In the roaring twenties, a peculiar form of entertainment surfaced, one that would chisel its mark into the stone of rebellious lore. The year was 1922, and the stage was set—not for the typical flappers and jazz bands—but for a puppet show with a twist sharper than the taste of bathtub gin. “The Tipsy Troupe,” it was called, a marionette extravaganza that served as a humorous jab at the Eighteenth Amendment.
The brainchild of the show was none other than Bartholomew “Barty” O’Finnigan, a puppeteer who could make you laugh as easily as he could pull a string. His marionettes were a motley crew: Sammy Sipper, the melancholic bartender with a bowtie larger than his smile; Vinnie Vineyard, the grape-grower whose vines were thirstier than his customers; Bootleggin’ Benny, the moonshiner who mixed up his words as often as his brews; Penny Pincher, the politician who’d vote twice for a nickel; Sally Sober, the temperance dame who swung her purse like a gavel; and Joe Jiggle, the everyman with a twinkle in his eye and a wiggle in his walk.
The tale began in the shadows, the puppets lamenting their sobriety-induced woes, each with a comedic flair. Sammy’s bar was as dry as the humor, Vinnie’s grapes had turned to raisins on the vine, and Benny’s bootlegging business was a comedy of errors. Penny’s pockets were as empty as Sally’s liquor cabinet, and Joe? Well, Joe just wanted a drink.
The audience would roar with laughter as the puppets engaged in slapstick shenanigans. Benny’s still would explode, showering the set with “moonshine,” while Sally’s attempts to preach sobriety were undermined by her accidentally imbibing Benny’s concoction, leading her to perform a tipsy tango across the stage.
As the show reached its penultimate act, Joe Jiggle took center stage. With a mischievous glint in his button eyes, he produced a tiny flask from his coat, declaring, “If the law’s dry, then I’m the Sahara!” The stage erupted into chaos as the puppets, no longer content with their prohibition plight, broke into a raucous dance, strings tangling in their newfound frenzy.
In the grand finale, Barty O’Finnigan, supposedly in control of his marionettes, stumbled onto the stage, tripping over a stray string. As he fell, his flask flew into the air, arcing gracefully before landing perfectly in Joe Jiggle’s waiting hand. To the audience’s delight, Joe took a grandiose bow, tipping the flask to his lips as Barty looked on from the floor, tangled in a web of his own strings.
The message was clear, even through the laughter: Prohibition was as much a farce as the show before them. And while “The Tipsy Troupe” didn’t directly dismantle the legal stranglehold of temperance, it certainly lifted spirits—proving that sometimes, the way to a man’s politics is through his funny bone.
Years later, as Prohibition ended, tales of “The Tipsy Troupe” lived on, a testament to the fact that in the battle against the serious and the sober, laughter always had the last word. And as for Barty? He became a legend, the man who tripped over his strings to tickle America’s funny bone, one puppet show at a time.