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As midnight approached on January 16, 1920, New York was in the throes of a citywide wake. Black-bordered invitations had been dispensed weeks before, announcing “Last rites and ceremonies attending the departure of our spirited friend, John Barleycorn.” The icy streets did little to deter the “mourning parties,” which began at dinnertime and multiplied as the hours advanced.

On the eve of Prohibition, guests paid their respects at the Waldorf-Astoria, hip flasks peeking from waistbands, champagne glasses kissing in farewell toasts. Park Avenue women in cloche hats and ermine coats gripped bottles of wine with one hand and wiped real tears with the other. Uptown at Healy’s, patrons tossed empty glasses into a silk-lined casket, and eight black-clad waiters at Maxim’s hauled a coffin to the center of the dance floor. Reporters on deadline tapped out eulogies for John Barleycorn and imagined his final words. “I’ve had more friends in private and more foes in public,” quoted the Daily News, “than any other man in America.”

Read more on the Smithsonian blog …