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Kevin Godbee - Feb 14, 2025
- 5 min read
A few years ago, I remember it well, I received in the post an unexpected gift of the sort that inspires the instantaneous rendition of an awkward happy dance. I’m apparently not a very good dancer, at least if the reactions of my kid and dog hold true. Everybody’s a critic. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. (It’s a good thing disco died before I gained any sort of notoriety for my exhibitions. When it comes to tripping the light fantastic, I’m more like Elaine from Seinfeld than Saturday Night Fever’s Tony Manero. No videos are forthcoming. Don’t even ask.)
The plainly wrapped parcel was in the postbox, my own address cryptically hand-written as the return, and no postmark indicating the source of the package. Since I had no recollection of having sent anything to myself, it was a genuine surprise. After a little head scratching, I pulled open the wrapping and opened the box without ceremony, only to find another similarly wrapped one within, also lacking any clues as to the package’s origin. Curious. A mail bomb? Surely anyone with seriously nefarious intentions would be more thoughtful about not arousing undue suspicions.
I poured a dram of my finest whisky, just in case it might be my last, took the smaller parcel to the farthest reaches of the weed patch loosely referred to as the “yard,” and, listening carefully for ticking, carefully sliced the sealing tape with my pocket knife. I carefully opened the flaps, and averted my eyes while pondering that digital detonation devices probably don’t tick… Too late to call in the EOD.
Fortunately, no explosive device was detonated, no deadly gas released.
Instead, inside was a plain white envelope emblazoned in pink ink with my name and adorned by a small heart. Cute. The envelope concealed a little card, with the hand-written words, “Your tobaccos turn me on.” It was signed simply “Scarlett J,” with another little heart. Ever since seeing Lost in Translation, I’ve had a thing for Scarlett Johansson, but I had no idea she was a pipe smoker. Bonus!
Under the envelope, wrapped in bubble packing, was a fabric pipe sock of anonymous origin, quite plain, with a thin cord tied round the top. I took the package back inside, poured another Scotch, and sat down to explore the contents further.
After removing the pipe from the sock, I immediately recognized it. I’d seen it not long before on a seller’s site. I’d even shared the link with a friend who shares my adoration for interesting old pieces, and who knows of my predilection for a particular actress, at least in one role. While there may be another one like this out there, it’s unlikely. It’s a beautiful old Comoy’s Virgin Briar made for the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair, a uniquely fluted apple with a tapered stem.
These were all the clues I needed. Using my finely honed skills of detection, I now knew both where it had come from, and who had been responsible for it finding its way to me. I gave my presumed benefactor a call, and employed all the subtle interrogation techniques I’d learned from watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds in an attempt to draw a confession out of him. Eventually, he broke by asking the question, “How does it smoke?” Aha! Got you.
But, at that point, I couldn’t answer him. I’d been too busy gawking at the thing to fill it with tobacco. So, while we were talking, I gave it a go.
I’d just finished a bowl of some excellent vintage leaf in another really nice pipe. It was a great smoke, but nothing prepared me for what was to come. There was so much more depth and complexity here, with nuances clearly articulated that were almost completely missing in the prior bowl. The virginias delivered a caramel-like sweetness, the orientals swirled over my tongue like a genie set free from Aladdin’s lamp, and the latakia rendered softer, more polished. In a word, it was superb.
Even after all these years, it’s still unfathomable to me that one pipe can deliver a really good smoke, while another can transcend. Beyond purity of taste, there’s some sort of fascinating interplay, an inexplicable synergy between certain tobaccos and briars that transforms the smoking experience into something more, something sublime.
For all we know and understand about pipes, about pipe making, about briar and brands, it remains the unknown that continues to fascinate and delight. With this pipe, was there something special about the wood that made it great? Was there something about the way it was made that perhaps enhanced its strengths, while deleting any potential weaknesses? In many cases with very old pipes, I’m inclined to attribute a superior smoke to the way it had been treated during all the years I did not possess it, but this one had been so lightly smoked that the cutting lathe’s chuck marks were still visible in the bowl, so it wasn’t that. It’s even possible that the last time this nearly pristine pipe was smoked, maybe the only time, was shortly after it was sold. Eighty years is a long time to rest.
Here’s the problem, the sleeping dogs part. After such a magical smoke comes the fear that the next bowl might not live up to the expectations set by the first. It’s unlikely, sure, but it’s happened enough times in the past that the thought crosses my mind. Or could it be that the excitement of receiving this precious gift had simply influenced me sufficiently to make me focus more on the subtleties causing the experience to seem better than it was? Would it be best just to have the memory of that great smoke intact in my noggin, rather than risk disappointment?
It took me a long time to give it another go. Fortunately, it again delivered, and has every time I’ve smoked it since. Maybe there’s still a bit of bias at play, the experience seeming better than it objectively is, but that really doesn’t matter. It remains one of the “special” pipes to me, one that doesn’t come into rotation often, but one that always delivers a fantastic smoke. The story of how it came to be in my collection just makes it that much better.
Written by Kevin Godbee
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A few years ago, I remember it well, I received in the post an unexpected gift of the sort that inspires the instantaneous rendition of an awkward happy dance. I’m apparently not a very good dancer, at least if the reactions of my kid and dog hold true. Everybody’s a critic. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. (It’s a good thing disco died before I gained any sort of notoriety for my exhibitions. When it comes to tripping the light fantastic, I’m more like Elaine from Seinfeld than Saturday Night Fever’s Tony Manero. No videos are forthcoming. Don’t even ask.) The plainly wrapped parcel was in the postbox, my own address cryptically hand-written as the return, and no postmark indicating the source of the package. Since I had no recollection of having sent anything to myself, it was a genuine surprise. After a little head scratching, I pulled open the wrapping and opened the box without ceremony, only to find another similarly wrapped one within, also lacking any clues as to the package’s origin. Curious. A mail bomb? Surely anyone with seriously nefarious intentions would be more thoughtful about not arousing undue suspicions. I poured a dram of my finest whisky, just in case it might be my last, took the smaller parcel to the farthest reaches of the weed patch loosely referred to as the “yard,” and, listening carefully for ticking, carefully sliced the sealing tape with my pocket knife. I carefully opened the flaps, and averted my eyes while pondering that digital detonation devices probably don’t tick… Too late to call in the EOD. Fortunately, no explosive device was detonated, no deadly gas released. Instead, inside was a plain white envelope emblazoned in pink ink with my name and adorned by a small heart. Cute. The envelope concealed a little card, with the hand-written words, “Your tobaccos turn me on.” It was signed simply “Scarlett J,” with another little heart. Ever since seeing Lost in Translation, I’ve had a thing for Scarlett Johansson, but I had no idea she was a pipe smoker. Bonus! Under the envelope, wrapped in bubble packing, was a fabric pipe sock of anonymous origin, quite plain, with a thin cord tied round the top. I took the package back inside, poured another Scotch, and sat down to explore the contents further. After removing the pipe from the sock, I immediately recognized it. I’d seen it not long before on a seller’s site. I’d even shared the link with a friend who shares my adoration for interesting old pieces, and who knows of my predilection for a particular actress, at least in one role. While there may be another one like this out there, it’s unlikely. It’s a beautiful old Comoy’s Virgin Briar made for the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair, a uniquely fluted apple with a tapered stem. These were all the clues I needed. Using my finely honed skills of detection, I now knew both where it had come from, and who had been responsible for it finding its way to me. I gave my presumed benefactor a call, and employed all the subtle interrogation techniques I’d learned from watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds in an attempt to draw a confession out of him. Eventually, he broke by asking the question, “How does it smoke?” Aha! Got you. But, at that point, I couldn’t answer him. I’d been too busy gawking at the thing to fill it with tobacco. So, while we were talking, I gave it a go. I’d just finished a bowl of some excellent vintage leaf in another really nice pipe. It was a great smoke, but nothing prepared me for what was to come. There was so much more depth and complexity here, with nuances clearly articulated that were almost completely missing in the prior bowl. The virginias delivered a caramel-like sweetness, the orientals swirled over my tongue like a genie set free from Aladdin’s lamp, and the latakia rendered softer, more polished. In a word, it was superb. Even after all these years, it’s still unfathomable to me that one pipe can deliver a really good smoke, while another can transcend. Beyond purity of taste, there’s some sort of fascinating interplay, an inexplicable synergy between certain tobaccos and briars that transforms the smoking experience into something more, something sublime. For all we know and understand about pipes, about pipe making, about briar and brands, it remains the unknown that continues to fascinate and delight. With this pipe, was there something special about the wood that made it great? Was there something about the way it was made that perhaps enhanced its strengths, while deleting any potential weaknesses? In many cases with very old pipes, I’m inclined to attribute a superior smoke to the way it had been treated during all the years I did not possess it, but this one had been so lightly smoked that the cutting lathe’s chuck marks were still visible in the bowl, so it wasn’t that. It’s even possible that the last time this nearly pristine pipe was smoked, maybe the only time, was shortly after it was sold. Eighty years is a long time to rest. Here’s the problem, the sleeping dogs part. After such a magical smoke comes the fear that the next bowl might not live up to the expectations set by the first. It’s unlikely, sure, but it’s happened enough times in the past that the thought crosses my mind. Or could it be that the excitement of receiving this precious gift had simply influenced me sufficiently to make me focus more on the subtleties causing the experience to seem better than it was? Would it be best just to have the memory of that great smoke intact in my noggin, rather than risk disappointment? It took me a long time to give it another go. Fortunately, it again delivered, and has every time I’ve smoked it since. Maybe there’s still a bit of bias at […]
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 648. Our featured guest on tonight’s show is Ronnie Pecorini. Ronnie is the VP of the Chicagoland Pipe Collectors Club and the Director of the Chicago Pipe Show. He has been in the club for 17 years, and has attended 27 of the shows. Ronnie is also co-host of the Great Cigar & Pipe Show Podcast, which is coming up on seven years. He has been in FM sports radio for 20 years. You’ll hear about his background and what to expect at the upcoming Chicago pipe show. At the top of the show we will have an Ask the Tobacco Blender segment with Jeremy Reeves. Jeremy is the Head Blender at Cornell & Diehl, which is one of the most popular boutique pipe tobacco companies in the USA.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 647. Our featured guest on tonight’s show is Sykes Wilford. Sykes is the Founder and CEO of SmokingPipes.com, and Laudisi Enterprises. Brian and Sykes will discuss the Japanese pipe maker Hiroyuki Tokutomi. Unfortunately, Tokutomi passed a week ago on January 28, 2025 at the age of 76 after being hospitalized with pneumonia. Sykes knew him well from a friendship and business relationship that spanned over 20 years. He was considered by many to be one of the best pipe makers in the world with his innovative designs. At the top of the show, Brian will have a tobacco review of Low Country Waccamaw, which is a Virginia-Perique blend with some Izmir Orientals.
Yes, some things are just too hard. Take, for example, trying not to bust the budget on a new, long-sought pipe from one of the master creators. I faced this issue many years ago when I saw one of the gods of pipe creations resting coyly in a bricks-and-mortar glass display case. The creation was so alluring I could hardly keep myself from throwing my money down on the barrel head, and to hell with debt. Everybody carries some, so why not for a longed-for pipe from this emperor of the ebauchon? More on that dilemma in a moment, but first let’s relax with thoughts of a new year, new adventures, new pipes, and new tobacco blends. Joy reigns. Uh, yes, Pundit is a bit ga-ga over the possibility of new pipe toys. Just read about new pipes from BriarWorks at SmokingPipes.com. Oh, joy to behold! As we flutter into new days, this missive can be thought of as views of the heart (ahem, of the briar) and the joys of our wonderful hobby. The masterminds at Briar Works have birthed a beautiful calabash. Amazing and with a finish so fine it makes you want to dance. I wrote a story long ago on Briar Works in Columbia, Tenn., south of Nashville. The shop was in its early beginnings. Now Pete Provost and his crew have a smoking lounge to enhance the fun. This is the foundational meaning of a new year. Pipes and tobacco, especially from the masters, make our days go better from sunup to sundown. But I don’t want you to think Pundit has forgotten his old friends. I was reminiscing not long ago about the senescent drugstore, drugstore soda fountain counters, and drugstore pipes and tobacco. Of course, those days are well behind us, but I still have one or two of those old pipes and tobacco tins as well as dear thoughts of fountain-made milkshakes and those squat and colorful music boxes sitting right on the counter in which you shoved nickles and dimes to hear the latest rock-n-roll hit. And as I reminisced, I was struck by another reverie of an Elysian pipe I once absolutely drooled to own. Back those long years ago, I used to search many a brick and mortar pipe and tobacco shop, and even online. Nothing presented my pipe dream, until one day, there it was: A Former Lovat-billiard shape. Having no idea who or what a Former was, you can only guess my surprise when I discovered Former’s given name is Hans “Former” Nielsen, a premiere Danish carver, from the land of legendary pipe carvers. The “Former” nickname is from his younger days. Now 84-years-old, the famed Danish carver, who was trained by fabled Danish carvers and once worked for W.O. Larsen, continues to produce immaculate pipes of wondrous design. https://www.smokingpipes.com/smokingpipesblog/single.cfm/post/legendary-hans-former-nielsen Instant labor of Lovat love. I had to have it, no matter the price. But it was well above my pay grade. And if I had to purchase that pipe today, I would have to sell my house. Needless to say, I struggled to find a way to purchase the Lovat. I just could not in right mind figure a way to acquire the beauty and keep peace in the household. I passed on the purchase, walking downtrodden from the shop. But as they say, just ’cause he ain’t talking don’t mean he ain’t still figuring. And ponder on it I did. Several days later I figured maybe I could work out a plan with the shop owner, whom I knew. Why, yes, the shop owner said. With a hefty down payment, he could work out a plan over a few weeks. The deal was cut and I walked out the shop doors with my beautiful new goddess. Some days later, the lady of the household found my unsmoked pipe where I had stored it in a socks drawer, not wanting to attract attention. I was greeted with an evening conversation that began, “And, so, what did that pipe cost? Too much, like all the rest I see stored away?” I explained it was not bad, and that I had figured a payment plan over the next months that was affordable. “Oh,” said the lady of the house, “so it’s as much as a car payment!” It did not get better after that first round. After much interrogation, I caved. I returned the Former Lovat to the bricks and mortar, got a refund, and again slunk downtrodden from the shop — heartbroken. I think of that beautiful Former Lovat today, my Lovat’s Labor’s Lost. Now for Pipe Smokers of the Past. John Steinbeck, the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature winner, was born Feb. 27, 1902, in Salinas, Calif., and died Dec. 20, 1968, in New York. “You know how advice is. You only want it if it agrees with what you wanted to do anyway.”—John Steinbeck For a wonderful biographical and character study of Steinbeck, check out Zachary Podl’s Sept. 15, 2023 Pipe Line piece. https://www.smokingpipes.com/smokingpipesblog/single.cfm/post/john-steinbeck-writer-and-pipe-smoker
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 646. Our featured interview tonight is with Canadian pipe smoker and book author Fraser Moss. His first book, “The Unknown Canadian Pipe Smoker” discusses five companies that have shaped the Canadian pipe-smoking landscape. The book also guides readers new to the hobby on what to look for when buying their first pipe, and much more. It will soon be in stock at SmokingPipes.com. Fraser has been smoking a pipe for 25-years. He lives in rural Manitoba with his wife and their Samoyed, Luna. You can check out his YouTube channel at Prairie Piper. At the top of the show, Brian will chat about three special pipes that are a permanent part of his collection.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 645. Our featured interview tonight is with Pete Prevost. Pete is a pipe maker and the President of the BriarWorks pipe factory in Columbia Tennessee. BriarWorks is a a pipe maker co-op with several other pipe makers, including Todd Johnson, who co-founded it with Pete. Brian and Pete will be talking about what’s new at BriarWorks, and about their upcoming Muletown Pipe Show. At the top of the show, we will get caught up on a backlog of listener comments and correspondence. We will still have the regular mailbag segment near the end of the show as well.
