Part 1 of 2
CHAPTER 2. BOOZE AND BLACKMAIL
THE WHISKY MEN
Per his own account, Samuel Bronfman had never planned to become one of North America's top liquor magnates, having previously aspired to a career in law. Nevertheless, true to his family's last name, which means "whisky man" in Yiddish, he and his brothers went on to build a liquor empire that would rocket the Bronfmans into the upper echelons of the Western business elite, though the road they traveled to get there was hardly elegant.
While the Bronfmans are now remembered as scions of Canada's upper class, this was certainly not the case when Samuel's parents -- Mindel and Yechiel Bronfman -- brought the family to Canada from Bessarabia, now part of modern-day Moldova and Ukraine, in 1889. They had left as part of a wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing the anti-Semitic pogroms of czarist Russia, leaving behind a somewhat profitable tobacco farming business.
In Bessarabia, they had been relatively well off and had emigrated to Canada along with two of their servants and their personal rabbi. However, Canada, particularly Manitoba where the Bronfmans eventually settled, was poorly suited for tobacco farming, forcing Yechiel to labor on Canadian railroads and in sawmills before moving into the sale of firewood and the trading of livestock and fish. It would be their trading of horses that would eventually lead them to begin work in the hospitality sector and, subsequently, the liquor business.1
The Bronfmans' beginnings, particularly following their arrival in Canada, stand in such stark contrast to their current reputation that even Sam's sons, Edgar and Charles, were kept in the dark by their own father regarding the family business' early days. "He would never tell us any of the early history, " Edgar Bronfman would later remember of his father. A Bronfman biographer -- former senior editor at The Economist, Nicholas Faith -- would also write that "underlying the family's riches was a deep sense of shame as to their origins" and that Sam's generation had "shared an absolute refusal to tell their offspring anything about their life before their arrival in the Promised Land," i.e., Canada.
Part of the reason for this secrecy, even within the family and between father and son, was likely related to the personal struggle of many immigrants, some of whom choose to turn their back on their lives prior to immigrating and strive to establish and prove their connections to the new land in which they find themselves. Indeed, Sam Bronfman went to great lengths to do just that, publicly claiming for much of his late life that he had been born on March 4, 1891 in Brandon, Manitoba, Canada, obfuscating both his real date and place of birth - February 27, 1889, Bessarabia.2 Michael Marrus, one of Bronfman's more sympathetic biographers, would write that Sam Bronfman never truly "abandoned his enthusiastic identification with the country in which his career began, and [his attempts to obfuscate his place of birth] is perhaps the most significant indication of his obsession with the respectability he associated with Canadian citizenship."3
While Sam Bronfman was undoubtedly ill at ease with his status as an immigrant, there is another factor that may explain his unwillingness, and that of his seven siblings, to discuss the family's "early days" and, specifically, the chain of events and eventual alliances with unsavory characters that would lead them to the top of Canada's business elite.
At some point in the early 1890s, as he sampled spirits in a dingy saloon after selling off some horses, Yechiel Bronfman mulled the merits of leaving behind a life of hard labor in favor of the intertwined businesses of hospitality and liquor sales. Sam Bronfman would later claim that it was actually he who had convinced his father to move into hospitality and bartending, though most biographers doubt this, given Sam's age at the time.4 Regardless, it would be over a decade before the Bronfman family patriarch and his eldest sons managed to scrape together the funds necessary to realize Yechiel's dreams.
The Bronfmans had saved enough money to lease their first Canadian hotel, the Anglo-American Hotel in Emerson, Manitoba, by 1903.5 Soon, they acquired several more hotels in Yorkton, Saskatchewan and later in Winnipeg and beyond, building a small yet profitable network of hotels prior to the onset of World War I. The dramatic shift in the family's fortune was largely thanks to the business acumen of Sam's brother Harry, who managed to stave off the financial damage and legal trouble caused by the gambling and other "unseemly" habits of their older brother, Abe.
Sam Bronfman formally joined the new family business in 1907, though he would later regale some of his biographers with tales of how he had been the original "dynamo" behind the family's success in hospitality, despite considerable evidence to
Sam Bronfman formally joined the new family business in 1907, though he would later regale some of his biographers with tales of how he had been the original “dynamo” behind the family’s success in hospitality, despite considerable evidence to the contrary. What is notable, however, is the fact that, not long after Sam formally became involved in hotel management, the family’s hotels were targeted by a series of unfortunate accusations, including when they went to renew their liquor license in Yorktown in 1908. Locals had alleged that the Bronfmans were guilty of violating local liquor laws and condoning illegal gambling in their inns.6 The latter is particularly likely given the well-known gambling habits of Abe Bronfman, which were known to have threatened the family business on more than one occasion.
The same year that Sam joined the family’s hotel business, the organization that would eventually bring “Prohibition” to Canada also emerged, the Social and Moral Reform Council. A joining of the leadership of various Protestant churches, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, the Royal Templars of Temperance and other like-minded groups, the Social and Moral Reform Council was born out of a farreaching Protestant religious movement of the period, known as the “Social Gospel” movement, that sought to “fight social evils,” particularly those caused or exacerbated by rapid urbanization and industrialization.7 For groups like the Social and Moral Reform Council, liquor quickly became a main target.
The Council and its allies managed to successfully appeal to many Canadians, both those who shared and lacked their religious zeal, as bars and saloons were often disliked for other reasons aside from their “moral depravity,” such as their often farreaching stenches and the fact that around a third of criminal prosecutions at the time were related to drunkenness.8 Though the Temperance movement in Canada deeply divided its population, it got the boost it needed to become common policy with the onset of the First World War.
In Canada, Prohibition was initially a provincial matter, with a handful of provinces having enacted Prohibition laws prior to the war. Yet, once the curtain of war had fallen, many Canadians came to believe that banning the sale, trade and manufacture of alcohol would aid the war effort. As a result, most Canadian provinces enacted some sort of alcohol ban prior to Canada’s short-lived federal ban, enacted near the end of the war in 1918 and expiring a year after hostilities ended.9 The impact of Prohibition on Canada’s liquor industry was substantial and felt long after it was repealed, with 75% of its breweries having closed by 1928. However, Prohibition was conveniently fortuitous for some, the Bronfmans chief among them.
Given the provincial nature of Prohibition in Canada prior to its brief stint as a federal policy, the differences between the Temperance laws of various provinces provided numerous loopholes that the Bronfmans were able to exploit to great effect. So successful were the Bronfmans at aptly working in the gray area of the varied and often temporary gaps between provincial laws that author Peter Newman remarked in his biography of the Bronfmans, Bronfman Dynasty: The Rothschilds of the New World, “Sometimes it almost seemed that the American Congress and the Canadian federal and provincial legislatures must have secretly held a grand conclave to decide one issue: How they could draft anti-liquor laws and regulations that would help maximize the Bronfman brothers’ bootlegging profits.”10
In one example, during World War I, the three eldest Bronfman brothers (Abe, Harry, and Sam) exploited the fact that Manitoba and Ontario, while prohibiting the sale of liquor within the province, allowed alcohol to be imported. The brothers set up several mail-order liquor businesses throughout these two provinces and profited handsomely, that is until the ban on interprovincial trading would go into effect in 1918 with federal Prohibition.
However, federal Prohibition also came with a loophole, which allowed alcohol to be sold for “medicinal purposes.” This prompted Harry Bronfman to create a wholesale drug company that permitted him to import alcohol in bulk and provide it to area pharmacies. He placed its offices next door to one of the family’s ritzier hotels, the Balmoral, and its business model involved offering doctors a bonus for each liquor prescription they wrote if that prescription was fulfilled by a pharmacy whose liquor was furnished by the Bronfmans.11
Canadian writer Mordecai Richler would later allege that the initial license for Harry’s new enterprise, named the Canada Pure Drug Company, was acquired by a well-placed bribe to a prominent politician.12 Other family biographers, like Michael Marrus, called the firm “a thinly disguised liquor outlet that soon pumped more whiskey into retail drugstores than any other wholesaler in Saskatchewan.”13 The company also benefitted from the corruption of the province’s liquor commission, which allowed a percentage of the liquor it seized to be sold back to Harry Bronfman, who then resold it an exorbitantly marked-up price.
Subsequent government investigations that were part of a Royal Commission would further allege that the Bronfman family “drug” company was “never engaged in the drug business, but confined its activities to the sale of alcohol in the western provinces,” adding that the company imported hundreds of thousands of gallons of alcohol from the United States.14 Out of the Bronfman brothers, it had been Sam who was sent to travel across Canada and the United States, which allowed him to build a vast network that included numerous American and Canadian distilleries and bootleggers. This network would, in a few years, prove essential to the Bronfmans, especially Sam, once Prohibition arrived in Canada’s southern neighbor, the United States.
THE MANY FRIENDS OF MR. SAM
Beyond the complicity of corrupt officials and doctors, a driving force behind the Bronfman family’s Prohibition era success was their ties, forged by Sam, to the Hudson’s Bay Company, long a dominant force in Canada’s economy backed by the political and economic elite of England since its founding in the 1600s. According to Nicholas Faith, Hudson’s Bay Company “trusted him [Sam] implicitly after he had refused to make any profit on a couple of thousand cases of Dewar’s whisky that Hudson’s Bay wanted to buy back from him.” However, in the cutthroat and often extremely violent world of bootlegging in Canada, “implicit trust” was unlikely to have been granted from just a single act.
More likely was the fact that Hudson’s Bay Company had long been the dominant force in Canada’s liquor industry and had every intention of continuing to operate its liquors business during Prohibition. The Bronfmans were sure to have caught their attention early on, not just through their mail order business, but because Harry Bronfman had quickly gained a reputation as “the king of bootleggers” who was able to easily skirt the law due to his contacts with corrupt local and provincial officials. His brother Sam sought to focus the entire family business on liquor early on in Prohibition, which would have made him a critical contact for any business seeking to clandestinely deal with the Bronfmans’ sale of spirits during this period.15
The Hudson’s Bay Company’s import of liquor into Canada by various means during Prohibition greatly aided the business of several distillers in England and Scotland. Many of those British distillers boasted close ties to the royal family and England’s political elite, like Dewar’s. These companies risked losing a considerable amount of income if their ability to export spirits to Canada had been entirely cut off, especially at a time when drinking in England was on the wane. The British government itself was clearly aware of these concerns and made the promotion of exports, liquor in particular, a key policy aimed at offsetting the country’s considerable war debts.16
Direct ties of the company to bootlegging in Canada emerged when British Colombia’s Prohibition Commissioner, Walter Findlay, was caught engaging in and profiting from the illegal liquor trade. At his trial, the existence of “a liquor delivery service run by the Hudson’s Bay Company” that sent alcohol to private addresses and spanned the nation was revealed, despite Findlay’s refusal to testify.17
Whatever the real story was behind the ties that were forged between Sam Bronfman and the Hudson’s Bay Company, the dominant distillers of England and Scotland that held great sway over the company’s liquor subsidiary would be critical to Bronfman’s success during and after Prohibition, and he to theirs.
Soon after the conclusion of Canadian prohibition, Prohibition went into effect in the United States in January 1920. The Bronfmans, now largely under Sam’s leadership, continued to import American liquor at incredible quantities, but at a much cheaper rate given that the new law had made it essentially worthless in its country of origin. That imported liquor was then mixed with raw alcohol and water. This degradation allowed the Bronfmans to ship a much larger quantity of the liquor than they had purchased back into the United States.18 Such was the story of the Bronfman family’s initial entry into the distilling business.
As stock from American distilleries began to run out in 1923, the Bronfmans built a distillery near Montreal. They named their newest venture Distillers Corporation Limited, the same name as the then-unrelated and significantly more prestigious Scottish company that included the top five whisky and gin producers in the British Isles. The name the Bronfmans had chosen was no coincidence, as the “audacious” name Sam had chosen for the family’s first distillery succeeded in attracting the nearimmediate attention of the Scottish firm. The Bronfman family subsequently formed a joint venture with the elite of Scotland’s and England’s liquor industry, thereby uniting the two companies that shared the name Distillers Corporation Limited. Their union also allowed the Bronfmans to secure the exclusive rights to import many of the top brands from “across the pond.”19 Roughly a decade later, in the 1930s, Samuel Bronfman purchased and built a number of distilleries in Scotland, further deepening his ties to the liquor barons of the “Old World.”
The ability of the Bronfmans to secure this deal at the time likely owed to Sam’s pre-existing ties to the Hudson’s Bay Company, which had previously imported many of the brands united under the British Distillers Company Limited. Another potential factor was the “chance” meeting between one of the Bronfman’s “middlemen,” Lewis Rosenstiel, and Winston Churchill in 1922. A year later, Bronfman traveled to Kentucky, where Rosenstiel was based at the time, and purchased an ailing distillery, the components of which were then shipped North and used to create the Bronfman’s first distillery.
Churchill had deep family and personal ties to the Hudson’s Bay Company and, from 1919 to 1922, he was in charge of Britain’s Colonial Office.20 In this capacity, Churchill refused to use British authority or influence to interfere with the liquor trade in any British colony, including in British-dominated “Rum Row” where the Bronfmans were also active. Churchill argued that England was not obligated to enforce the laws of another nation, and would later call Prohibition as a policy “an affront to the whole history of mankind.”21 Churchill would later emerge as a key investor in America’s post-Prohibition liquor industry, which Bronfman and Rosenstiel would quickly come to dominate.22
As the Bronfman family’s clout in the liquor industry grew after Prohibition, Sam Bronfman would later manage to personally meet Queen Elizabeth II of England and he would even create a Canadian whisky, Crown Royal, to specifically commemorate her visit to Canada in 1939.
Five years after creating the successful joint venture with Distillers Company Limited, the Bronfman’s Distillers Corporation Limited purchased Joseph E. Seagram’s and Sons Limited and their distillery in Water-loo, Ontario. The merged company became Seagram Company Limited, or Seagram’s, and would serve as the Bronfman family’s financial vehicle, not just for their ever-expanding liquor empire, but their subsequent interests in chemicals, oil, and entertainment.
Though his British and Scottish connections were important to his and Seagram’s success, Sam Bronfman’s rise as a global liquor baron also depended significantly on the ties he had forged, often through his “middlemen,” with more unsavory actors, namely key figures in North American organized crime. Many of them still live on in American urban legend and were discussed at length in the previous chapter, including Charles “Lucky” Luciano, Moe Dalitz, Abner “Longy” Zwillman, Meyer Lansky, and members of Detroit’s Purple Gang, among others.
Much of the Bronfmans’ early involvement in bootlegging took place across the Saskatchewan-North Dakota border in “boozoriums” where their liquor could be purchased in Canada and then moved to their final destination in the United States. Yet, the murder of a Bronfman brother-in-law turned associate, and the promise of more lucrative markets for Bronfman booze soon drew their attention elsewhere.
“We were late starters in the two most lucrative markets – on the high seas and across the Detroit River. What came out of the border trade in Saskatchewan was insignificant by comparison,” Bronfman once told Canadian journalist Terence Robertson. Despite being late to the game, “this was when we started to make our real money,” Bronfman recounted.23
The bootlegging operation of the Bronfmans would later extend far beyond the Canadian-US border, with the family establishing warehouses and fronts throughout the Caribbean and Mexico. They were encircling their main market – the United States – like prey.
Of course, with great profit came great risk, and though they avoided major legal trouble for their ties to bootlegging operations during American Prohibition, it caught up with them soon after. In 1934, the Bronfman brothers were charged with conspiracy “to violate the statutes of a friendly country” and for evading taxes on liquor that they had exported out of Canada.
Soon after the charges were announced, Sam Bronfman allegedly ordered the destruction of thousands of documents aimed at “shielding their early operations from inquisitorial eyes” and Bronfman-owned companies tied to smuggling and their assets would mysteriously vanish. As a result, the case against the Bronfmans ran into an insurmountable roadblock and the four Bronfman brothers were acquitted on all charges by the summer of 1935. They even managed to settle with US authorities, negotiating a $3 million settlement with the Treasury Department, a mere fraction of what they had gained during American Prohibition.
Most of Bronfman’s mob associates during American Prohibition were members of, or somehow tied to, the National Crime Syndicate. This Syndicate, described in detail in the previous chapter, was subsequently defined by the 1950s Senate investigative body, the Kefauver Committee, as a confederation of organized crime interests then dominated by the Italian-American mafia and the Jewish-American mob. During the Kefauver Committee’s investigation, some of the biggest players in the American Mafia named Bronfman as a central figure in their bootlegging operations.
Though Sam was careful to distance himself as much as possible from prominent criminals, he did have a somewhat cozy relationship with Meyer Lanksy, with Lansky’s wife later recounting how Bronfman had thrown lavish dinner parties for her husband. The relationship appears to have begun in 1923 when Lansky bought Sam prized tickets to the boxing championship between Jack Dempsey and Luis Firpo in New York, likely a gesture aimed at gaining Sam’s favor, or perhaps returning one. Subsequently, Lansky would, among other thing, offer exclusive protection of Bronfman’s booze shipments.
In his old age, Lansky, apparently bitter that Bronfman had managed to launder his post-Prohibition reputation into that of an “upstanding” member of North American aristocracy, would remark “Why is Lansky a ‘gangster’ and not the Bronfman and Rosenstiel families? I was involved with all of them in the 1920s, although they do not like to talk about it and change the subject when my name is mentioned.”24
The ties between the Bronfman family business and organized crime may explain why some past efforts to chronicle the rise of the Bronfmans were ill-fated, particularly during Sam Bronfman’s lifetime. The first person who attempted to write a biography of Samuel Bronfman, Terence Robertson, had traveled to New York to investigate Bronfman and the then-sprawling corporate empire of Seagram’s. While in New York, he had allegedly concluded the book, but had telephoned a journalist colleague back in Canada, distraught. In that phone call, Robertson claimed to have “found out things about Sam, they didn’t want me to write about.”
Robertson would call a second colleague, stressing that his “life had been threatened and we would know who was doing the threatening but that he would do the job himself.” after receiving the frantic call and fearing that Robertson’s life was in danger, the second journalist called the New York police, who quickly responded, only to find Robertson dying of barbiturate poisoning, to which he succumbed. Robertson’s lengthy interviews with Bronfman were never published, but still exist in manuscript form.
Subsequent attempts to author a biography of Sam Bronfman and his family’s rise to prominence also failed to make it to publication, such as the effort made by former editor of the Canadian edition of TIME magazine, John Scott, and another made by Canadian journalist Erna Paris. However, some books on the Bronfman family did emerge once Sam had reached old age, such as an account of the family by Peter Newman and a novel by Mordecai Richler believed to have been inspired by the Bronfmans. The Bronfmans apparently did not take kindly to their portrayal by either Newman or Richler, both of whom were Jewish, prompting the family behind Seagram’s to allege that both authors were “anti-Semitic Jews.” The Bronfman clan has always been sensitive to critical reports, given that their longstanding efforts to develop their reputation as elite “philanthropists” are marred by the evidence of the symbiotic relationship between their family business and organized crime.
THE MIDDLEMEN
Aside from these more personal ties, also crucial to the success of Seagram’s and the Bronfman family enterprise during this period were an assortment of “middlemen.” Two of these men were particularly essential to the Bronfman business – Joseph Reinfeld and the aforementioned Lewis “Lew” Rosenstiel. The two men were of extremely different temperaments, with Reinfeld being described as “a jovial, avuncular Jewish immigrant from Poland” whereas Rosenstiel was described as “loud, opinionated and domineering.”
Reinfeld served as a close advisor to Sam Bronfman as well as an important business associate as he was the principal purchaser of Seagram’s Whiskey. It was also Reinfeld who convinced Sam to “build up inventory” prior to and during Prohibition, which would help Bronfman secure a significant portion of the post-Prohibition liquor market. He also managed much of the in-person dealings with crime-linked individuals on Bronfman’s behalf, which was key to Bronfman’s winning strategy to mitigate legal risks and prevent further damage to his social reputation.
The end result saw Reinfeld buy large amounts of Seagram’s liquor, mainly at Rum Row, while ensuring that the Bronfmans did not have to directly deal with their final, crime-linked customers. However, in at least one instance, Reinfeld actually brought Sam Bronfman, and his family business, into close contact with a notorious mobster. By 1923, the Reinfeld syndicate was half-owned by Longy Zwillman, who Reinfeld sent to negotiate directly with Sam Bronfman. Bronfman was reportedly very impressed with Zwillman, then in his early 20s, calling him “well-behaved” and “studious looking,” adding that “you’d never guess he was a shtarker.”25
Reinfeld’s operation during Prohibition was massive, and massively profitable for Bronfman. Government investigators later revealed that Reinfeld had “imported nearly 40 percent of all the illicit alcohol consumed in the United States during Prohibition.” Retired US Treasury agents later testified that the Bronfman family were Reinfeld’s main supplier, while also alleging that much of Reinfeld’s ill-gotten profits had been laundered in Canada, some of it allegedly laundered with the help of Seagram’s employees. The use of Canadian institutions as laundries for Reinfeld is not only plausible but likely, given the intimate involvement of the Royal Bank of Canada in Rum Row, the same place where Reinfeld had received his shipments of Bronfman liquor.26 The Bronfmans themselves were known to operate a network of shell companies, some registered to fictitious individuals and linked to a series of both domestic and foreign bank accounts. This network facilitated the family’s own “elaborate money laundering operations,” according to Canadian historian Stephen Schneider.
The close association between Bronfman and Reinfeld would later come back to haunt them both, particularly when Reinfeld’s longtime bodyguard, James Rutkin, testified in front of the Kefauver Committee in the early 1950s. Rutkin would tell all regarding the “early days” of the Bronfman family business, including the relationships of both Bronfman and Reinfeld with mobsters like Zwillman and Lansky. Some Bronfman family biographers, like Nicholas Faith, have alleged that Rutkin sought to use his testimony in a failed attempt to blackmail the Bronfmans, threatening to reveal more if he was left uncompensated.
Among Rutkin’s claims regarding the Bronfmans, several pertained to the family’s hotel business in Canada that had preceded their liquor empire. Rutkin, describing the Bronfmans as “four brothers from Montreal,” teased the Kefauver Committee, stating first that “if you want to find out more about the [Bronfman owned] hotels, you can ask the Canadian Mounted Police, and they will tell you about the little hotels, and you can use your imagination.” He later added that these hotels serviced people who slept “very fast,” and that the same room would be rented “quite a few times during the night,” implying that the hotels were in fact brothels.27 Several Bronfman family biographers also mention these accusations, which had dogged the family since their earliest days in the hotel business. Some believe that Sam Bronfman tacitly confirmed that this was the case many years after Rutkin first made these claims, when he remarked “If they were [brothels], they were the best in the West!”28
Nevertheless, in the early 1950s at the time of the Kefauver hearings, the Bronfmans alleged that Rutkin’s claims were “absurd,” and they declined to pony up any of the “hush money” that Rutkin was rumored to have been seeking. Yet, despite their best efforts, Rutkin’s testimony, which received considerable publicity due to the televised broadcast of the hearings, created a whirlwind of rumors that refused to be snuffed out for some time, at least until Rutkin turned up dead, having allegedly slit his own throat with a borrowed razor in 1956.29
Lewis Rosenstiel, the other most prominent of Sam Bronfman’s Prohibition Era “middlemen,” saw his relationship with the Seagram’s chairman take a completely different trajectory than that of Bronfman and Reinfeld. As Prohibition neared its end, Rosenstiel and Bronfman would grow into bitter rivals, despite continuing to share many of the same contacts in the North America’s criminal underworld.
THE CHAIRMAN
While Sam Bronfman struggled with his would-be biographers, no biography was ever written of his one-time middleman and later chief rival, Lewis Rosenstiel. Of those books and other writings that do touch on Rosenstiel’s history and demeanor, few are favorable. For instance, a 1959 piece in Esquire offers one of the more favorable accounts, calling Rosenstiel “intelligent, articulate and extraordinarily aggressive,” adding that he often “slopes in his chair, plays with his tongue as he speaks, and utters his strong opinions with a growl, expressing dislike and contempt for anyone who might disagree.”30
Others, like Bronfman biographer Nicholas Faith, describe Rosenstiel as “loud, opinionated and domineering,” a “hulking figure who favored amber-tinted glasses, which he rarely removed, and large cigars to go with his status as one of the wealthiest men alive.”31 The New York Times obituary for Rosenstiel uses similar terms, referring to the liquor baron known to many simply as “the Chairman” as having been “a domineering man with [a] quick temper.”32
Official accounts of Rosenstiel’s past and how he built his company Schenley into a corporate behemoth seem oddly sanitized, not unlike the official accounts of the Bronfman family’s early days that decline to mention the darker side of their business model that was particularly important to their activities prior to the repeal of American Prohibition.
Born in 1891 in Cincinnati, Ohio, Rosenstiel – thanks to an unfortunate injury during a football match in his teenage years – dropped out of high school and went to work for his uncle at the Susquemac Distilling Company in Milton, Kentucky in 1907. Rosenstiel worked on largely menial tasks at the facility, including as a “pinhooker” rolling barrels in warehouses and as a belt splicer. His fortunes shifted dramatically from those humble beginnings during the era of American Prohibition, with little being known of his life during the period, aside from him allegedly leaving the tedious tasks of his uncle’s distillery behind to become a “whisky broker.”
According to official accounts, Rosenstiel turned to selling shoes and bonds once Prohibition set in, with his prior line of work in the distilling and sale of spirits drying up. Yet, somehow, the young Rosenstiel accumulated enough money to afford a vacation to the French Riviera in 1922. It was during that vacation that he would be lucky enough to score a “chance” meeting with Winston Churchill, “who advised him to prepare for the return of liquor sales in the United States,” per the New York Times.33 There is little, if any, context given in official accounts as to how or why a high-school dropout turned distillery worker and shoe salesman would have attracted the attention of a notorious elitist and member of the British aristocracy like Churchill.
As the story goes, Rosenstiel spent the next ten years of his life dutifully following Churchill’s advice. He somehow convinced one of the most powerful banks on Wall Street, Lehman Brothers, to offer him a massive loan to finance his acquisition of closed distilleries and to accumulate aged whisky inventories for the yet-to-materialize date of repeal. Again, no official explanation is offered as to how an elite banking institution like Lehman Brothers would grant someone with Rosenstiel’s background such a large amount of capital based merely on advice he had received from a British politician, suggesting there is more to the story.
Returning to the official narrative of Rosenstiel’s rise, we are told that Rosenstiel then incorporated Schenley Distillers Company in the wake of Repeal in 1933. He was conveniently well-placed to become “the most powerful figure in the distilled spirits business,” all thanks to him having heeded Churchill’s advice and thanks to a remarkable patience that he was never known to have possessed during any other point in his life.34 Indeed, per these same official sources, impatience, rather than patience, was one of Rosenstiel’s most well-known traits, with his characterization by media as a “domineering man with a quick temper” being one of many examples.
Of course, as should be clear to the reader, this narrative conveniently obfuscates any hint of illegality in Rosenstiel’s Prohibition era dealings and fails to mention Rosenstiel’s documented ties to organized crime figures or his role as a prominent purchaser of Bronfman liquor alongside Joseph Reinfeld and other Seagram’s “middlemen.” Years later, James P. Kelly, chief investigator for the Interstate and Foreign Commerce Committee of the New York House of Representatives, testified under oath that Rosenstiel had been part of an “underworld consortium” that bought Bronfman liquor and sold it throughout the United States during Prohibition.35
Key figures in this consortium, aside from Rosenstiel, included Meyer Lansky as well as Joe Fusco, an associate of Al Capone, and Joe Linsey, a Boston-based criminal associated with Joe Kennedy’s bootlegging operations. Kelly added that the Rosenstiel was “particularly close” to Lansky, and it later emerged that they had “owned points together” in mob-operated businesses. He was also reportedly close to Frank Costello, who was said to have attended a business meeting alongside Rosenstiel “to give [the meeting’s attendees] a message that Rosenstiel was one of their people.”36
One of Rosenstiel’s ex-wives, Susan Kaufman, later told journalist Anthony Summers that, in Summers’ words, “living with Rosenstiel was to live with the command structure of organized crime.” Kaufman’s testimony to Summers includes numerous, specific, and very detailed allegations of the various meetings between her ex-husband and organized crime figures she witnessed during their marriage, including business meetings where Rosenstiel was given “thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars in bundles of cash” from Lansky.
after Prohibition, Fusco and Linsey took their operations into the legal and legitimate business world, just as Rosenstiel had done. They set up legitimate companies in Chicago and Boston, respectively, to market Schenley products. As a result, Rosenstiel maintained his links to the criminal underworld long after publicly transitioning from bootlegger to businessman. Frequent dinner guests at Rosenstiel’s home in the years and decades after Prohibition included legendary figures of American organized crime, including Frank Costello, Sam Giancana, Santo Trafficante and Meyer Lansky. Lansky was known to address Rosenstiel as “Supreme Commander,” a name that Roy Cohn, Rosenstiel’s attorney and close friend, also used for the liquor baron.37
Rosenstiel’s transition from bootlegger to businessman very nearly included a direct partnership with Sam Bronfman. In 1929, as the end of Prohibition neared, Bronfman invested $585,000 in a Rosenstiel-owned distillery producing “medicinal spirits” and had acquired a 20% stake in Rosenstiel’s company. Per Sam, however, he concluded after visiting Rosenstiel’s distillery that it was “a piece of junk and … on the inside it was even worse” and he was allegedly offended at the inferiority of his whisky production method. It’s unclear if this was the actual motive for their falling out, but, regardless, their subsequent business and personal rivalries became legendary.
According to Nicholas Faith’s account of Bronfman’s life, the falling out with Rosenstiel, whatever the cause, took a tremendous emotional toll on the two men before it descended into a decades-long, acrimonious spat. Faith asserts that Bronfman’s failure to reach an agreement with Rosenstiel “really hit him, for he came down with severe flu” soon after calling off any possibility of a partnership. Despite being gravely ill, Bronfman told Rosenstiel that “we have nothing to discuss” when the latter had arrived to attempt to salvage a deal. Terence Robertson’s manuscript, as cited by Faith, states that Rosenstiel “all but wept as he begged ‘for just a minute with my friend.’”38
Their feud would subsequently escalate to such an extent that it would transcend business competition, with a 1959 article in Esquire noting that either man “appears willing to sacrifice profit to do the other in the eye.” Rosenstiel was known to refer to Bronfman and his business as “unscrupulous alien competition,” with alien in this instance meaning foreign, i.e. Canadian.39 Bronfman, for his part, was known to become angry rather quickly when Rosenstiel’s name or business came up, saying he had “no admiration” for the man, and would frequently refer to him as “Rosenschlemiel,” with “schlemiel” meaning something along the lines of simpleton or a born loser in Yiddish.40 It was also alleged that Bronfman’s lavish Seagram building in New York City had been planned to make “Rosenstiel’s 1930s-style offices in the Empire State Building look just a little shabby in their luxury.”41