TN Bard’s Pipe Dreams

Originally written: 2005-5-26 @ 6:05:07 am

Not too long ago, John Rich and I were discussing the state of one of our passions, pipe tobacco and pipes. I mentioned that we probably should join the rest of the blogging nation and post a pipe blog, not only to air out some thoughts on pipes and tobaccos, but to give fellow pipesters a shot at voicing some thoughts.

Now, being a neophyte at this sort of thing, I figure we will take it slow and easy. John has to do the hard part, which is to fuss with the computer to make all this come alive. I’m still puzzled over how all this works.

When I began in journalism, back in the dark ages, I typed my stories out on a Royal Underwood. It was a big black thing, and you really had to pound the keyes to make an impression through an original and three copies for the editors.

That is probably why my wife today says that when I am working at home on a story on this infernal computer, it sounds like gunfire going off in my office. My fingers hit that hard.

So here goes a thought or two from the blogosphere, and you guys, and ladies, too, feel free to send your thoughts to the old Pipe Bard.

I have been watching with interest the goings on in California where Aaaanohld is running things. He loves his cigars, donchaknow. In fact, he had a big brouhaha with the state about being allowed to smoke in his office inside the capitol building. When that didn’t work, he put up a tent outside. I haven’t checked to see where that went.

But, in reading The New York Times the other day, I saw where California has banned smoking on public golf courses. That includes the governor. Now, I understand folks who might not want to smell my latakia fired up in a restaurant as they are about to chomp into a pricey piece of steak. Or, while enjoying a latte at $4 bucks, you might not like the whiffs of some hard Kentucky mixed in with a little Virgina.

I really don’t have a fight with that. I never smoke inside a restaurant or a place where cafe lattes are being handed out. Never did, really.

But, if I want to fire up a big bowl of latakia (straight) on the outside of a building, or on a golf course, then by golly (I can think of some stronger language here, but we will keep this clean), I think I have as much right as, say, the fellow who is using said outside, street, road, golf course, trail, etc.

Now, I know that none of my taxes go to help Aaaahnoold’s state. At least, I don’t think they do. But, I do pay my federal taxes, which somehow gives me the right to be an American citizen, allowing me to travel throughout the U.S. without fear of repression, without fear of oppression. At least, the last time I looked at our venerable Constitution, it gave me that right. Maybe Congress changed something and I missed it.

Anyway, the point is this: If I were in California, I would be expected to abide by the laws of the state, which I would so do. But, who owns the air? As yet, we do not have EPA laws preventing our enjoying a nice bowl of English blend in the outside. No, the good old flora and fauna are where the politicians and Tobacco Police wanted us. Now that we are there, in all kinds of weather I might add, they are saying we can’t smoke a cigar on public golf courses in California.

You can see what is coming next from the Tobacco Police! We will be stopped from smoking on not only public but private courses. Laws will change to halt us from lighting our pipes even in our own automobiles, because they might be sold one day, and the Tobacco Police could not, would not tolerate the slightest hint of tobacco smell residue in an automobile.

For me, enough is enough. My federal taxes go to the U.S. government to help not only my state, but all states in the Republic. As long as I’m not bothering my fellow linksters (whom I would ask permission to smoke before lighting up in the first place), I see no reason to hammer me one more time as some sort of renegade, pipe puffing dolt with ashes for brains.

Pipesters, you best listen up: We are in for a big, big fight. It is on the horizon. Already, some states are saying that tobacco retailers, your favorite tobacconist, may not sell tobacco over the Internet! You can also see where that is going. Stock those cellars, boys and girls.

Soon, the Tobacco Police will have tobacco off the Internet, period. We will be purchasing from who knows where at outrageous prices. Read and heed!

Better still, you might try complaining to someone, a local politician, or even send a letter to an editor who runs a California newspaper. Better still, don’t take my word for it. Look all this up for yourself, study the issue, and then blast away!

Afterall, we are talking about the end of a way of life here. If the Tobacco Police have their way, none of us will have a single leaf of tobacco left to put in our pipes. Already, tobacco growers in Tennessee have been told they will no longer be able to take their tobacco to auction warehouses. They will have to deal directly with the manufacturers.

Other states are enacting similar draconian measures that hark back to Prohibition (remember that little social experiment in the past in which Congress passed a law prohibiting the sale of alcohol? It didn’t last long, but just long enough to cause great problems both economically and socially).

That’s the rant for today.

Let the Old Pipe Bard hear from you on this or any other pipe and tobacco issue.

In the meantime, I’ll keep you posted on what I see, hear and read about our beloved hobby, pipes and pipe tobacco.

And remember what Mark Twain said: “I smoke in moderation. I try never to smoke more than one cigar at a time.”

Selah
The Pipe Bard

I received my copy of Pipes and Tobaccos Summer 2000 issue over the Memorial Day Weekend. It has some rather interesting stories and one I’d like for you to pay especial attention to. Turn to page 38. There you will find ol’ moi. I wrote a piece on Jean-Paul Sartre and existentialism. Sartre is the French philosopher and founder of the existential movement, and that’s about all I know on the subject. Oh, one other thing, I think, therefore I am.

I have extrapolated that thought a bit to fit my own sort of existentialism: I smoke, therefore I love pipes.

Okay, enough of the crass commercialism. Let me know what you think of the story.

But the more important issue here is something William Serad, the magazine’s excellent tobacco reviewer, wrote. He said that if we, the pipe smoking fraternity (and we are a fraternity), do not support our local tobacconists, they will “blow away like ashes.”

He’s right, of course. We are fighting a fight that is on several fronts now. If you think the Internet will save the day, you might want to rethink that. Already, individual states are designing legislation to 1) tax tobacco sold on the Internet to match state taxes, and 2) require tobacconists who sell on the Internet to have a retail outlet in the state.

Tennessee and North Carolina, two tobacco-dependent states in the past, are having a rough time of it at the moment, beating back legislation that is designed to put tobacco farmers out of business. There are fewer and fewer tobacco farmers who are planting the leaf, so one day don’t be too surprised if all of our tobacco is off-shored, just like cotton and other products we import today, but once produced.

Your local tobacconist is already having a difficult go. Tobacco taxes continue to rise, and many of the tobaccos he once bought are no longer available.

I love our local shops. For one thing, as Serad points out, it returns me to a time of fond memories. When I first began smoking a pipe (I never did smoke cigarettes; just couldn’t abide the things, and still can’t stand to smell cigarette smoke), brings back some great days when I was young and able to see my shoe tops.

My freshman year in college was like a veil being lifted from my eyes. I didn’t know all this stuff existed: pipes, whisky, girls, in great abundance, and were all available, as long as the money held out. I darn near flunked out my frosh season.

One thing I noticed right away, too, was that most of my professors, especially those in the English, History and Physics Departments, smoked pipes. I wanted to be part of that tweedy set. So I picked up a Kaywoodie and was hooked. I still have that Kaywoodie. It is beat up, twisted and skinned, but it still smokes and I occasionally fill it, and puff for old time’s sake.

My time in the Physics Department with Dr. Neal Whitelaw is quite interesting, and fodder for another story. He was friends with Einstein. About all I can recall is that classes were conducted in Dr. Whitelaw’s physics laboratory, and he did not suffer fools lightly. The tops of the lab shelves were lined with large cans of Briggs, Barking Dog, and of course, Revelation, old Albert’s favorite.

Then I discovered Royal Cigar in Atlanta. It was another revelation. There were tons of pipes and something I had never seen before: tobacco tins from merry old England mostly. The store owner popped open a couple of tins for me, let me gather in the aroma and I was never the same.

Over time, he talked to me about Dunhills and Charatans. He described Latakia, burleys, Orientals, English blends, and quite a bit of other stuff that has long since departed my brain.

He also introduced me to pipe seconds. Being a student at the time, I could ill afford a Dunhill selling for about $60 or a Charatan for slightly less. So, I bought seconds, which had some sort of nick, fill, or other deformity. It didn’t bother me in the least. They were from England, and that is all that mattered to me.

I continue to go by Royal Cigar in Atlanta. Joyce White runs it today. She is the wife of one of the store owners. She has had to move away from downtown Atlanta, since that retail property became so pricey. And she has had to move a couple of other times.

She told me not too long ago that she moved to a couple of storefronts from where she had been in the strip mall to gain more room, and her neighbor began complaining of all the tobacco smoke seeping through the walls.

Joyce was forced to put in an expensive exhaust system if she wanted to stay in business, which she does.

I also located an Edward’s Shop in Atlanta in my student days. I go by there from time to time today as well. Occasionally I’ll buy some Scottish Moore just for old time’s sake. I once smoked Scottish Moore by the pound.

I guess what all this rambling is about is to say that the pipe shops are just great places to enjoy yourself, and experience good conversation as well as great tobaccos. I have never met a pipe smoker yet who wasn’t a decent conversationalist, and could always be counted upon to have an opinion worth hearing.

We are lucky in Knoxville to have three or four really excellent pipe shops. Check them out. All of them.

Visit them and support them. Without us, they are gone. Without them, we will be forced to purchase pipe tobacco from off-shore more and more, and watch those prices soar and soar.

Selah,
The Pipe Bard

I was emerging from beneath the city, walking up the steps, minding my own business, looking forward to the light at the end of Metro Washington’s underground subway.

My first move was to reach for my trusted, beloved pipe from a coat pocket. I unzipped my leather pipe pouch and began gently packing my pipe, anticipating the first few puffs on the outside world, away from the noise and sounds of Washington’s Metro Line.

Just as I reached the top of the stairs and began walking into the not-so-fresh evening air, a lady hustled up behind me. “You can’t smoke that in here.”

I was stunned momentarily.

Then I said, “I’m outside now lady.”

“You still can’t smoke (she spit out the word) here.”

“Look, lady, I’m in the free world now. I am outside the Metro. I’m in the land of the free.”

“You can’t smoke,” she said as she stomped off.

To tell you that I was upset is putting it mildly. Picture this: I have just walked from underground where the smells are not the best for the lungs; I have reached the top step into the light and put said pipe in mouth and as I reached the safety of the outdoors, where air pollution is choking down the world, this representative of the Tobacco Temperance League attacks me.

I light up anyway.

But this has gotten me to thinking. We live in a polluted world. You can become quite sick from exposure to chemicals in the air. Cars, buses, and internal combustion engines of various designs and stripe that still consume massive amounts of fossil fuels, spew out tons and tons of pollutants.

Coal-fired energy plants puff enough stuff into the air to throw a mean haze over the world.

The upper atmosphere ozone has a hole in it.

The globe is warming to the point that ice caps, which have been around for millions of years, are melting.

We are at war in two different parts of the world on the same day of the week, every day, every week.

U.S. homeland security is leaky. And terrorists lurk around practically every corner, here and abroad.

Chickens are being gassed in Cocke County, Tenn., by federal police.

And you tell me you are worried about my pipe infringing on your space?

You are worried that somehow my pipe smoke is going to sail up your nostrils, find its way to your lungs and pop them like a bubble gum bubble?

The world, my friends, has lost its collective mind. This political correctness has taken over our senses and is destroying a way of life. One man’s rights has now become another man’s fight. Rights are in the eye of the beholder, and no longer adhere to the rules of fairness.

Entire nations now make it illegal to smoke. Anywhere! Ireland comes to mind. Ireland, mind you. Not only can you not smoke in bars and restaurants and buildings, you can’t even walk outside a building and into God’s own air and light up in the land of wee people, wee drams and famous bars and poets, where once there was frivolity and joy amongst kindred spirits.

I think all this is a conspiracy to have us continually squabbling amongst ourselves while we miss the larger concern: empirical oppression economically, socially, and constitutionally.

Now, I hate the evils of cigarettes. Never smoked them. Can’t stand the smell of them today. But, ah, my pipe, or an occasional cigar is a joy. A woman is only a woman but a good cigar is heaven (apologies to the womenfolk in the audience and to Rudyard Kipling, the actual line goes

And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke

in his poem The Betrothed).

A couple of fellows have commented about going to a bar or restaurant and being confronted by a sign that says “No Cigars or Pipes” and wondered about my thoughts on the subject.

Here ‘tis.

I believe that pipe and cigar smokers are in for some rough days ahead. We are outnumbered and outgunned. I’m not a fatalist or a shrinking violet. I believe in standing up for my individual rights. I don’t think anyone who knows me would call me a wall flower. I’ve been a mean, fire-breathing journalist too long for that. I eat nails for breakfast, jump tall buildings in a single bound and swallow bullets whole (please, no one challenge me on this; I’m getting too old for dumb reporter tricks).

One day, it is my opinion that our own federal government will cave in to the Tobacco Temperance League, the Tobacco Gestapo and the Tobacco Stazi, and make it illegal to smoke in this country. Anywhere!

One day, I believe it will even be illegal for farmers to grow tobacco in their once fields of freedom in the land of the so-called free.

Lest you worry that I am moving away from my noted position of neutrality, rest assured that my thoughts of nation, freedom, democracy on the march, etc., are still in tact. I just think now that my country is moving away from me, and not the other way around.

For now, I think we have to seek out like-minded people. It is the basic law of supply and demand. When bars and restaurants begin to be hurt in the profit side, they will begin to think about the smoking side.

“Smoking or non?” is the way most of the waitresses and waiters ask when you first walk in.

My response is “smoking? You have smokers here? Excellent. Capital. I’ll sit in the smoker’s lounge and would like a brandy with my cigar!”

Okay, so I’m exaggerating. But when I’m in a restaurant and the concierge asks my preference without finishing his or her sentence, I simply say, “smoking.”

Then when I notice the sign that says “No Cigars No Pipes” I complain. How is it that you can allow smoking in your restaurant under one set of rules, and change that set of rules for me and my pipe? Please let me talk to the floor manager. Bring out the boss.”

True, we are small in number, but we can still make an impact while there is scant time left to do so. My answer is to find those establishments that will allow smoking, and demand that if cigarettes are allowed, then you simply cannot have one rule for one set of people and another set for the cigar and pipe breed.

At least, that is the way I interpret the U.S. Constitution, and so has the U.S. Supreme Court for more than 200 years.

No doubt, we are in for hard times ahead.

Selah!

All right, all right, already. I hear you out there, your little heart thrumming, your minds whizzing off in all sorts of directions with the big question: What happened to Pipe Dreams and is anyone home over there?

The simple answer is, I’ve been extremely busy for quite some time. Don’t ask. It is one of those boring life things, but nonetheless important and necessary. As you might suspect, there is a much, much, much longer version, but I won’t go in to all that. You would be here for hours.

So, having gotten the catch-up out of the way, let’s move on, shall we.

Although I have been quiet at the Pipe Dreams computer and keyboard for some time now, that does not mean I have not been paying attention.

For example, I don’t believe that I told you I had been on a trip to France? Normandy, the WWII battlegrounds, and a visit to the awesome sites of World War I’s Argonne Forest and Verdun. Unbelievable, really.

While in France, I did happen to notice the smoking habits of the French. As you might know, St. Claude, France, is allegedly the birthplace of the briar pipe. I say allegedly advisedly, since there are some other claimants, but for now, let’s just agree with the French. I’d rather do that than argue with them.

Anyway, as I tramped around France, I kept a keen eye out for the French and tobacco. Just about the only place you can purchase pipe tobacco or cigars is at the “Tobac” shops. These shops also include about everything else you can imagine. They are similar to our quick-stop convience stores.

You can always spot one: They have a red sign out front. It is in the shape of a diamond, or as it was explained to me, the shape of a slice of carrot. Old-time French tobacconists sliced carrots to put in their tobacco jars or cans or bags to keep the leaf fresh. Don’t ask me any questions about that. You know how the French are about their food products.

When I was there at the turn of this century, or about six years ago, the French were puffing up a storm, enjoying their very fine coffees in their finer outdoor cafes. It was a pleasure to sit with them, listen to all that wonderful chatter. I caught only snatches of conversation, since my college French has long since lapsed.

So, it was an altogether very Frenchy scene. I imagined French writers and philosophers, such as Jean Paul Sartre, sitting in their restaurants and cafes, smoking away, arguing over the tiniest of points and thoroughly enjoying the moment. I did, too.

But, I must report to you that on my trip October 2005, there has been a change in the French. Smoking is not banned yet, but I did see signs of “No Smoking” on restaurant doors and in other buildings. Not as many French smoked as they enjoyed their very fine coffees on sidewalk cafes.

I actually saw one fellow take a cigarette, rip it open and stuff the tobacco into his pipe. Odd, that, but I suspect he was (1) out of pipe tobacco or (2) hiding the fact that he was smoking a cigarette, presuming that pipe smoking inside the building was allowed, or (3) I can’t imagine why.

I have also been catching up on some reading. The New York Times had a long Op-Ed piece several weeks back about a fellow in Spain raising Cain because restaurants there were no longer allowing smoking. He was ranting about his rights, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah. Though he is behind the curve a bit (and I’m sure he laughed heartily at the Tobacco Police when they cuffed us in America) he now wants his smoking rights.

Remember the old saying: I did nothing when they came for my neighbor; did nothing when they came for my cousin; and now there is nobody to help me when they came for me (with apologies to the correct and authoritative verbiage). I now chuckled at the French, the Spaniards, the Irish and all the rest. They ignored us in America when we were being rounded up in the uprising against smoking. Now they face the taboos and the bans. Join the group. Misery loves company, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.

Yes, I am being very xenophobic. And, why not? Americans have lived under the bans for years, and it is only getting worse here. In Tennessee and other parts of the tobacco-growing South, tobacco farmers no longer have the outlet of taking their leaf to auction barns. If they are going to deal in tobacco, they will have to make arrangements to get their harvest to the manufacturer themselves. That is expensive, and that is why the auction barns were so necessary. Today, auction barns are a thing of the past, thanks to the Tobacco Police.

So, yes, I’m an angry pipe smoker. A way of life in the South is passing. And, by the way, you Europeans who enjoy our fine tobaccos might want to pay a little closer attention to what is going on. Soon, your only tobacco outlets are going to be somewhere in Zimbabwe instead of North Carolina, Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee and Georgia.

On a more positive note, I have been enjoying a variety of tins lately. I will share some notes with you, in hopes that it might give you a few new ideas.

Now, the first thing you must know is that pipe smoking is an individual art form. Your taste buds, of course, are not my taste buds. Your chemistry is not my chemistry (thank goodness. I have not always been such a good fellow when it comes to being cautious about my brands of pipe tobacco or drink).

With that in mind, I will offer up some of my thoughts on various tobaccos, bulk and tins in future blogs, along with other tips I have come across over the years. I hope to make this a permanent fixture of Pipe Dreams.

First on my list is an old, old friend. I smoked this exclusively when I was in college because my college professors smoked it in huge quantities. A philosopher professor, Dr. Gray, managed to keep a bowl going the entire class hour on just one match. He was amazing (and, yes, Virginia, student and professor could smoke in classrooms back then!).

Sir Walter Raleigh is the old standby. Remember it? I bought a 14 ounce can from JR Cigars, I think, but I just checked the JR Cigars website and can’t find it listed…so I might have gotten it somewhere else.

I got this just for old times’ sake. I smoked it for a very long, long time. It got me through four years of Presbyterian College and then some. SWR was famously a “drugstore” tobacco. It is owned by Brown & Williamson today (it may have been then as well, but I wasn’t paying attention then).

This is strictly burley, a dark, moist burley. It also has some sort of sauce or casing, but I’m just not sure what. I have never known, but it is not bad at all, and won’t hurt your pipe. Indeed, the room aroma is not at all unpleasant.

But, you’ve got to like burley, and I’m sort of a burley aficionado. I grew up with it, so to speak in my formative pipe smoking years so long ago. This is very good burley and has a really solid taste. Be forewarned, however, that the lower you go in the bowl, the tougher it gets.

I have the longtime habit of smoking tobacco all the way to the bottom. You do this with SWR and you will have to have an asbestos-lined tongue. It gets rough.

It is a wonderful all-day smoke, despite its late limitations. I smoke three-fourths of a bowl and then start over. It is an excellent quality burley for any of you burley-neophytes out there. A nice way to start the day, not too strong, not too light, just about right. It will get you warmed up for all those Virginias you hear so much about.

One last little thought about drugstore tobaccos before signing off today: you might want to investigate them soon. I read a piece the other day, that in the not too far distant future, drugstores may not be all that excited about carrying tobacco products. In fact, the “drugstore” tobacco may be relegated to your local tobacconist, if they indeed care to carry these inexpensive off brands your father and grandfather smoked in their pipes.

The Tobacco Police are moving us slowly but surely to smaller circles, where they will one day ambush us totally. I see the day coming that tobacconists will be out of business; the Internet will be regulated against the sale of tobacco; and you and I will be left to the black market and skullduggery for our tobacco sources. We will be driven underground, dealing with roguish looking folks in long coats.

So, take heart for now. We are in the last of the glory days. They are waning, but not gone. The leaf still lives. For now.

Enjoy.

Well, now, there’s some fresh news you need to know. It is the latest gestapo tactics from the Tobacco Police. I’d also like to refer you to some notes of interest.

First, let’s go to the Cato Institute and its analysis of Prohibition, a time in America when social workers, religious organizations and Congress decided that alcohol was bad for Americans. Here’s just a few lines of how the Institute opens its web site analysis:

National prohibition of alcohol (1920-33)–the “noble experiment”–was undertaken to reduce crime and corruption, solve social problems, reduce the tax burden created by prisons and poorhouses, and improve health and hygiene in America. The results of that experiment clearly indicate that it was a miserable failure on all counts. The evidence affirms sound economic theory, which predicts that prohibition of mutually beneficial exchanges is doomed to failure

The lessons of Prohibition remain important today. They apply not only to the debate over the war on drugs but also to the mounting efforts to drastically reduce access to alcohol and tobacco and to such issues as censorship and bans on insider trading, abortion, and gambling.

The Cato Institute was founded in 1977 by Edward H. Crane. It is a non-profit public policy research foundation headquartered in Washington, D.C. The Institute is named for Cato’s Letters, a series of libertarian pamphlets that helped lay the philosophical foundation for the American Revolution.

Allrighty, then, let’s move on. I don’t know if you are a regular reader of The New York Times, but I am. Being a journalist, of course, the Times is in my estimation the greatest newspaper of them all. I know opinions differ, but we won’t go into that here.

Last Sunday, the Times had a very intriguing story. The headline said: “Smoking Ban Takes Effect, Indoors and Out.” The place, naturally enough, was California, zooland.

The dateline was Calabasas, Calif. The lead paragraph said this: “One of the toughest antismoking laws in the nation took effect here Friday, the same day that a satirical move about a reptilian tobacco lobbyist, ‘Thank You for Smoking,’ opened across the country.”

Later this, “The smoking ordinance, which was unanimously passed by the five-member Calabasas City Council last month, prohibits smoking in all public places, indoor or outdoor, where anyone might be exposed to second-hand smoke. The ban includes outdoor cafes, bus stops, soccer fields, condominium pool decks, parks and sidewalks. Smoking in one’s car is allowed, unless the windows are open and someone nearby might be affected.”

And so you thought you own the air you breathe, right?

They aren’t kidding about fines. Offenders of the smoking bans can be fined up to $500.

And just this past Wednesday in Nashville, the Tennessee House voted to put aside a bill that would permit cities and towns to enact their own anti-smoking laws, especially in restaurants.

That’s for now. It will come up again, rest assured, later this year.

So, when I say that you should be stockpiling your tins and bulk tobaccos, it might be a good idea to listen to your Ol’ Unca Fred.

The Bans will get us all sooner or later. I look to the day that we won’t be able to drop by our local tobacconist and pick up a tin of our favorite tobacco. Nor will we be able to order it Online. Those days, I fear, are being narrowed and numbered, even as I write this.

Already, a tobacconist who has an Online presence and wants to sell to an out-of-state customer must have a tax arrangement with a bricks-and-mortar tobacconist in the state from which the order was sent in the first place.

In other words, the Online store must have a deal with a real store in the state in which the Online store wants to send products to. If that makes sense.

It makes no sense to me. It is a sham, and an outrage, and is just a way for the politicians to pander to the Smoking and Tobacco Police. It is also a source of revenue for the pols.

And we all know what pols do with new money, right? It matters little if it is tobacco money, alcohol money, or money from a Jack Abramoff. It goes into the pol pot.

From the Pipe Notebook:

More sad news to report. Joyce White, who has owned Royal Cigar for so many years that I’m sure she won’t say, has hung up her business. Royal Cigar Store in Atlanta, my first place to hang out when I was a college student, is gone.

I wrote Joyce the other day asking about a particular brand of tobacco tin from Germany: Bulldog Curly. It is wonderful stuff, but expensive to get here. It is made by Dan Pipe Tobacco.

Anyway, Joyce sent me an email saying she had closed her store but was still in the mail order business. The Atlanta Pipe Club met there once a month. I wonder what they will do now? If anyone knows, let me know and I’ll post it here on Pipe Dreams.

I for one will miss Royal Cigar. I have a couple of their basket pipes from the 1960s. One is a Charatan Second. As a poor and ragged college student, I could barely afford tobacco, let alone a pipe like a Dunhill or Sasieni, Barling, Charatan, etc. So, I bought some seconds from those illustrious names. They didn’t carry the stamp of the great pipe companies, but they were made, nonetheless, by their craftsmen. The seconds possessed pits, or some other malfeasance. However, they smoked like the named pipes.

There was always someone in Royal Cigar to advise me, show me some tinned tobaccos and tell me to save my money for one of the Dunhills or Barlings, selling back then for maybe $60-$70. Some were cheaper.

Joyce White became a friend over time. I often called her, or sent her an email seeking a particular tin of tobacco. Royal Cigar then and now has always possessed a great selection of tobaccos.

You can still find Joyce on the web at: http://www.tobaccomkt.com. You will discover her to be one of the most knowledgeable people in the tobacco business. She possess an encyclopedic mind when it comes to pipes and tobaccos, and she is an excellent dispenser of advice.

I recommend her highly to rookie and veteran alike.

From the Tobacco Bowl:

I just ordered (ouch!) a tin of Bulldog Curly Cut from Dan Pipe in Hamburg, Germany. It is excellent, but the price of the tobacco (more than $10 for 50g tin) and the shipping (up to $30) is just too much. I asked Joyce if she could encourage CAO, which is the importer for Dan tobaccos, to import the tins. She said she doubted that CAO would do that.

Too bad. It is excellent Virginia.

In the meantime, I have been trying some Wessex Campaign and Wessex Sovereign. Both are quite good Virginias. I’ll give a fuller report soon on what I really think of some of the Wessex blends.

Final Bowl:

Don’t know if you saw this or not, but Tom Dunn, the fellow who began The Pipe Smoker’s Ephemeris in 1964, died Dec. 11, 2005. Ben Rapaport wrote an outstanding article on him in the 10th Anniversary Spring Issue of Pipes and Tobaccos Magazine. The Pipe Smoker’s Ephemeris was a source of pure enjoyment, and it will be sorely missed by all pipe smokers.

Also, in this issue of P&T, Chuck Stanion, Editor, has changed the publication’s insides a bit. It will take a little getting accustomed to, but I like what I have seen.

Let me know what you think of P&T’s new look.

Until next time, keep the dottle to a minimum, and smoke what you enjoy, and enjoy what you smoke.

Pipe Dreams can be reached at tnbard@gmail.com

First, some thoughts on smoking and other human forms of entertainment. Then we’ll move on to other worthwhile pipe dreams from your host. Of course, like they say on Car Talk, you will have just wasted another worthwhile few minutes of your precious time.

Not much current in the way of tobacco Gestapo news. The Tobacco Police, however, continue to whittle away at your rights. I think the day is coming in which you won’t even be able to smoke outside your own home, let alone inside it.

My smoking area is the garage.

Here is my take on smoking: You got ‘em, light ‘em.

Excuse me, that’s an old Army term. But I do believe that smoking is an individual right. You are grown, or I sure hope you are if you are reading this, half way intelligent, and can make decisions on your own. You can read the reports and understand what you are  doing.

I believe that we pipe smokers should be rather philosophical about our hobby: all things in moderation. I stole that line, but just the same, you get the idea.

As I have said before, if you smoke 15-20 bowls a day (and believe me, I have done that), then you are headed for trouble.

But if you prefer to enjoy our hobby, smoke moderately, collect pipes, and try various blends of tobacco in the process, then it is my belief that you then have to put faith in your gene pool.

You got good genes, then you are probably going to live a long, long while. I cite Sir Winston Churchill as evidence.

The great British Prime Minister smoked 10 to 20 cigars a day, drank a ton of Johnny Walker Red and lived to be in his 90s. He might have gone a little longer had he smoked and drank more, is my way of looking at it.

Need more evidence: my great and late friend, Shelby Foote, noted author and Southern Gentleman. He smoked his pipe constantly, and died a year ago. He was up into his 80s. And never stopped smoking, until the last.

There are thousands of other examples. And just as many on the other side. I have a doctor friend, a pipe and cigar enthusiast, who tells me it is his belief that cancer and many other diseases are environmental, and connected to just how good your genes are at fighting all that off.

I also had another doctor friend, a fellow who studies the immune system, tell me that if you do not have a good immune system, there are things out there big as dragons that will take you out in a heart beat.

So, some of this gets down to who was your daddy and mama, plus the grandparents on both sides, and then on back to your family’s very beginnings.

Let me just say this again: I think if you smoke like a smokestack, you are asking for trouble. If you drink nothing but water all day, you will die of over hydration. If you eat nothing but sweets, your kidneys will fall out, or something.

You get the drift. Too much fun is not good for you. Moderate. Moderate. Moderate.

And for all you Tobacco Police out there reading this, don’t come around me blowing your breath my way. I have no idea what you’ve been eating! It is probably toxic.

And if your wife complains about your smoking, as mine does, let her go outside to spray her hair. I don’t enjoy breathing second-hand hair spray, since I’m not certain what’s in the stuff. And, I am not certain that fumes from all that facial makeup removal is good for me, either.

Ok, gang, time to move on. Rant is over.

Today’s lesson, children, is how to load a pipe and make it work for you, instead of against you.

I have just tried a new way of loading up. Here is how it works: You either drizzle in the tobacco from your pouch, or you can sort of scoop it up in the bowl and let gravity do its thing. Gently bounce the pipe in the tobacco pouch, or in the palm of your hand, to help lightly pack. Do not, repeat, do not pack the tobacco with your fingers, thumbs, toes, or anything else.

Once the tobacco is up to the top of the bowl, hold your pipe in one hand (left hand if you are right-handed and right hand if you are left-handed). Pop up a thumb just above the rim of the pipe. If you can’t figure which thumb, then we are in serious trouble here.

Now, with the other hand call for help.

No, I’m just kidding. Reach into the tobacco pouch and pick up a clump. You want the clump wider at the bottom than at the top. Think of an upside down V. Put this on top of the pipe, holding the clump in place with the above mentioned free thumb.

Now, gently (I said, gently) pull up the other thumb and begin to roll the tobacco, as if you were trying to move a cork stopper from side to side. Easy, gently, men, gently.

Continue this process until the tobacco has worked its way down to just below the rim of the bowl. Believe me, it will work.

Now, if you must, you can gently lay the pad of your thumb on top of the bowl (just the pad, nothing else, and no pressure) to sort of collect things about.

This process was discovered by a couple of Germans. I have modified it a bit to suit my tastes. But, once you get this down, let me tell you, you won’t go back to your old way. It really does let the taste of the tobacco come through.

One match does it, as well. You won’t be re-lighting all the time, which is also the signal of (1) bad packing (2) bad packing (3) bad packing or (4) wet tobacco.

Now, note for all you speed freaks out there: I did not say this was a fast and furious process. It is slow and deliberate. But, isn’t that what we pipe smokers are supposed to be about? You speedo guys need to find another sport.

Once you get the tobacco packed in through this process, you can pull some of the loose stuff away from over the top or around the sides of the tobacco. At first, until you get the hang of this, you might want to fill your pipe over a piece of paper. I did, because I found I was losing too much of my precious weed.

Now, I have become proficient at it, and I don’t need the paper to scoop up the scraps.

I have one other packing note for you. In case the above method is too slow for you, try this: Turn your pipe up, with the stem up and the bowl in the tobacco pouch.

Pull in the tobacco with the pipe remaining in this position. Once it is filled, it will be loosely filled and will light right away. Tamp and then re-light. It will be close to the other method, but not quite as good.

For those of you who are challenged by these methods, might I suggest you practice.

Try not to lose your fingers in the process.

Now, boys, I have not been getting any email. Let me repeat my email for you just in case you lost your way the last effort: you can get me at thetennbard@yahoo.com or fred.tnbard@gmail.com

You can also send me email at the Knoxvilleareapipesmokers.com

Let me hear from you, gripes and all. I take on all comers, even the Tobacco Police.

Until next time, pack it right, smoke what you enjoy, and enjoy what you smoke.

Selah

April 13, 2006

Well, dad Jim, I spoke a little too soon. A politician would say, “I misspoke,” when he really means he screwed up and wasn’t connecting brain to mouth. That’s sort of what I did yesterday.

I’m back today to straighten things out. The Tobacco Police were hard at work while I wasn’t watching and my brain was out playing in the traffic. I fell asleep at the switch, and believe me, some switching went on. You know how it is when you turn a bunch of politicians loose in Nashville. They get to thinking they are important to the progress of mankind.

Shoveling manure is progress.

Don’t know if you saw this or not, but the Associated Press had a story Wednesday out of Nashville about a new bill that will ban just about all smoking inside any kind sort of building of any description at any time day or night.

The author of this thing is Sen. Jim Tracy, a Republican from Shelbyville, Tenn. The AP story says the bill is patterned after one that passed the Georgia Legislature sometime last year. See, Georgia doesn’t care for its tobacco farmers, either, even though that is the crop that once saved that state from economic destruction. That was back during the Great Depression, dear children. My mama used to tell me that her father made moonshine and grew tobacco to put food on the table and shoes on their feet.

The Dad Jim Jim bill “would ban smoking in all buildings owned and operated by the state, indoor public places and enclosed areas of employment,” says AP.

You can bet some sort of shenanigans went on where you couldn’t see it. No transparency here (I love the way politicians use that word, “transparency.” The only thing transparent about a pol is his hand. It’s always in your pocket.) Where was I. Oh, yes, the shenanigans.

Here is sort of how it went down, according to AP. Ol’ Dad Jim Tracy, being a Republican and everything, said he was willing to let the bill die off this year. But in comes State Sen. Jeff Miller, a Republican from Cleveland. He is on the State Local Government Committee. In the past, Ol’ Dad Jim Jeff has been all opposed to smoking bans.

Guess what? Dad Jim Jeff changed his alleged mind and told his fellow members of the committee that they should vote for the bill. Hmmmm.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not accusing Dad Jim Jeff and Dad Jim Jim of anything other than transparency. Actually Dad Jim Jeff isn’t running for re-election. He is sneaking out the back door, just as he pushed through this bill. Now, that’s transparency for you.

Anyway, the bill suddenly zips through that local government committee, five votes to two votes.

Miller says the Tracy bill will make it easier to breathe in restaurants, what with all that smoke no longer around.

Yeah, right, Dad Jim Jeff. You are only about half right. You should not forget all those grease molecules floating about. They are, honest, really dangerous for the veins and brains.

And, then, there is the music thing.

I just love going into a restaurant and hearing all that loud so-called music that makes you swallow your food whole, so the waiter can get you in, get you fed, and get you out in about 15-20 minutes, tops. That’s what the music is for, doncha see.

It ain’t for your listening enjoyment, children. It is to make you eat faster, swallow faster, drink faster, and move on so that the next group can come in and pig out at record speed as well, caring nothing about what swallowing whole portions does to the stomach.

How do I associate music with smoking?

I’m glad you asked, Dad Jim Jeff. See, I think eating fast is not all that good for the digestive system. Now, we know that second-hand smoke will kill you deader than a doorknob, even a whiff. Right?

So, that’s why we parted ways a long time ago in restaurants. We sent the smokers off to a corner, banned and banished, and told them not to smoke a pipe or cigar, either in their little corner.

All the while, the restaurant owners are playing this loud rock music that makes the emotional system think it is on steroids and forces you to eat to the rhythm of the beat. You hog down your food while all the smokers over there have tried to enjoy their meal, and light up afterwards.

I hate cigarette smoking. Loathe it. Think it is the worst invention of mankind. But, I dearly love my pipe and an occasional cigar. I can’t smoke either one now in most restaurants. And now, I won’t even bother. Dad Jim Jeff and Dad Jim Jim have taken care of that for me.

I also happen not to enjoy loud, crashing, bashing music when I eat. I prefer nothing but conversation, Dad Jim Jim. Why not try banning music in restaurants?

Now, there is a transparent idea. The restaurant lobby would probably eat you for lunch if you were to propose a bill banning music where we eat.

Gobbling down your food, if you remember what your grandmother taught you, is not good for you. Where are you on that subject, Dad Jim Jeff and Dad Jim Jim?

Probably not to be found.

Ok. Here is my reasoning in all this: If we are banned from most buildings in Tennessee from smoking (most pipes and cigars are already outlawed), you cig smokers will find yourselves on the outside looking in, grabbing a quick smoke over the blaring music. End of your natural born rights Constitutional rights to privacy and freedom of speech and expression.

But, hey, you won’t have to worry now about making a quick decision as you walk in to any restaurant and face the ever-present: “Smoking or Non.”

I love that. Only in America would we shorten an incomplete sentence down to one incomplete word.

And just for the record, I seem to recall that in days past, Shelbyville and Cleveland were somewhat fair producers of tobacco crops. See Georgia example, above.

Guess those farmers have all the money they need and no longer have to rely on tobacco crops.

The Dad Jim Jim and Dad Jim Jeff no-smoking bill will still allow you to light up in bars and restaurants “under certain conditions.” You need to read the fine print here and understand what those “certain conditions are.”

The bill has not made it through the State House of Representatives. . . . yet. Just give it time, however. Your right to smoke is all but kaput in the Volunteer State, once a large producer of tobacco.

That’s it for today, boys and girls. It’s up to you to read more about this issue and to get yourself informed. That causes transparency.

Soon, as I have preached here before, there won’t be any transparency, and there won’t be any smoking outside a bricks-and-mortar smoke shop. And, maybe, not even there. All that smoke, you know, can curl beneath door frames and windows and snake its way to the outside and drop whole populations dead in their tracks.

But, not to worry your little head about all the trans-fats you are getting in the restaurants. Dad Jim Jeff and Dad Jim Jim aren’t the least worried about your health, ladies and germs, or they would do something about the bad-nutrition you are inhaling at the fast-food joints and most restaurants.

At least, the smoke shop where I visit, they don’t play music, just the infernal TV, which should be ripped from the wall and thrown into the street.

Whatever happened to conversation with a fellow human being?

Selah!

I am going retro. Honest. I am moving back toward some tobaccos that I smoked when I was in college. Maybe the reason I’m retroing is a weak attempt in trying to recapture a youth that has dropped out of sight, just like my stomach and other things.

Anyway, here are a few thoughts on some “new” old tobaccos:

Sir Walter Raleigh: Bought a 14oz. can for $13 at JRs Cigars. It smoked just like I remembered, only now I notice the topping more. All my professors in college smoked this, so I thought then, and think now, that if it was good enough for them, it is good enough for me.

Well, there was one exception. Dr. Neil Whitelaw, physics. He was pals with Einstein (that’s right, the E-man). Now, physics was not my cup of tea and Dr. Whitelaw quickly discovered that I was not only deficient, but clueless. He smoked Barking Dog, Revelation (just like his buddy the E) and some other House of Windsor tobaccos.

In some reviews I’ve read recently, SWR is said to get worse toward the bottom of the bowl. Well, duhh, stop smoking it that far down.

I usually smoke it until it reaches that bitter taste and then stop. From the match to that point, SWR is really a great pipe smoke. It is cubed burley, cavendish and some black cavendish. I’m not certain what the top dressing is, but it is pleasant, and has had years in the perfecting.

Old-timers smoked this quite a lot, because it was cheap. It is cheap now, as well, and can make you an all-day smoke. It is perfect, won’t goop the pipe, because I’m not discussing the SWR Aromatic. That stuff will peel paint at 20 paces.

I have also returned to Barking Dog and Revelation (two “drug store” tobaccos I smoked then to make me smarter. It didn’t work).

BD is cubed cut burley and latakia. There is some sort of flavoring, but it is mild and pleasant. This is truly an old American blend, and will make a convert of you almost instantly, if you enjoy burley and latakia, which I do.

BD is smooth, and lives up to its billing of “It Never Bites.” It doesn’t bite, even if you puff many bowls during the day. I really like this tobacco and recommend it.

Revelation is, I think, and acquired taste. I have smoked a ton of it, in hopes that I would become another Einstein. This was his only tobacco, and as William Seward has said, “that Einstein was a smart man.” Truly, and his tobacco deserves a try in this day of rising tobacco prices.

I can say without reservation that Revelation will not only surprise you, but might even make you brilliant for choosing to put it in your rotation of tobaccos.

This is composed of burley, Virginia, latakia and perique. There is some flavoring, but again, I’m not sure. Revelation is a very old House of Windsor blend and it is quite worth a try.

I will have more on toabbos in a future posting, but I was just wondering if anyone else has “retro” fitted their tastes? Let me know.

Let me know some of your tastes. I hope to begin a “tasting” here soon. You can join and and I’ll mention some of your favorite tobaccos.

Until then, smoke what you enjoy and enjoy what you smoke!

Selah

Found all the places where the hackers had added “marquee” stuff and deleted it all.  Looks like we got the place all nicely cleaned up again.

We’ve also upgraded the software.  This version is much more secure.  Hopefully we won’t have any more problems.  (And fortunately they weren’t any more severe than strange looking scrolling stuff in the header.)

Best,

John