Stationed in a post near Muskogee, Oklahoma, for a year, I fondly remember the gentlemen bootleggers of that state.
My first job after college was in Tulsa, also in that state. The woman who rented us a house gave us the name of a neighborhood bootlegger along with the keys, etc. As mesophist said, they could provide anything. Just give them the name and the vintage and you would have it in a day, usually. They brought it in from neighboring Arkansas, where laws were liberal and taxes low, and variety was excellent.
When sales became legal in Oklahoma, prices went up because of the taxes, and it was hard to get the exact booze you wanted (like specific malts). Over coffee and office canvassing, we would make up a communal list, and one of us would drive over to Arkansas.

The loss of our bootleggers was like the loss of a dear friend. They deserve an imposing monument for their important contribution to society.