In Bernheim’s time, many of his contemporaries—such as the Beam or Pepper families—were able to use their frontier ancestors for marketing purposes. But Bernheim didn’t have such an ancestor. His last name came from Bern, Switzerland, which his family fled for Germany in the fourteenth century to escape a pogrom. Then, 500 years later, Bernheim left for America. The saga matched any frontier tale, but Bernheim nevertheless felt that his ethnic surname would draw prejudice if he used it as a brand. He compromised by placing the Anglo-Saxon “Harper” after his own first two initials to create I.W. Harper bourbon. In 1944, a year before Bernheim’s death at age 96, he would admit that he borrowed the name from John Harper, a popular horse trainer. At that point the brand was huge and still ascending—by 1966 it could be found in 110 countries worldwide. But, as with many great tales, there would be a downfall. The decades following I.W. Harper’s pinnacle saw U.S. consumer tastes shift toward lighter drinks—wine, vodka, gin—while bourbon sales plummeted. I.W. Harper stopped being sold in the U.S. around 1990, although it continued to be exported to a few foreign markets. Memory of the brand, alongside its true heritage, was nearly forgotten.

But the story would get another act. Bourbon has become popular in the states again, enjoying some of its strongest sales since the 1960s. With marketing that thrives on notions of history, heritage, and authenticity, numerous companies in recent years have resurrected long-forgotten labels. In March, Diageo, the world’s largest spirits producer, announced it is bringing I.W. Harper bourbon back to U.S. markets. The return broadcasts bourbon’s renewed popularity, as well as highlights an oft-forgotten aspect of the spirit’s iconic American legacy.

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The early success of the I.W. Harper brand in the 1880s prompted the Bernheim brothers to move their operation from Paducah to Louisville. The city belonged to a regional cluster of the nation’s leading whiskey producers—including Peoria, Chicago, and Cincinnati—with a rich tradition of Jewish distillers. Even though Jews comprised only 3 percent of Louisville’s local population, they accounted for a quarter of the whiskey trade, a demographic that was similar for the other cities. And, as with Bernheim and his I.W. Harper brand, Jewish names weren’t always prevalent on their labels.

The whiskey trade offered unique opportunities to Jewish whiskey entrepreneurs arriving to the region just a few generations later than their WASPy frontier forebears. Like Bernheim, many had arrived to America fleeing oppression that the liquor trade had long helped them resist. The need to ensure that the alcohol used in various religious observances was kosher had long required their involvement in all steps of the liquor trade, from production to distribution, and had historically given Jewish entrepreneurs a unique commercial niche. In medieval and early modern Europe, bans against the Jewish ownership of farmland had diverted many into intermediary market roles that included importing and exporting alcohol. After Russia grabbed hold of many Eastern European enclaves, the liquor business was often one of the few jobs where Jews weren’t restricted, meaning that Jews have “brewed, distilled, and sold all varieties of intoxicating beverages to both Jews and gentiles since the beginning of the Diaspora,” according to the book Jews and Booze by Georgia State University history professor Marni Davis. By the second half of the 19th century, increasing numbers of that diaspora, including Bernheim, began arriving to the United States.