The Cult of Jack Daniel's

While Tennessee’s George Dickel is the smallest producer of premium spirits in the country, Jack Daniel’s stands at the opposite extreme: It is the largest distillery in the U.S. and the best-selling whiskey in the world, with an annual output that exceeds 14 million cases. It is also an icon in the realm of American spirits, as well as a pilgrimage point for lovers of Tennessee whiskey.

The historical Jack Daniel was born in 1846, and most sources place the founding of the distillery in Lynchburg at 1866 (these dates are open to question, but Jack Daniel’s is recognized as America’s oldest distillery and is a National Historic Site). All went well until Tennessee enacted Prohibition in 1909, a decade ahead of the nation. Jack Daniel died childless in 1911 and left the operation to his favorite nephew, Lem Motlow. Motlow reopened the distillery in 1938, and his children sold it to Brown-Forman in 1957.

Jack Daniel’s operation sprawls over 2000 acres outside the metropolis of Lynchburg (population 361, as the whiskey label reminds us). There are mammoth production facilities, a huge Visitor Center, and 81 warehouses aging whiskey. Two things make the product unique. As in Kentucky, the water comes from a limestone aquifer and is virtually iron-free (the distillery uses the original water source and purchased 500 acres surrounding the spring to prevent contamination). The other is charcoal filtration, and every drop of Jack Daniel’s makes its way through ten feet of charcoal made on site from sugar maple. I had the opportunity to taste the distillate before and after filtration, and the difference was significant. Charcoal filtration, in fact, is the sole difference between Tennessee whiskey and Kentucky bourbon.

The heart of the production is Black Label #7 ($30), packaged in the familiar square bottle (we’ve all heard the old joke about why the bottle is square—so it won’t roll around in the bed of a redneck’s pickup truck). The nose exudes aromas of vanilla, caramel and oak. Despite an aggressive mouth feel, the overall palate impression is one of balance, with a sharp mid palate leading to a finish that is long, sweet and hot. Gentleman Jack ($33) is cleaner and smoother, an elegant whiskey with luscious vanilla flavors and a long finish. At the top of the pyramid is the Single Barrel ($53), aged 6-7 years and bottled at 94 proof (47% alcohol). The nose is rich and complex, and the ripe, lush texture is nicely offset by oak and spice. There are many cocktail recipes out there, most of them unimaginative (the website recommends drinks such as Manhattans, Old Fashioneds, and shots). The majority of aficionados prefer to drink Jack Daniel’s on the rocks.

Jack Daniel’s Visitor's Experience

Tours of the property are free, and Jack Daniels receives more than 300,000 visitors each year. I visited as part of a press group escorted by the Distilled Spirits Council of the U.S. While we were accorded first-class treatment, we were also prohibited from taking any photographs—a strange request to make of journalists, particularly when most of the proprietary secrets are revealed anyway during the tour. When we encountered groups of civilians, they seemed awestruck by the experience; their faces exhibited the devotion demonstrated by Muslim pilgrims to Mecca (they are offered a shot of whiskey at the end of the tour, which would be hard to come by in Mecca). Our rock star treatment encompassed far more than a single shot. It included an evening buffet with ribs and catfish as well as an open bar, and like all good journalists we proceeded to get obliterated.

Even more impressive than the number of annual visitors is the degree of brand loyalty demonstrated by fans of Jack Daniel’s, who may be fairly described as a cult, a secret society, or an old boys’ club. Consumers of a certain age may feel an aura of sophistication, give that Sinatra described it as “nectar of the Gods” and frequently kept a bottle on a nearby piano while performing. A true member of the Jack Daniel’s cult, however, is sworn not to consume any other distilled, fermented or brewed beverages (except for the occasional beer at a sporting event, or after mowing the lawn). Place two gentlemen drinking Jack Daniel’s at either end of a bar and they’ll soon be seated next to each other, swapping jokes, stories, and exchanging the secret handshake. Our tour guide insisted that he refused to drink anything except Jack Daniel’s, except when he visited his brother, who was a fan of single malt Scotch. He admitted that he accepted a taste out of politeness but was plagued by feelings of guilt afterward. You could have put this guy on the rack, told him you would spare his life and promised him a case of Pappy Van Winkle 23-Year-Old if he would only give up Jack Daniel’s, and he would probably refuse. Everyone needs to belong somewhere.