Reverence and Honor: Visiting Uncle Nearest’s Distillery

 Walking around the Uncle Nearest Distillery feels like stepping into a time machine. From the quaint country houses with forest green roofs retrofitted as business buildings to the concessions counter hiding an early 20th century speakeasy, every step you take on the property is a carefully preserved piece of history. On the tour of the distillery, I was surprised at just how much of the property remained unchanged by the Weavers. However, in hindsight, there was no better way to honor Uncle Nearest whose name and legacy have been hidden for so long. There is something sacred about walking the land of your ancestors that ties you to their legacy. For a man whose legacy went so long ignored, changing the land he walked seemed like a physical manifestation of his attempted erasure from history. As a result, the reverence displayed in the Weavers’ conscious preservation of the land is a prime example of honoring the history of Uncle Nearest. 

Like the preservation of the land, the preservation of Uncle Nearest’s legacy was a carefully curated effort of the Weavers. In reading Love & Whiskey, one of the things that stood out to me the most was the hesitation from the citizens of Lynchburg when Fawn Weaver first began to approach the subject of Uncle Nearest. Citizens of all races stopped at the prospect of an outsider destroying the legacy of Jack Daniel. In fact, it took Dawn Weaver’s insistent reassurance of her true intentions for people to open up to her. There was fear that in pursuing the history of the town, Weaver would destroy the Jack Daniel legacy and, with it, many citizens’ livelihoods. This worry is mirrored by Brown-Forman later in the book. Weaver’s struggle with the townspeople presents a dual meaning to the idea of “succeeding through something that delights even as it wounds”. For Lynchburg citizens and Brown-Forman, their success was the longstanding legacy for Jack Daniels, but it wounded the true legacy of Uncle Nearest and his undeniable contribution to the whiskey business. On the other hand, Weaver’s success was bringing light to hidden truths in Lynchburg history, but it was perceived as a wound on the Jack Daniels company. Reading about Weaver’s unfailing perseverance towards giving Uncle Nearest the recognition he deserved served as a reminder that pursuing what is ethical may be a rough and lonely path, but its delights are much sweeter than its wounds. 

The unfortunate reality is, when history has been crafted to fit a desired narrative, the act of uncovering the true history will always wound the manufactured version. In the case of Jack Daniel and Uncle Nearest, Weaver did everything in her power to leave the legacy of Jack Daniel’s whiskey untouched, though his story in the public eye has been altered. However, this reality can exist in other instances and is often more complicated. In Danielle Allen’s Our Declaration, Allen notes the decision to edit out a section of declaration condemning British slavery. This, in turn, prevented the declaration from condemning American slavery, which allowed the country to prosper. Like Brown-Forman, the editors of the declaration changed the declaration’s narrative in favor of their own success at the expense of perpetuating socialized inferiority in the United States. Despite laws and resistance against slavery and racial oppression, implications of this decision are still felt to this day through the continual erasure of African American History. Weaver’s work was undeniably monumental and inspiring, but as we continue to move toward a more equitable society, we must stop to ask how we can treat the root cause of socialized inferiority rather than its symptoms. 

Traveling to Uncle Nearest’s Distillery gave me a chance to explore the importance of reverence and honoring history. Every detail of the distillery— from the stables full of horses down to the stained glass windowpanes of the speakeasy meant to represent the gender barriers of the 20th century— is meant to take you back in time and force you to acknowledge, “Yes, Uncle Nearest lived and was the master distiller behind Tennessee whiskey.” Like Weaver, I believe it is our duty to use the knowledge we gain as Spelman students to tell the stories our country has tried to erase. In today’s world more so than ever, we have to give those who came before us the reverence that they deserve. And most importantly? We cannot our reverence and honor be silenced by the societal pressures protecting a manufactured history. 

Ariana Singleton

Love Story Evidence: The distillery is filled with pictures of Nearest's family, including this one of his grandson. 

Complication or Tension: The barrels bare the name "Uncle Nearest", a trademark Dawn Weaver secured early in her research that caused tension between her and the Brown-Farmer company. 

Brand vs. History: Contrary to the humble concession stand around the corner, the Honey Barron stage has become a gathering place for performances and events at the distillery.