A Sixth-Ward Mutiny

Here’s a photo of Players Pub & Pizza taken in May, 2025. One hundred years earlier, this place epitomized the Southside's unwavering rejection of the dry law.

Prohibition began on January 17, 1920. On that day, the saloon at the northeast corner of 5th and Ohio sat empty. That’s how it was supposed to be. Prohibition wasn’t just about abolishing liquor. It was equally about exterminating saloons. But the dry victory at that corner was short-lived. The old tavern sprang back to life three weeks after Prohibition began.

Alfred Berndt had jumped into the void. He was a 27-year-old Southsider and son of a tugboat captain. Berndt had been bouncing from job to job and partying hard before he leased the vacant saloon. He remade the old place into a speakeasy with an underworld flair. It was now a jazz hall called the Wisconsin Club. Berndt burned hot and burned out. He was out of there by the end of June 1921.

The Oshkosh-based Erv Pfeiffer Jazz Orchestra played the Wisconsin Club on February 16, 1920.

Werner’s Oasis
The new guy was Southside bona fide. Adolph Werner was born in Bohemia in 1888. He was replanted at 12th and Rugby at age 10. Czech was his mother tongue. Werner grew up in a neighborhood teeming with young, untutored toughs who later became the pioneers of Southside bootlegging.

Like a lot of those boys, Adolph was finished with school by the time he was 11. He found himself cutting wood for coffins at Buckstaff. His childhood labor was probably necessitated by the Werner family’s need for money. His father, Isadore, worked at Paine Lumber for starvation wages. There were 10 mouths to feed at the Werner home. They needed every penny they could get.

The Buckstaff-Edwards mill in the 1100 block of South Main, where Adolph Werner worked as a boy.

At 18, Adolph married Katie Stini, a Sixth-Ward inhabitant of Bohemian descent. A son arrived eight months later. After that, the kids kept coming; another almost every year. Adolph’s life was unwinding like a dreary echo of Isadore’s. By 1919, Katie had given birth to eight children, and Adolph was working at Paine Lumber. Just like his father.

The home where Adolph and Katie Werner lived with their children in 1919 still stands at 7th & Idaho.

Adolph Werner wanted something more than the drab toil he seemed fated for. Drudgery may have been what led him to form the Lyric Athletic Club. Its goal was to bring together Southside working men interested in literature and athletics. An unusual undertaking for a guy from Adolph’s neighborhood. But that was just a diversion. When Prohibition began, he saw an opportunity for the unconditional escape he longed for.

Adolph Werner was 33 in the summer of 1921. Prohibition had been in place for just a year. But already it was obvious that Oshkosh would never go dry. The reformers had made a colossal blunder, and Werner’s boyhood friends were making the most of it. Among them was Frank Kinderman, whom Adolph had known since childhood. Kinderman had launched a moonshine distillery on his frog farm near 10th and Knapp. He came to symbolize the bootleggers' reckless freedom.

Frank Kinderman with his modified Ford Model T Runabout, circa 1921.

Kinderman was at the center of a Southside liquor network. Most of his cohorts were in their early 30s and embedded in the Sixth-Ward Highholder community of Bavarian/Bohemian immigrants. All of them were familiar with Adolph Werner. Some were making booze; others were selling it. Adolph joined on the retail side. On August 2, 1921, he took out a $50 soft-drink license for the speakeasy Berndt had just vacated at 5th and Ohio.

It was the start of a new life. Katie was pregnant, and Adolph was free of the lumber mills. But federal agents quickly discovered Adolph’s connection to Kinderman. On the Friday evening of January 6, 1922, the feds raided Kinderman's distillery and then went after people linked to him. Adolph was pouring moonshine when the dry squad came through his door. Five months and four days into his emancipation, Adolph Werner found himself in jail.

Saturday morning, they brought Adolph into court and made him wait. The docket was filled with Prohibition violation cases. He was still waiting to be called when Katie went into labor. Adolph eased out of the courtroom, unnoticed. Katie gave birth to a boy they named Stanley, and on Monday morning, Adolph turned himself in. Back in court, he pleaded guilty. They gave him two options: a fine or 90 days in jail. He took the fine, $250 (about $5,000 today). Adolph paid up and went home. You can bet he didn’t have that kind of money in his pocket when he worked for Paine Lumber.

The Killing Floor
There was no turning back. The Werners were living in the apartment on the north end of the building. And when the property went up for sale, they jumped at the chance to buy it. Pabst Brewing had owned the building since 1905 and leased it as a tied house before Prohibition. The dry law killed that, and now Pabst wanted out. And quickly. The brewery offered the place to Adolph at a bargain price, $3,000 (about $60,000 today). On April 7, 1922, Adolph signed a deal with Pabst to purchase the property. A week later, Oshkosh flooded.

Fifth and Ohio during the great flood of 1922. Adolph Werner’s speakeasy was in the white building. Across the street was the Sebora grocery store.

Fifth and Ohio, May 2025.

Flooding was the least of their problems. On March 7, 1923, Adolph and Katie’s 13-year-old son, Andrew, was hit by a streetcar at 9th and Idaho. The boy was killed instantly. He was the second child they had lost to a grisly death. A decade earlier, their two-year-old son, Alfred, burned to death in a fire he had started while playing at his grandmother's house.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, March 8, 1923.

Sympathy was hard to come by for moonshine dealers in 1923. The 1922 raids and fines did nothing to dissuade Frank Kinderman and his associates from their illegal enterprise. The feds came back, trying to take down the syndicate piece by piece. They got Adolph again on August 22, 1923. The Wednesday night raid turned up moonshine concealed in a water cooler. Adolph pleaded guilty for the second time.

Judge Arthur Goss, whose court had turned into a turnstile for Kinderman associates, showed no pity either. Adolph was slammed with a $500 fine and six months in the county jail. Goss told Adolph he’d give him another four months behind bars if he couldn’t come up with the money by the end of his sentence. Adolph came up with money. But running a speakeasy from a jail cell was a more complicated matter.

A Fishy License
Adolph was locked up, but his speakeasy was not. He transferred the license to Charles Hering, a 31-year-old Southsider connected to the Kinderman syndicate. Hering took over behind the bar, but Adolph called the shots. Anyone with a passing interest could see through the smokescreen. The shuffle certainly didn’t fool Prohibition officials.

Adolph was out of jail by the spring of 1924. He took a job at Badger Lumber. Kinderman had connections there and might have gotten him in. It was back to the grind. But for now, he needed to steer clear of his bar. Another conviction could land him in jail for years, not months. So for now…

The Badger Lumber plant on Campbell Road where Adolph worked in 1924.

It was good that he stayed away. The speakeasy was again raided shortly after Adolph’s release from jail. Charles Hering was there when the agents barged in. Hering dumped the jar of moonshine he'd been holding into the barroom sink. That didn’t keep him from being arrested.

Here’s where this story takes a puzzling turn. Charles Hering’s court date was set for May 14, 1924. The state’s principal witnesses were Prohibition agents. They decided to skip the trial. The case was dismissed. The speakeasy was raided again in August of 1924. This time, Adolph was there. It was his third arrest for a dry-law violation. But his case was dismissed before the trial date was even set. No explanation was given.

This period swims with allegations of officials on the take. Had Adolph bought protection? This timeframe also coincides with Clark Perry, of Oshkosh, taking over as the state’s Prohibition Chief. The remarkably corrupt Perry was booted out of office in 1926 and sent to prison. The following year, Adolph Werner was back in the crosshairs.

Clark Perry

Charles Hering moved to Portland after his case was dropped. Adolph couldn’t get the city to renew the soft-drink license in his own name, so he transferred it to Jordan Kodanko. He worked at Paine Lumber and appears to have been associated with the speakeasy solely for the sake of the permit. Kodanko backed out after Werner’s August 1924 arrest. Next came Mathias Matsche. He’d been working at a speakeasy (now the B & E Lounge) on Oregon Street and was also involved with a Southside moonshine plant run by his brother Frank. But Matt Matsche didn’t last either.

In January 1926, Adolph Novotny signed his name to the license. Novotny was from the old neighborhood and a veteran of the Kinderman syndicate. And he had the arrest record that went with it. But Novotny was just another stopgap. Finally, in July 1926 – having gone almost two years without an arrest – Werner convinced the licensing committee that he was now worthy of a permit. Then he got busy proving them wrong.

Werner was shot down when he came up for license renewal in June 1927. Chief of Police Arthur Gabbert interceded, claiming the Werner place was as lawless as ever. The spat dragged on until Werner lost. But he did not concede. He replaced his soft drinks with ice cream and claimed he was now running an ice cream parlor. No license required. The maneuver endeared him to exactly no one involved with Prohibition enforcement.

A Bust
Frank B. Keefe was sworn in as Winnebago County District Attorney on January 3, 1927. For the six previous years, he’d been an Oshkosh defense attorney representing bigshot bootleggers and speakeasy keepers. Now he was on the other team, exploiting his inside information to make a name for himself as a dry-law crusader. Frank Kinderman was one of the first of Keefe’s former clients taken down.

Frank B. Keefe

Adolph Werner was on Keefe’s short list. In the fall of 1927, Keefe set up a sting operation aimed at the 5th and Ohio speakeasy. At the center of the entrapment was an informant Keefe hired named Henry Repp (his younger brother, Alvin, opened Repp’s Bar in 1943).

Henry Repp walked into Adolph’s speakeasy at about 5 pm on Saturday, November 5, 1927. It wasn’t his first visit. Repp had been coming in for the past few days. Adolph and Katie were in the barroom with several men behind mugs of beer. Repp put 15 cents on the bar and ordered a beer. When Adolph served him, Repp put a quarter on the bar and asked for a shot of moonshine. Adolph served him. Repp drank up.

Another man came in. A deputy sheriff in plain clothes named Edward Below. Katie sensed that something was wrong. She left the barroom and took the connecting hallway to their apartment. Moments later, the bar phone rang. At the same time, one of Adolph’s sons entered the barroom from the hallway. Deputy Below noted Adolph’s agitation upon taking the call. Adolph handed his son a jar filled with liquid. The boy raced out of the barroom and back down the hallway. Deputy Below called out. The raid was on.

The layout at 5th and Ohio. 1) The speakeasy’s main bar room. 2) The connecting hallway. 3) The Werner family apartment.

Winnebago County Sheriff Walter Plummer burst in with Undersheriff Leroy Hahn behind him. Deputy Below took off down the hallway after the kid. Plummer went directly to Adolph and showed him a search warrant. Plummer and Hahn began rooting around and quickly discovered several cases of bootleg beer.

Deputy Below returned from his chase down the hall with two quarts of moonshine. He told Plummer he’d found Katie in the apartment, about to dump the booze into the kitchen sink. Adolph didn’t realize that Henry Repp was part of the takedown. He confided in Repp, saying that he knew he was finished. He was convinced he’d get a lengthy jail term.

From the court transcripts of Adolph’s 1927 trial.

Adolph hired Richard Curtis “Romeo” Laus to represent him. He could not have chosen a better lawyer. The 31-year-old Laus was itching for this fight. A year earlier, he had lost to Keefe in the race for Winnebago County District Attorney. In court, the animosity was unmistakable, with Laus relentlessly antagonizing Keefe.

R. Curtis Laus

What Laus did to Keefe was nothing compared to his dismantling of the state's chief witnesses: Henry Repp, Deputy Edward Below, and Sheriff Walter Plummer. Repp suffered a reputational thrashing, with Laus taunting Repp about his drinking and his alleged participation in the Ku Klux Klan. Laus then went after Below and Plummer. He made them appear incompetent. The county cops had given him plenty to work with.

On the night of the raid, Plummer decided not to bother with the bootleg beer they found. He didn’t even have it tested for alcohol. Plummer figured the moonshine was all they needed. So the entire case rested on that slice of evidence… and the search warrant.

The warrant listed the speakeasy’s Fifth Avenue address. But that’s not where Deputy Below found the moonshine. The apartment, where he caught Katie with the booze, had an Ohio Street address. Laus argued that the search warrant didn’t extend to the apartment, and therefore Deputy Below’s search of it was illegal. The court agreed. The evidence was tossed out. The case against Adolph Werner fell apart.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, January 10, 1928.

Adolph walked free. His accusers walked into shit storms. Henry Repp, outed as a snitch, was harassed and attacked on the street. Later accusations of rape and dog killing only enhanced his toxic repute. For Plummer, it was worse.

A scandal erupted during Adolph’s trial. D.A. Frank Keefe had learned that Sheriff Walter Plummer was conspiring with bootleggers and sex workers who paid him for protection. Keefe went public with the information. An outpouring of torrid allegations ensued. The evidence against Plummer included notes from a companion’s “love diary” describing beer parties and orgies in the county jail. Walter Plummer was removed from office on March 30, 1928.

The Dark Passage
Adolph returned to the speakeasy and carried on. A period of unusual calm ensued. After five raids in five years, 5th and Ohio was never again raided. And by 1931, it was clear to anyone with any sense that Prohibition had to be repealed. The day was coming when taverns would be legal. Adolph Werner never saw that day.

On the Thursday evening of January 8, 1931, Adolph and Katie were at their apartment with a couple of friends they’d invited in for a dinner of dove stew. Ernest and Mary Kuehn were Sixth Warders. Ernest Kuehn worked in a lumber mill and supplemented his income by making moonshine. Mary was Katie’s cousin.

Adolph liked to tease Mary. He was at it that Thursday night. Mary was giving it back to him. She threw a shoe at him. She hit him with a broom. Adolph kept at her, keeping her from her stew. There was bread on the table and a butcher knife to slice it. Mary picked up the knife and waved it playfully at Adolph. He ran out of the kitchen, into the hallway, and towards the speakeasy. Mary followed him out, knife in hand. In the dark passageway, she didn’t see Adolph turn around and come back to her. The knife plunged into his belly. All the way to the handle. At least, that’s the story they told.

Adolph was bleeding out. They rushed him to Mercy Hospital. He was going into shock. A doctor stabilized him and prepped him for surgery. The police arrived, and Adolph told them it was all a mistake. That they were only "fooling around." Adolph Werner, age 42, died the following morning at 7 am. District Attorney Frank Keefe, who had prosecuted Adolph after his 1927 arrest, decided to forgo an inquest. It was all wrapped up and put away within a matter of hours.

Adolph’s widow, Katie Werner (right), with her sister Mary Meyer, circa 1934.

Katie never closed the speakeasy. Her 23-year-old son, Edward, left his job driving an ice wagon and went behind the bar. It wasn’t to his liking. He quit six months later. Katie then leased the bar to Paul Fabrycki who’d been working at a speakeasy/billiard parlor at what is now 611 Oregon. Fabrycki didn’t stay either. In 1932, Ed Hall signed on and stayed. Hall was there when Prohibition finally ended in 1933.

Wieners and Rahr’s Beer at Ed Hall’s Bar, November 11, 1933.

Katie Werner remained in the attached apartment and maintained her ownership of the tavern until 1940. In 1950, she married Ernest Kuehn, the widower of the woman who accidentally killed Adolph Werner with a butcher knife. Katie died in 1975. She was buried in the Werner family plot next to Adolph.

Riverside Cemetery

Adolph Werner's signature.

In the next and last installment of this tavern’s history, I’ll trace its evolution as it becomes the Hour Bar and finally Players Pub. I hope to have that posted here early next month.

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