Norfolk's Dourmar's is a Living Museum to Ice Cream Cones and Drive-ins

There are eateries that have more national recognition, but none can claim a part of America’s history equal to Dourmar’s in Norfolk, Virginia. The story starts with Abraham Dourmar. He was a fourteen-year-old native of Damascus, Syria, when he got a job, working at a vendor's stand at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, Missouri. Ice cream and waffle-like pastries were the two most popular treats among fair patrons.

Lost in the fine print of documented history is the identity of the first person that rolled some type of pastry, what we call today a waffle, into a cone and filled it with ice cream. Historians also quibble as to the identity of the first person to build, or at least to receive a patent, on a machine designed for the purpose of making pastry cones to hold ice cream. However, the Smithsonian Institution has accepted as fact the claim that Abraham Dourmar’s machine was the first one designed to make waffle cones.

After the 1904 World’s Fair, young Abe designed a waffle maker that produced four cones at a time. With family members who joined him in America, he opened his ice cream cone business in 1907 during the Jamestown Exposition, the three-hundredth anniversary of the birth of Jamestown, the first English settlement in Virginia.

Operating from a small stand at a beachside resort in Norfolk called Ocean View Amusement Park, it has been written that the family once sold some 23,000 cones in a single day. After a hurricane destroyed the amusement park site, Abe, again with the help of family members, opened a drive-in restaurant on Norfolk’s Monticello Avenue in 1934.

Seventy-five years later, the establishment is still open for business, unchanged, a classic example of a drive-in, complete with curbside service. The original waffle-making machine survived the hurricane, and still in use, over one hundred years after its creation, still operated by one of Abe's descendants.

The story of Dourmar’s has been widely told in books, original art, and was the subject of a segment on the Food Channel’s “Diners, Drive-ins & Dives.” The Web site for Dourmar’s includes an extensive collection of pictures and text (including the Food Channel segment) that make for an enjoyable trip down memory lane for those who want a glimpse of things as they once were.

For Some, Krueger's HEAVEN'S KEEP Will be Hard Read; It's a Well-told Story on a Subject That Defies Description

From the day I finished IRON LAKE many moons ago, I decided that William Kent Krueger was on my “must read” list of authors. It was a perfect match. I loved the man’s writing style. And I have enough Cherokee blood in my veins to appreciate the Native American beliefs and rituals that are portrayed as part of the life of the main character, Cork O’Connor.

I recently finished reading HEAVEN’S KEEP, the latest offering in the series, but it was a book I almost put aside after a few pages. It was not because Krueger’s writing failed to match his normally excellent standards. It was the beginning of the story line.

Cork’s wife is a passenger on a chartered flight that drops from radar over the Wyoming Rockies as a storm front nears. A massive blizzard blankets the area, making it impossible to locate the plane and determine the condition of the plane’s occupants.

When I discovered this was the center of the plot, I was not certain I would be able to continue reading. I joined the realm of widowerhood three years ago when my wife was killed in a vehicle crash.

However, after a day to think about it, and knowing it was a William Kent Krueger book, I was drawn back into the story. I am glad. It was not an easy read, but it is a well-written, intriguing tale.

A combination of factors—not being able to locate the plane or its wreckage, Native American visions of what happened to it, and unanswered questions that start with the pilot of the plane⎯ lead O’Conner on a twisted and dangerous path as he seeks to determine the fate of his wife while clinging to the idea that she might still be alive somewhere. This possibility alone will keep the reader snared until the end of the book as Cork’s search goes on.

O’Connor’s grief was for me was an ever-present, constant thread in the book. But I am reluctant, for two reasons, to comment at length on how Krueger presents it. I do not know if the author has personally experienced such a situation. And reactions to grief from the loss of a loved one can be vastly different among individuals.

But I speak from personal experience when I say William Kent Kreuger must be highly commended for tackling the subject, for giving the reader samplings of a condition that is so complex, so fraught with a tangle of emotions that a mere assemblage of words fail to express its breadth and depth.

Mr. Kreuger, you keep writin’em. I’ll keep readin’em.

The Chesapeake Bay Played a Large Role In Prohibition; Scattered Facts Tell Story of Illegal Booze and Fast Speed Boats

Many of the TV docudramas about the era of national prohibition focus on the Detroit River. One will hear that an estimated seventy-five to eighty percent of illegally imported alcohol came across the river from Ontario, Canada.

However, it can be strongly suggested that The Chesapeake Bay on the mid Atlantic coastline was an import route that accounted for far more than the remaining twenty to twenty-five percent. This suggestion is support by geography, politics, and the short existence of a boat manufacturing company in Newport News, Virginia, a city near the mouth of the bay.

The Detroit River has been described as a body of water “less than a mile across in some places, and 28 miles long. With thousands of coves and hiding places along the shore and among the islands, it was a smugglers dream.”

By comparison The Chesapeake Bay, (Its official name includes the prefix) is the largest estuary in the United States. From the twenty-mile long bridge tunnel across its mouth, the bay is 200 miles long, and varies in width from thirty to four miles.

The Susquehanna, Potomac, Rappahannok, York, James, Patuxent, Chester, Severn, Nansemond, Magothy, Choptank, Back, Nanticoke, Wicomico, plus dozens of other smaller rivers, navigable in small boats, flow into the bay.

The total shoreline of The Chesapeake Bay estuary is over 11,600 miles, making it longer than the shorelines of Florida, Texas and California combined. Two states, Virginia and Maryland, share this shoreline.

When prohibition became the law of the nation, these two states had in theory diametrically opposed views on the law. Anti-drinking laws had been an issue in Virginia politics for many years. The state went dry in November 1916. When national prohibition became the law of the nation three years later, Virginia was the only state in the union to have a Department of Prohibition. Its sole purpose was to enforce laws relating to illegal alcohol.

How effective this department proved to be depends on who is telling the story. When federal prohibition became law, Westmoreland “Morley” Davis, a lawyer and prosperous farmer, was Virginia’s governor. He had won his seat running on a “wet” or anti-prohibition platform, but made the appropriate politically correct statements about supporting prohibition when taking office.

Newspaper stories from the period show that the efforts of this department were focused mainly on stopping the illegal manufacture and transportation of moonshine whiskey within the state. It also became a source of controversy that led to a joint legislative committee investigation regarding expenditures. Governor Davis, in a written statement to the legislative body, recommended as part of his commitment to fiscal responsibility that the department be abolished.

In Maryland, it was a totally different story. Its position on prohibition is explained in this statement from the Maryland State Archives, “It was the only state to never pass a state enforcement act, proudly labeling itself as a wet state. Prohibition in Maryland was seen as an infringement on states’ rights to enforce and control liquor traffic within its borders. Therefore, national prohibition would not be supported by the infringed upon state.”

So what role did this geographical area and its politics play in the importation of illegal alcohol? As is most of our nation’s history, this era is like an iceberg. Only ten percent of what transpired was visible and documented. The other ninety percent of the story can only be surmised from a combination of anecdotal tales and a few scattered, unconnected facts.

What is known is that the Bahamas became a major source for illegal alcohol headed to America. Chalk’s Flying Service started operations in 1919, flying regularly scheduled trips from Florida to Bimini, which became the center for operations in the Bahamas. It has been written, “In the prohibition era, rumrunners and their pursuing lawmen formed much of Chalk’s clientele.”

Ship laden with alcohol from the Bahamas sailed to points in international waters off the mouth of The Chesapeake Bay. From these ships, the alcohol was off-loaded onto smaller faster boats that transported it to mainland sites. The Virginian-Pilot, a Norfolk, Virginia, newspaper printed an account in 1923 as to what was taking place at sea.

When the Coast Guard spotted a fleet of ships hovering off Cape Henry, waiting for a break when they could off-load the alcohol onto smaller boats, which would haul it ashore, it became an open seas game of cat and mouse. US ships sailed out as far as fifty miles in attempts to intercept the ships. However the rumrunners, as they were called, would send decoy messages that confused US agents. The alcohol would be transferred from one ship to another, and in the confusion, the ships with contraband would simply disappear.

On land, federal prohibition agents patrolled the bay and possible landing sites along the seashore from Delaware to Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, in an attempt to intercept the smaller boats when they came landed. What was the net result?
Authorities told the Virginian-Pilot that the few arrests made “had done no more than scraped the surface” of the problem and that “the little vessels of various sizes and hues out there were not derelicts by any means, but members of a powerfully organized combine with unlimited financial backing and with a definite, well defined program in view.”

That statement is an important one to understand how the importation of illegal alcohol changed during prohibition. It grew from of a collection of freelancers looking to make a quick buck into a highly organized operation run by syndicates, as the organized crime groups of the day were called. It has been written that Al Capone became one the passengers on Chalk’s Flying Service, traveling to Bimini to negotiate contracts for the delivery of ship loads of alcohol.

Local historians have written that at the height of activity, an estimated 300 small boats were operating in The Chesapeake Bay, hauling alcohol from the ships at sea to shore. How accurate that figure might be, or how it compares with the number of boats operating in other parts of the nation is unknown, but the path one company during prohibition is well documented in the “Michigan Manufacturer and Financial Record.”

“The Horace E. Dodge boat works is located in Detroit … not far from the Detroit River. It is engaged in the production of 20-foot, 26-foot and 30-foot runabouts. The 30-footers are built as orders are received, their price depending entirely upon the type of power plant used. Present indications are that at least 1,000 boats will be turned out by this plant during the 1928 season.”

Normal propulsion for these boats was a Dodge engine, designed for marine use. The alternate power plant mentioned in the above paragraph for the thirty-footers was a Lycoming marine engine, which more than doubled the price of the boat to an estimated $9,000.

Two years later, the following was reported in the MM &FR. “The Horace E. Dodge Boat Works, Inc., will be transferred from Detroit to Newport News, Virginia. Plans call for the erection of the world's largest pleasure boat plant at the Virginia site. The new (100-acre) site is understood to have cost approximately $1,000,000.”

“An order for 1,000 additional Lycoming marine engines to meet the demands for Dodge boats for 1930 has been placed by the Horace E. Dodge Boat Company, of Detroit, with the Lycoming Manufacturing Company, of Williamsport, Pa. This brings the total number of Lycoming marine engines contracted for by the Dodge Company for 1930 to 4,200.”

“Opening of the new $2,000,000 plant … and the start of production has been set for March 13. The company has a production schedule of 4,200 boats for 1930. It is working on a 24-hour schedule with a force of over 700 men, producing about 40 boats a day.”

How many boats were eventually built in Newport News is not known. After moving from Michigan, reports on the company were dropped from the Michigan Manufacturer and Financial Record. Similar documentation did not exist in Virginia.

However, this much is known. The plant continued to thrive at least until March 23, 1933, when President Franklin Roosevelt signed into law the Cullen-Harrison Act, which ended prohibition. Less than three years later, the Horace E. Dodge plant in Newport News was out of business, citing the nation’s economic depression as the reason.

Midwestern cities like Detroit and Chicago had the star attractions among Prohibition-era criminals, and those cities still get top billing in movies and TV shows on the era. But the few facts that are known indicate The Chesapeake Bay cannot be overlooked as a major player in the importation of illegal alcohol during Prohibition.