Long before any liquor board was created to take alcohol under its benevolent wing, Demerara rum was a mainstay of the Newfoundland diet, with salt fish traded to the West Indies in exchange for rum. When the Government took control of the traditional liquor business in the early 20th century, it began selling the rum in an unlabelled bottle. The product might have remained permanently nameless except for the influx of American servicemen to the Island during World War II.

As the story goes, the commanding officer of the original detachment was having his first taste of Newfoundland hospitality and, imitating the custom of his host, downed his drink in one gulp. The American’s blood-curdling howl, when he regained his breath, brought the sympathetic and curious from miles around rushing to the house to find out what was going on.

The first to arrive was a garrulous old American sergeant who pounded on the door and demanded, "What the cripes was that ungodly screech?"

The taciturn Newfoundlander who had answered the door replied simply, "The Screech? ‘Tis the rum, me son."

Thus was born a legend. As word of the incident spread, the soldiers, determined to try this mysterious "Screech" and finding its effects as devastating as the name implies, adopted it as their favourite.