Tickle’s Quest to Legalize Moonshine: A Journey of Heritage and Legacy

Steven Ray Tickle, known simply as Tickle, is a man on a mission to rewrite his legacy. As a self-proclaimed moonshiner, Tickle has spent years dodging the law, his name synonymous with backwoods stills and a notorious mugshot that haunts his every search online. But Tickle envisions a different future—one where moonshining isn’t a clandestine act but a celebrated craft, legally practiced and passed down through generations. His journey takes him from the historic halls of West Virginia’s Capitol to the rolling fields of Missouri, seeking allies and inspiration to legalize home distillation in his home state of Virginia and beyond. This is a story of redemption, heritage, and the fight to transform an outlawed tradition into a proud legacy.

A New Chapter in Charleston

Tickle’s quest begins in Charleston, West Virginia, the state’s capital, where he arrives to meet Delegate Doug Smith, the driving force behind House Bill 4793, dubbed the “moonshine bill.” For Tickle, this visit is more than a fact-finding mission—it’s a chance to change the narrative of his life. “Every time somebody looks my name up, the first thing that comes up is a mugshot,” he says. “I want to change that and get home distilling legal. That’s something my great-great-grandchildren can be proud of.”

Walking into the Capitol, Tickle is awestruck by its grandeur. “I’ve been in plenty of courthouses, but this tops them all,” he marvels, gazing at the towering ceilings and ornate architecture. The building, a symbol of law and order, stands in stark contrast to his past run-ins with authority. “Ten years ago, I’d have said the only way I’d be in a Capitol is for a capital offense,” he jokes, but his purpose is serious. He’s here to learn how West Virginia legalized home distillation and to gather the tools to bring the same change to Virginia.

Delegate Doug Smith greets Tickle warmly, understanding the moonshiner’s passion for preserving a craft deeply rooted in Appalachian heritage. Smith’s bill, signed into law in March 2024, allows individuals aged 21 or older to distill up to five gallons of liquor per year for personal use, or ten gallons for households with two or more adults. The catch? It’s strictly for personal consumption—no selling or transporting across state lines. “It’s part of our history, just like this building,” Smith explains, handing Tickle a copy of the bill. “Take this to Virginia, find a delegate or senator, and say, ‘Will you sponsor this?’”

For Tickle, the meeting is a revelation. “Doug’s not just validating me—he’s showing me other states are looking at this too. Arizona, Massachusetts, Missouri—they’re all moving toward legal home distillation.” Armed with the bill and newfound confidence, Tickle feels he’s found his first ally in a fight that’s bigger than himself. “This isn’t just about moonshine,” he says. “It’s a heritage and legacy bill. I want people to make it without fear, to pass it on for generations.”

Across the Border to Missouri

Tickle’s journey doesn’t end in West Virginia. He heads to St. Louis, Missouri, to meet Don Gosen, a man who not only helped legalize home distillation in his state but also turned his passion into a thriving legal distillery. Missouri’s laws are among the most permissive, allowing up to 100 gallons of distilled liquor per year for personal use. Tickle meets Gosen at Copper Mule Distillery, a family farm steeped in generations of tradition. The air is thick with the scent of aging whiskey and old copper stills, some repurposed from washing machines and milk cans used during Prohibition.

Gosen’s collection of antique stills captivates Tickle. “You can smell the history here,” he says, running his hand over a dented copper still, possibly scarred by a revenuer’s bullet. “This one’s got stories to tell.” Gosen explains how he got Missouri’s home distillation bill passed: “You need a coalition. You can’t do it alone.” He rallied support from unlikely allies—the Missouri Corn Growers, who saw moonshine as a market for their crop, and the Missouri Forest Products Association, which represents the state’s $10 billion white oak barrel industry. “Corn for the mash, oak for the barrels—that’s the backbone of this craft,” Gosen says.

Tickle is inspired by Gosen’s success and his dedication to preserving moonshining’s history. “Don cares enough to save these old stills and to get the law changed,” Tickle says. “I’m just one voice, but with a coalition, I can be louder.” Gosen’s advice resonates: find like-minded groups—farmers, barrel makers, even craft distillers—and build a movement. As Tickle leaves Copper Mule, he’s more determined than ever. “I’m ready to hit the road, to make sure Virginia and every other state that wants this gets home distillation legal.”

A Vision for the Future

Tickle’s mission is personal but far-reaching. He dreams of a day when moonshining is no longer a crime but a craft celebrated openly, like winemaking or brewing. “Maybe 200 years from now, the Moonshine Heritage is huge, and I’m the guy who kicked it off,” he muses. His vision is bold: to erase the stigma of his past and replace it with a legacy of pride. By legalizing home distillation, he hopes to honor the Appalachian tradition that shaped him while ensuring it endures for future generations.

The road ahead won’t be easy. Virginia’s laws, like those in most states, still prohibit home distillation without a federal permit from the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau, and penalties for illegal moonshining remain severe. But Tickle is undeterred. With West Virginia’s bill in hand and Missouri’s coalition model as a guide, he’s ready to rally support in his home state. “Doug Smith and Don Gosen showed me it’s possible,” he says. “I’m not backing down.”

Tickle’s journey is a testament to the power of redemption and the enduring pull of heritage. From the shadowed woods of illegal stills to the hallowed halls of state capitals, he’s fighting to bring moonshining into the light—not just for himself, but for the generations who will carry the craft forward. As he steps out into the Missouri sun, Tickle knows he’s part of something bigger. “This is about legacy,” he says. “And I’m just getting started.”