The Big Man of Jim Beam

Foreword

My dad, Booker Noe, was an original—that is one thing I am certain of. There weren't any others like him. Opinionated, stubborn, fun loving, smart, curious, and charismatic, he lived life all out. Every day was an adventure. Every day offered another opportunity to explore or try something different. Every day offered another chance to have fun, share a joke, hear and tell another story, meet and make another friend.

Booker had a lot of interests—fishing, hunting, dancing, and cooking—but he really had only one true passion: making whiskey. Very few people do what they were absolutely meant to do—and my father was one of them. He was born to be a distiller, had it in his blood, and took his craft about as seriously as you can. Making whiskey wasn't a job to him, it was a calling. Something he had to do, and something he wanted to do well.

He was more than just a distiller, however. He was an innovator, a big thinker. He liked to tinker, test boundaries, ask what if. “By God, let's give that a try,” was one of his favorite expressions. Some of his ideas fell flat; many others succeeded. Success or failure didn't matter as much to Booker as trying did. Can't accomplish nothin' if you don't try. If there's one thing I learned from him, it was probably that.

My dad touched a lot of people during his life. Hundreds, if not thousands, called him a good friend. When he met you, he made you feel special. After talking to him awhile, you wanted to be in his orbit, spend more ...