Tom Bulleit - Bulleit Proof

Copyright 2020 by Thomas E. Bulleit, Jr. All rights reserved.

Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.

Published simultaneously in Canada.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:

ISBN 9781119597735 (Hardcover)

ISBN 9781119597773 (ePDF)

ISBN 9781119597759 (ePub)

Cover photograph: Steve Bonini

Cover design: Paul McCarthy

To Betsy Bulleit, since this was her idea

It was never just a question of escape.

It was also a question of transformation.

Michael Chabon

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

The city gave its name to the power of patienceRomanita. Romanita excludes emotion, hurry, doubt. Romanita waits, sees the moment and moves ruthlessly when the time is right. Romanita rests on an absolute conviction of ultimate success and arises from a single principle, Cunctando regitur mundus: waiting, one conquers all.

Mary Doria Russell

The Sparrow

How much more of life we live than we remember.

John Le Carr

The Secret Pilgrim

March 14, 2017

Shelbyville, Kentucky

STANDING REGALLY ON STAGE, Deirdre Mahlan, president of Diageo North America, leans into the microphone and says to the audience, Join me in welcoming the founder of the Bulleit brand Tom Bulleit.

The roar from the crowd thunders as I jog up the steps to the stage and hug Deidre, who is applauding now, a grin spread across her face. I arrive at the podium and look out at the hundreds of invited guests packed inside this tent the size of a big top. A kaleidoscope of faces whirls before medozens of Diageo folks, members of the media, local and state politicians, my family, and scores of friends, some whove traveled thousands of miles to celebrate this day, this momentous event.

Suddenly, I feel weak-kneed and disoriented, barraged by emotionsjoy, gratitude, humility, validation, even shock.

And love. I feel enormous love.

The applause soars, peaks, ebbs, and then silence descends, humming with expectation, the only sound the thumping of the wind against the canvas of the tent. I pause to catch my breath.

I peer at the crowd, these hundreds of people eyeing me, waiting, many beaming, some leaning forward on their folding chairs, some holding their programs wound tight in their fists, the wind outside continuing to sing.

I smile and extend my left hand like a game show host pointing out the grand prize. We are on the grounds of the first Bulleit Bourbon distillery, occupying 300 acres of rolling Kentucky countryside. On this campus, weve built four of what will eventually be 12 barrel houses, each holding 55,000 barrels of bourbon, and a 52-foot stillthe land, the construction, irrigation system, solar panels, the whole works coming in at a cost somewhere north of $250 million. In a few minutes, along with Deirdre, the governor of Kentucky, one of the senators from our state, and a few other dignitaries, I will wield a pair of ridiculously oversized shears and cut the ribbon dedicating the distillery. But now, I shake my head in wonder.

I was sitting in the audience, I say, my hand frozen in mid-gesture, and I was thinking if all this could happen, I should buy a lottery ticket, because I could win the lottery.

I lower my head to a ripple of laughter. I smooth my tie, and say, Thank you all for coming. This is an extraordinary day. I thought, mistakenly, that this would be a day like many others. I dont know what I was thinking. Sometimes I can speak well, but today

I cant hold the emotion back. I clear my throat, grip the podium with both hands, and say, I hope you will forgive me. Today Im a little bit overwhelmed by my wedding anniversary.

Another laugh, followed by another surge of applause.

Thirty years, I say. Betsy and I. Thirty years. Thats when we officially started our journey together. And thats when all this began. Of course, if I go back to the very beginning, when my great-great-grandfather Augustus created the original recipe for Bulleit Bourbon, we go back 160 years or so. And speaking of old, did I mention that today is my birthday?

Now a cheer. I shake my head slowly and whisper, Extraordinary.

I pause again, look over the crowd, and close my eyes. In my minds eye I see bottles of Bulleit Bourbon and Bulleit Rye lined up on a shelf, the bottles draped with double gold medals from the San Francisco World Spirits Competition and other international competitions, not just once, but year after year extraordinary

How did this happen? How did I get here?

It was simple, really, but not easy. Not close to easy.

I went one bartender, one handshake, one sip at a time.

* * *

Eleven years ago.

Try it, I say.

The brute of a bartender wearing a lumberjacks shirt and a bushy, flame-colored beard swipes a rag across the bar. Hes a human mountain, six-five, 250 pounds, a three-way hyphenatemanager, barkeep, bouncerslinging shots, beers, and hardly ever mixing cocktails in this, call it, rustic bar in Kansas City. Bars like these on the East and West Coasts have started to become trendy, some heading toward hipster, and a few places have seen the emergence of a cocktail culture. No sign of that here. I would call this a hillbilly bar, without a shred of disrespect. I myself am a born and bred Kentuckian and proud of it.