The Zombie is the drink that built the temple. Ernest Gantt — soon to rename himself Donn Beach — poured the first one at his tiny Hollywood Don's Beachcomber around 1934, and the legend is that he mixed it to sober up a hungover customer before a business meeting. It didn't. The man reported back that he'd felt like "the living dead" for days, and the drink had its name.
What made it dangerous was the rum — three of them, stacked — hidden under fruit and spice so the drinker never tasted the arsenal going down. Donn knew exactly what he had: he limited guests to two, and to protect the formula from imitators he wrote his recipes in cipher, ingredients relabeled "Don's Mix" and numbered so the bartenders themselves couldn't sell the secret. The true build stayed locked for half a century until Jeff "Beachbum" Berry reverse-engineered it from surviving notebooks — the story, and the recipe, are in Sippin' Safari.
It spread to nearly every tiki bar in America, which is the honest part of the tie: a bar serving a Zombie is not the Zombie's home. Zombie Village in Oakland built its whole identity around the drink and its menu cover, but it poured Donn's invention — it didn't create it. So did Skipper Kent's, whose menu cheekily claimed its Zombie was "our own — without comparison." Everybody's Zombie traces to one hungover morning in Hollywood, 1934.
Donn wrote his recipes in code — ingredients labeled "Don's Mix #4" and the like — to keep them from his rivals. The true 1934 build was lost for decades until Jeff Berry cracked the ciphers from surviving notebooks. We don't reprint his decode; that's his life's work. Buy the book — it's the whole point.

Method. Mix with crushed ice and pour into the glass. Limit two — Don's rule, not ours.