My paternal granddaddy ran a big still back during Prohibition. He didn't pay off the right cops, so the sheriff smashed his big still and he got 180 days in the House of Correction.

After that he just distilled, in his small personal still, for himself and his friends. In 1993, when the rains threatened the basement of the house, my uncles and a cousin went down to the basement to move stuff that might be damaged if the basement flooded. Next to the coal bin they found a door behind a pile of old boards -- not hidden, exactly, but sort of out of sight.

Inside was a table, three or four old chairs, and a milk can with faucet. Then the uncles remembered that this was my Grandpa's old "den" where he'd dispense the home brew to his friends.

In 1968 Grandpa died. My brother was home on pre-Vietnam leave and he dropped by to see Grandma. Outside was a pile of stuff for the trashman to haul away, and in the pile was Grandpa's old still. My brother asked for it, and after several strong admonitions from Grandma, took it home. He had it for quite a few years; now it is on long-term loan to a museum. (He has two other, newer, stills....)