Dry Counties in America: Prohibition Never Completely Went Away

GUARDING THE BOOZE—Deputy Sheriff Ardis Alford, Sheriff Guy Hickman, Deputy Reese Gilbert and Constable Cecil McCarley inspect a haul of 100 gallons of whiskey captured in the Solo community, north of Hector, Pope County. (1949)

Most Americans learned that Prohibition ended in 1933.

It did.

But prohibition did not.

When the Twenty-first Amendment was ratified on December 5, 1933, it repealed the Eighteenth Amendment and ended national Prohibition. It did not, however, require every place in America to begin selling liquor again. Instead, much of the authority to regulate alcohol returned to the states, and many states allowed counties, cities, and other local jurisdictions to decide for themselves.

That is why, nearly a century later, America still has dry counties.

And Arkansas has more of them than any other state.

Dry America Is Older Than Prohibition

The idea of a dry county did not begin with national Prohibition.

Long before the Eighteenth Amendment took effect in 1920, the temperance movement had been working town by town and county by county. States adopted “local option” laws that allowed communities to prohibit liquor sales without requiring the entire state to do the same.

The movement was remarkably successful. By 1906, more than half of the counties in the United States and about 60 percent of its towns were under some form of prohibition. The Anti-Saloon League deliberately pursued this strategy, drying up communities one election at a time before turning its attention toward statewide and eventually national prohibition.

So when national Prohibition arrived, much of America was already dry.

And when national Prohibition disappeared, many of those local restrictions simply remained.

What Does “Dry” Actually Mean?

This is where things get complicated.

We tend to use three words:

Wet generally means alcoholic beverages can be legally sold under ordinary state and local licensing laws.

Dry generally means the sale of alcoholic beverages is prohibited.

Moist is everything in between.

And there is a lot of “in between.”

A county might prohibit liquor stores but allow beer. It might permit alcohol by the drink in restaurants but prohibit package sales. A dry county might contain a wet city. Restaurants or private clubs may receive special permits. Some states treat beer, wine and distilled spirits differently.

That means there is no single national government list where someone can simply add up a column labeled “dry counties.” The National Alcohol Beverage Control Association notes that hundreds of American localities still have either complete or partial restrictions on alcohol sales.

Even the word “county” does not cover everything. Alaska, for example, has boroughs rather than counties, and while its boroughs are wet, a number of individual communities prohibit alcohol. Other states allow towns or municipalities to make decisions independent of the surrounding county.

So any national count depends upon what you decide qualifies as dry.

So How Many Dry Counties Are Left?

Using a strict definition — counties that still prohibit alcohol sales rather than the much larger number with some restrictions — a national survey published in August 2026 identified 47 dry counties in the United States.

They were concentrated in just eight states:

Arkansas had 29.

Kentucky had 6.

Mississippi had 5.

Texas had 3.

Florida, North Carolina, South Dakota and Tennessee each had one.

That means Arkansas alone accounts for well over half of America’s remaining completely dry counties under that definition.

But those numbers need an asterisk.

Mississippi is a perfect example of why.

The Mississippi Department of Revenue currently identifies 34 of its 82 counties as dry for hard liquor and 36 as dry for beer and light wine. Yet many of those counties contain municipalities or special areas where some alcohol sales are legal. Under the stricter national definition that excludes these “moist” situations, only five Mississippi counties make the completely dry list.

Both numbers can therefore be correct. They are simply answering different questions.

The Dry County Is Slowly Disappearing

The long-term trend is pretty clear.

Dry counties are becoming wet far more often than wet counties are becoming dry.

Texas may provide the best example. In 2003, Texas still had 51 completely dry counties. By March 2025, only three of the state’s 254 counties were completely dry. Local-option elections steadily changed the map over those two decades.

Kentucky has followed much the same path.

As recently as 2022, ten Kentucky counties reportedly had no legal form of alcohol sales. Allen County voted wet in 2023. Knott County followed in 2024, and voters in Menifee and Morgan counties also approved alcohol sales later that year. The strict national count is now down to six dry Kentucky counties.

Arkansas has moved in the same direction, although much more slowly. Hot Spring and Polk counties voted wet in 2022, joining other Arkansas counties that had abandoned dry status in earlier elections. Arkansas nevertheless still has 29 dry counties, making it easily the country’s largest remaining concentration.

Why Stay Dry?

There isn’t one answer.

In some communities, opposition to alcohol remains strongly tied to religious and cultural traditions. For others, the argument is about public safety, alcohol abuse or simply maintaining the character of the community.

There is also inertia.

A county that became dry generations ago normally stays that way until someone organizes a petition, gathers the required signatures and puts the question before voters. Doing nothing leaves the existing law in place.

That is an important point in discussions about dry counties. A county’s dry status does not necessarily mean its voters recently went to the polls and voted against alcohol sales. In many places, the original decision was made decades ago and has simply never been successfully reversed.

There can be economic interests involved as well.

Research on Arkansas local-option elections found an unusual political alliance that economists sometimes call “bootleggers and Baptists.” Churches and religious organizations may oppose alcohol sales for moral reasons, while liquor stores located just across the county line may oppose legalization for an entirely different reason: customers from the dry county are already driving to them.

Different motives. Same side of the ballot.

Dry Does Not Mean Nobody Drinks

This may be the biggest misconception about dry counties.

A dry county is generally a place where alcohol cannot be sold under normal circumstances. It does not mean nobody living there drinks.

Residents may purchase alcohol in a neighboring county. Restaurants may operate under special permits. Private clubs may serve members. Depending upon state law, people may legally possess alcohol purchased elsewhere.

That creates an interesting question: Does making a county dry actually reduce the problems associated with alcohol?

The research is not especially tidy.

One Kentucky study found lower rates of alcohol-related crashes and DUI arrests in dry counties. Another study found that the proportion of alcohol-related crashes was similar in wet and dry counties and raised another possibility: people living in dry counties may simply drive farther to obtain alcohol, increasing the distance they travel after drinking.

In other words, drawing a dry line around a county does not build a wall around it.

And Then There Is Arkansas

This is where the national story becomes very local for us.

Pope County is part of a system that stretches back well over a century. The basic idea that local voters should decide whether alcohol can be sold in their community predates national Prohibition itself.

Arkansas is now the standout.

Of the 47 completely dry counties identified nationally in the August 2026 survey, 29 are in Arkansas. That is about 62 percent of the total.

Think about that for a moment.

More than 3,000 counties and county-equivalent jurisdictions in the United States exist, yet almost two-thirds of the counties still classified as completely dry under this strict definition are right here in Arkansas.

That doesn’t mean Arkansas is alcohol-free. Far from it. Dry counties can have restaurants and private clubs operating under permitted exceptions—and the laws there allow just about any restaurant to serve alcohol if it has a private club permit, and Arkansans routinely cross county lines to make purchases.

What it does mean is that Arkansas has held onto the old local-option system longer and more extensively than almost anywhere else in America.

Prohibition Ended. Local Option Didn’t.

The saloons did not all reopen on December 6, 1933.

What really happened was that America abandoned one national answer to the alcohol question and returned to thousands of local answers.

Over the generations, most of those communities have gradually voted wet. The dry areas that once covered enormous portions of the country have steadily contracted until the completely dry county has become relatively rare.

But it has not disappeared.

In 2026, there are still places where a political decision made by voters — sometimes voters many generations ago — determines whether someone can open a liquor store, whether a supermarket can sell beer, or whether a restaurant can serve a glass of wine.

So Prohibition is gone.

Its grandchildren are still with us.

And more of them live in Arkansas than anywhere else in America.


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The Vault

The following article from the January 21, 1906, Arkansas Democrat describes the condition of the contents of the Bank of Russellville’s vault after the surrounding building burned and hot bricks buried it in the Russellville fire of January 15–16, 1906.

BIG BANK VAULT UNHURT IN FIRE
Contents at Russellville in Perfect Condition.
DEFIED HARDEST TEST
Institution Resumes Business in the Old Postoffice Building—Will Rebuild.

Russellville, Jan. 20.—(Special.)—The center of interest in the burned district of Russellville since the fire of Monday night has been the great vault of the Bank of Russellville, which stands in the midst of the ruins. The heat around this had been intense, and the walls were white with heat. As the vault began to cool, many conjectures were heard as to whether the contents had been injured.

Cashier W. G. Neal, in the presence of a great crowd of curious and anxious spectators, yesterday turned the combination on the outside door, which worked easily, and then with little effort, the bolts were drawn back, and the great door swung open.

On the inside everything was just as when the vault was closed on Monday night. Not a paper indicated that a large two-story brick building had burned over the contents, and that the vault had been buried for hours beneath tons of red-hot brick.

The inside doors of the vault unlocked as easily as though no fire had occurred, and the safe was as in fine condition as when it was placed there years ago.

The vault and safe were built especially for this bank, and placed in position in 1890. The test was severe, but the condition of the contents was perfect.

The Bank of Russellville is one of the soundest banking institutions in the state. It was reopened in the old post-office building at the usual hour on Tuesday morning, and did not miss an hour from business, although it had lost everything in the way of fixtures and furniture, besides a $10,000 building.

Before noon on Tuesday the bank officials had wired to Ft. Smith for material, and were figuring with local contractors for the erection of a better and larger bank building on the same site. Men are now at work clearing away the debris preparatory for rebuilding.


Background:

Other contemporary accounts reported that shortly before midnight on Monday, January 15, 1906, fire was discovered in the Chronister Brothers grocery in downtown Russellville. Fanned by wind and confronted by a town with no waterworks system, functioning fire department, or firefighting apparatus, the blaze swept through nearly two blocks of the business district and burned until daylight. Contemporary estimates placed the loss at between $150,000 and $250,000. Residents formed bucket brigades, even releasing prisoners from the county jail on their honor to help fight the flames. Every prisoner reportedly returned to the jail after the danger had passed.

The photograph above did not accompany the Arkansas Democrat article. It shows the vault described in the article almost exactly as the newspaper’s readers would have imagined it—standing essentially intact while the Bank of Russellville building around it had ceased to exist.

After initially publishing this account, I discovered that the original newspaper page also carried a photograph on the far left, while the vault story appeared on the far right. The newspaper identified the man as Col. T. M. Neal, president of the Bank of Russellville, standing beside the vault that survived the fire.

THEY WENT UNSCATHED THROUGH BIG FIRE

(Photograph Taken By J. H. Ganner.)

This picture shows Col. T. M. Neal, president of the Bank of Russellville, standing beside the vault which defied the flames. The vault saved all the bank’s most valuable property.


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Southern Anthracite Coal Mine at Bernice

An old photograph labeled “Southern Anthracite Coal Mines — Webb Photo — Russellville Ark.” preserves a view of one of the largest early coal-mining operations in the Russellville area.

An old photograph labeled “Southern Anthracite Coal Mines — Webb Photo — Russellville Ark.” preserves a view of one of the most substantial early coal-mining operations in the Russellville area.

The photograph shows a substantial wooden tipple and headframe, railroad facilities, mine buildings, and the disturbed landscape surrounding the workings. Although identified simply as Russellville, the mine was at Bernice, south of town in the Shinn Basin.

Southern Anthracite operated more than one mine there. A 1907 U.S. Geological Survey report places a company slope in the north half of Section 21, Township 7 North, Range 20 West, and a much more substantial 480-foot shaft in the southwest quarter of the northeast quarter of Section 21. USGS Bulletin 326

The deep shaft was later identified as Bernice Mine No. 1. An Arkansas mineral report described it as a 486-foot shaft about three and a half miles southeast of Russellville. J. G. Puterbaugh of McAlester, Oklahoma, was the company president, and E. W. Hogan was superintendent.

The photograph shows the size of the operation. This was not a small opening driven casually into a hillside. Coal hundreds of feet underground had to be brought to the surface by cage, processed through the tipple and loaded for shipment. [continue reading…]

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Casino Capitalism and the Cult of Winning—1983–1999

The lesson of the early 1990s was hard to miss: owning expensive properties financed with mountains of debt could be dangerous. A name was much cheaper.Trump Taj Mahal Boardwalk Nightlife (generated using ChatGPT)

When Trump Tower opened on Fifth Avenue in 1983, Donald Trump was already a successful New York developer. Trump Tower made him something else.

It made him a celebrity.

The 58-story building was inseparable from the man whose name was attached to it. Bronze-colored glass, pink marble, a multi-story waterfall and expensive shops were part of the package, but so was Trump himself. He gave interviews, showed reporters around, and made sure that the building and its owner were presented together.

That turned out to be important.

Trump had discovered—or at least demonstrated—that the appearance of success had value of its own. A building could be real estate, but it could also be advertising. His name on the building suggested wealth, luxury, and success, and the building in turn reinforced the value of the name.

That feedback loop would become increasingly important over the next 16 years. [continue reading…]

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Nobody ever said, “You won’t believe what happened after I ordered the salad.”

A pirate captain dismisses the idea of eating salad, insisting that great sea stories begin with rum, not lettuce—a joke about choosing adventure and indulgence over sensible healthy choices.

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Nice try, Bongo

Bongo is trying to hide a tiny, voluptuous human woman behind his back from his suspicious mate. She has already heard the little woman squeak, turning the familiar “What are you hiding behind your back?” domestic scene into an absurd bit of gorilla jealousy.

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Eat Mor Chikin’


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A presentation

A little over a week ago, Luke Heffley, VP of the Pope County Historical Association, asked if I would be willing to give a presentation at their September meeting, scheduled for September 1 at Brangus Steakhouse.

They had been holding their meetings at the Check H Grill & Buffet and, after it burned, had to find somewhere else.

They held their August meeting at Central Christian Church on Independence Avenue.

I called Luke the next day and agreed to his proposal. We talked about ideas for what I might discuss.

I had a week to get ready for a 45-minute presentation.

I had spoken in public only twice before. Both were to the quorum court, and I was limited to just a couple of minutes.

Of course, I had been an instructor at the nuclear plant and had plenty of presentation experience.

I planned to cover a fairly wide range of topics, but I wanted to frame them around my use of AI and Wikipedia for research and writing, often on local history. [continue reading…]

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Worst Cruise ever!


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Donkey’s Guide to Ending Arguments

Donkey’s Guide to Ending Arguments

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