Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 652
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Kevin Godbee - Mar 11, 2025
- 1 min read
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 652. Our featured interview tonight is with J.B. “Brandon” Frady. Brandon was first on the show as a new pipe maker back in 2023. He was already making amazing pipes then, and now he has evolved to even better pipes that are functional works of art. His pipes are freehand and artistic shapes and designs. He is also a freelance writer for any type of project, but has been published for music reviews, concert reviews, and other writings in a couple dozen professional publications. On March 12, he will be performing in a live comedy competition. At the top of the show, Brian will have what he thinks will be an “unpopular and controversial tobacco review” on McClelland 5100 that Brian blended himself in 2019, and has been aging since then.
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The Pipes Magazine Radio Show features interviews with pipe makers, tobacco blenders, pipe and tobacco aficionados, collectors, and more. Episodes air every Tuesday.
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Written by Kevin Godbee
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Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 652. Our featured interview tonight is with J.B. “Brandon” Frady. Brandon was first on the show as a new pipe maker back in 2023. He was already making amazing pipes then, and now he has evolved to even better pipes that are functional works of art. His pipes are freehand and artistic shapes and designs. He is also a freelance writer for any type of project, but has been published for music reviews, concert reviews, and other writings in a couple dozen professional publications. On March 12, he will be performing in a live comedy competition. At the top of the show, Brian will have what he thinks will be an “unpopular and controversial tobacco review” on McClelland 5100 that Brian blended himself in 2019, and has been aging since then.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 651. Our featured guest tonight is Glen Whelan. The first time we had Glen on he was the Director of Sales for Peterson of Dublin. Now he is the Managing Director. Peterson is a family tradition for Glen. His father worked in the factory for 50 years, eventually serving as Factory Manager. Although Glen now serves as Managing Director, he started as a part-time retail associate in the Peterson store at the age of 16. After more than a decade in Peterson retail, Glen joined the sales team in Sallynoggin, and kept moving up from there. At the top of the show, we will have another edition of the virtual tour of Brian’s pipe collection with four more pipes that are not the usual shapes and styles that he collects.
This might strike some of you as weird, but I think I’m in a time warp. On a recent trip to South Carolina, I looked for the old-time bricks-and-mortar pipes and tobacco shops. I know there were some somewhere, but nary one did I find while driving around in a couple of shopping districts. Oh, there were a plethora of vape shops. But tobacco pipes bricks-and-mortar shops are more to the Pundit’s notions. Now, before you run out to the nearest shrink and send them my way, this was not the only strange oddball occurrence. I covered the legendary Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Ga., four times, back in the day. So, while I was so close to the famed course during my South Carolina sojourn, I visited Augusta, Ga., and decided I would drive down the beautiful Magnolia-covered lane to the main area once more. The trees, planted on both sides of the road to the clubhouse, are 175 years old, according to Master’s history. Nope, didn’t get to do that either. It’s a private club, I was told by a half-smiling gate guard manning a far-away entry from the main gate entrance to the famed golf course at Augusta National. Yes, dear friends, the times are a-changing. No trip down memory lane for an old sports writer, and, sadly, pipes and tobacco stores were difficult to find in the once great state of tobacco barns and tobacco fields. Ok, sorry for the old-fashioned rant. On to more important thoughts. Usually on International Pipe Smoking Day, I pull out a vintage tobacco blend from the cellar and fill up a classic old friend. I began reminiscing this IPSD about my beloved pipes and tobacco cellar. So, I hauled out a couple of my favorites along with an aging Mason jar of Virginia, Latakia with a dab of Orientals. It was a rare delight for an old-fashioned pipe and tobacco day. When you are puffing your pipe in the fluffy ease of an afternoon, all worries seem to fade away. More pleasant thoughts arise, like a puffy cloud of pipe smoke. I looked up a recent column by Chuck Stanion in his “History of International Pipe Smoking Day February 19, 2021, in SmokingPipes.com’s Daily Reader and Tobacco Talk. Chuck outlines the history of the IPSD and its purpose. It’s a must-read for pipe smokers to find a refreshing view of our hobby. And now it’s time for Pipe Smokers of the Past: Jack Kerouac was born: on March 12, 1922, in Lowell, Mass., and died on Oct. 21, 1969, in St. Petersburg, Fla. Kerouac was one of the leaders of the Beat movement in the 1950s along with Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Gregory Corso, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, among others. His most famous work was “On the Road” published in 1957. That book spawned beat poets across the nation and produced broad cultural influence. Quite naturally, Pundit ran right out and bought a first edition, fancying himself something of a beat poet. And, sadly, that first copy has been lost, but replaced. Oh, the woes of youth! However, I did visit Kerouac’s home in Florida, just to soak up the muses of that long-gone era. The beat continues! Several online sites say the beat author smoked a pipe and even one site showed photos of his old pipe stands. However, I was unable to find certifiable pipe tobacco he smoked. All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together—Jack Kerouac Next up is Edgar Rice Burroughs. He was born Sept. 1, 1875, in Chicago, Ill., and died March 19, 1950, in Encino, Calif. He was the famed author of the Tarzan of the Jungle novels. And although I found evidence of his pipe smoking history, his tobacco preferences remain elusive. Love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger—Edgar Rice Burroughs. A parting shot: I have been a pipe smoker for many years—from my college days through the middlemarch. However, I did cease for a good long span to take stock of things entering the senior geezerhood era. And then I returned with a passion. The embers of my pipe ardor have not waned, though I do smoke less now than in my younger days. Some time back, I decided smoking a pound a week was a little too much intensity. My pipes and tobacco still give me much pleasure. It continues to fulfill a relaxing afternoon or mornings with coffee. And there are those moments of contemplation on life and its many twists and the unexpected. And at times, recalling the roads not taken, to steal an apt phrase from one of America’s greatest poets, the pipe-smoking Robert Frost. I call it reflections in smoke.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 650. Our featured guests tonight are Jonni Adams and Grey Van Kuilenburg. Jonni makes the J. Adams line of pipes. He is originally from Leeds in West Yorkshire, England, and moved to the US in 1997. Grey makes the Van Kuilenburg line of pipes. He is a tattoo artist full time, and also hand carves custom electric guitars and basses for the last 30-years. Both Jonni and Grey have been making pipes for five years. They will be telling us about their trip to Denmark to work with Tom Eltang. At the top of the show Brian will answer a listener question about aging flake tobaccos.
Welcome to The Pipes Magazine Radio Show Episode 649. Our featured guest tonight is Jon David Cole. JD is the Owner/Tobacconist at The Country Squire in Jackson, MS, and the accompanying online store. We’ll have JD and Brian talking about sales trends for pipes and tobacco at the shop, and other news. This will be an extended conversation, so we will skip the usual Pipe Parts opening segment.
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 […]
An interesting review of your 5100 augmentation. Yes, 5100 was often used as a blending Virginia and a base for many McClelland blends. I, too, use what 5100 I have left to mix into my own blends, rather than smoke it straight.
It was nice to catch up with Brandon’s advancement in his pipe craft. This was a fascinating tip-toe through his multi-talented psyche.
Brandon’s song choice of “Trouble with Classicists” by Lou Reed and John Cale was terrific, as fascinating as Brandon himself.
I’m a first thing bather, always have been. I live in Chicago and only rarely, during summer swelters, do I need to double down.
Nice memorial coda to “Lady Fire”, Enit Colon. May her memory be eternal.
Thanks for another wonderful show.
Dino