The cob, genuine and unpretentious, uniquely American, it is part of our heritage, our lore.
Cobs may or may not be for pipe "enthusiasts" but they are definitely for pipe "smokers." There is a distinction.
They're not an investment. They're just a pipe, made here in Missouri.
They're not made for galleries or display cases. They're made to smoke.
And that they do quite well.
Here's a poetic tribute to the incomparable cob:
"My Corn-Cob Pipe"
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Men may sing of their Havanas, elevating to the stars
The real or fancied virtues of their foreign–made cigars;
But I worship Nicotina at a different sort of shrine,
And she sits enthroned in glory in this corn–cob pipe of mine.
It ’s as fragrant as the meadows when the clover is in bloom;
It ’s as dainty as the essence of the daintiest perfume;
It ’s as sweet as are the orchards when the fruit is hanging ripe,
With the sun’s warm kiss upon them—is this corn–cob pipe.
Thro’ the smoke about it clinging, I delight its form to trace,
Like an oriental beauty with a veil upon her face;
And my room is dim with vapour as a church when censers sway,
As I clasp it to my bosom—in a figurative way.
It consoles me in misfortune and it cheers me in distress,
And it proves a warm partaker of my pleasures in success;
So I hail it as a symbol, friendship’s true and worthy type,
And I press my lips devoutly to my corn–cob pipe.
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