The Wizard of Walkerville

Brad Smith visits the Hiram Walker distillery on the Detroit River, and finds the stamp of Don Livermore on virtually every drop of whisky.

Words by Brad Smith
Photography by Marvin Shaouni

The Detroit River flows for a short twenty-four miles, emptying Lake St. Clair into Lake Erie while forming the border between southwestern Ontario and the state of Michigan. It was here, on the Canadian side, that legendary distiller Hiram Walker produced his first barrel of whisky in 1858. At that time Canada was not yet Canada and Canadian whisky was – well, practically non-existent. Walker built his plant on the river, directly across from the city of Detroit. The area had everything he needed – an abundant and endless supply of water, grain from the surrounding countryside and a U.S. market a few hundred yards away. The Massachusetts-born Walker at the time was forty-two years old and had been variously employed as a grocer, dry goods clerk and tanner before making vinegar – an endeavour that eventually led him to distilling. He was ambitious and hardworking, valuable qualities in a man but hardly those that made him unique in those heady days of frontier entrepreneurism. However, he had one attribute that – then as now – could not be earned, learned or plucked from an overhanging branch.

He had vision.

Fast forward one hundred and fifty-eight years and we find the distillery – expanded and appropriately modernised – still standing along the river. Across the water Detroit has seen better days and struggles to rebound. Walkerville, the town founded by Hiram Walker, has long ago been folded into the city of Windsor. Much has changed over the past century and a half, in the world at large and in the world of whisky. The man overseeing Hiram Walker’s legacy did not get his start in the tanning of leathers or the making of vinegar. He hails from the crossroads of Fordwich, Ontario; he has a degree in microbiology from the University  of Waterloo and a PhD in brewing and distilling from Heriot-Watt University in Scotland. He is clean-cut, buttoned down, and looks nothing like the stern, bearded portrait of Hiram Walker in the foyer inside old Building 20. He does, however, have one thing in common with his distant predecessor.

He has vision.

The man’s name is Don Livermore – affectionately known as Dr. Don – and he is quite possibly the pre-eminent blender of rye whisky in the world today, as well as the most daring and innovative. He is passionate – some might say obsessed – about the production of Canadian whisky. He clearly believes that the whisky he is making is equal to – or better – than any in the world today. Many people agree with him. One senses a degree of frustration at the fact that everybody doesn’t. One also senses that Livermore is a man on a mission – and that mission is to change the perception of Canadian whisky.

The good doctor has been given free rein to do this, and that in itself is remarkable. The little distillery on the river once imagined by Hiram Walker is now a monolith, with the largest capacity in North America, producing 900,000 litres of alcohol per week, and the stamp of Don Livermore is on virtually every drop of whisky. The distillery, which produces the Wiser’s range as well as Lot 40, Pike Creek, and Gooderham & Worts, has been owned since 2005 by French-based Pernod Ricard, and has in recent years been at the vanguard of premium Canadian whisky with the likes of Red Letter, Wiser’s Legacy and Last Barrels. The new owners are obviously following a hands-off approach as Dr. Don seems to have total control over the blends he creates.

“I want to get Canadian whisky out there,” he explains.

“Look at the bourbon people, how they shout about their whiskey. We don’t make noise at all.” He warms to the subject. “I believe that Canadian whisky is the most innovative category there is, and that’s something we should celebrate. How many times do we make a Canadian product and it succeeds abroad before we realise it’s good?”

Working sixty to seventy hours a week, Dr. Don is more than doing his part to get the message out to the world. “I did 150 whisky tastings last year and I still have a day job. My boss says I have to be more selective but I’m finally starting to see the wheel turn a little bit: people starting to recognise me, wanting to come to my seminars. I have wide latitude – to make Canadian whisky it has to be 40% abv, fermented, distilled in Canada, aged for no less than three years in a wooden barrel of less than 700 litres, and made of grain. I’m not restricted on what strength I have to distil at. I’m not restricted on barrel type. I’m not restricted on grains or mashbills – that’s up to the interpretation of the blender.”

Dr. Don delivers a crash course on the history of the major distilleries in Ontario. The big four – dating back to the 19th century – were Hiram Walker, J.P.  Wiser, Gooderham & Worts and Corby. A large part of the market was in the U.S. and when the Volstead Act – aka Prohibition – was passed in 1920, sales predictably bottomed out. The outlook was bleak for Canadian distillers. Enter one Harry Hatch, a bar owner in Oshawa who also worked as a salesman for Corby. Recognising necessity as the mother of invention, Hatch one day asked a local fisherman if he would convey a shipment of whisky across Lake Ontario to the American side – and soon had over 450 fishermen working for him. The volume of liquor being moved was such that Hatch decided he and Corby should be partners. When his boss disagreed with the upstart suggestion, Hatch struck out on his own and within a few short years purchased controlling interests in Hiram Walker, J. P. Wiser, Gooderham & Worts – and Corby itself. The owners, for the most part second generation to the founders and convinced that Prohibition was here to stay, were glad to sell.

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