Career Lessons from a Moonshiner

Tommie Ritchie takes his morning walk with his faithful dog by his side. Ritchie was a moonshiner when he was younger. (Photo by Joseph L. Murphy)

My fingertips slid across the felt and rested on a folded piece of paper. Pinching my fingers together, I slowly brought the note out of the hat. The future of my week in Kentucky was written on that paper.

It was 2003, and I was in Bardstown, Kentucky, for the Mountain Workshops. The week-long photo camp paired students with pros to document an area for one week. A book with photos and stories was published to commemorate the time spent in the area.

My scrap of paper read Tommie Ritchie, a moonshiner. I couldn't wait to meet him and start my project, and I thought there would be endless opportunities to explore. I found his house with a camera in hand and introduced myself to Ritchie. Now in his 80s, He led a color life bootlegging alcohol out of a dry county and across state lines.

His lifestyle led to run-ins with the law and eventually a stint in a federal prison in Indiana. His story was fascinating, but there weren't many opportunities to develop a week-long photo essay. Because of his age, his daily routine consisted of walking to the end of his driveway and back, eating meals and watching television in his favorite recliner.

Years later, I'm still bummed that I couldn't develop the story. It's the proverbial one that got away. My photo coach told me to cut bait and move on to another story, but the other students were well down the line in developing their stories by that time. That left me chasing new leads while thinking of ways to make the moonshiner story work.

Earlier this year, I was reminded of my time in Bardstown when I visited briefly for the first time since the photo camp. I was back in the state to document farmers as they worked with their livestock and moved grain. The time in Kentucky brought back memories of my first visit and the time I spent with Ritchie.

I often listen to Uncle Tupelo as I travel gravel roads and look for photos. Inevitably the song Moonshiner comes on and it always makes me think of him.

“I’ve been a moonshiner

For seventeen long years

And I spent all my money

On whisky and beer

And I go to some hollow

And set up my still

If whisky don’t kill me

Lord, I don’t know what will.”

I wish I were able to spend more time with Ritchie. I wish I had known him even five years before. So many unanswered questions as I packed my suitcase and headed back to Iowa 19 years ago. Ritchie and the Mountain Workshops taught me lessons about my life and career. Lessons that I bring with me every time I visit a farm or interview a contact. Everyone has a story and they are always interesting; it just takes time and patience to discover them.