It was during the early days of the Great Depression, and Virginia’s statewide prohibition was still in effect, banning all sales of alcohol. Meanwhile, in Franklin County, the area was laying the foundation for its future title: the Moonshine Capital of the World.
Nestled among the Appalachian and Blue Ridge mountains, the Turner Motor Co. car dealership operated in the small town of Rocky Mount. Legend has it that on a sweltering July day in 1930, as sleek, black Model Ts gleamed in the showroom, the screech of tires suddenly echoed from the garage bays. A frantic driver pulled in, desperate for a place to hide, hoping the dealership’s façade would be disguise enough.
Smoke began to waft out from under the hood. The driver and their passenger climbed out to gauge the situation. With the engine overheating, they decided the best course of action was to let the car cool off, so the two slipped across the street to grab a meal.
Drip, drip, drip.
There’s no way to know for sure who—or what—they were fleeing from, but one
thing was certain: The car was packed with illegal moonshine.
Drip, drip, drip.
The fuel pump leaked onto the steaming, hot motor. It sparked a chain reaction. The heat caught hold, igniting the engine, flames engulfing the cushioned seats, then spreading to the hidden cargo. The contraband moonshine started to boil, and then ….
Boom!
The roof blasted off. Glass and bricks rained down from the sky. Within the chaos of billowing smoke, flying debris, and angry fire, the Rocky Mount Volunteer Fire Department arrived in its new, swanky 1929 Seagrave special fire truck.
The blaze was too big to contain, so it burned and burned. Once the flames finally died down, all that was left was rubble. The heat and weight of the vehicle had collapsed the garage floor, with the car landing upside down in the basement. The fire devastated Turner Motor Co., and the business shuttered. The Great Depression sealed its fate. Though the walls and floor were rebuilt, the cars were left in that basement, entombed in darkness for the next 85 years.
Fast forward to 2015. Building owners Greg and Beth Graham heard plenty of stories about the moonshine explosion, but its secrets remained hidden behind a brick wall. Eventually, a water leak in the basement led the Grahams to renovate. That basement wall came down. As Beth and Greg investigated, they shone a flashlight into the mysterious void and found rusted vintage car pieces buried in a bed of broken bricks. After digging through archives and old FBI files, they tried to piece together what had happened and unearthed a new historical landmark in Rocky Mount.
Today, the site where it all unfolded is home to the Moonshine Explosion Museum, an interactive exhibition right next to The Alley Cat bar and in the basement of the Olde Towne Social House, a wine bar. Remnants of that day—bricks, car parts, and even old support structures—remain intact, untouched by time, right where they landed back in 1930.
“Many visitors have expressed enthusiasm and gratitude for preserving and sharing this aspect of Rocky Mount’s history,” say Scott Helms and Lauren Richardson, current owners of Olde Towne Social House and The Alley Cat. “We are honored to serve as custodians of the museum and to continue showcasing a unique piece of local moonshine heritage.”
And every July 11, the same 1929 Seagrave fire truck that once fought the flames still makes its rounds through town, lights flashing proudly in front of the building.
The owners of the cars were never identified. And after the fire, two people remained missing. The building still exudes mystery. Some restaurant staff refuse to close alone late at night. Others hear unexplained footsteps wandering the halls. Maybe it’s just an old, historical building settling. But maybe not.
This article originally appeared in the August 2025 issue.
