Age of Enlightenment: A New Dawn of Pipes and Tobaccos
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Kevin Godbee - Jun 9, 2014
- 6 min read
Fred Brown
I just thought I was a pipe smoker. After returning from the amazing Chicagoland Pipes and Tobacciana Show in early May and reflecting on the event, I have decided that even after more than four decades of smoking a pipe, I am a neophyte.
I mean, there are some fellas who take this hobby very seriously. Me, I toss some tobacco into a bowl, light ‘er up and go on about my business. I don’t pay much attention to the tobacco being smoked, let alone the pipe!
Cleaning a pipe is not a ritual for me. It’s a simple Dill’s-Brigham’s-or-BJ Long’s-through-the-stem-and-a-quick-in- and-out-and-off-we-go-again. I realize this is sacrilege to most of the pipe smokers out there, but I’m a codger. What can I say?
Here is what I discovered at Chicago: there are men—and some women by the way—who know not only pipe styles and shapes, but years crafted, nomenclature, and what was produced by whom, and when. I’d be surprised if they didn’t know the tools used as well.
Some pipe smokers even can name the pipe artist, and in many cases, the manufacturer, before any major mergers of pipe making families or firms.
It is just amazing to me that this hobby that I love has so many sides and shades to it. Normally I just think of a pipe as a pipe: billiard, pot, Dublin, bent, meer, the usual suspects. They are instruments, some more intricate than others, that deliver my favorite tobaccos.
I say this out of respect to those of you who really take the time to understand the pipes you love. I mean no offense whatsoever. I am in shock and awe, actually.
In fact, I have some very old pipes—Dunhill, Barlings, Charatans, Petes, Lowe, etc., that I now look upon with newfound reverence and respect.
In Chicago, I ran into pipe smokers of the elite class (no snobbery intended about that, either. It is alright to be elite if you know what you are talking about).
I mean, some of the men and women with whom I chatted told me more about their pipes than seemed possible, unless they were present in the beginning when the pipe was first crafted.
OK. So you have gotten it by now that I’m not a pipe historian. Quite true. I love my pipes and have come to a newborn appreciation for the history. And I have now begun taking a little more time examining my pipes and their ages. Seems I have one or two really old ones. In fact, one of the meers that was given to me is probably from the 19th century. Who knew?
And, I discovered a brave new world of tobacco. Here again, I’m a codger. I smoked my first pipe tobacco in the late 1950s. It was Prince Albert, I think. Or something similar.
Later, in college, I moved on to Sir Walter Raleigh, since that’s what most of my professors smoked.
And then I ran into Dr. Neill Whitelaw, physics professor, unalloyed genius, friend of Einstein, pipe smoker and just plain brilliant.
In his physics lab about the only thing I learned was that the top shelf in the lab was lined with tins of codger blends: Barking Dog, Country Doctor, Revelation, Sir Walter Raleigh, Prince Albert, Granger, Half and Half, Carter Hall and several others I can no longer recall.
His pipes, which he smoked while trying to enlighten some of us on the rudiments of physics, looked like burned burls. Some were black they had been smoked so much. Dr. Whitelaw was never without his pipe, or his sharp wit.
He did not suffer fools, thus I soon departed with Dr. Whitelaw’s good wishes for whatever it was I was cut out to do in my college career. Luckily, I found the English Department, which allowed me to stick around long enough to graduate.
Of course, I had to emulate Dr. Whitelaw. I smoked all the codger blends at one time or another. And, I pretty much learned from the master how to treat your pipes—as a smoking instrument.
I’m sure most of his pipes were the drug store variety—Kaywoodie, Dr. Grabow, Medico, basket pipes of the era. I, too, smoked Grabow and Kaywoodie and still have them.
My interest in more expensive pipes changed over time as my salary inched up the pay scale. I purchased what I could afford along the way.
I treated tobacco in similar fashion. Codger blends sufficed until I discovered Edwards’ tobaccos, which I smoked for years, along with my steadfast codgers.
Now and again, I’d pick up a tin of something expensive ($5 being expensive back then). It seemed so exotic. The tobacco had this little wavy filter looking thing inside a tin. The tobacco itself was so different from any I had been accustomed.
Instead of cubes, the fancy tobacco was slim ribbons of various colors and smells. In comparison, my codger blends reeked of old movie theater cans filled with sand and foul cigarette butts.
Tobacco is not something I usually get all riled up about. I suppose that is due to the fact that I grew up in an era of codger blends and that seemed just fine to me. They smoked, which was all I required at the time. They were cheap and went well with my basket pipes.
Yes, I have advanced to more expensive pipes and tobaccos. But old habits are indeed hard to break. I pick up a pipe that I might have smoked the day before, fill it, and fire it up.
At the Chicago show I discovered smokers who rotate their smoking pipes on a daily basis, if not hourly.
There, one attorney from Munich, Germany, had already purchased his pipes before the official kickoff. He alternated between the S. Bang and another expensive Danish pipe, with a pound of Iwan Reis Virginia.
The attorney carefully loaded the pipe, taking his time to pinch-load, tamp, pinch-load, tamp. Next, he pulled out what looked to be a Dunhill lighter and lit the S. Bang, puffed, tamped, lit again, puffed and leaned back. His eyes glistened. It was that good.
Now, I have never quite had that sort of experience, but I think I’m beginning to understand: There are pipes and there is tobacco. And then, there are very fine pipes and very fine tobaccos.
Just as there are artisan pipe makers, there are artisan tobacco blenders. We are in the Age of Enlightenment in pipes and tobacco. More wonderful pipes are being created than ever before. The same is true with pipe tobacco.
Very talented blenders can even come quite close to re-creating the codger blends of old, despite the fact that agriculture, weather, and a host of other environmental conditions have changed.
Pipe smokers today are truly blessed to have the pipe and tobacco market that exists.
It is daunting to think that pipe smokers of, say, 50 years ago, could only dream of such pleasure available today. And, there were great brands in that time as well as earlier in another era.
But in one lifespan, a pipe smoker can get through only so many pipes and so much tobacco.
There is, after all, a "use by date," on every life.
I hope to make the best of what’s left now that I have seen what it means to own a wonderful vintage pipe and extraordinary tobacco to smoke.
It is a final coming of age, an emancipation of consciousness, in a New Dawn of pipes and tobacco.
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Written by Kevin Godbee
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I actually don’t really know. I mean, I have some vague idea, more of a guess, a sort of order of magnitude dart throw. I swear, this isn’t a point of pride or some kind of bench racing brag, but rather something closer to embarrassment. As I wander through the boxes, racks, pouches, bags full of pipes, in an attempt to 1) get them into a semblance of order, and 2) think about thinning the herd a little, it’s feeling a little daunting. Worse, it’s not the first time I’ve been through this, and I’m afraid it might not be the last. It all began at a time when I would answer the question, “How many pipes do you need?” with the ever so witty, “Just one more.” I know I’m not alone there. I sometimes feel like there should be a twelve-step program for the pipe acquisition afflicted. But, they’re such compelling little things; tiny works of functional art, where the beauty of the wood and the skill of the maker come together to yield something that’s too often hard to resist. I easily recall my early days as a young pipe smoker, enthusiast, burgeoning collector, fanatic, whatever I was at the time. I was full of wild enthusiasm towards building up a good collection. It began with just wanting a nice seven-day set, so I could let my pipes rest a week between smokes as I was told was necessary for optimal smoking. That happened fairly quickly, though my seven pipes weren’t all anything to be truly proud of. Then, I wanted enough pipes for two weeks, because I began to think that if one week of rest was good, two would surely be better. After that, it really did seem a good idea to have different pipes for different types of tobacco. (I still adhere to this notion fairly strictly.) And, then there should be smaller pipes for shorter smokes, larger ones for the longer, leisurely periods. See where it starts? When we’re told that a seven-day “set” is an almost necessary practicality, at least if we’re going to truly enjoy smoking a pipe on a daily basis, “they” might as well give us the first one free. The seven-day, at least for me, quickly revealed itself to be a gateway drug, leading me by the hand down a dark corridor to a much more sinister affliction. So, thus disordered over the years, I’ve found myself collecting brands, makers, pipes from specific countries, shapes, finishes – if there’s a way to categorize pipes, I’ve probably at some point had a sub-collection specializing in that particular categorization. I’m a pipe nerd; things like this are bound to happen. At some point in the journey, I had the bizarre notion that if I ever were ever to reach 100 pipes, I’d surely have enough, and I could stop looking for new ones. Or, perhaps better still, the collection could remain at or near that figure by careful selling and trading. This delusional strategy worked just fine. Until it didn’t. The collection continued to grow. More and more of the pipes in my collection began to take on some sort of emotional value. I’ve mentioned in the past that pipes can be talismans of events, or even more importantly, of people. Recently, I was reminded of an old friend who sold me a very special Castello 55 from his own collection. He is no longer with us, but that pipe will always remind me of him, of his vast knowledge, freely shared, of Castello pipes. I now have a lot of pipes like that. Some of them I smoke regularly, and the idea of parting with them never even occurs to me. Others, I don’t, for whatever reason, but when I think about putting them on the block, they whisper their stories in my ear, and back they go until the next round. The century mark has long ago come and gone. A bunch of years ago, I was fairly successful in weeding the garden a bit, selling off quite a few, and feeling quite proud of myself for thinking that, just maybe, I might once again find 100 pipes in my collection, this time coming at it from the other direction. I’m sure it’s no surprise that this hasn’t happened. What’s wrong with having so many, some would say too many pipes? It’s hard to find an answer I can really live with. I suppose perhaps the worst thing is that some of them, even the special ones, might be too-long ignored. Maybe this isn’t really a bad thing. Once in a while, there’s the opportunity to rediscover some old gem, listen again to the stories it might tell, put it into rotation for a while, and experience it all over again. Maybe it’s just keeping track of everything amidst my disorganized chaos, or finding suitable ways to display them all, while keeping them clean and dusted, or just finding them if they’re bagged up in their fancy leather gloves. Maybe it’s just me fostering feelings of excess, latent notions of decadent overindulgence. I should talk with my therapist about that. What I do know is that no matter how, or how many times I examine my “condition,” the same conclusion persists. I have a lot of pipes, and it’s highly likely that this will not only be an enduring condition, but it’s probably only going to get worse. There are times when a particular piece just stops speaking to me, and even that can be a problem. In the past, I’ve too hastily sold off or traded a piece that no longer felt special, only to years later regret parting with it, wishing I’d kept it. Or worse, scouring estate pipe offerings looking for it, or at least a suitable stand-in. There was this lovely old Charatan Executive, you know, and a pair of Larsen bulldogs, one straight, the other bent, that were different from any seen […]
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Guilty pleasures—we all have them; whether it’s bingeing the latest water-cooler television show, midnight-snacking entire pints of ice cream, or devoting hours to an online debate that we’re sure we’ve won. Us pipe snobs (face it, if you’re reading this article, you’re likely past the point of no return into the hobby) often catch flack—or give flack—for full aromatic blends, mistakenly thinking them the piper’s equivalent of a bike with training wheels, or confections for filthy casuals. A true pipe smoker, such prevailing wisdom may say, can only find enlightenment in the most mephitic of concoctions, the kernel of bodhi within which they have unlocked through years of trial and sacrifice, with wonderful tastes that they alone know how to perceive, naysayers be damned! Well, that’s poppycock. As the holidays came and went, I thoroughly enjoyed working my way through the tins of the aromatic C&D offerings reviewed in the last column, finding subtle little hints of new flavors here and there with every bowl full; I was particularly saddened when I went to re-order them and found them sold out; perhaps my guilty pleasure of being an unabashed aromatic smoker was not so singular as I had presumed? Such it was that I found myself pondering as I navigated the streets of the Financial District and popped in to Barclay-Rex, the City’s oldest family-run tobacconist—and indeed one of the few left of its ilk anywhere. Perusing through their offerings for new review material, my eye was drawn to the jazz-age graphic of a couple of flamenco dancers mid-embrace on a rose-colored tin of Ashton’s Guilty Pleasure, a no-pretense aromatic manufactured by Kohlhase & Kopp for the Ashton brand. Sure, there were English and cigar-leaf blends aplenty, various Virginias as far as the eye could see, but my holiday sweet tooth had not quite yet been fully sated. “This glorious mixture of Cavendish, Virginia and Carolina burley carries an irresistible aroma of vanilla, mango, and exotic citrus,” reads the tin, promising an immodestly candied experience. Kohlhase & Kopp have produced many of my favorite aromatic blends, notably the erstwhile Peterson special editions, so I had great confidence that the tobacco would be of the best quality and not a waste of my time or money, as the price of tobacco in Manhattan is on the verge of requiring a bank loan. Popping the tin certainly confirmed this hypothesis; it unleashed a bright and floral confectionery sweetness that was sure to send the burliest he-man Latakiaphile running for the hills. The tobacco itself was that perfect melange of light-gold to dark-mahogany leaf of consistent cut that is a trademark of K&K blends in my experience. Parsing the aromas back in the laboratory, I kept searching for vanilla and mango—‘exotic citrus’ being indefinite enough to discount. Vanilla firmly chimes in as an overall binding aroma that the fruity notes couch themselves within, but I found mango or citrus aromas neither overt nor distinct in the blend; rather, they are verbal proxies for the overall sweetness and fruitiness with a decidedly floral bent of the bouquet; in fact the unique and unmistakable—though confoundingly unspecific—flavor of Necco wafers popped into my head as the best analog, a notion which would later prove to be shockingly precise. Even after weeks of an open-and-closed tin while sampling, the aroma remains quite strong and readily induces salivation. Not to say that it’s done with too heavy or indelicate a hand—the tobaccos are clearly highest quality and allowed to shine through the mix to shape the smoke, which is quite a bit more restrained than the tin note would suggest. Puffing through a half-dozen bowls in search of the best instrument, I found the smoke then to be quite good and much more rounded than merely aromatic, if perhaps lacking a little in real depth, particularly held up against the last review blends mentioned. Bowl after bowl it presented quite brightly on top and faded to a good sweet nutty Cavendish-burley by mid-bowl, and tapered down slowly through to the heel—a heel that was easily reached with slow sipping and temperature control as well as a few rest periods and relights, and not goopy at all. Once I’d honed in on the proper pipe, cadence, and drink pairing, it was sweet heaven through the end of the tin. As for the room note, it is sweet but rather tame compared to the tin note; I would place both flavor and room note on the bright and fruity side of mild-to-medium. While swapping out pipes to find a good mate for this blend I stumbled upon my cache of several years’ worth of Kaywoodie pipes from the holiday dinner and slow-smoke, to my good fortune. The straight billiards and clay cutty I started with weren’t really bringing out the full experience of the blend, tending to get too hot past top-bowl and not really hitting the mark on the aromatic notes while smoking. The delightful Shellcraft half-bent billiard pictured, handmade by Bill Feuerbach of very old-stock Algerian briar and vulcanite stem, nailed it like Mary Lou Retton on a floor routine—the perfect geometry of chamber to coax down a small ember, and the bend deep enough that the smoke could drift up to the nose easily for sidestream olfaction, all at barely an ounce of weight—as fine as any Dunhill in my collection, not to mention a repository of fond memories. There’s a lesson to be learned here: before finding just the right pipe, the blend would score below fair-to-middling; after, it was sweet euphoria. Finding the best drink pairing for such a sweet blend proved challenging as well. Sometimes the notions come to me and I test them out to find they work perfectly, other times it’s down to a more Edisonian approach: determine the prevailing notes and alkalinity, then find drinks to congenially act as foils or amplifiers through brute force trial and error. In general it’s a good start to look for mildly acidic drinks, […]
Ah, yes, March rolls in a-roarin’ like a lion and trots out like a sweet, innocent little lamb. So they say, whoever they are. Let’s not forget college basketball’s March Madness is also in this maelstrom. And Pundit is here to tell you that means only one thing, my pipe-loving amigos. The weather is getting about right and it’s time to grab a pipe and a new blend. And make certain the tele is in good working order for crazy Final Four Bracket hoops time. Just what the Pundit had in mind: a new pipe and a new blend for this mad, mad, mad month. But first, a bit of history. It will be brief for you non-history aficionados out there. Shame, shame. So, there was a day when the Pundit was a touch wet behind the ears (groan) and green as a freshly harvested stalk of green tobacco (better). One day in the deep iron and wheels of Atlanta while sauntering about and looking at pipes in a corner shop, well-known then for its fine offerings of Charatans and other legendary pipes, a veteran B&M and owner suggested I take a peek at his Savinellis. Now being a be-bopping college guy, Pundit said, “sure, is it parked outside?” and proceeded to look about for a snappy Italian sportscar. Let’s just say the B&M veteran pipe store owner tried to hold back a cheek-filling guffaw before sputtering, “you are kidding, of course!” Not to expose more ignorance, I just nodded and stared at a wall of pipes. Welcome to Pundit’s introduction to the famed Italian pipe makers of Savinelli. Today, Pundit owns quite a few Savinells, especially the “author” or the 320 KS, 320, and 321 series. All three have that pure “writerly” look to the Pundit’s eye. In a word or three, Savinellis are exquisite works of operatic tone and aura. Yes, most Savinellis are machined but are completely finished by hand, meaning artisans take over from the industrial side to finish things. So, Pundit was off and puffing with Savinellis, especially when he found the author group. Throw in a couple of Savinelli handmade Autographs and the mighty Hercules style of Roman and Greek mythology to sweeten the herd. While on mystical thoughts, the Savinellis—which ring with foreign intrigue for the Pundit—opened a brave new world for fresh pipe adventures. No longer a stranger in a strange pipelandia, basket pipes of questionable heritage, gave way to handmade wonders to behold. Oh, the Pundit fell in love with the singular Savinelli Autographs, but this also brought into focus other Italian pipe makers, such as Ardor, Ser Jacopo, and Claudio Cavicchi, among others. This of course led to the sky is no limit sort of thinking. Next arrived the Great Danes, such as Neerup, Bjarne Nielsen, Harcourt, Stanwell, and Erik Stokkebye 4th Generation. You’ll note that none of these brands were in the stratospheric price range, such as a Bo Nordh. Then came a whole array of exquisitely made English pipes, such as Dunhill, Ashton, and Peterson (in the Irish tradition, of course, in pipe making in Great Britain). Never mind independent pipe-carvers, who abound in our galaxy of wonder. This is just a quick history of loping down one pipe-puffing lane, as it were. This is to say, pipe smokers of today are blessed and afforded such magnificent pieces of briar for smoking, relaxing and just simply enjoying a day away from stress and worry. Looking at you, March Madness! Just to be transparent, as they like to say in today’s media frenzy, Pundit apologizes for not alerting you to International Pipe Smoking Day on Feb. 20. Oh, the horror! So a respectful roundup of pipes in the Pundit pack serves as a kiss and make-up for overlooking one of our global events enjoyed by millions. And, yes, more expensive pipes do smoke better in most cases. However, I have a couple of basket pipes that outperform some herd pipes in the posh and ritzy crowd. For any newbies out there, in an old-school B&M, you can still find decent basket pipes. Later you can reach for the stars of pipe making and tobacco blending. Pundit began stuffing Prince Albert, Granger, Sir Walter Raleigh, and non-descript drug store bulk blends into his first pipes. It was good enough for many of my college professors, so I thought it would naturally make me smarter if I mimicked the academics. That scheme didn’t work out as planned. But there is always hope and another pipeful. So, here is to more pipes, more pipe tobacco, and more pipe puffing enjoyment for the wilds of March, and beyond. Now for our pipe-smoking celeb for March: Theodor Seuss Geisel, better known simply as Dr. Seuss, legendary children’s author. He was born March 2, 1904, in Springfield, Mass., and died: on Sept. 24, 1991, in San Diego, Calif. Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one—Dr. Seuss And a philosophical note from The Pundit: Ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus philosophized around 535 BC that “change is the only constant in life.” Pundit, a primordial pipelospher says “constant change in pipes and tobacco is the life.”
This story reminds me a good deal of the phenomenons going on today with craft beers and coffees. Personally, I’ll take my Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout and double-shot of espresso from the Profeta in Westwood…but I think I’ll stop there. I can’t see myself surpassing the “pipe/tobacco sophistication” of the author. I enjoy heavy latakia blends, particularly Balkan, but so far (as long as it ain’t Dunhill and can give C&D a run for their money) it doesn’t seem to matter who crafted them. And, although I look upon the beautiful pipes posted here with admiration, I don’t think I have to spend over $100 on a pretty pipe that smokes well. But, I am just starting out. Maybe this will change…
As one who started out in what now must be considered the dark ages of pipe smoking, I too marvel at the increase in sophistication and diversity that abounds. Call it what you will, renaissance, golden age, or the enlightenment, I revel in it and marvel.
Wonderful piece! I am fairly new to this entire hobby, but I realized fairly quickly that the artisan tobacco blenders of today are really a treat for pipe smokers, historically speaking. Because of all these wonderful pipes and tobaccos (and internet pipe magazines with tons of info at our finger tips), there is no way in hell I would buy a drug store codger pipe and a pouch of half and half and go to town starting out. Instead, and thanks to the above mentioned, I was fortunate enough to start with a nice briar and a tin of Pease. Indeed a new dawn, and of pipe smokers as well!
This sounds so close to my piping experience. I’m now in my 5th decade of pipe smoking but only came to appreciate and understand why good blends are good and many blends are not so good. The internet pays a huge role in our updated education of the hobby.
Back in the day I had no idea what the components of a blend were nor was there anyone to tell me. It was trial by fire (excuse the poor pun). I smoked it and either liked it enough for any pouch/tin or I moved on to the next thing. Always in search of “The Blend” but, alas, always elusive.
Thank you for reigniting (ouch!) our passion for what we do.
Great read, and thoughtful commentary. I seem to have gone the other way, in other words regressed in my long history (some 55+ years) of pipe smoking. Apart from my initial purchase of drugstore pipe and tobacco, I immediately became a fanatical aficionado of the hobby, carefully choosing the best pipes and tobaccos I could afford, spending hours reading everything I could get my hands on, devouring pipe shop catalogs, and spending WAY too much time filling, tamping, cleaning, polishing and inspecting my treasured pipes.
Now I just reach for the nearest pipe at hand (although I do rotate), stuff it carelessly with whatever tobacco appeals to me at the moment (mostly Latakias) and puffing away contentedly but very un-methodically. I don’t think I’ve spent over $150 on a pipe in the last 20 years.
All the above doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy pipe smoking as much as ever — I’m just much more casual about it.
Thanks for the insights, Fred.
Great job, Fred. This is a hobby by the people, for the people and of the people. Whatever your preferences, there are choices for you that will satisfy. Like what you smoke, smoke what you like. God save the Queen.
Russ
I really enjoyed this article. Not only does the author reminisce about days-gone-by, he also relishes today’s offerings and anticipates tommorow’s. A wonderful job of interlacing his pipe-life.
A very nice read. I feel like I have been spoiled, like a kid in a candy store when it comes to tobacco. Of course I started out with old and dry Bork um riff and had no idea what I was doing. And I would buy a different pouch, still scorch my tongue on occasion, but that was just how I thought it was.
Then I had my own personal enlightenment. I started buying the crafted tobaccos. And that’s where the kid in the candy store part comes in. Don’t get me wrong; I still enjoy some captain black white and Granger now and then, but I don’t think I could smoke those everyday. And my dad just gave me a pouch of velvet because that’s what his dad smoked.
I still have some cheap pipes. I’ve got a few expensive ones too, but nothing over $100. For me it’s more about the tobacco. I still take great care of my pipes, probably better than the author. But for me, the tobacco is the main player. The pipe merely plays a supporting role, albeit an important one. That being said, I think there is no such thing as a really bad pipe but improper technique with a lesser quality pipe. You need to learn how to smoke pack tamp each pipe as an individual to make it perform its best
Great read. I enjoyed every thought and makes me wonder if I will ever get to that level of appreciation.
We all start somewhere, and those who begin at the top of the ladder will lack the appreciation those of us who began on lower rungs have.
I began pipe smoking in earnest shortly after getting hired in a smoke shop- where no one smoked a pipe. The internet was in its infancy, and I wasn’t there yet anyway- so I taught myself nearly everything with the help of a magazine or two and the very occasional pipe smoker who happened by. Cigars lured me over considerably- we ordered little pipe tobacco as there was virtually no demand, and this was in the days of the great cigar boom. There I was in a smoke shop, and I had to leave the place and get re-interested in pipe smoking via online exploration. But I had learned about Latakia and Perique via the Peter Stokkebye tobacco we carried, and bought my first briars with a nice employee discount.
To this day, I still don’t own a pipe which retailed for over $100. The ultra-fancy designer pipes make for great eye candy, and I’m sure they smoke wonderfully; I just don’t have that kind of money to devote and I don’t feel at a loss on that account either. I’ve got many no-names, seconds, basket-pipes, a few meers and cobs, and the local chain “smoke shops” (mostly convenience stores for cigarette smokers) where I live now carry some very affordable meerschaums.
I just miss the opportunity to have worked in a smoke shop when pipe smoking was a more mainstream thing. I also miss being able to walk into a brick-and-mortar and find affordable products aimed at cigar and pipe smokers. This part of the tobacco experience is lying in the dustbin, so to speak.
Our experiences differ a bit but it’s safe to say that if you started smoking a pipe in the late fifties or early sixties you probably started with the “basket pipe” and one of several off the shelf brands. And you’re quite right, a pipe was a smoke delivery tool back them. I grew up within an hour’s drive from Boston and quickly discovered L.J. Peretti’s and the “codger” brands were of the past forever. Mr. Peretti steered me to good English blends and I have been hooked ever since. His shop was and still is full of blends that are truly a treat. I guess in that respect I was spoiled. There were always pipe collectors that understood what pipes were made by the best manufacturers and had the resources to make an investment in a pipe not just because it smoked well but for the beautiful craftsmanship it reflected. But today we have so very many more collectors and an equally broad number of manufactures. Over the years I have acquired a number for just those reasons. But in the end I must confess to being a sixties pipe man. I want a pipe that delivers a full easy draw and is comfortable to hand and teeth. The pipes I smoke most often display those qualities even when some are almost an embarrassment to look at. But as I look back, the “old timers” didn’t seem to care what the pipe look like as long as it smoked well. In my opinion, they might have had something in that view. I dare say they might well have questioned your sanity had you admitted to having purchased a pipe for several hundred dollars! That was then and today is now. Good tobacco was around as long as I can remember and so were good pipes. Today we have the benefit of connectability which has expanded the hobby enormously. I will most likely not embrace it like some others do but I can’t say I don’t like what pipe smoking has become. Gloucesterman
Good to hear your experiences, Gloucesterman. What I like now is the amount of choice in the tobacco world, although the sheer volume is a little intimidating. As per pipes, it seems the trend is towards increasingly large bowl sizes, which has had me turning to cobs such as the Pony Express, Eaton, and Mark Twain. Also, via ebay I’ve bought some great little vintage deals around the $20 range, and they’ve been excellent- flaws and all. With all these smaller pipes I can smoke smaller bowls, which I prefer in the morning, and also flakes in a more efficient way. I find that with a smaller pipe there is far less waste in general.
If you need reviews on tobacco, there’s no shortage of those and that has been most fruitful for me- maybe more than anything else. That alone helps me deal with the amount of variety!