Gabby Hurd (C'2029) - Ideals Versus Reality at Nearest Green Distillery

For me, Love & Whiskey was a different kind of book. It felt like this sincere, purely reflective tale that was only ever focused on exploring a story and community. Love & Whiskey didn’t attempt to preach to us about racism or history or the possible future we could build as Americans. Instead, it dealt with the concrete, with an improbable yet true relationship in a town with an improbable yet true culture. That is not to say that the book—or perhaps more accurately, its author—was unaware of the book’s eventual audience. Weaver voiced the thoughts I’m sure many of us had when we picked up the book (e.g., the absurdity of desiring to travel to a town with “lynch” in the name or finding it hard to believe that race did not dominate life in such a place). It felt, though, as if scoring political points was the last thing on her agenda. She seemed far more concerned with relaying the things she had learned than telling us what to do with said things, and I appreciated it more than I thought I would.

That, however, is why the on-site prompt about “brand versus history” left me with a lot of thoughts. Love & Whiskey had felt so honest and genuine, but the Nearest Green distillery not so much. The distillery sat on a farm seemingly unrelated to Nearest Green or Jack Daniel; we learned on the tour that neither the whiskey nor the barrels that hold it are made there; and overall, the property felt a lot more like a marketing ploy and event space that the name “Nearest Green Distillery” suggests. I suppose the most important purpose behind the Weavers’ product and campus is bringing recognition to the name Nearest Green and his legacy. I’d agree with the assessment that the couple is doing that, I just didn’t feel the authenticity of the book within the property lines of the distillery.

I guess all of this leads me to reflect on ethical discernment, mainly where entrepreneurship intersects with one’s morals and intentions. The world is obviously much more intricate than someone merely having a dream and acting on it. The guiding ideas and principles of an entrepreneur or leader in any sector (from politics to medicine to sports) are always in constant conflict with the realities and expectations of the real world. In Weaver’s case, her desire to honor Nearest Green is limited by the machinery of the whiskey industry, the rules of consumerism, and what it takes to create a successful product. Even the greatest marketing team in the world would be unable to truly convey all the complexities and nuances found in Love & Whiskey and the story of Green and Daniel—certainly not, at least, in an American culture so engaged in finger pointing, sound bites, and shallow narratives.

How, then, do we go about operating in a world that makes little room for our lofty and complex ideals? Reading that back I realize it’s a question we’ve been asking ourselves as Black people for centuries. Whether it was our quest for freedom, our fight against segregation, or our push for equity today, we’ve always debated the best course of action when it comes to realizing our dreams in a world that doesn’t want them realized. Do we compromise now with the hope of achieving everything we seek in the future, or do we remain unyielding? The cynical analyst in me says to accept the former: that it’s more logical; but another part of me can’t help but feel that doing so is a betrayal.

By Gabby Hurd