The Last Oshkosh Bootlegger

Adolph Seibold got caught on Jackson Street trying to move 1,700 gallons of moonshine. The arrests that followed triggered the downfall of the largest syndicate of bootleggers in the State of Wisconsin. Seibold had been flirting with this kind of trouble for years. You could see it coming from a long way off.

 Adolph Seibold

A Son of the Southside
Adolph Seibold Jr. was born in Oshkosh in 1894. He was the second child of Adolph Seibold, a Bavarian immigrant, and Theresa Mueller Seibold, who migrated to Oshkosh from Bohemia. The family lived in a home that still stands at what is now 423 W. 14th Avenue.

The Seibold family home, ca 1935.

Seibold quit school at 15. Like his father, he got a job at a woodworking mill. But the Morgan Company couldn’t hold him. Adolph possessed a restless energy. It led him to a more stimulating job at Chris Genal’s saloon on Oregon Street.

1309 Oregon Street, the former saloon of Chris Genal.

Genal’s saloon was launched in 1891 by a beer bottler named Frank Lutz. Around 1904, a pair of bowling alleys were grafted onto the back of the building. The Rahr Brewing Company bought the bar in 1913, turned it into a tied house, and installed Chris Genal as the proprietor. Genal renamed the saloon Elk’s Head Alleys. The name change was probably at the behest of the Rahrs, who had just come out with Elk’s Head Beer. Seibold was there by 1917, slinging mugs of Elk’s Head.

From a 1916 advertisement for Rahr’s Elk’s Head Beer.

Seibold’s first stab at his new vocation came to a sudden end in 1918. It was a hell of a year. In mid-April he got his girlfriend pregnant. She was a 23-year-old northsider named Maude Zwickie. Adolph wasn’t around to see the birth of their child. The conception had coincided with the arrival of his draft notice. July found him in France flung into World War I. Seibold may not have known he was going to be a father.

He was assigned to the 6th Division’s supply train and sent to the Western Front. There he endured the Meuse–Argonne offensive, the deadliest battle in the history of the United States Army. More than 350,000 casualties were suffered in 47 days of non-stop fighting. Seibold’s luck held. He came through the war unscathed.

Adolph Seibold in France.

On June 10, 1919, Seibold boarded a ship in Brest, France and began his journey home. He was back in Oshkosh by early July and finally met his daughter Dolores. She was six months old. And at the end of August, Adolph Seibold and Maude Zwickie were married.

Maude and Adolph, seated on their wedding day.

Outlaw
Seibold returned to a land less free than the one he left in 1918. While he was away, the Federal Government imposed the Wartime Prohibition Act, a draconian measure aimed at crippling the saloon trade. And then came national Prohibition in January 1920. Seibold’s vocation was outlawed. He would be an outlaw for the next 16 years.

His old job at Chris Genal’s saloon was waiting for him. Only it wasn’t a saloon anymore. It was a speakeasy. Rahr Brewing still owned the building, but it was up to Genal what to do with it. What he did was get busted.

State prohibition agents raided Genal's place in early February 1924. They uncovered a cache of wine, and arrested Chris Genal in his apartment above the bar. In court, Genal said the wine wasn’t his. He said the bar wasn’t his either. Adolph Seibold had taken over. The judge told the prosecutors to get their story straight. The case fell apart, and the charge was dropped.

Seibold’s first brush with the sponge squad seemed to bolster his enthusiasm for bucking Prohibition. Elk's Head Alleys ran wide open every night of the week. It was also around this time that Seibold became acquainted with the Wainer Gang.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, March 27, 1924. The clipping shows the old address of 1308 Oregon. The address became 1309 Oregon after  the city's 1957 lot renumbering.

The Wainer Gang
The Wainer Gang was formed from a tight group of New London cattlemen making hay from the mire of Prohibition. It started with two Russian-born brothers: Hyman, better known as Heinie, and Louis Wainer. Their younger brother Sam was soon part of the mix, along with the Blink brothers, Donald and Earl. The Blinks had connections in Oshkosh and may have been responsible for bringing Seibold into the fold.

The Wainer Gang got into bootlegging with a cow and false-bottom cattle truck. They’d transport moonshine in one-gallon cans hidden under the truck’s false deck. The cow stood on top acting as a blind. The beast acquired its own degree of underworld fame becoming known as the state’s most traveled bovine.

The Wainers were soon running scores of trucks hauling liquor from stills in Antigo, Appleton, Fond du Lac, New London, and Galesburg, Illinois. The Appleton still alone consumed over 275,000 pounds of sugar a week. The enterprise grew into Wisconsin’s largest bootlegging ring, and became known as the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. By 1925, the syndicate’s moonshine, beer, and wine were being sold across Wisconsin and into Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska, and the Dakotas.

Exactly when Adolph Seibold came on board is not known. He appears to have been at least somewhat involved by 1926. By 1929 he was in deep.

Adolph Seibold in the late 1920s.

Seibold ran the Oshkosh hub of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate from a backroom at Elk's Head Alleys. The liquor was routed through a 13-acre farm Seibold bought one mile north of Oshkosh. He told his neighbors that he intended to raise guinea pigs on the farm. He did, in fact, keep guinea pigs, but the rodents served the same purpose as the Wainer’s cow. The little pigs were there to distract from the main objective: the distribution of bootleg alcohol.

Seibold’s Farm just north of Oshkosh where US Highway 41 now crosses Highway 110.

All In
Maude had given birth to their second child, Arthur, in 1921. In 1928, the family moved into the apartment above Elk's Head Alleys. But by the spring of 1930, running the syndicate’s liquor, the speakeasy, and bowling alley proved to be more than Seibold could keep up with. The real money was in the booze. So he sublet the bar to his friend Joe Dichtl and concentrated on bootlegging.

Seibold was enjoying the fruits of his risky business. He purchased property at Plummers Point on Lake Butte des Morts where he kept a summer cottage and boat house. But the money brought with it an ever-present sense of jeopardy. The threat was nearly realized in the summer of 1931.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, August 26, 1931.

When federal agents swept into Oshkosh on August 25, 1931, they went directly to Seibold’s farm. They discovered a few guinea pigs and 159 gallons of alcohol worth almost $2,400 (or about $47,000 today). They also uncovered more than 4,000 empty tins used for transporting moonshine. What they didn’t find was any trace of Adolph Seibold. The feds claimed that a boy was in charge of the farm and that he ran off before they could grab him.

The agents may have been told to get their noses out of Seibold’s affairs. The Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate’s influence allegedly extended deep into the ranks of law enforcement, on both the local and federal levels. In this case, payoffs may have paid off. Though Seibold owned and operated the farm, his name never came up in connection with the raid. The entire matter was dropped.

Family Man
All the while, Seibold’s family life continued apace. When his mother died in 1931, he moved his family out of the apartment above the speakeasy and into the 14th Street home where he had been raised, and where his father still lived. Adolph’s father would reside with them for the remainder of his life.

Adolph Seibold Sr. at the family home on 14th St.

Adolph Seibold Sr. was born in 1864, and was a Bavarian farmer before coming to America at 19. He could hardly have imagined the things 1931 would show him. In his homeland they were falling under the spell of a lunatic named Adolf. Here in Oshkosh, he lived with an American outlaw named Adolph. His son, at least, didn’t trade in the hate that came to be associated with the name they all shared. Adolph Seibold’s partners, the Wainer brothers, were Jewish.

The Seibolds were Catholics. The kids went to school at St. Vincent’s. Aside from Adolph’s underworld occupation, the Seibolds were like most other Southside families. Maude gave birth to their third child, Kenneth, on January 12, 1933. But again, Adolph was taken away when she needed him most.

Friday the 13th
On January 13, 1933, the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate sent an enormous haul of moonshine through Oshkosh bound for Illinois. It came in what was later described as “a brand new super-size truck and trailer.” The truck carried 31 metal barrels, each holding 55 gallons of moonshine. In all, it was worth about $26,000 (close to $590,000 in today’s money).

Earl Blink drove the truck. Sam Wainer, acting as guard, tailed him in a sedan. The truck broke down on Jackson Street as it approached New York Avenue.

Sam Wainer called for help. Shortly after, another syndicate truck arrived. It was never determined how or when Seibold came on the scene. He may have been traveling with either Blink or Wainer. Or he may have driven the replacement truck. In any case, the three of them went to work transferring the moonshine into the new vehicle.

Each barrel weighed near 500 pounds. It was close to midnight. They didn’t know that federal agents were trolling in Oshkosh. They found out the hard way. Blink, Seibold, and Wainer got snared when a car carrying two agents came cruising down Jackson. The feds knew at once that they had landed a big one.

Appleton Post-Crescent, Saturday, January 14, 1933.

All three were arrested and taken to the city jail. Seibold protested. He told the feds he was an innocent bystander, a good samaritan helping a couple of fellows in need. Sam Wainer gave them a false name. The young Wainer was in a bad way, with an outstanding violation from a raid on a New London whiskey depository six months earlier. Another charge would mean jail.

The agents knew they were onto something more than a local moonshine outfit. They called in the head of the Milwaukee bureau. He arrived the following morning and identified Sam Wainer, calling him “One of the bigshot bootleggers in Wisconsin.” The downfall of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate was underway.

Blink, Seibold, and Wainer were denied bail and sent to Green Bay. They were held over the weekend in the Brown County jail. They were arraigned in federal court on Monday afternoon, charged with possession and transportation of alcohol. Later that evening, all three were granted bail and released. Adolph Seibold went home to Oshkosh and met his new son.

Adolph Seibold with his son Kenneth.

The Syndicate
Back in Oshkosh, Seibold was at loose ends. He had a wife, three children, and a father to support. And no job. He couldn’t go back to the speakeasy. Even a minor liquor violation would land him in the House of Corrections. But at the end of 1933, the scene changed. Prohibition was repealed on December 5th. And in 1934, Seibold went back behind the familiar bar at 1309 Oregon.

Adolph Seibold behind the bar at 1309 Oregon. Photo courtesy of Jen Seibold.

The dry law was nullified, but Seibold’s dry-law offense was not. He could do nothing but wait for the hammer to drop. Meanwhile, the feds were putting all of the pieces together. It wasn’t just Adolph Seibold, Earl Blink, and Sam Wainer they were gunning for. They were going after the entire Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. By the end of the investigation, Seibold was one of 22 indicted co-conspirators. The only problem the feds had was getting them into court.

Sam Wainer and Earl Blink jumped bail and went into hiding. Then in early 1934, Heinie and Louis Wainer went on the lam. Heinie and Louis were captured nine months later. But while the brothers were away, their cohorts began telling stories to the feds. Their depositions revealed the unsparing tactics of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. It all came spilling out when the trial finally began in federal court in Milwaukee on December 2, 1935; nearly two years after the fateful breakdown on Jackson Street.

The syndicate ran like a machine pumping torrents of liquor and kneecapping anyone who interfered. Witnesses told of severe beatings dealt to those who crossed the Wainers. And of threats made to local officials found sniffing around. The operation was byzantine. A complex web of warehouses, breweries, and distilleries operating at capacity. Syndicate liquor was distributed by rail and by trucks shadowed by armed guards.

Seibold clung to his “Good Samaritan” defense. And it got shot full of holes by witnesses who said his Oshkosh guinea pig farm was a ruse to conceal his role in the syndicate. He used a local produce dealer's rail account to ship moonshine and deliver corn sugar in boxcars billed for hauling vegetables. Seibold wasn’t implicated in the violence, but was exposed as a Wainer associate in every other respect.

As the trial went on, it became clear that the ultimate target was Heinie Wainer. He was the “Master Mind.” His brother Louis was the money man who financed syndicate members and handled payoffs. Donald Blink and his at-large brother Earl were the traffic managers directing shipments of equipment, supplies, and liquor.

The trial lasted four days. The jury deliberated for less than an hour. Of the 21 indicted, 14 stood trial. All of them were found guilty. Heinie and Louis Wainer were given six-year sentences in the Federal Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas. Donald Blink got just three months in the Milwaukee House of Corrections. Adolph Seibold walked away with the lightest punishment of all, a $100 fine (about $2,500 in today’s money).

The Last Oshkosh Bootlegger
The Wainer’s attorney told his clients they’d get no more than four years in prison. The six-year sentence sent a shock through the courtroom. Heinie Wainer complained to the judge that he had “never heard anything like this before.” Equally shocking were the light sentences handed down to the other members of the syndicate. Seibold’s fine was a slap on the wrist.

The leniency may have inspired the retribution that followed. Donald Blink hadn’t even completed his three-month term before being dragged back into court on an older charge involving a distillery in Stevens Point. Don Blink was swiftly convicted. This time, the prosecution got the sort of punishment they were after – a one to two year term in the state prison at Waupun.

Adolph Seibold was next. State treasury agents raided his cottage at Plummer’s Point on the Monday afternoon of July 30, 1936. Just seven months after his conviction in federal court. When asked what inspired the raid, the treasury men said “numerous complaints.” End of story. They would not disclose the nature or source of those complaints.

The agents at Plummers Point canvassed the property and then honed in on the garage at the back of the lot. The Wainer Gang had been notorious for using false floors to conceal stockpiled liquor. The treasury men went at Seibold’s garage floor with a sledge hammer. The blows were fruitless. But while scrounging around in the boathouse they came up with a gallon and a half of moonshine hidden in a cabinet. It was hardly the bonanza they’d been seeking. They arrested Seibold all the same.

Seibold’s boathouse in the foreground at Plummers Point.

The agents should have pursued their initial hunch more vigorously. Seibold’s garage did indeed have a false floor. If the cops had been less busy with the hammer, they might have discovered the concealed switch at the back of the garage. Flipping it would have triggered a concrete floor panel on a hydraulic lift to descend, elevator like, into a hidden compartment below. In that space there are still barrels – now rusted and drained – of the type used by the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate for transporting moonshine.

Seibold's trial was in Oshkosh on July 22, 1936. The prosecution pleaded with the judge to make an example of him, claiming Seibold was still running significant quantities of bootleg liquor. But the treasury department couldn’t produce an example of him selling the stuff. And the paltry amount of unstamped liquor they caught him with suggested he wasn’t much of a dealer.

Adolph Seibold had plenty of practice feeding nonsense to judges. He said he had no idea how that liquor had gotten into his boathouse. The judge dispatched the entire sorry mess by handing Seibold a $200 fine (about $4,300 in today’s money). Oshkosh’s last Prohibition-era bootlegger paid up and walked away one last time.

The irony of it could not have escaped him. His $200 fine for holding 192 ounces of moonshine was double the fine he got in 1934 after years spent handling thousands of gallons of illegal liquor. Adolph Seibold was about to turn 42. And he was finally done with all that bootlegging business.

Adolph Seibold at Plummers Point.

The Old Gang
Adolph Seibold began pouring his energy into his bar at 1309 Oregon. Rahr Brewing still owned the building, but Seibold treated it as his own. He remodeled the old saloon, took out the bowling alleys, and put in a dining hall that could seat 150 people. He renamed it Cy's Casino. The grand reopening of the “South Side’s Largest Tavern” was on December 17, 1936.

Seibold and his family left the homestead at 14th Avenue after his father died in 1942. They updated the cottage at Plummers Point and made it their permanent home. There have been Seibolds living at Plummers Point ever since.

The boathouse at Plummers Point.

In 1946, Seibold sold the guinea pig farm that had been the Oshkosh hub for the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate. The property would later achieve a second round of notoriety as a “gentlemen's club” called The Loft.

The other members of the Wainer Gang made their way in and out of jail. After Donald Blink's release from Waupun, he moved into the apartment above Cy’s Casino and went to work tending bar for Seibold. His brother Earl Blink – who had been arrested with Seibold on Jackson Street in 1933 – remained a fugitive until 1937. In 1938, he was sentenced to six months in jail. Earl Blink later moved to Oshkosh and became a bartender at Cy’s Casino.

Sam Wainer, also arrested with Seibold in 1933, remained on the run until his capture in 1938. He would spend four months in jail and then move to Chicago. He was joined there by his brother Heinie. Heinie Wainer was fresh from Leavenworth and ready for action. He dove back into the underworld, peddling stolen liquor to taverns in the Chicagoland area. His career ended when he got gunned down by a rival at his Chicago apartment in 1959.

Hyman “Heinie” Wainer

Devil May Care
The crimes of the Fox Valley Liquor Syndicate and the Wainer Gang were front-page news in the 1930s. Some of the tales were told again in 1959 after the murder of Heinie Wainer. Among the scattered anecdotes was the Wainer Gang’s alleged war with Al Capone’s mob for control of the liquor trade in southern Wisconsin. These were stories Adolph Seibold never shared.

Adolph and Maude Seibold with their granddaughter Melissa, 1970.

Seibold rarely spoke of his experiences as a bootlegger. The crimes, the arrests, and the peril that stalked him during that era belonged to the past. He put all of it to rest.

But the devil-may-care spirit that marked almost everything Seibold did remained with him. He was 79 and suffering from a heart condition when he was admitted to Mercy Hospital on Hazel Street in August 1973. He did not want to be there. So he jumped out of a second floor hospital window attempting to get away. He didn’t get away. He broke his hip and died four weeks later. Adolph Seibold was buried in Oshkosh’s Calvary Cemetery on September 4, 1973.

At Plummers Point there are people who still tell stories about the bootlegger who lived in their midst. The stories are second hand, filled with gaps and hearsay. We can’t know what is lost. Most of what Adolph Seibold saw and did during the dry years remained known only to him. He took those stories to the grave.

About this story...
I first came across Adolph Seibold in 2015 while researching another story. I’ve been picking up bits and pieces about him ever since. This past summer, I was contacted by Melissa Seibold, a granddaughter of Adolph. She asked if I was aware of him. At that time, I knew only the outline of his life as a bootlegger. Melissa and I began talking, and she shared with me what she had heard of her grandfather. Those conversations set this story in motion. Melissa deserves the lion’s share of the credit for making this piece happen. I’m sure Adolph would be proud of her.

Adolph Seibold and his granddaughter Melissa.

Saturday Walking Tour

Just a very quick post to note that as part of this Saturday’s B'Gosh It's Good Breweriana Show, I’ll be leading a very informal walking tour of historic saloon and beer-related spots along North Main Street. The walk begins at 6pm, leaving from the parking lot behind Oblio’s. There’s no fee, or need to sign-up. Just show up at 6pm and away we’ll go. Hope to see you there. Prost!

The Kro-Bar Club of Oshkosh, Wisconsin

The Kro-Bar Club was hatched in a chicken coop behind a home on Witzel Avenue 85 years ago. The old coop is gone, but the Kro-Bar Club survives. “It started as a kind of a family club, a neighborhood club,” says Dan Lenz, who has been a club member for 35 years. “It wasn’t too long, though, before it expanded beyond that.”

Dan Lenz at the Kro-Bar Club.

The Kro-Bar Club is a living example of the working-class men's clubs that first became popular in Oshkosh in the late 1800s. Some of the clubs were based upon a single, well defined aspiration. The Skat Club, established in 1889, was created for the “purpose of beer drinking on Sunday.” Others were organized around a more relaxed set of intentions grounded in beer consumption, card playing, and mutual fellowship. These were social clubs. The predominant aim in all cases was to foster a sense of camaraderie among club members.

Most of the early clubs lasted a few years and then dissolved without leaving a trace. But a few of them, like the Midnight Club and Hank’s Club – both can trace their lineage back to the turn of the 20th century – are still active. The slightly younger Kro-Bar Club was formally organized in 1938. “They had a kind of informal club before that,” Lenz says. “The way my dad explained it, these guys would get together to play cards in that chicken coop behind Joe Robl’s house. That’s how it started.”

Joe Robl in the 1920s. Photo courtesy of Dan Radig.

Joseph “Kro-Bar” Robl was born in Oshkosh in 1909. His nickname was derived from the brand of candybar he favored. Robl lived near the corner of Witzel and Guenther. Behind his house was the fabled chicken coop that rarely, if ever, saw a chicken. During Prohibition, the space had been used as a bottling plant by a bootlegger named Elmer Steinhilber.

“I was told they bottled beer and stuff in there, and it just kind of became the neighborhood hang out,” Lenz says. The neighbors hanging out there in the mid-1930s were froggers, a species of Oshkosher now extinct. The froggers would canvas local marsh lands filling gunny sacks with leaping amphibians. Robl and his crew would sell their harvest to Elmer Steinhilber who had quit his bootlegging venture and was tending to the sprawling frog farm he established near the northeast corner of Witzel and Josslyn. The frog farm was just across the street from the ersatz chicken coop.

“I knew Elmer,” Lenz says. “He was still around when I was a kid. He was gruff, like all those old guys from back then. He was all right.”

Elmer Steinhilber

The froggers would unload their haul on Steinhilber and then head to Robl’s coop for a few beers. At one such gathering in March of 1938, the collective drew-up a charter formalizing their association. It was a clear, practical document with guiding principles such as, “Only members of the club can shoot crap in the club room, and one cannot shoot more than 10 cents at one time.” After the members settled on a name, the secretary noted that “It is no more than right to name the club after our esteemed and honorable founder, Joseph Kro-Bar Robl.”

Dan Lenz was introduced to the Kro-Bar Club some 30 years later. The chicken coop was a distant memory by then. In 1955, the club moved to its current headquarters on the opposite end of the frog farm. "My grandfather, Oscar Lenz, was here almost every day,” Lenz says as he leans on the bar at the Kro-Bar Clubhouse. “I would come here after school and help him clean up and restock. We’d go pick up the beer at Chief Oshkosh and Peoples and Jordy's. We’d get Bireley's Orange Soda. You had to have Bireley's. I literally grew up here.”

The bar they were stocking was as native to Oshkosh as the Kro-Bar Club itself. It was built in 1937 by Robert Brand and Sons on Ceape Avenue. From the Brand plant the bar went into the tavern of former Green Bay Packer Champ Seibold on Commerce Street. After the tavern closed in 1965, the Kro-Bar Club rescued the historic fixture. It remains the centerpiece of the their clubhouse.

The new bar at Champ Seibold’s Heidelberg Tavern, 1937. Photo courtesy of Dan Radig.

Dan Lenz became an official club member in 1988. “You have to be sponsored by a member to join,” Lenz says. “You can't just walk through the door and fill out an application. In fact, we don't even have an application. My father was a longtime member. He sponsored me. But you don’t need to have a family member in the club to join. Most of our members aren’t related.”

“We’re at about 25 members now. Our bylaws let us go as high as 60, so we're a little low. It ebbs and flows. We’re still a men’s club, but we have a thing now called the family membership where you can bring in your kids and your wife. We have a social once a month, and other get togethers. We have a lot of fun. You know, I just really enjoy having a place to come to where it’s not like a bar where you have to scream to talk to the person next to you. I don’t know how to put it, there’s just something special about this.”

To learn more about the Kro-Bar Club or explore the possibility of becoming a member, contact Dan Lenz at (920) 422-8041.

End Notes
Eventually, I’ll write something more in depth about Elmer Steinhilber. By some accounts, he was the most prolific bootlegger operating in Oshkosh during Prohibition. In this story, I mentioned that Steinhilber used the chicken coop as a bottling plant. At that time, the home and the coop were owned by a man named Leo Sperka, who worked as a baker. Sperka’s access to sugar came in handy for Steinhilber when he got into producing moonshine. Steinhilber had launched his bootlegging operation as a wildcat beer brewer. I’ll leave it there, for now, but Steinhilber is one of those Oshkosh characters who absolutely deserves to be much better known.

Finally, I got a lot of help with this story and I need to thank some folks who pitched in. This piece would have never happened without the help of my fellow SOBs (Society of Oshkosh Brewers) Al Jacobson and Dan Lenz. Al suggested this story to me years ago, but there didn’t seem to be a way to get it done until Dan revealed to me that he was a KB Club member. Dan cleared the way with the Kro-Bar Club membership to make this happen. Dan’s uncle Bud Lenz was also a great help. Bud is the Kro-Bar Club historian and has done more than anyone to preserve the club’s history. Dan Radig, whose father Norman was one of the original KB Club members, gave me some pointers and helped with images. Mike Robl also came through, supplying that excellent Elmer Steinhilber FROG CATCHERS! sign. Thanks guys!

Trails End: The History of an Oshkosh Tavern

There is no other place like Bob's Trails End. The tavern at 500 Merritt Avenue is the product of a distinct Oshkosh neighborhood and the persistence of the tavern keepers who have made this place their life's work. Trails End is an institution unto itself.

Bob Winkelman of Bob’s Trails End.

Bob Winkelman has been running the tavern since buying Trails End in 1985. But like many Oshkosh natives, this place has been a part of Winkelman’s life for almost all of his life. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I had hot dogs here when I was a kid, and we'd come in here on Friday nights and have fish, or get chicken on Saturdays.”

At that time, it was called Van’s Tavern. And by then, it was already 60 years old.

The Trail Begins
The tavern at the northeast corner of Broad and Merritt put down its roots in the spring of 1892 after a Swiss immigrant named Rosina Rhyner purchased the property. Rhyner’s acquisition was at the behest of her son-in-law, a fellow Swiss named John P. Steier. The 23-year-old Steier, left his job in construction and put a saloon into the building that is home to Trails End today. Steier and his wife, Rachel, moved into the house next door. By the close of 1892 Steier’s Place was up and running.

The location was excellent. The neighborhood, in the heart of the old Fourth Ward, was populated with beer-loving European immigrants. And from across the street came a steady flow of traffic from the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad Depot. Passengers deboarding the train would immediately see the sign for Oshkosh Beer hanging at the entrance to Steier’s Place.

The Chicago & Northwestern Railroad Depot on Broad Street. Looking north from Washington towards Merritt.

Steier was new to the saloon trade. But he was a quick study and seemed to know what he was after. In 1895, he convinced the Oshkosh Brewing Company to become a partner in his fledgling business. It was the start of a long-term relationship between the tavern and Oshkosh’s largest brewery.

A 1903 drawing of John Steier.

The saloon came to reflect Steier’s obsessions. He was a sporting man. When he wasn’t behind the bar, he was hunting, or bowling, or setting up a smoker where local brawlers would go at it before a crowd of gamblers. Steier had a thing for blood sports. He installed a rat pit in his saloon where packs of rodents would meet their ultimate fate in the jaws of a frenzied terrier. Steier’s Place became one the most popular spots on the east side.

February 2, 1898; Oshkosh Daily Northwestern.

In the fall of 1896, Steier cut another deal with the Oshkosh Brewing Company. The brewery agreed to purchase the saloon with the stipulation that Steier would continue running it. The arrangement meant the brewery would cover the property expenses. In return, Steier agreed to sell no other beer than that of the Oshkosh Brewing Company. Steier’s Place had become a tied house.

Steier put the brewery’s deep pockets to work. He built a narrow addition onto the saloon that stretched along the east side of Broad Street. The structure ran from the back door to the north end of the lot line. Just big enough for two bowling alleys.

A Sanborn map from 1903 alongside a recent picture of the addition built to accommodate the saloon’s bowling alleys.

Steier left the saloon in 1902. His bowling alleys were removed about a decade later. But there remains a lingering feature from this early period: the oak back bar built by the Robert Brand and Sons Company on Ceape Avenue in Oshkosh. The back bar at Trails End is one of the oldest surviving Brand pieces in Oshkosh.

The back bar at Bob’s Trails End.

See the timeline at the bottom of this post for more on the period between 1902 and 1923.

Vandenberg’s Speakeasy
The rowdy saloon devolved into little more than a lunch room after Prohibition arrived in 1920. Beer and liquor were out. That left soft drinks and sandwiches. And that was never going to cut it in Oshkosh. The place was tanking when Bill Vandenberg bought the business in early 1923. Vandenberg swept in and put his own name on the sign. And then he put booze in the soda cups.

Bill Vandenberg in striped shirt and tie, behind his bar in the late 1940s.

William Alfred Vandenberg was born in 1894 in DePere. At 14, he quit school and went to work full-time. He was 16 when he came to Oshkosh and got a job cutting wood at the Morgan Company. By 1921, he’d had his fill of that kind of labor. Vandenberg left the mills and started tending bar at an east-side speakeasy at the corner of Monroe and Parkway. Two years later, he went out on his own. Vandenberg never looked back.

In the spring of 1923, Vandenberg, his wife, Ida, and their two daughters, Dorothy and Kathryn, moved into the home that still stands hip-to-hip with Bob’s Trails End. The proximity of the residence to what was then being called a “soft drink parlor” was crucial.

The former home and speakeasy of Bill Vandenberg.

Michelle Benton is William Vandenberg’s great granddaughter. The story of how Vandenberg concealed his liquor trade during Prohibition was told to her by her grandmother. “There was a doorway that connected the house and the bar,” Benton says. “The patrons would have a special knock for different alcoholic beverages. My great grandmother ran the door from inside the house and would serve the drinks from there.”

It was one of the better speakeasy setups in Oshkosh. But it wasn’t bootleg booze that made Vandenberg famous. It was the hot dogs.

The backstory on Vandenberg’s famous hot dog was passed down from Clarence “Pep” Steinhilber. Pep worked for Vandenberg and had known him since the mid-1920s. Pep said Vandenberg was smitten with a hot dog served at a diner on Main Street. The smothering of special sauce made it exceptional. Vandenberg tried to buy the recipe, but the owner wasn’t selling. He changed his mind after his restaurant went under. Vandenberg got the secret recipe and, in 1926, began selling the encased-meat treat at his place. The rest is hot-dog history.

Two million and counting in the 1970s.

But it took more than a good hot dog to pull a saloon through the dry years. Vandenberg’s, like every other speakeasy in Oshkosh, struggled. At one point, in the late 1920s, Vandenberg’s even offered the services of an in-house barber. Speakeasy / hot-dog parlor / barbershop is a business combination Oshkosh will probably never see again.

By the early 1930s, Vandenberg could see light at the end of the tunnel. Prohibition was on its last leg. In April 1933, light beer (less than 4% ABV) became legal. Meanwhile, the 21st Amendment, which would repeal Prohibition, was passing through State Houses on its way to being ratified. There came a close call near the end.

Vandenberg’s was raided on September 20, 1933. But Vandenberg laughed last. The cops found nothing but an illegal gambling machine. He got off with a warning. Prohibition was repealed three months later, and Vandenberg’s was reborn as Van’s Tavern. Happy days and real beer were back at Broad and Merritt.

The western exterior wall of Van’s Tavern in the 1930s.

Van’s Tavern
Prohibition was over, but the hard times were not. The Great Depression was in full effect. But Vandenberg's was a place almost anyone could afford. The Friday night fish fry was five cents. On Saturday’s it was chicken with all the trimmings for 15 cents (about $3.50 in today’s money). There were 5-cent hot dogs and sandwiches all week long, and for a dime you could wash it all down with a hefty schooner of Chief Oshkosh Beer.

Big beers out in back at Van's Tavern. The huge goblet of Chief Oshkosh was a Van's speciality.

It worked. Vandenberg remodeled and expanded the tavern “to meet our increasing patronage” at a time when others were just barely getting by. During the 1930s and early 1940s Van’s became something more than just another tavern. It passed into the realm of Oshkosh institution.

All sorts of people assembled at Van's. There was the shot-and-a-beer crowd, there were families there for a meal, there were strangers passing through town by rail, and there were kids from the neighborhood who would wander in just because the door was open.

The family that drinks together... Van's in the 1940s.

Tom Krumenauer was one of those east-side kids attracted to Van’s. Krumenauer passed away in 2010, but his son Scott recalls the stories his father told him about his adventures at the tavern. “He would go to the train depot and when the train came in he’d go in the passenger car and go around taking orders for beer and hot dogs. He’d add like a nickel or a dime to the price, so he could make some money. Then he’d run over to Van’s and put the order in. So while they were getting that together, he’d hang around by this parrot they had in there. Well, everybody that came into the bar would try to teach that parrot a new word, and of course, it was always a cuss word. My dad said that bird was the most foul-mouthed thing you ever heard. He said that the bird taught him how to swear.”

The Chicago & Northwestern Depot was also a portal through which Oshkosh’s enlisted men passed when leaving for and returning from military service during World War II. A visit to Van’s was a rite of that passage. For many it was their first taste of home after having been away for years. For some, it was their last meal in Oshkosh.

The war years at Van's.

The Van’s Tavern that older Oshkoshers still remember presented itself in the 1950s. And when those folks reminisce about the tavern, they tend to talk about Pep Steinhilber. Pep was an eastsider born on Broad Street, a block north of Van's. He got to know Vandenberg during Prohibition when Pep was still a teenager. Pep would do odd jobs around the tavern, like helping slaughter chickens in the back yard in preparation for the Saturday night special.

In 1940, Pep opened his own place. Pep's Tavern was a block east of Van’s at the southeast corner of Boyd and Merritt. Pep did well enough there, but he got tired of being the boss. So in 1950, he went back to work for Vandenberg.

Pep Steinhilber behind the bar at Van's in the 1950s. The woman with him is believed to have been a coworker there.

Bob Winkelman remembers Pep well. “He was a great guy,” Winkelman says, “I don't think he ever said a bad word about anybody. Pep was an old-time bartender. He always wore a bar apron when he was working.”

Jim Philipp began working at Van’s Tavern about the same time that Pep came on board. Philipp was Vandenberg’s son-in-law and the heir apparent to Van’s Tavern. In 1953, Vandenberg added Philipp’s name to the liquor license.

Jim Philipp in the bowler and white t-shirt behind the bar in 1953.

Bill Vandenberg was preparing for his exit. The Vandenbergs had lived near the tavern for 30 years, but now Bill and his wife, Ida, moved to a home in Butte des Morts. He was easing his way out. Vandenberg’s landlord led him to the door.

The Oshkosh Brewing Company had owned the property since 1895. But in 1960, the brewery’s president, Arthur Schwalm, and vice-president, Earl Horn, were looking to sell their majority stake in the company. They were also dealing off their remaining tavern properties. The 66-year-old Vandenberg wasn’t buying. It was Jim Philipp’s turn.

Philipp purchased Van’s Tavern on a land contract on May 26, 1960. And within a few months, Van’s Tavern was no more.

December 09, 1960; Oshkosh Daily Northwestern.

Trails End
Van’s Tavern became Trails End. The Western motif was new, but that was about it. The hot dogs were still famous, and Philipp, Pep, and Van were still behind the bar pulling mugs of Chief Oshkosh beer. Albeit in bow ties and cowboy hats. 

From left to right: Pep Steinhilber, Jim Philipp, and Bill Vandenberg in 1960.

Trails End in the mid-1960s.

It would take years before people adapted to calling the tavern Trails End. For a generation that had come of age at that bar it would always be Van’s.

The new name acquired a poignance Philipp never intended. Vandenberg retired soon after the transition to Trails End, and passed away in 1968. The old neighborhood was passing, too.

The tavern had always been rooted in the blue-collar culture of its patrons. Broad Street along the railroad track was home to manufacturing plants like the Schmit Brothers Trunk Company and the Dunphy Boat Company. The tavern was a haunt for the workers at those factories. It was where they stopped for beer when the workday ended. It was where they cashed their checks on Friday. By the end of the 1960s, those manufacturing jobs and those workers were gone.

Dunphy Boat on Broad Street.

In 1971, the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad ended its passenger service along the Oshkosh route. The depot that had brought travelers to the tavern’s doorstep for the past 80 years went silent.

The former Chicago & Northwestern Depot as it now appears.

Maybe Jim Philipp could see where this was heading. He turned 58 in 1974 and had been working at the tavern for 25 years. That was enough. On July 1, 1974, Philipp sold Trails End to Eddie Parada, a 51-year-old car salesman from Connecticut who had moved to Oshkosh about a decade earlier. One by one, the connections to the past were giving way.

Trails End became unmoored. Between 1974 and 1984 the tavern changed hands seven times. The situation grew so muddled that the city threatened to revoke the bar’s license over the confusion about who was actually running the place. Trails End had turned into a dead end.

Bob’s Trails End
The tavern was sold again in 1985. This time it was different. “They kept trying to sell it on a land contract,” says Bob Winkelman. “They would sell it, and the thing would fall through, and they would get it right back. Then they sold it to me. After that, they didn't get it back.”

Winkelman was committed to making it work. “I thought of it as something long term,” he says. “I sold my house to buy this place. It pretty much became my life.”

He began rebuilding the business and brought Pep Steinhilber back to help. Pep had left the tavern during the turmoil of the early 1980s. He was in his 70s now, the last of the old guard, but still willing to give it another go. “In fact, Pep wanted me to reopen the restaurant and start serving chicken and fish again on the weekends,” Winkelman says. “I checked into it, but thought it would be better if we kept things how they are.”

Pep at Trails End after his 1985 return to the tavern.

Pep wasn’t the only Van’s original making a comeback. “After I bought the place, Pep told me the people before me had changed the recipe for the hot dog sauce," Winkelman says. "So I said, let's put it back to the original recipe. We put everything back to the original recipe that Vandenberg first used.”

A year after Winkelman took over, Julie Feldner became part of the crew. She and Winkelman would be the stewards of the revitalized tavern.

Julie Feldner at the tavern, Thanksgiving 2014.

Feldner and Winkelman have brought Trails End into the tavern’s third century. The journey has included steering the bar through its second pandemic. The 1918 flu pandemic led to a ban on public gatherings that wreaked havoc for the saloon at Broad and Merritt. Feldner and Winkelman experienced that same trial beginning in March 2020 when a similar ban was imposed in response to the COVID-19 pandemic.

“Julie and myself were the only ones here then, and we worked for free,” Winkelman says. “We just had carry outs and curbside pickup. We're still short-handed, so now I'm working seven days a week.”

Winkelman is there most days by 4 a.m. “Yeah, it's hard, but I get up early every morning anyway, so it's all right with me,” he says. “I would like to take a little time off and travel on the motorcycle, though. But now it's not going anywhere. I get to ride it back and forth to work.”

Bob in the kitchen in 2023.

It’s been 38 years since Winkelman took over Trails End. He’s 73 now, and has replaced Bill Vandenberg as the tavern’s longest-tenured owner. “Everybody asks me when I'm going to retire. Why should I retire?” That’s an attitude Pep Steinhilber would have appreciated. Pep continued working at Trails End until shortly before his death in 2000. He was 88.

The tavern is now more than 130 years old. There’s no concealing its age. The floor gently slopes. The bar shows plenty of wear. The well-maintained space is washed by the patina of time. Pinned to the back bar is an unusual, colorful painting. It sometimes baffles newcomers. The painting is of an old fisherman holding the reins of a white horse. Strapped to the side of the horse is an enormous blue fish.

The symbolism is inescapable. The blue fish is a traditional symbol of good luck and prosperity. The fabled white horse appears in countless folk tales carrying the patron saint to their destination. The patron saint in this painting happens to be Pep Steinhilber.

The painting, dated 1993, is by Dan Steinhilber. “He painted it for his grandpa,” Winkelman says. “Pep brought it down here, and then I hung it up there.” Winkelman nods towards the painting as a sly grin crosses his face. “That’s Pep. With a fish. Tied to a horse.”

Up next is a timeline, but before I get to that, there are some people I need to thank. Bob Winkelman and Julie Feldner were both incredibly patient with my questions and generous with their time. This is a story I've wanted to write for a long time. When I finally went to Bob and Julie with it, they could not have been any more obliging. I also need to thank Michelle Benton, the great-granddaughter of Bill Vandenberg and the granddaughter of Jim Philipp. I don't know how many times I sent Michelle pictures and question in hopes that she could clear up my confusion. She never failed. And a big thanks also to Scott Krumenauer whose photographic memory came in especially handy when I was trying to get to the bottom of that foul-mouthed parrot legend.

A Trails End Timeline
This tavern has such a long and involved history that it became impossible to present all of it within the main portion of the blog post. This timeline will fill some of the gaps.

1884
The Chicago & Northwestern Railroad Depot is built.

The Chicago & Northwestern Depot in its early days.

1887
There have been several pieces written about this tavern that claim 1887 as its starting date. The original source for this date, I believe, is Larry Spanbauer’s 2012 book Oshkosh Neighborhood Taverns and the People Who Ran Them. I was a friend of Larry’s and wrote favorably about his book when it was released, but he got this one wrong. It happens.

Spanbauer identifies John Chamberlain as the proprietor of a tavern/boarding house at the northeast corner of Merritt and Broad Streets in 1887. That’s not correct. Chamberlain was indeed the proprietor of a boarding house in 1887 – the Waldemer House on Broad Street – but it was located south of Merritt, not north of it.

The Sanborn map below is from 1890 and shows the east side of Broad Street where it intersects with Merritt. Chamberlain’s “Waldemer Ho.” is clearly shown. The location of Bob’s Trails End is indicated by the red X. As the map illustrates, the corner portion of the lot where the saloon was later built was still vacant in 1890.

The land where the saloon would be built was owned by John McPartlin, a land surveyor born in Canada in 1843. McPartlin had purchased the property on September 19, 1865. McPartlin sold the property to Rosina Rhyner, the mother-in-law of John Steier, on March 18, 1892.

1892
The first mention of a saloon at the northeast corner of Broad and Merritt appears in A.G. Wright’s 1893 Directory of Oshkosh. Wright’s Directory went to press in January of 1893. The information contained within the directory, including the mention of Steier’s saloon, was gathered in 1892. This 1892 date is entirely consistent with the land records for the property. 1892 is undoubtedly the first year this saloon was in operation.

It was a bold move for Steier to start a new saloon at this location. During this period, Reverend Roman Scholter of the nearby St. Mary’s Church was raising hell over the saloons that surrounded his church. Scholter went to the city council and tried to get a saloon-free zone imposed around St. Mary’s. The council rejected the idea. 1892 is also the year that Scholter built the St. Mary’s Church that now stands at the southeast corner of Merritt and Monroe. Before this, the church was directly across the street on the north side of Merritt

1895
The Oshkosh Brewing Company’s financial interest in this saloon began on August 6, when the brewery loaned Steier $1,600 (about $55,000 in today’s money). OBC was definitely bullish on Steier’s Place. The saloon was a tied house from this date until the start of Prohibition.

1896
Oshkosh Brewing Company purchased the saloon on October 24 for $3,100 (about $103,000 in today’s money).

1897
The saloon’s bowling alley was first mentioned in newspaper articles in early January of 1898. The reporting suggests that the lanes were already in operation before this time. It appears they were bowling at the saloon by the fall/winter of 1897.

A note about the bowling alley: within a few months of the alleys being open, a “house” tournament was held. The winner was Oshkosh Brewing Company president William Glatz. I suspect Glatz was instrumental in having the lanes installed. He was an avid bowler and often rolled at Steier’s lanes.

1901
By this time, Steier had become surprisingly popular in Oshkosh. Rumors were swirling that Oshkosh Mayor John Mulva wanted to appoint Steier as the city’s chief of police. Quite an endorsement for a guy who, a couple years earlier, had been running a rat pit. The ad below – wherein a gun manufacturer touts its product by stating that Steier uses it – gives an indication of his notoriety.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern; August 21, 1901.

1902
In April, Steier sold the saloon business to Otto Joergers, who quit his job as a conductor for the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad to run the bar. It didn’t work out for Joergers. A year later he was gone.

1903
Henry Guilliaume took over the saloon in 1903 and renamed it the Northwestern Lunch Room. That name, however, was pretty flexible. There are advertisements from the early 1900s that also refer to the saloon as the Northwestern Buffett and the Northwestern Sample Room. Guilliaume had been a fireman and a cop before taking over the saloon.

Henry Guilliaume in 1902 wearing his Oshkosh Police uniform.

1911
The saloon’s bowling alley appears to have closed in either 1911 or 1912. Guilliaume was building up the lunch room aspect of the saloon at this point and may have been the one who converted that space into a dining room.

1913
Guilliaume retires, and later moves to Milwaukee. Herman Dahms takes over. This is the start of a rocky period for the saloon with a new saloon keeper coming in every couple of years until Vandenberg arrives to put the place back on track.

1915
Dahms is out and John Bischofberger is in. Bischofberger was a veteran Oshkosh saloon man. He had been running a saloon on Main Street prior to taking over the tavern at Broad and Merritt. Bischofberger was also instrumental in the launch of Peoples Brewing Company. Now, three years after Peoples got started, Bischofberger found himself running a saloon owned by the Oshkosh Brewing Company.

Bischofberger’s previous saloon on Main Street. Bischofberger is probably the man with the dog at his feet.

1918
Bischofberger was robbed at gunpoint at the saloon in January of 1918. He died later that year, but I haven’t been able to find his cause of death. Was he a victim of the 1918 flu? He was 50 years old at the time of his death. A number of sources, including Oshkosh Brewing Company records, suggest that the saloon is struggling at this point.

After Bischofberger’s departure, Frank X. Winkler came in. Prior to this, Winkler had been running a saloon just down the street at the northwest corner of Merritt and Monroe. Winkler was at the saloon when Prohibition arrived and seems to have resisted the urge that gripped practically every other saloon keeper in Oshkosh. The record is free of any indication that Winkler sold bootleg booze. Instead, he took out a soft drink license and started selling PEP, the Oshkosh Brewing Company’s unpopular, non-alcoholic “near beer.”

1923
Winkler quits and, that spring, Bill Vandenberg comes in. Vandenberg would own the business for the next 37 years. From 1923 until the end of 1933, this place is a speakeasy that also serves food. It’s called Vandenberg’s.

From April 22, 1932. Vandenberg is selling tickets to see heavyweight boxing champion Max Schmeling fight an exhibition bout in Oshkosh.

1928
The Oshkosh Brewing Company transfers its real estate holdings to Gilt Edge Realty, a shell corporation under the domain of the brewery. Gilt Edge Realty was controlled by the officers of OBC.

1933
Prohibition ends and Van’s Tavern is born. The clipping below advertises “Heavy Beer” for 10 cents. This was the full strength beer that became legal again after repeal. The pre-repeal beer, still being sold for a nickel, would soon be discontinued.

December 13, 1933.

For the first time, the tavern is now offering beer that wasn't made by the Oshkosh Brewing Company. Among the new rules imposed in the wake of repeal was a law forbidding the old tied-house system where a saloon could be forced to sell only their patron brewery’s beer. The picture below was taken in Van’s in the 1940s. The surprised woman is drinking Peoples Beer.

1943
Vandenberg is doing so well that he opens a second location on the southside at 8th and South Main (the building no longer stands). Vandenberg’s son-in-law Roman Langkau was the bar manager. But Vandenberg’s attempt to replicate his success on the southside failed. Vandenberg closed his southside tavern in either late 1944 or early 1945.

A full-page (and roughly handled) ad for the opening of Van’s southside tavern. September 3, 1943.

1945
In the early morning hours of Tuesday, November 13, masked gunmen rob the tavern. Bartenders Edward Carrick and Roman Langkau, who were closing the bar, were tied up by the gunmen who got away with $4,175. Later that morning one of the gunmen shot a Madsion police officer who attempted to pull them over. The men were apprehended later that week, and Vandenberg got most of his money back.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern; November 13, 1945.

1950
The tavern's exterior was remodeled during the summer of 1950. A wooden parapet over the front entrance was removed and the windows facing Merritt were reduced to the size they are today.

Pep Steinhilber sells his tavern at Boyd and Merritt (that place is now known as Boots Saloon). Pep goes to work at Van’s shortly thereafter.

Inside Pep’s Tavern at Boyd and Merritt (now Boots Saloon) in the late 1940s. That might be Pep behind the bar.

1960
On May 26, 1960, the Oshkosh Brewing Company (via Gilt Edge Realty) sells the property to James R. Philipp on a land contract. Vandenberg then sells the tavern business to Philipp. Van’s Tavern becomes Trails End.

1963
On November 29, Philipp satisfies the land contract and now owns the property outright.

The Trails End keglers win the 1972 city bowling championship. May 25, 1972.

1974
On July 1, Jim Philipp sells Trails End to Edmund J. Parada. Philipp retains a mortgage on the property for $10,000. This is the start of a rocky period for the tavern.

1975
Parada still owns the tavern but the liquor license is given to Marcel Hrnak. In October, the license was transferred to John R. Abraham.

On July 15, Eddie Parada sells the tavern to John R. Abraham and Edward K. John.

1981
In October the liquor license was transferred to Robert W. Gensler in preparation for the sale of the tavern.

On November 3, Abraham and John sell the tavern on a land contract to J.C. Smith for $75,000. Smith is something of a notorious character. He’s involved in numerous real estate deals in Oshkosh during this time. Almost all of them go bad. Smith is forced to declare bankruptcy. The title to the property becomes clouded due to Smith’s ongoing financial troubles. The tavern spins through a series of proprietors over the next four years.

1982
May: The liquor license is transferred to James C. Jischke. Less than two weeks later it is transferred to Clifford A. Olsen. Olsen lives in the home next to the tavern.

On December 23, a lawsuit is filed against J.C. Smith for defaulting on his land contract. The situation at Trails End is becoming increasingly chaotic.

1983
In April, the liquor license is transferred to Gary Basler, who had been running the Ohio Street Station tavern at 9th and Ohio.

Throughout the spring and summer, the status of the tavern is in jeopardy. City Attorney John Pence schedules a hearing to have the liquor license revoked. The situation begins to resolve in September after J.C. Smith relinquishes his claim to the property. Gary Basler voluntarily surrenders the liquor license. Ownership of the property reverts to John Abrahm and Edward John. The liquor license is put back in John Abrahm’s name.

1985
April 19, 1985: John Abraham and Edward John sell the tavern to Robert C. Winkelman on a land contract. The liquor license is put in Winkelman’s name. The tavern reemerges as Bob’s Trails End. And so it remains.

Bob's Trail End, July 2023.

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