talent, though. He’s got a knack for building stills, and, since he lives up in the mountains, he doesn’t have to worry too much about Andy and Barney sniffing around. He only manages to get busted thanks to an inside tip (more on that later), but his wife eventually forces him to retire for good after she stubs her toe and gets tired of the criminal lifestyle. Unfortunately, the folks who picked up the reins weren’t nearly as kindly as the merry moonshiner. 

Jubal Foster

You hear Jubal’s name more than you actually see him, but, in the one episode where he does show up (“The Keeper of the Flame”), we learn the sad truth. Jubal Foster is a mean sumbitch who doesn’t care who he hurts. He poses as a farmer just doing the best he can to keep a roof over his head, but it’s all a front to cover up the cruelty that lives in his soul. To top it off, Jubal doesn’t even know his way around a still and manages to burn his barn down while trying to cook up a new batch. He’s not just an amateur, though, he’s an unapologetic extortionist who blames Opie and his friends for the fire and demands that Sheriff Taylor pay for a new barn. Thankfully Deputy Fife – the bloodhound of the law – manages to track down the unsavory truth and even sacrifices his own sobriety to prove that Jubal is throwing a bunch of elementary schoolers under the bus for his own ineptitude. I hope they put you under the jail, Jubal Foster! 

Big Jack Anderson

Big Jack is another one of the bad-guy bootleggers, but you’ve got to respect how he goes about his business. Big Jack is a thinker. He falls back on the tried and true Scooby Doo Method™ to protect his operation by hiding his still in the Rimshaw House – the local “haunted” property – and keeping prying eyes away with fun parlor tricks like an axe held up by fishing line and a huge portrait of Old Man Rimshaw with “moving” eyes that follow trespassers around the room. Big Jack’s brilliance is ultimately undone when Barney, Andy, and Gomer try to prove to Opie that ghosts aren’t real and investigate the house. They discover the illegal set-up in the basement, and, once again, perform their policemen’s duties (“Pow! Pow! Pow!”). Jack’s not too happy about being taken in – which suggests that either he doesn’t know about Aunt Bee’s cooking, or maybe he’s heartless enough to hate it. Either way, everything would’ve worked if it weren’t for those meddlin’ lawmen. 

The Morrison Sisters

For a time, Clarabelle and Jennifer Morrison were the queen pins of Mayberry. On the surface, they’re a harmless, grandmotherly pair of sisters who run a flower shop, but, in reality, they’re ruthless, cunning, and out to control all of the alcohol bought and sold in the county. They gleefully turn in any competitors to the sheriff and stand by with innocent smiles on their faces while bootlegger after bootlegger is hauled in and brought up on charges. It doesn’t stop there, though. They don’t just distribute their “elixir” to anyone. That’d be too high profile. Instead, the Morrisons won’t let you in the door unless you’re celebrating a holiday. And, as we find out, there are an awful lot of holidays to celebrate. It turns out that Mayberry boasts a surprisingly large population of practicing Muslims eager to ring in Mohammad’s birthday in style, strict observers of Sir Walter Raleigh Day, and a horde of National Potato Week enthusiasts. For a brief time, Clarabelle and Jennifer control the town’s black-market with iron fists, but everything falls apart when Opie accidentally tips his dad off when he mistakes a still for a flower making machine. But, the sisters have one final stroke of genius and escape arrest entirely by pretending to have no idea that their magical elixir was being used “not for special occasions but just for plain guzzling.” Sure, Morrison Sisters. Sure. 

Of course, like any illegal operation, you’ve got your share of small-timers. Sam Muggins gets hauled in on Christmas when his miserly landlord catches him brewing up a batch to merry up the holiday, and Jess Morgan is so highly regarded that he’s allowed to leave in the middle of his sentence to tend to his farm before turning himself back in. That’s one of the best things about Mayberry. The sheriff’s office practices the honor system, and Andy believes in rehabilitation through the power of song.