The Old Guard: An American bourbon story

Warwick resident, Bruce “Poppy” Potash, is a man on a mission. His interest in bourbon evolved into a passion that completely redirected his life’s journey. His curiosity turned into study, study into expertise, and expertise into a new vocation — proving that it’s never too late to chase something that truly inspires you.

Most bourbon brands begin with a business plan or a marketing deck. “The Old Guard” began with a man in a quiet rickhouse, head tilted, listening — not to music or people, but to barrels. Each one creaked, breathed and whispered its own story. And Potash, a man who never set out to build a whiskey brand, found himself listening with the curiosity of someone discovering a calling late in life.

Potash wasn’t looking for a legacy. He was retired, restless and wandering deeper into the world of whiskey than he ever expected. His wife noticed before he did. Why the distillery visits? Why the late-night tastings? Why the notebooks filling up with mash bills and barrel charts?

He told her he was researching a book. The truth was that he hadn’t written a single page. Because he isn’t someone who lies to his wife, he sat down and began typing. And in that simple act of honesty, The Old Guard was born. Straightforward. No shortcuts. No pretending. A philosophy that would shape every ounce of bourbon that now carries the name.

A name with weight and responsibility

When Poppy discovered that “The Old Guard” — the oldest active regiment in the U.S. Army, dating back to 1784 — had never been trademarked, he was stunned. But he never took it lightly. If that name was going to appear on a bottle, the whiskey inside had to honor the people who made it legendary.

And in many ways, The Old Guard name fit his life long before he ever chose it. His grandfather was an Eastern European moonshiner. His father, a Prohibition-era bootlegger running Canadian whiskey into Brooklyn. Two of his sons now work in the industry. Whiskey wasn’t a branding strategy. It was an inheritance — messy, fascinating, imperfect, and real.

Show up, ask questions, listen

Poppy visited more than 30 distilleries — both massive operations with thousands of barrels stacked high, and tiny outfits where the owner mopped the floor between mash runs. He earned certifications, asked endless questions, listened to eighth-generation distillers and brand-new hires with equal respect.

He’ll tell you he never had a bad tour. Not because every distillery was perfect, but because every one of them taught him something. That, in itself, is the American spirit — knowledge passed hand-to-hand, person-to-person and craft-to-craft.

When passion becomes craft

Potash never wanted to build a distillery. What captivated him was flavor — balance, layers, the harmony of a well-made bourbon that could speak to both the newcomer and the seasoned drinker. So he did what great blenders do: He listened. He tasted. He trusted his instincts. He sourced 8–14-year-old barrels that resonated. He selected just two mash bills to build a signature profile. He worked at barrel proof, inching the proof down slowly until he found that moment — somewhere between too hot and too faint — where the bourbon could finally speak for itself. Each batch began with eight to 12 recipes. Then three. Then a final blind tasting where the best idea wins, no ego attached.

Batch Two rattled him. He feared being a one-hit wonder. But the pressure forced him deeper into the craft, and what emerged was a whiskey that didn’t mimic Batch One, but stood proudly beside it, saying: same maker, same soul.

Honoring tradition without pretending

The Old Guard isn’t chasing trends or celebrity endorsements or the newest gimmick. Its tasting notes are warm, grounded, shaped by the same patience that guided Potash’s learning.

The Old Guard is more than a bourbon brand. It’s a family history of scrappy whiskey traders turning into a legitimate craft. In a world obsessed with mass production and flashy shortcuts, The Old Guard reminds us of something important: Quality is still worth chasing. Passion still matters. And honesty — in life and in whiskey — is still the most compelling story of all.

Potash just wants to make a bourbon that stands proudly next to bottles four times the price. Something people share with friends. Something they reach for because it never disappoints.

In his words, it’s “Just a good drink. Period.”

Sometimes, that’s all America ever needed.

To learn more about Potash and his dedication to the craft of learning the making of traditional bourbon, log onto https://theoldguard.com/.