A package arrives at your doorstep. You tear through the cardboard, sending a torrent of packing peanuts and bubble wrap through the air. The debris settles, and it's finally in your hands: your new pipe.
Turning it over in your fingers, you marvel at the shimmer of the contrast stain against the natural light; the infinite and microfine threads of the horn mount; the careful and deliberate funneling within the bit. Its perfection enchants you.
You run to your cellar and fill the bowl with your favorite leaf, sure to leave plenty of room for the tobacco to rise and plume once it meets the flame. As you smoke through that first bowl, you applaud the smoothness of the draw, the comfort of the bit against your teeth. They affirm the thought that grows in the back of your mind: That this pipe, this beautifully sculpted and precisely engineered piece, was made specifically for you and no other.
Over the next few days, your eyes flash to the piece. Other pipes line your cabinet, but you remember only its sweet taste, the way it fits in your hand like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. A smile creases your face as you force yourself to wait, to give it the proper resting time; eventually you give in and imbibe once again from that chalice of briar and vulcanite.
In autumn, your most prized possession inspires great hikes beneath an ever-changing canopy of rich carmine and burnt yellow. And even as the forest surrenders its final leaf to winter, it offers you respite against the cold and the dark. It fills your den with that comforting scent no candle or artificial fragrance can ever match. It's the smell of tradition, of history, of shared experience bound by neither time nor space. And so it goes… at least for a while.
The icy fractals on your window begin to recede, and you notice a change. Though the briar still stands at the center of your rack, it no longer whispers or beckons or calls. Its rim has darkened, its finish now warmer with patina, just like all the others. You still remember the enraptured feeling of that first smoke, so you keep chasing that perfect moment, an echo of laughter caught between frames. But it's not the same.
You light the pipe without ceremony; you ash it without care. You abandon it in the built-in pipe rest of your ashtray, noticing its absence only when you empty it days later. You wedge it in a slot near the back of your rack, seething as dottle spills to the floor. You tell yourself it's time for a bit of spring cleaning, and without remorse or hesitation, you send it away, along with a few other forgotten and misfit briars, to be traded-in. Little love lost.
A few weeks later, you meet up with friends at your local pipe club. As you enter the lounge, great clouds of smoke waft through the air, a wonderful melange of scents and aromas from various tobaccos, all intermixing in the small room. Through the haze, you make out one of the group's more seasoned members showing off a new pipe, and you rush to join the revelry.
"It's beautiful," one friend says, "I've seen nothing like it."
"Splendid. Absolutely splendid," says another.
You open your mouth to offer your own congratulations, but your words fail. You edge closer to the man's showpiece, each step confirming your suspicions. There in the center of the room, surrounded by your fellow club members, lifted to eye level in another's hands, is your pipe. Memories flicker through your mind: Reflective hikes through fallen leaves, a comforting warmth on a winter's night. For a moment, a pang of regret seizes your breath. But then it's gone, replaced by the laughter and cheers of friends in a smoky room.
Find any hint of pipes or pipe tobacco (except a nomination for MM corncob pipes:
TOBACCO BUSINESS AWARDS 2019 - NOMINEES REVEALED! Tobacco Business Magazine is excited to announce the 2019 nominees for the Tobacco Business Awards. These awards were designed to honor the best businesses, entrepreneurs, and products in various categories of the tobacco, vapor and alternative industries. The Tobacco Business Awards will be presented at an exclusive party during Tobacco Plus Expo (TPE), which will be held in Las Vegas, Feb. 11-13, 2019."The Tobacco Business Awards is about recognizing those industry professionals, businesses, and entrepreneurs, that think outside the box and have disrupted the industry in some way," explains Ben Stimpson, managing director atTobacco BusinessMagazine. "This is our chance to recognize those professionals and businesses for their achievements, tenacity, innovation, and new ideas." To reflect the growth seen inTobacco BusinessMagazine over the past year, this year's awards are also expanded from last year. New this year are categories highlighting Nicaraguan and Dominican cigars, boutique cigars, leading tobacconists and women who have made great contributions to the industry. Nominees for the 2019 Tobacco Business Awards are as follows: DOMINICAN CIGAR OF THE YEAR Davidoff 50 Years Limited Edition Diademas Finas (Davidoff Cigars)Nat Sherman Timeless Dominican (Nat Sherman Intl.)Pistoff Kristoff (Kristoff Cigars)Balmoral Añejo XO Connecticut (Royal Agio Cigars)Diamond Crown (J.C. Newman Cigar Co.)NICARAGUAN CIGAR OF THE YEAR Perdomo Reserve 10th Anniversary Champagne (Perdomo Cigars)Romeo San Andres by Romeo y Julieta (Altadis U.S.A.)Drew Estate Florida Sun Grown (FSG) (Drew Estate)Macanudo Inspirado Red (General Cigar Co.)Bellas Artes (AJ Fernandez Cigars)BOUTIQUE CIGAR OF THE YEAR Las Calaveras (2017) (Crowned Heads)Big Papi by David Ortiz (Tabacalera El Artista)Cornelius (Cornelius & Anthony)Micallef Reserva Limitada Privada (Micallef Cigars)Farce (Room101)MASS MARKET PRODUCT OF THE YEAR Tatiana Groovy Blue (Miami)Panther Cigarillos (Royal Agio Cigars)Lex12 (S&M Brands)Signal (Ohserase Manufacturing)Golden Harvest (Rouseco, Inc.)ACCESSORY MANUFACTURER OF THE YEAR Boveda (Humidification)Bic (Lighters)Xikar (Lighters, cutters, butane, humidification)Missouri Meerschaum (Corncob pipes)Tobacco Outlet Products (Candles, sprays, air fresheners)NEXT-GENERATION PRODUCT OF THE YEAR Cannadips (Cannadips)Cue Vapor System (EAS)Bo One (MMS Distribution)Cig2o (Spark Vapor)Rogue Nicotine Chewing Gum (NicoGen Pharma Solutions)ENTREPRENEUR OF THE YEAR Christian Eiora (C.L.E. Cigars)Rocky Patel (Rocky Patel Premium Cigars)Michael Herklots (Nat Sherman Intl.)Michael Giordano (Quality Importers)Kaizad Hansotia (Gurkha Cigars)WOMAN OF THE YEAR Lana Fraser (Davidoff of Geneva USA)Liana Fuente (Arturo Fuente)Victoria McKee (General Cigar Co.)Lissette Perez Carrillo (E.P. Carrillo)Courtney Smith (Cornelius & Anthony)LEGACY AWARD Nestor Miranda (Miami Cigar & Co.)Heinrich Villiger (Villiger Cigars)Dean Rouse (Dean’s)Benji Menendez (General Cigar Co.)Jeff Martin (Rouseco, Inc.)TOBACCONIST OF THE YEAR Havana Phil’s (Greensboro, NC)Casa Fuente (Las Vegas, NV)Soho Cigar Bar (New York, NY)BURN by Rocky Patel (Pittsburgh, PA)W. Curtis Draper Fine Tobacconist (Washington, D.C.)TOBACCO CHAIN OR FRANCHISE OF THE YEAR Casa de MontecristoCollett EnterprisesDiamond Crown LoungeSmoker Friendly InternationalWild Bill’s TobaccoVoting is open from Nov. 1, 2018 through Dec. 31, 2018. Winners will be announced during an exclusive party on the opening night of Tobacco Plus Expo (TPE) on Feb. 11, 2019 in Las Vegas. To vote, visittobaccobusiness.com/awards19.
"She said fireball, but I thought she was talking about my face." I sat, slowly puffing on my pipe as the phrase continued to reverberate in my head. The music restarted, drowning out the conversation of the nearby table, leaving me lost in regard to context. My mind immediately began filling in blanks. Non-sequiturs should never be taken lightly and my fellow patrons were being far too cavalier with them for my comfort. We are living in a society after all.
I took a puff to reground myself, but as the sweetness of the Virginias enveloped my palate, that dastardly phrase continued to ricochet inside my skull. The possibilities were too endless. Was it the latest Luke Bryan song? The origin story of a long since forgotten epic feud, pitting two great houses against each other in honorable combat? Perhaps it was an idea for a hipsterish t-shirt, destined to declare the ironic indiference of its wearers. Maybe the gathering to my left was a reunion of astronauts, swapping amusing stories of publically unreleased alien contact. I had to know more.
In my distraction, our waitress had returned to the table. I glanced up, but was unable to bend my reality back to normal.
"Fireball!" I said. "But it was a face!"
"Are you OK, sir?" My wife was wearing an expression of embarrassment combined with exasperation "He's fine; he just has these episodes when he overhears snippets of conversation. He'll be fine soon."
I did the only thing I could in that moment. I grasped the pipe in the palm of my hand and ran my fingers across the sandblasted finish. The deep chasms of the blasted grain subtly lifted and dropped my thumb, mirroring the contractions my mind was experiencing with that phrase. The music, patrons and bar all faded into my mental distance, seemingly vanishing behind the cloud of smoke wafting from my bowl.
My wife tried pulling me back to reality by asking if I had heard her last statement. I muttered what I thought was agreement, but it came out, "Yes, I understa—Face! Face, I say! Um, that is, you have a point when—Ack! Fireball!" This was her territory and she knew how to navigate it. She's developed the skill of being able to detect when I'm not fully present, rescuing me, and then pouncing on my gratitude like some sort of jungle cat three weeks removed from her last meal. I didn't know it at the time, but I had just given up my Saturday to go antiquing. I really hate non-sequiturs.
I returned to the task at hand, stretched my legs out underneath the faded wooden table, and placed the pipe back in my mouth, returning to the important work of solving the mystery of the fireball. Another puff, and the Virginias melded together with my beer in just the right way. The only respite from the insidious phrase were the notes of Perique cutting through the Virginias and the IPA, seemingly beacons guiding me through the fog of that damned sentence. The brief moment of peace from the fireball / face quandary was a welcomed one.
The urge to explain that sentence overcame me. I glanced to my left, but the group had gone. Clarity would not come. I took another swig of my beer, and kicked my feet up as the band closed out their set. As the music faded, other conversations becoming more clear. From behind I heard "And it goes to show you, never pass up a chance at tossing a pastrami."
I slowly stood up from my chair, finished what was left of my beer, gathered up my pipe and tobacco pouch, and started to walk outside, shooting daggers in the general direction of those pastrami tossers. My wife caught up, and as the night breeze greeted us at the door, she leaned in for a kiss, and then started telling me about all the great antique shops she's been wanting to visit.
From our friends at Smokers Haven NJ, of interest to those of you who smoke cigars......
Hey Everyone,
Have you heard Congress is close to lifting some of the harmful regulations put on cigar businesses? But, they need our help to get it across the finish line.
Send a message directly to your legislators at https://www.cigaraction.org/act-now on IPCPR’s website. It only takes a couple of minutes, and we need as many people as possible to participate. Just enter your info, then edit the message or send it as is, and you’re done.
Let’s show Congress what the cigar industry is all about.
@motie2 - After last night it's not going to happen this year. Th process will have to start all over again next year and with a new party of liberals in charge of the House, it's going to be a long, hard fight to even get it considered.
Monsieur Regard and Monsieur Buat had come to Beaucaire for the fair. As delegates from the Chambre Consultative des Arts et Manufactures, they could not miss such an important event, to which merchants and merchandise flocked from all Mediterranean countries, as well as from some countries in the North.
That evening they were dining in the inn, exchanging ideas and planning the next day when suddenly one of them broke off in mid-sentence, left speechless and grabbed the salt cellar. He examined it, weighed it up, sniffed it and scratched it with his fingernail. He gave it to his friend, who returned his quizzical and surprised expression and also set about scrutinizing the object excitedly. Being experts in wood products, they had great trouble understanding the nature of the wood. It looked good, both for its colour as well as for its grain, but above all the surface was hard, dense and tough. What on earth was it?
In the fifth century AD, an abbey had been founded at the foot of the Jura mountains, located where the River Bienne joins the Tacon. The Abbaye de Condat almost immediately became a place of pilgrimage and in the seventh century was later renamed in honour of Saint Oyend, which attracted even more pilgrims. In the twelfth century, the name changed once and for all to Saint-Claude de Besançon, as was the slowly growing town, named after the saint whose body had been found in an incorruptible state in 1160, 600 years after his death. On the strength of the miracles in Saint-Claude the place became one of the key places of worship in Europe: the inhabitants specialised in welcoming the pilgrims and in the production of objects in bone and horn, but especially in wood. At first the objects were religious in nature (statuettes, rosaries), but later they became more profane, such as boxes, spoons, simple musical instruments, pen holders, combs, necklaces, tobacco boxes, Ulm-style decorated pipe stems in porcelain or wood, and also whole pipes in wood. The abbey’s fire in 1799 and subsequent Napoleonic oppressive measures against the clergy dealt a heavy blow to a place whose livelihood depended on pilgrims. Nevertheless, the artisans forged ahead and increased their smoking accessories continuing with the pipe stems and also increasing the production of pipes in boxwood or cherry wood. In the mid-nineteenth century, when Regard and Buat came into contact with the salt cellar, Saint-Claude was working at full capacity and apart from the domestic workshops, it also included larger manufacturing centres run by hydropower. The two delegates at Beaucaire represented all those artisans, and it was embarrassing indeed to be unable to identify the material of the object. However, it wasn’t long before they asked around and found out, acquired samples to take back home, test them to see if the wood was suitable for pipe making, which was not from the trunk but from a root, in fact briar root.
According to Madame Germaine Pacaud-Faton, member of a well-known family in Saint-Claude who mentions this episode at that time, the discovery of the salt cellar dates back to 1854. This is one of the most credible stories, but there are many other varied accounts of the first appearance of briar wood that are quite similar, but none that are identical. In general, the episode can be dated as shortly after 1850, but not in all cases. The “discoverer” in each tale is a wood trader from the Midi, a certain David suggested by a wood trader, or else a traveler in the Midi. Like the two delegates visiting Beaucaire, they all end up bringing back to Saint-Claude their find. However, there are others, such as farmers or artisans from Saint-Claude, the Midi, Ajaccio or other places in Corsica, who were already familiar with the briar root, to the extent that they were able to carve it to supply a substitute pipe to a Frenchman from Geneva, or an admirer visiting Napoleon’s tomb or birthplace, who unfortunately had just broken their meerschaum pipe, or else a variation is an unlucky French pipe maker who lost his pipe in the Maquis. As remarked earlier, the events are frequently dated just after the mid-nineteenth century. A distinction then needs to be made between the dates of the “discovery” and later the first manufacture and sale of pipes in Saint-Claude. A celebratory booklet of the centenary that bears the dates 1856 - 1956 suggests that there is little doubt about the real date, but other equally trustworthy sources indicate slightly different dates. The events set in the Napoleonic regions, however, took place a few years after the death of the Emperor, in 1821, and this is where discrepancies arise. These inconsistencies increase in the case of a few antique French manufacturers who claim to have been making briar pipes as early as the beginning of the nineteenth century. In other words, a jumble of similar but different accounts, which are in a certain sense comparable to processes in the classic oral tradition, whereby each person adds, removes or alters some information from an account told by someone else. But what is the truth about the origin of briar?
For centuries pipes were made from wood in a few forest regions in Europe. They were far less fragile than clay and sea-foam, and were ideal for making stems. However, entire pipes were made from wood and to solve the problem of the pipe burning easily the bowls were lined with tin or other materials. In the quest for ever better solutions, all types of wood were tested, both from the trunk and the root. They were looking for the densest wood, introducing and perfecting various processes of honing, drying and curing. This was natural, as the success of the artisans relied on the quality of the finished product. It seems strange that none of them ever tried testing the Erica Arborea root. However, the places in various parts of Europe where wooden pipe manufacture was mostly concentrated were more or less far from the Mediterranean coast, and only then in the hills. Not too far away from the sea, large evergreen shrubs grew producing lovely white flowers of which no one took much notice. Shrubs, not trees, whose branches at most could be used to make brooms or for the fireplace. Yet, the solution, the philosopher’s stone for pipe makers was right there, close at hand, combined with the bushes, but well hidden: underground.
Just below the ground’s surface, but not always (roughly one in three) the Erica Arborea produces a growth, a sort of rhizome, an oval or spherical mass called a “burl” from which the roots extend. The fact that this is not always present suggests that it may be an anomaly caused by some external interference, as may happen with other plant species. Nevertheless, when the burl is present, it serves to anchor the plant firmly to the soil and above all hold water in periods of drought. Following a forest blaze the shrub is able to grow again, thanks to the nutrients stored in the rhizome. Pipe makers looking for this material need to find plants that are at least fifty years old, otherwise the burl (when it is present) is too small. Once the plant above ground has been removed, the burl is extracted laboriously from the soil. It is then roughly stripped of the roots, kept moist and sheltered from the sun (to avoid cracking as it slowly dries out) until it is transported to the sawmill. Here it is cleaned more thoroughly and then cut into ebauchons and plateaux which will be used for the pipes, discarding the rotten, useless or flawed parts. At this point, the ebauchons and plateaux are graded according to quality and then boiled in huge vats of water to remove all resins and tars. They are then slowly dried and cured. Only at the end of the process will the pipe maker come into play. Nowadays, finding the perfect burl is less easy than it was in the mid-nineteenth century, when the harvesting of Erica Arborea was just beginning. Moreover, the plants are sought in places that have been untouched by fire in the last seventy years: burls that have stimulated regrowth of the plant following a fire are of no use. In addition, quality pipes require spherical burls and this complicates the matter further.
Going back to the early nineteenth century, or even earlier, let us step into an artisan’s shoes, who is familiar with the notions of refining, curing and carving wood, who has ended up in an area of Mediterranean scrubland: how likely is it that he could have found the Erica Arborea plant out of all the others (without even knowing the species) exclaiming: “That’s what I need to make a pipe”? Most unlikely. However, if for some reason he happened to see a burl, one of the best ones, wouldn’t he have been at least curious and might think: “Let’s try to use this”? Something like this must have happened at least around the mid-nineteenth century. Whether this occurred prior to this date is difficult to prove, but two things should be taken into consideration: many of the great discoveries arise out of an unpredictable string of chance events and an invention may be considered “ahead” of its time, thus lying in limbo before appearing on the scene when all the favourable conditions come together. If the tale of the salt cellar is true, in 1854 in the Beaucaire area (almost at the mouth of the Rhone, thus near the Mediterranean) or in any case in the South of France (the Midi) burls of briar were already being extracted and in some way crafted into objects. Some books, without any solid evidence, speak about crude briar pipes carved with knives well before 1850 and in use until 1870, or else of briar pipes shaped by inmates in the prison of Nimes in 1851. Other accounts, other more or less reliable versions refer to shepherds that made their own pipes in briar, or of someone that had bought blocks of pre-treated briar in Beaucaire that were ready to be carved and had taken them back to Saint-Claude. We will never know for sure what actually happened.
Ultimately, however, does this matter? It may be true that someone had already discovered the burl’s properties and crafted more or less perfect pipes before the new material arrived in Saint-Claude. However, even if this were so, hardly anyone had noticed. Only when the first samples arrived at the foot of the Jura mountains, when all the inhabitants, fully equipped with tools and professional skills set to work, repeatedly experimenting and starting up production and distribution, only then did a new age actually begin, and briar pipes appeared on the scene in all their glory.
It wasn’t long before the artisans in Saint-Claude became familiar with the burl and perfected the various stages in the manufacturing process. The fact that the wood was so hard and dense did not discourage them: indeed, it was precisely the material of their dreams. However, the greatest surprise was when they came to smoke the pipe: the well-honed wood had no strong taste that overpowered the taste of the tobacco. Moreover, thanks to the mineral substances in the wood, it resisted heat much better than other types of wood. Its irregular structure also contained countless tiny cavities that interrupted the continuity of the material, thereby providing excellent heat insulation in the bowl and porosity that was essential to absorb the liquids related to combustion. Not only was briar a denser type of wood, it was also the ideal solution for the tobacco pipe.
It was also the ideal solution for Saint-Claude. Taking into account the nearby towns, the number of wood turners increased from 500 in 1811 to 2300 pipe makers in 66 different workshops in 1892. The number further rose to 4000 in 1912 and 6000 in 1925. Initially, there was very little difference in the shape of the smoking device compared to previous models, but what made the difference was the material itself: one needed only to try it out to realise this, and an increasing number of smokers did just that. Pipe making in Saint-Claude, which quickly acquired the status of capital of pipe makers, had developed into an industry, with solutions that were technically at the forefront: in 1863 Joseph-Honoré Dalloz, a sculptor and inventor from the town, designed a machine based on the principles of the pantograph that was capable of duplicating twelve identical pipes from one larger model. The factories expanded rapidly and became better equipped: profits soared.
However, around the turn of the century, or shortly before, alarm bells started to ring: numerous pipe specialists were packing up and leaving for London, drawn by attractive offers. Briar pipes were manufactured there from the 1860s, and a Frenchman, Emil Loewe, is said to have been the first to make briar pipes in London. However, London, becoming once again the capital of pipe manufacturing, was not the only city where briar pipes took root: from the 1870s production was established in Nuremburg and Dublin, and in Molina di Barasso, Italy, in the province of Varese, where the Milanese manufacturer, Ferdinando Rossi, established a large factory in 1897. The pipe makers of Saint-Claude would remain the leaders for a number of years, but they no longer had the monopoly.
As for the other pipes, in the mid-nineteenth century while briar pipe making was still in its infancy, clay, meerschaum, porcelain and other materials continued to be used, but their fate had been sealed: in addition to cigars, this new fascinating material was another cause for concern in the competitive market, a truly lethal combination that was capable of even weakening the giants, of altering the characteristics of smoking worldwide.
My tobacco is disappearing, and after exhaustive investigation, I now know why: Tobacco vampires. It was difficult to believe at first, but my research has provided hard data sets that are impossible to interpret otherwise. The results may be frightening, but the fact remains that tobacco vampires are rampaging through the countryside and no pipe smoker's tobacco cellar is safe.
My suspicions were aroused when I noticed that every time I go back to an open tin for a fresh smoke, there is a little less tobacco waiting. I started weighing the tins whenever I filled a bowl, and they were each missing 4-5 grams of tobacco on each occasion. It's a gradual reduction, easy for people to miss, but with my extraordinary perception, and by running datum through custom algorithms that only I can comprehend, I quickly found the problem.
Lurking in the depths of blackest night is a creature so pernicious, so despicable, so insidious that it has been nearly impossible for the human mind to accept. However, as repulsive as the concept may be, as much as we'd like to repress reality, our nightmare does indeed exist as the very embodiment of evil. It is known as the dreaded tobacco vampire.
They slip through the tiniest gaps in windows and doors, entering an unsuspecting pipe smoker's home to ransack the tobacco cellar, absconding with a portion of the tobacco in every open tin, evading discovery by taking only a little at a time.
Never has a tobacco vampire been captured, and they've been witnessed only on preternaturally rare occasions. I am among the few who have seen one and survived, perhaps because it was the briefest of peripheral glances, caught in the bathroom mirror as I was passing. I'm not sure if our lives are in danger, but our lives are of mere collateral import compared to the threat to our tobacco.
After seeing one of these creatures, I immediately wrote down its description. Tobacco vampires are covered in coarse, oily gray hair matted to their abhorrently misshapen bodies, and can ooze, walk or slime through any environment, or drift in a cloud of noxious smoke, depending on their mood. They are virtually invisible when it suits them, and the best way to detect one is by smell, recognizable by its nauseating melange of sulfur, spoiled fish, and bleach. That odor is similar to the way my cousin Burnwound smells after his weekly rolls in the compost, so I'm predisposed to its detection.
Sadly, my home was again attacked last night. I didn't see the vampire, but I noticed today that there is less tobacco in my open tins than I thought and, as always, the terrible odor lingered throughout the house until after my morning coffee and shower. So there were vampires in my home last night, that is certain.
They may have raided you as well. I advise keeping watch on your tobacco. I've not yet found how to repel these creatures, but I'll report when I do.
By the way, your spouse may be willing to help. I told my wife that I'll be buying lots more tobacco to keep pace with these siphoning scumbag vampires, and she seemed unsurprised. "I can relate," she said. "Some dastardly creature has been leaving socks and full ashtrays around the house for 30 years."
So it's now incontrovertible: These creatures come in different species, with different specialties, and they're everywhere. "The problem is even worse than I thought," I said. "I'm boarding up the windows."
A collection of Father Tom stories that I [Steve Laug] have written over the past years. New ones will be added regularly. One of my writing instructors used to say write about things you have lived – so I have. The Father Tom stories incorporate experiences I have had over the years as a Presbyterian minister with my love of the pipe. Many of the circumstances and events of the stories as well as the settings are part of the regular story of my life. They are here for your reading pleasure. It is my hope that they will give you a bit of pleasure as you read them. If they do, they have achieved what I imagined for them. Enjoy!>>
The clock's pendulum hung dormant for over three decades, lending the old longcase a look of staunch repose. Its constant, steadily metered swing once complemented the intermittent tinkling of typewriter keys, scribbling of quill, and flicking of pipe lighter. A dottle of petrified tobacco lay in the ashtray, adjacent to a heavily patinated brass magnifying glass, weathered spectacles, and the exposed, yellowed pages of an open ledger.
Half a century of dust hung suspended in the air as I sifted through the remains of my great uncle's study, the floorboards creaking under the shifting weight of the heavy leather volumes. The smell of antiquity permeated the air: a combination of the grassy, vanilla aroma of aging paper and a faint hint of long-since dissipated pipe smoke. I was searching for a specific tome, one which my uncle regularly revisited around this time of year as an accompaniment to his nightly pipe. As I extricated the stiff spines from their resting spots, I wondered if it was possible they had grown heavier over the years, an effect of moisture siphoned from and exhaled back into the air like a fireplace bellows.
I reached a box labeled, simply, "pipes." The flourishing penmanship bespoke an era in which my aunt's steady shorthand was meant only for her own deciphering, and I recognized the slight embellishment she reserved for only the most sentimental of items. I knew I was close. The book in question rarely left my uncle's chairside table, occasionally becoming something of a makeshift coaster over the spring and summer. When he passed, my aunt boxed everything according to its corresponding location, so I was certain the novel would be with his pipe collection. I moved a few cigar boxes, hearing the tinkling of tampers and pipe tools within them, and sure enough, there it was. I lifted the hardback as carefully as possible, gingerly opening the cover to verify I had the right edition. Scanning the title page, I spotted the identifying mark instantly — a small burn hole, caused by an errant ember from the old man's pipe. I lit my own, settling into his dusty old arm chair, and started to read.
I got this in an estate sale with a few pipes. this is the one I wanted out of the group. After I received it it looked like it was completely clean and never been smoked there’s no teeth marks at all on the stem. Although stamping is rubbed off in part. I can’t make out the last part. The other side says 9487, I’ve located the 9487’s The text looks like it says CMPHE after the GBD symbol any ideas?
I usually shop for pipe tobacco at PipesandCigars.com or Smokingpipes.com, but TobaccoPipes.com makes browsing for a blend easier than both. Prices seem generally in the same ballpark. https://www.tobaccopipes.com/pipe-tobacco/
All things being equal, I've been using smokingpipes.com or tobaccopipes.com over P&C. The customer service is great and since I'm right between the two, I get my goodies in 2 days via regular mail, which makes my tail wag.
Interesting video by George Bruno https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIcr_FLUVV4 <<Pipe smoking has helped keep me sane for decades. Tobacco pipes are essentially therapists you carry in your pocket. I don't always have stress or problems, but when I do, I may puff a pipe. Or if I know someone who is stressed out or going through something, and they show any interest in pipes, I offer them a free pipe and show them how to use it for comfort, peace, and focus. The REAL reason why pipe smoking is so powerful.>>
Comments
"Scandinavian Tobacco Group Launches This Pipe Life"
https://tobaccobusiness.com/this-pipe-life-stg-lane/
Wasn't this announcement a bit late?
Little Love Lost
Monday, October 29, 2018 by Andrew Wike
A package arrives at your doorstep. You tear through the cardboard, sending a torrent of packing peanuts and bubble wrap through the air. The debris settles, and it's finally in your hands: your new pipe.
Turning it over in your fingers, you marvel at the shimmer of the contrast stain against the natural light; the infinite and microfine threads of the horn mount; the careful and deliberate funneling within the bit. Its perfection enchants you.
You run to your cellar and fill the bowl with your favorite leaf, sure to leave plenty of room for the tobacco to rise and plume once it meets the flame. As you smoke through that first bowl, you applaud the smoothness of the draw, the comfort of the bit against your teeth. They affirm the thought that grows in the back of your mind: That this pipe, this beautifully sculpted and precisely engineered piece, was made specifically for you and no other.
Over the next few days, your eyes flash to the piece. Other pipes line your cabinet, but you remember only its sweet taste, the way it fits in your hand like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. A smile creases your face as you force yourself to wait, to give it the proper resting time; eventually you give in and imbibe once again from that chalice of briar and vulcanite.
In autumn, your most prized possession inspires great hikes beneath an ever-changing canopy of rich carmine and burnt yellow. And even as the forest surrenders its final leaf to winter, it offers you respite against the cold and the dark. It fills your den with that comforting scent no candle or artificial fragrance can ever match. It's the smell of tradition, of history, of shared experience bound by neither time nor space. And so it goes… at least for a while.
The icy fractals on your window begin to recede, and you notice a change. Though the briar still stands at the center of your rack, it no longer whispers or beckons or calls. Its rim has darkened, its finish now warmer with patina, just like all the others. You still remember the enraptured feeling of that first smoke, so you keep chasing that perfect moment, an echo of laughter caught between frames. But it's not the same.
You light the pipe without ceremony; you ash it without care. You abandon it in the built-in pipe rest of your ashtray, noticing its absence only when you empty it days later. You wedge it in a slot near the back of your rack, seething as dottle spills to the floor. You tell yourself it's time for a bit of spring cleaning, and without remorse or hesitation, you send it away, along with a few other forgotten and misfit briars, to be traded-in. Little love lost.
A few weeks later, you meet up with friends at your local pipe club. As you enter the lounge, great clouds of smoke waft through the air, a wonderful melange of scents and aromas from various tobaccos, all intermixing in the small room. Through the haze, you make out one of the group's more seasoned members showing off a new pipe, and you rush to join the revelry.
"It's beautiful," one friend says, "I've seen nothing like it."
"Splendid. Absolutely splendid," says another.
You open your mouth to offer your own congratulations, but your words fail. You edge closer to the man's showpiece, each step confirming your suspicions. There in the center of the room, surrounded by your fellow club members, lifted to eye level in another's hands, is your pipe. Memories flicker through your mind: Reflective hikes through fallen leaves, a comforting warmth on a winter's night. For a moment, a pang of regret seizes your breath. But then it's gone, replaced by the laughter and cheers of friends in a smoky room.
<<Hello Folks,
https://www.rubylane.com/collectibles?cat=Tobacciana:Pipes
TOBACCO BUSINESS AWARDS 2019 - NOMINEES REVEALED!
Tobacco Business Magazine is excited to announce the 2019 nominees for the Tobacco Business Awards. These awards were designed to honor the best businesses, entrepreneurs, and products in various categories of the tobacco, vapor and alternative industries. The Tobacco Business Awards will be presented at an exclusive party during Tobacco Plus Expo (TPE), which will be held in Las Vegas, Feb. 11-13, 2019."The Tobacco Business Awards is about recognizing those industry professionals, businesses, and entrepreneurs, that think outside the box and have disrupted the industry in some way," explains Ben Stimpson, managing director at Tobacco Business Magazine. "This is our chance to recognize those professionals and businesses for their achievements, tenacity, innovation, and new ideas."
To reflect the growth seen in Tobacco Business Magazine over the past year, this year's awards are also expanded from last year. New this year are categories highlighting Nicaraguan and Dominican cigars, boutique cigars, leading tobacconists and women who have made great contributions to the industry.
Nominees for the 2019 Tobacco Business Awards are as follows:
DOMINICAN CIGAR OF THE YEAR
Davidoff 50 Years Limited Edition Diademas Finas (Davidoff Cigars)Nat Sherman Timeless Dominican (Nat Sherman Intl.)Pistoff Kristoff (Kristoff Cigars)Balmoral Añejo XO Connecticut (Royal Agio Cigars)Diamond Crown (J.C. Newman Cigar Co.)NICARAGUAN CIGAR OF THE YEAR
Perdomo Reserve 10th Anniversary Champagne (Perdomo Cigars)Romeo San Andres by Romeo y Julieta (Altadis U.S.A.)Drew Estate Florida Sun Grown (FSG) (Drew Estate)Macanudo Inspirado Red (General Cigar Co.)Bellas Artes (AJ Fernandez Cigars)BOUTIQUE CIGAR OF THE YEAR
Las Calaveras (2017) (Crowned Heads)Big Papi by David Ortiz (Tabacalera El Artista)Cornelius (Cornelius & Anthony)Micallef Reserva Limitada Privada (Micallef Cigars)Farce (Room101)MASS MARKET PRODUCT OF THE YEAR
Tatiana Groovy Blue (Miami)Panther Cigarillos (Royal Agio Cigars)Lex12 (S&M Brands)Signal (Ohserase Manufacturing)Golden Harvest (Rouseco, Inc.)ACCESSORY MANUFACTURER OF THE YEAR
Boveda (Humidification)Bic (Lighters)Xikar (Lighters, cutters, butane, humidification)Missouri Meerschaum (Corncob pipes)Tobacco Outlet Products (Candles, sprays, air fresheners)NEXT-GENERATION PRODUCT OF THE YEAR
Cannadips (Cannadips)Cue Vapor System (EAS)Bo One (MMS Distribution)Cig2o (Spark Vapor)Rogue Nicotine Chewing Gum (NicoGen Pharma Solutions)ENTREPRENEUR OF THE YEAR
Christian Eiora (C.L.E. Cigars)Rocky Patel (Rocky Patel Premium Cigars)Michael Herklots (Nat Sherman Intl.)Michael Giordano (Quality Importers)Kaizad Hansotia (Gurkha Cigars)WOMAN OF THE YEAR
Lana Fraser (Davidoff of Geneva USA)Liana Fuente (Arturo Fuente)Victoria McKee (General Cigar Co.)Lissette Perez Carrillo (E.P. Carrillo)Courtney Smith (Cornelius & Anthony)LEGACY AWARD
Nestor Miranda (Miami Cigar & Co.)Heinrich Villiger (Villiger Cigars)Dean Rouse (Dean’s)Benji Menendez (General Cigar Co.)Jeff Martin (Rouseco, Inc.)TOBACCONIST OF THE YEAR
Havana Phil’s (Greensboro, NC)Casa Fuente (Las Vegas, NV)Soho Cigar Bar (New York, NY)BURN by Rocky Patel (Pittsburgh, PA)W. Curtis Draper Fine Tobacconist (Washington, D.C.)TOBACCO CHAIN OR FRANCHISE OF THE YEAR
Casa de MontecristoCollett EnterprisesDiamond Crown LoungeSmoker Friendly InternationalWild Bill’s TobaccoVoting is open from Nov. 1, 2018 through Dec. 31, 2018. Winners will be announced during an exclusive party on the opening night of Tobacco Plus Expo (TPE) on Feb. 11, 2019 in Las Vegas. To vote, visit tobaccobusiness.com/awards19.
Fireball
Monday, November 5, 2018 by Joe Lucas
"She said fireball, but I thought she was talking about my face." I sat, slowly puffing on my pipe as the phrase continued to reverberate in my head. The music restarted, drowning out the conversation of the nearby table, leaving me lost in regard to context. My mind immediately began filling in blanks. Non-sequiturs should never be taken lightly and my fellow patrons were being far too cavalier with them for my comfort. We are living in a society after all.
I took a puff to reground myself, but as the sweetness of the Virginias enveloped my palate, that dastardly phrase continued to ricochet inside my skull. The possibilities were too endless. Was it the latest Luke Bryan song? The origin story of a long since forgotten epic feud, pitting two great houses against each other in honorable combat? Perhaps it was an idea for a hipsterish t-shirt, destined to declare the ironic indiference of its wearers. Maybe the gathering to my left was a reunion of astronauts, swapping amusing stories of publically unreleased alien contact. I had to know more.
In my distraction, our waitress had returned to the table. I glanced up, but was unable to bend my reality back to normal.
"Fireball!" I said. "But it was a face!"
"Are you OK, sir?" My wife was wearing an expression of embarrassment combined with exasperation "He's fine; he just has these episodes when he overhears snippets of conversation. He'll be fine soon."
I did the only thing I could in that moment. I grasped the pipe in the palm of my hand and ran my fingers across the sandblasted finish. The deep chasms of the blasted grain subtly lifted and dropped my thumb, mirroring the contractions my mind was experiencing with that phrase. The music, patrons and bar all faded into my mental distance, seemingly vanishing behind the cloud of smoke wafting from my bowl.
My wife tried pulling me back to reality by asking if I had heard her last statement. I muttered what I thought was agreement, but it came out, "Yes, I understa—Face! Face, I say! Um, that is, you have a point when—Ack! Fireball!" This was her territory and she knew how to navigate it. She's developed the skill of being able to detect when I'm not fully present, rescuing me, and then pouncing on my gratitude like some sort of jungle cat three weeks removed from her last meal. I didn't know it at the time, but I had just given up my Saturday to go antiquing. I really hate non-sequiturs.
I returned to the task at hand, stretched my legs out underneath the faded wooden table, and placed the pipe back in my mouth, returning to the important work of solving the mystery of the fireball. Another puff, and the Virginias melded together with my beer in just the right way. The only respite from the insidious phrase were the notes of Perique cutting through the Virginias and the IPA, seemingly beacons guiding me through the fog of that damned sentence. The brief moment of peace from the fireball / face quandary was a welcomed one.
The urge to explain that sentence overcame me. I glanced to my left, but the group had gone. Clarity would not come. I took another swig of my beer, and kicked my feet up as the band closed out their set. As the music faded, other conversations becoming more clear. From behind I heard "And it goes to show you, never pass up a chance at tossing a pastrami."
I slowly stood up from my chair, finished what was left of my beer, gathered up my pipe and tobacco pouch, and started to walk outside, shooting daggers in the general direction of those pastrami tossers. My wife caught up, and as the night breeze greeted us at the door, she leaned in for a kiss, and then started telling me about all the great antique shops she's been wanting to visit.
Hey Everyone,
Have you heard Congress is close to lifting some of the harmful regulations put on cigar businesses? But, they need our help to get it across the finish line.
Send a message directly to your legislators at https://www.cigaraction.org/act-now on IPCPR’s website. It only takes a couple of minutes, and we need as many people as possible to participate. Just enter your info, then edit the message or send it as is, and you’re done.
Let’s show Congress what the cigar industry is all about.
Cheers,
Smoker's Haven
THE ADVENT OF THE BRIAR PIPE Part 1
Monsieur Regard and Monsieur Buat had come to Beaucaire for the fair. As delegates from the Chambre Consultative des Arts et Manufactures, they could not miss such an important event, to which merchants and merchandise flocked from all Mediterranean countries, as well as from some countries in the North.
That evening they were dining in the inn, exchanging ideas and planning the next day when suddenly one of them broke off in mid-sentence, left speechless and grabbed the salt cellar. He examined it, weighed it up, sniffed it and scratched it with his fingernail. He gave it to his friend, who returned his quizzical and surprised expression and also set about scrutinizing the object excitedly. Being experts in wood products, they had great trouble understanding the nature of the wood. It looked good, both for its colour as well as for its grain, but above all the surface was hard, dense and tough. What on earth was it?
In the fifth century AD, an abbey had been founded at the foot of the Jura mountains, located where the River Bienne joins the Tacon. The Abbaye de Condat almost immediately became a place of pilgrimage and in the seventh century was later renamed in honour of Saint Oyend, which attracted even more pilgrims. In the twelfth century, the name changed once and for all to Saint-Claude de Besançon, as was the slowly growing town, named after the saint whose body had been found in an incorruptible state in 1160, 600 years after his death. On the strength of the miracles in Saint-Claude the place became one of the key places of worship in Europe: the inhabitants specialised in welcoming the pilgrims and in the production of objects in bone and horn, but especially in wood. At first the objects were religious in nature (statuettes, rosaries), but later they became more profane, such as boxes, spoons, simple musical instruments, pen holders, combs, necklaces, tobacco boxes, Ulm-style decorated pipe stems in porcelain or wood, and also whole pipes in wood. The abbey’s fire in 1799 and subsequent Napoleonic oppressive measures against the clergy dealt a heavy blow to a place whose livelihood depended on pilgrims. Nevertheless, the artisans forged ahead and increased their smoking accessories continuing with the pipe stems and also increasing the production of pipes in boxwood or cherry wood. In the mid-nineteenth century, when Regard and Buat came into contact with the salt cellar, Saint-Claude was working at full capacity and apart from the domestic workshops, it also included larger manufacturing centres run by hydropower. The two delegates at Beaucaire represented all those artisans, and it was embarrassing indeed to be unable to identify the material of the object. However, it wasn’t long before they asked around and found out, acquired samples to take back home, test them to see if the wood was suitable for pipe making, which was not from the trunk but from a root, in fact briar root.
According to Madame Germaine Pacaud-Faton, member of a well-known family in Saint-Claude who mentions this episode at that time, the discovery of the salt cellar dates back to 1854. This is one of the most credible stories, but there are many other varied accounts of the first appearance of briar wood that are quite similar, but none that are identical. In general, the episode can be dated as shortly after 1850, but not in all cases. The “discoverer” in each tale is a wood trader from the Midi, a certain David suggested by a wood trader, or else a traveler in the Midi. Like the two delegates visiting Beaucaire, they all end up bringing back to Saint-Claude their find. However, there are others, such as farmers or artisans from Saint-Claude, the Midi, Ajaccio or other places in Corsica, who were already familiar with the briar root, to the extent that they were able to carve it to supply a substitute pipe to a Frenchman from Geneva, or an admirer visiting Napoleon’s tomb or birthplace, who unfortunately had just broken their meerschaum pipe, or else a variation is an unlucky French pipe maker who lost his pipe in the Maquis. As remarked earlier, the events are frequently dated just after the mid-nineteenth century. A distinction then needs to be made between the dates of the “discovery” and later the first manufacture and sale of pipes in Saint-Claude. A celebratory booklet of the centenary that bears the dates 1856 - 1956 suggests that there is little doubt about the real date, but other equally trustworthy sources indicate slightly different dates. The events set in the Napoleonic regions, however, took place a few years after the death of the Emperor, in 1821, and this is where discrepancies arise. These inconsistencies increase in the case of a few antique French manufacturers who claim to have been making briar pipes as early as the beginning of the nineteenth century. In other words, a jumble of similar but different accounts, which are in a certain sense comparable to processes in the classic oral tradition, whereby each person adds, removes or alters some information from an account told by someone else. But what is the truth about the origin of briar?
THE ADVENT OF THE BRIAR PIPE Part 2
For centuries pipes were made from wood in a few forest regions in Europe. They were far less fragile than clay and sea-foam, and were ideal for making stems. However, entire pipes were made from wood and to solve the problem of the pipe burning easily the bowls were lined with tin or other materials. In the quest for ever better solutions, all types of wood were tested, both from the trunk and the root. They were looking for the densest wood, introducing and perfecting various processes of honing, drying and curing. This was natural, as the success of the artisans relied on the quality of the finished product. It seems strange that none of them ever tried testing the Erica Arborea root. However, the places in various parts of Europe where wooden pipe manufacture was mostly concentrated were more or less far from the Mediterranean coast, and only then in the hills. Not too far away from the sea, large evergreen shrubs grew producing lovely white flowers of which no one took much notice. Shrubs, not trees, whose branches at most could be used to make brooms or for the fireplace. Yet, the solution, the philosopher’s stone for pipe makers was right there, close at hand, combined with the bushes, but well hidden: underground.
Just below the ground’s surface, but not always (roughly one in three) the Erica Arborea produces a growth, a sort of rhizome, an oval or spherical mass called a “burl” from which the roots extend. The fact that this is not always present suggests that it may be an anomaly caused by some external interference, as may happen with other plant species. Nevertheless, when the burl is present, it serves to anchor the plant firmly to the soil and above all hold water in periods of drought. Following a forest blaze the shrub is able to grow again, thanks to the nutrients stored in the rhizome. Pipe makers looking for this material need to find plants that are at least fifty years old, otherwise the burl (when it is present) is too small. Once the plant above ground has been removed, the burl is extracted laboriously from the soil. It is then roughly stripped of the roots, kept moist and sheltered from the sun (to avoid cracking as it slowly dries out) until it is transported to the sawmill. Here it is cleaned more thoroughly and then cut into ebauchons and plateaux which will be used for the pipes, discarding the rotten, useless or flawed parts. At this point, the ebauchons and plateaux are graded according to quality and then boiled in huge vats of water to remove all resins and tars. They are then slowly dried and cured. Only at the end of the process will the pipe maker come into play. Nowadays, finding the perfect burl is less easy than it was in the mid-nineteenth century, when the harvesting of Erica Arborea was just beginning. Moreover, the plants are sought in places that have been untouched by fire in the last seventy years: burls that have stimulated regrowth of the plant following a fire are of no use. In addition, quality pipes require spherical burls and this complicates the matter further.
Going back to the early nineteenth century, or even earlier, let us step into an artisan’s shoes, who is familiar with the notions of refining, curing and carving wood, who has ended up in an area of Mediterranean scrubland: how likely is it that he could have found the Erica Arborea plant out of all the others (without even knowing the species) exclaiming: “That’s what I need to make a pipe”? Most unlikely. However, if for some reason he happened to see a burl, one of the best ones, wouldn’t he have been at least curious and might think: “Let’s try to use this”? Something like this must have happened at least around the mid-nineteenth century. Whether this occurred prior to this date is difficult to prove, but two things should be taken into consideration: many of the great discoveries arise out of an unpredictable string of chance events and an invention may be considered “ahead” of its time, thus lying in limbo before appearing on the scene when all the favourable conditions come together. If the tale of the salt cellar is true, in 1854 in the Beaucaire area (almost at the mouth of the Rhone, thus near the Mediterranean) or in any case in the South of France (the Midi) burls of briar were already being extracted and in some way crafted into objects. Some books, without any solid evidence, speak about crude briar pipes carved with knives well before 1850 and in use until 1870, or else of briar pipes shaped by inmates in the prison of Nimes in 1851. Other accounts, other more or less reliable versions refer to shepherds that made their own pipes in briar, or of someone that had bought blocks of pre-treated briar in Beaucaire that were ready to be carved and had taken them back to Saint-Claude. We will never know for sure what actually happened.
THE ADVENT OF THE BRIAR PIPE Part 3
Ultimately, however, does this matter? It may be true that someone had already discovered the burl’s properties and crafted more or less perfect pipes before the new material arrived in Saint-Claude. However, even if this were so, hardly anyone had noticed. Only when the first samples arrived at the foot of the Jura mountains, when all the inhabitants, fully equipped with tools and professional skills set to work, repeatedly experimenting and starting up production and distribution, only then did a new age actually begin, and briar pipes appeared on the scene in all their glory.
It wasn’t long before the artisans in Saint-Claude became familiar with the burl and perfected the various stages in the manufacturing process. The fact that the wood was so hard and dense did not discourage them: indeed, it was precisely the material of their dreams. However, the greatest surprise was when they came to smoke the pipe: the well-honed wood had no strong taste that overpowered the taste of the tobacco. Moreover, thanks to the mineral substances in the wood, it resisted heat much better than other types of wood. Its irregular structure also contained countless tiny cavities that interrupted the continuity of the material, thereby providing excellent heat insulation in the bowl and porosity that was essential to absorb the liquids related to combustion. Not only was briar a denser type of wood, it was also the ideal solution for the tobacco pipe.
It was also the ideal solution for Saint-Claude. Taking into account the nearby towns, the number of wood turners increased from 500 in 1811 to 2300 pipe makers in 66 different workshops in 1892. The number further rose to 4000 in 1912 and 6000 in 1925. Initially, there was very little difference in the shape of the smoking device compared to previous models, but what made the difference was the material itself: one needed only to try it out to realise this, and an increasing number of smokers did just that. Pipe making in Saint-Claude, which quickly acquired the status of capital of pipe makers, had developed into an industry, with solutions that were technically at the forefront: in 1863 Joseph-Honoré Dalloz, a sculptor and inventor from the town, designed a machine based on the principles of the pantograph that was capable of duplicating twelve identical pipes from one larger model. The factories expanded rapidly and became better equipped: profits soared.
However, around the turn of the century, or shortly before, alarm bells started to ring: numerous pipe specialists were packing up and leaving for London, drawn by attractive offers. Briar pipes were manufactured there from the 1860s, and a Frenchman, Emil Loewe, is said to have been the first to make briar pipes in London. However, London, becoming once again the capital of pipe manufacturing, was not the only city where briar pipes took root: from the 1870s production was established in Nuremburg and Dublin, and in Molina di Barasso, Italy, in the province of Varese, where the Milanese manufacturer, Ferdinando Rossi, established a large factory in 1897. The pipe makers of Saint-Claude would remain the leaders for a number of years, but they no longer had the monopoly.
As for the other pipes, in the mid-nineteenth century while briar pipe making was still in its infancy, clay, meerschaum, porcelain and other materials continued to be used, but their fate had been sealed: in addition to cigars, this new fascinating material was another cause for concern in the competitive market, a truly lethal combination that was capable of even weakening the giants, of altering the characteristics of smoking worldwide.
Tobacco Vampires
Thursday, November 8, 2018 by Chuck Stanion
My tobacco is disappearing, and after exhaustive investigation, I now know why: Tobacco vampires. It was difficult to believe at first, but my research has provided hard data sets that are impossible to interpret otherwise. The results may be frightening, but the fact remains that tobacco vampires are rampaging through the countryside and no pipe smoker's tobacco cellar is safe.
My suspicions were aroused when I noticed that every time I go back to an open tin for a fresh smoke, there is a little less tobacco waiting. I started weighing the tins whenever I filled a bowl, and they were each missing 4-5 grams of tobacco on each occasion. It's a gradual reduction, easy for people to miss, but with my extraordinary perception, and by running datum through custom algorithms that only I can comprehend, I quickly found the problem.
Lurking in the depths of blackest night is a creature so pernicious, so despicable, so insidious that it has been nearly impossible for the human mind to accept. However, as repulsive as the concept may be, as much as we'd like to repress reality, our nightmare does indeed exist as the very embodiment of evil. It is known as the dreaded tobacco vampire.
They slip through the tiniest gaps in windows and doors, entering an unsuspecting pipe smoker's home to ransack the tobacco cellar, absconding with a portion of the tobacco in every open tin, evading discovery by taking only a little at a time.
Never has a tobacco vampire been captured, and they've been witnessed only on preternaturally rare occasions. I am among the few who have seen one and survived, perhaps because it was the briefest of peripheral glances, caught in the bathroom mirror as I was passing. I'm not sure if our lives are in danger, but our lives are of mere collateral import compared to the threat to our tobacco.
After seeing one of these creatures, I immediately wrote down its description. Tobacco vampires are covered in coarse, oily gray hair matted to their abhorrently misshapen bodies, and can ooze, walk or slime through any environment, or drift in a cloud of noxious smoke, depending on their mood. They are virtually invisible when it suits them, and the best way to detect one is by smell, recognizable by its nauseating melange of sulfur, spoiled fish, and bleach. That odor is similar to the way my cousin Burnwound smells after his weekly rolls in the compost, so I'm predisposed to its detection.
Sadly, my home was again attacked last night. I didn't see the vampire, but I noticed today that there is less tobacco in my open tins than I thought and, as always, the terrible odor lingered throughout the house until after my morning coffee and shower. So there were vampires in my home last night, that is certain.
They may have raided you as well. I advise keeping watch on your tobacco. I've not yet found how to repel these creatures, but I'll report when I do.
By the way, your spouse may be willing to help. I told my wife that I'll be buying lots more tobacco to keep pace with these siphoning scumbag vampires, and she seemed unsurprised. "I can relate," she said. "Some dastardly creature has been leaving socks and full ashtrays around the house for 30 years."
So it's now incontrovertible: These creatures come in different species, with different specialties, and they're everywhere. "The problem is even worse than I thought," I said. "I'm boarding up the windows."
Many thanks!
https://www.alpascia.com/moments/en/detail/139/tobacco-pipe-parts
Interesting text on pipe smoking and postage stamps, for all you philatelists out there.
https://www.alpascia.com/moments/en/detail/105/smoke-through-the-post
Here's one of many pix at the page......
https://rebornpipes.com/category/father-tom-stories/
<<CATEGORY ARCHIVES: FATHER TOM STORIES
A collection of Father Tom stories that I [Steve Laug] have written over the past years. New ones will be added regularly. One of my writing instructors used to say write about things you have lived – so I have. The Father Tom stories incorporate experiences I have had over the years as a Presbyterian minister with my love of the pipe. Many of the circumstances and events of the stories as well as the settings are part of the regular story of my life. They are here for your reading pleasure. It is my hope that they will give you a bit of pleasure as you read them. If they do, they have achieved what I imagined for them. Enjoy!>>
https://www.smokingpipes.com/accessories/books/
https://www.smokingpipes.com/accessories/books/moreinfo.cfm
Recollection by Daniel Bumgardner
The clock's pendulum hung dormant for over three decades, lending the old longcase a look of staunch repose. Its constant, steadily metered swing once complemented the intermittent tinkling of typewriter keys, scribbling of quill, and flicking of pipe lighter. A dottle of petrified tobacco lay in the ashtray, adjacent to a heavily patinated brass magnifying glass, weathered spectacles, and the exposed, yellowed pages of an open ledger.
Half a century of dust hung suspended in the air as I sifted through the remains of my great uncle's study, the floorboards creaking under the shifting weight of the heavy leather volumes. The smell of antiquity permeated the air: a combination of the grassy, vanilla aroma of aging paper and a faint hint of long-since dissipated pipe smoke. I was searching for a specific tome, one which my uncle regularly revisited around this time of year as an accompaniment to his nightly pipe. As I extricated the stiff spines from their resting spots, I wondered if it was possible they had grown heavier over the years, an effect of moisture siphoned from and exhaled back into the air like a fireplace bellows.
I reached a box labeled, simply, "pipes." The flourishing penmanship bespoke an era in which my aunt's steady shorthand was meant only for her own deciphering, and I recognized the slight embellishment she reserved for only the most sentimental of items. I knew I was close. The book in question rarely left my uncle's chairside table, occasionally becoming something of a makeshift coaster over the spring and summer. When he passed, my aunt boxed everything according to its corresponding location, so I was certain the novel would be with his pipe collection. I moved a few cigar boxes, hearing the tinkling of tampers and pipe tools within them, and sure enough, there it was. I lifted the hardback as carefully as possible, gingerly opening the cover to verify I had the right edition. Scanning the title page, I spotted the identifying mark instantly — a small burn hole, caused by an errant ember from the old man's pipe. I lit my own, settling into his dusty old arm chair, and started to read.
Current issue -- https://tobaccobusiness.com/magazine/TOB_nov_dec_2018/index.html
Back issues -- https://tobaccobusiness.com/issue-archive/
https://www.alpascia.com/moments/en/detail/36/panettone-and-a-cloud-of-smoke
https://www.pipestud.com/?orderby=price-desc&v=7516fd43adaa
Prices seem generally in the same ballpark.
https://www.tobaccopipes.com/pipe-tobacco/
<<Pipe smoking has helped keep me sane for decades. Tobacco pipes are essentially therapists you carry in your pocket. I don't always have stress or problems, but when I do, I may puff a pipe. Or if I know someone who is stressed out or going through something, and they show any interest in pipes, I offer them a free pipe and show them how to use it for comfort, peace, and focus. The REAL reason why pipe smoking is so powerful.>>