A Toast to Repeal Day!

Today, Dec. 5, 2025, is a day of celebration for members of the Don Marquis Double Scotch and Prohibition Society! Today is Repeal Day, marking the 93rd anniversary of the repeal of the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution and the end of Prohibition.

Don jokingly referred to the 18th Amendment as the 18th Commandment, a nod to the moral and religious fervor that brought Prohibition to our country like a scourge of locusts. The amendment was ratified in 1919 and effectively prohibited the sale and consumption of alcoholic beverages, but in doing so it created a nation of bootleggers and speakeasies. The 21st Amendment, ratified on Dec. 5, 1933, finally brought an end to the failed “Great Experiment.”

Don Old SoakDon wasn’t the only writer to poke fun at Prohibition, but no one did it with a sharper wit than Don and his fictional friend Clem Hawley, a genial drunk who gained international fame as the Old Soak. In the opening chapter of his 1921 book “The Old Soak and Hail and Farewell,” Don introduces Clem as a forlorn champion of all that is decent, true and 80 proof:

“I see that some persons think there is still hope for a liberal interpretation of the law so that beer and light wines may be sold,” said we.

“Hope,” said he, moodily, “is a fine thing, but it don’t gurgle none when you pour it out of a bottle. Hope is all right, and so is Faith . . . but what I would like to see is a little Charity.

“As far as Hope is concerned, I’d rather have Despair combined with a case of Bourbon liquor than all the Hope in the world by itself.”

Marquis introduced the Old Soak in his Sun Dial column in 1914, when the Prohibition movement was picking up steam. His 1921 collection of Old Soak stories was followed in August 1922 with a hit Broadway comedy, “The Old Soak,” based on Clem’s boozy adventures.

The play had a corny and predictable plot — lazy, good-for-nothing husband agrees to leave home in disgrace after the family nest egg vanishes, then confronts the real villain and saves the day — but critics applauded Marquis’ deft writing. Alexander Woollcott, in The New York Times, called the play “gorgeously entertaining,” and drama critic Burns Mantle named “The Old Soak” one of the top 10 productions of the 1922-23 season.

Mantle said Clem Hawley was “representative of all the genial alcoholics, all the winning failures, all the domestic derelicts with weak characters but good hearts, who have both blessed and infested the world from the days of Bacchus to those of Volstead.”

“The Old Soak” ran for 421 performances at New York’s Plymouth Theatre before embarking on three simultaneous national tours. In 1926, Universal Pictures released “The Old Soak” as a silent movie, and in 1937 Clem reappeared in an MGM talkie, “Good Old Soak,” starring the aptly named Wallace Beery.

Today, we fondly recall the Old Soak, and Repeal Day, with a glass or three of our favorite beverage. Cheers, friends! Slainte! Prost! Salud! Na zdravie! L’chaim! Cin cin!

(The accompanying photo, by the way, is a first-ever colorized version of a photo of Don himself in the role of the Old Soak, in a 1926 summer-stock performance in Showhegan, Maine.)

Don Marquis (Disambiguation)

“Don Marquis and Rosita Alvarado in a pulsing dance of Spanish blood.” — photo caption on the cover of the Los Angeles Times’ Rotogravure section, May 1, 1927.

An online search for the name “Don Marquis” can yield some surprising results.

Perhaps you’ve seen links to those strident anti-abortion essays Don wrote. And maybe you’ve been tempted to read what Don had to say on the history of jazz since, after all, he wrote that biography of jazz pioneer Buddy Bolden. But if what you wanted was new insight into the life and times of the creator of “archy and mehitabel,” you would have been mistaken.

“Disambiguation” is the term used by Wikipedia, the online reference site, to distinguish among various entries bearing the same title or keyword. And it might be useful here, near the start of this blog, to disambiguate among the several Don Marquises who have made a name for themselves in disparate endeavors.

Don Marquis is indeed an opponent of abortion rights. He is a philosophy professor and medical ethicist at the University of Kansas, and his 1989 essay “Why Abortion Is Immoral” is widely quoted by adherents.

Don Marquis is also the author of “In Search of Buddy Bolden: First Man of Jazz,” a 1978 biography of the cornet player who, in the words of Wikipedia, “is regarded by contemporaries as a key figure in the development of a New Orleans style of rag-time music which later came to be known as jazz.”

Confusing Don Marquis the columnist and humor writer with other men of the same name is nothing new. Don himself once wrote, with perhaps just a bit of exaggeration, that he had been inundated with angry letters from women in California claiming that he had promised them love and marriage and then abandoned them at the altar. In fact, at least two other Don Marquises are known to have lived in California during the 1920s and ’30s, one of them a Latin dancer in Los Angeles and the other a Stanford grad and car dealer in Oakland.

And then there is Don Marquis the director of the 1923 silent movie “Blood Test.”

Except for his name in the credits of that one movie, virtually nothing is known today about the director of “Blood Test,” itself a forgettable Western melodrama that was released in April 1923. Yet IMDb, a leading Internet movie database, has linked “Blood Test” director Marquis to the writer responsible for the 1926 silent movie “The Old Soak,” the 1937 talkie “Good Old Soak” and the 1971 animated movie “Shinbone Alley” based on the Archy and Mehitabel stories.

Other online movie databases have followed IMDb’s lead, further compounding the confusion, even though a look at Don’s life in 1922 and early 1923 makes it clear that he had no time to dabble in silent movies.

Besides writing six newspaper columns every week, Don was busy at the time shepherding his first play, “The Old Soak,” through a successful 10-month run on Broadway. The comedy opened August 22, 1922, and a few weeks later Don took a new job writing a daily column for the New York Tribune. That Tribune job was a big, big deal for Don, and he certainly wouldn’t have risked it, or the success of his play, by tackling a whole new undertaking — a silent movie, and a guns-blazing Western, at that.

(Apologies, by the way, to all you other Don Marquises whose accomplishments haven’t been acknowledged!)