Federal Agents Raid Farm In Early 1900s – JW Sims Farm – Recover Still – Liquor! Not

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026  July 6, 2026

The Curious Case of J. W. Sims of Stella, Oklahoma

J. W. Sims reminds us that history is not only about governors, oil barons, or outlaws whose names fill books.

In the late 1920s, federal agents traced rumors to an abandoned farm near Stella, Oklahoma.

The countryside was changing—oil derricks dotted the horizon, and automobiles were replacing horses. Amid these modern shifts, tucked away in the woods and hollows of Pottawatomie County, another, older industry quietly flourished.

Moonshine.

It was the era of Prohibition. Though the federal government had outlawed the manufacture and sale of alcohol in 1920, many Oklahomans paid little attention to Washington’s wishes. As a result, hidden stills appeared in creek bottoms and abandoned barns, allowing homemade whiskey to flow through rural communities where neighbors often knew but seldom spoke.

In the midst of this, J. W. Sims emerged.

Little is recorded about Sims. No photos, interviews, or memoirs revealing his perspective remain.

Given the sparse details about Sims, what persists instead are scattered newspaper accounts.

A Tecumseh Oil Record article notes federal agents arrested Harold McGilvery and later J. W. Sims for an illicit distillery near Stella, on an abandoned farm—prime bootlegger territory. The story held no confession or courtroom drama, just a few lines marking another Prohibition struggle in Oklahoma.

Perhaps it is this very lack of detail that makes the story so compelling.

Who was J. W. Sims?

Was he the mastermind behind the operation?

A hired hand trying to earn a living?

A local farmer tempted by quick money during difficult times?

Or was he simply in the wrong place when federal agents arrived?

We do not know.

Oklahoma’s late 1920s were odd times. Oil reshaped fortunes. Towns boomed and disappeared overnight. Beneath this change, illegal whiskey flourished in secrecy, and hidden stills became folklore—spoken of in barbershops and stores.

Thus, the arrest of J. W. Sims reminds us that history is more than stories of governors, oil barons, or famous outlaws.

Sometimes history is a single newspaper clipping.

A forgotten man.

A still hidden in the woods.

A federal raid.

And a mystery left for future generations to piece together.

Today, nearly a century later, J. W. Sims remains a shadow in Oklahoma history. We may never know whether he was a villain, a victim, or simply an ordinary man caught up in extraordinary times.

Near Stella, where prairie grass still bends in the wind, the story of the man at the still lingers.

Waiting for someone to remember.

A note from the writer,  One of the descendants of the Sims family drove my rural route school bus. Years later, as a teenager working summers cleaning floors at the school, he would tell me stories about J. W. Sims. It has taken me many years to gather the pieces of those stories and compare them with the historical record. Some parts proved true. Others were undoubtedly embellished over time. Every bit of it, however, was fascinating.   The man who shared those stories with me passed away several years ago. On a recent trip back to my hometown, I visited with his relatives and asked for their blessing to tell the tales their father, uncle, and family member had entrusted to me. What you've read and what follows in Parts Two and Three is not just history. It is memory, folklore, and the enduring power of stories passed from one generation to the next.   Benjamin H. Groff II