Tell Me About Your Grandfather

[mikethompson]

Every so often there is a thread that pops up, whether new or newly posted to, asking how we all got started with pipes. The overwhelming answer always seems to be 'my grandfather smoked a pipe'. The image of a wise old grandpa and a pipe seem to go hand in hand.

Thought this might be a good opportunity and time to share some stories about our grandpas, whether pipe related or not. I've got a few, but I will let someone else begin.

 

[kurtbob]

Every so often there is a thread that pops up, whether new or newly posted to, asking how we all got started with pipes. The overwhelming answer always seems to be 'my grandfather smoked a pipe'. The image of a wise old grandpa and a pipe seem to go hand in hand.

Thought this might be a good opportunity and time to share some stories about our grandpas, whether pipe related or not. I've got a few, but I will let someone else begin.

My pipe smoking grandfathers were very different but kinda the same. One was a WWII vet and was on the USS Yorktown at the battle of Corral Sea. When I came along, he was a retired Chevy mechanic now dealership salesman. Used to take me fishing all the time, always with the pipe going. Boy, that man HATED Japanese vehicles with a passion! The second was a welder also retired when I came along in the mid 60’s. I remember he used to always let me sit in his lap while smoking his pipe and he would blow smoke rings for me.....coolest thing ever!
Man, I miss the hell out of them both.

 

[workman]

Grandpa on my mother's side smoked a pipe. He was a blacksmith with hammers and anvils and leather apron and all. He had muscles like He-Man and broke nuts between his fingers. He was also a quiet man who liked to sit and read in the evenings. Sometimes he would share a story of childhood poverty or some small comment on resistance activities during the war. He was danish and Denmark was occupied by the german army.
Last time I saw him was the christmas before he died at 80 years old. He had lost weight and seemed frail. He could still break those nuts, though.
A couple of months later he was gone.

 

[scloyd]

Never grew up with a grandfather. Both were dead before I was born. My natural father was a wife beating drunk and my parents divorced when I was one. Having a male role model was not looking good at that point. My mom remarried when I was two and my new dad was the greatest dad a boy could ever dream for. He passed away about twenty years ago and I miss him and think about him every day.

Not having any grandfathers in my life makes me work even harder to be the best grandfather for my two grandsons.

 

[ray47]

My great grandfather smoked a pipe and his everyday blend was Prince Albert. I was too young to remember him but here is a picture of him smoking what looks like a Dr. Grabow at my 1st birthday party in 1948.

 

[dkmdvm]

My grandfather smoked marlboro reds. Don't remember him without one in his mouth or hand. He was,among other things, a carpenter, a cobbler, a butcher and a school bus driver.

 

[mso489]

Two completely distinct men. My dad's father smoked pipes, was intensely quiet, hunted ducks, had a law degree but mostly worked in the family real estate business, married late at about 40 and had four children.

My mother's dad was a practicing lawyer his entire career, was volatile and short-tempered but was always very cheerful toward me, smoked cigars, was diabetic, and ran a hiking club that he used to conduct on hikes with a megaphone.

 

[gerryp]

My mom's dad Joe (grandaddy to me) and I were close. His parents were off the boat Irish, with the dad being a drunk with a gambling problem. He grew up in DC during the Depressiin along with a number of siblings, in conditions not dissimilar to "Angela's Ashes" but with less baby deaths.
He was drafted into the army in WW 2 where, thanks to skills learned in tech schools, he was a field artillery mechanic. After that he moved back to DC, married my grandmother, and chose option A (joining the police dept.) instead of option B (joining the fire dept.)
One of many fond memories were of the times he would pick me up once a month, take me to McDonald's for lunch, then take me to the comic book shop (Geppi's in Silver Spring) and buy me the new issues of my favorite comic books. Good times.

I didn't spend much time around my dad's dad. He seemed nice, but all I really know about him is that he lived in the Appalachians in West Virginia when my dad was born, and that he was a coal miner.

 

[canucklehead]

My great-grandfather smoked pipes, although my great-aunt (who lived till 101) claimed that her father only smoked matches since he was forever relighting his pipe.

Neither of my grandfathers smoked a pipe. Both of them fought in WW2, my maternal grandfather flew Lancasters with 220 squadron out of the Azores protecting Atlantic convoys. When I came along he was a farmer of wheat, barley, and pigs. He had 5 kids and adopted 3 more. He was a tall, lean, deceptively strong, and quiet man who loved photography and after vacations would always give us a slideshow of his latest pictures with a big roll up screen and projector, accompanied by fresh popped kettlecorn.

My paternal grandfather in WW2 was in the thick of the worst shit as an infantryman (tankchaser) in north Africa and Italy, was wounded by shrapnel and sent home. He was a carpenter and had 10 children. He had a short temper and would often call me a "dumkopf" as a kid for not weeding the garden according to his exact specifications. Although he was English/Canadian, after WW2 he was fond of insulting people in German and flirting with women in Italian.

Both of my grandfathers loved to read and had extensive libraries, shelves of books lining the walls in almost every room in their houses.

 

[chilllucky]

What? This guy?

 

[STP]

Actually... great grandfather, fresh off the boat... and perhaps his father, but IDK. While I unfortunately never met him, I have a few pics of him w/pipe in hand... then his son, and his son, and now me. It must be a DNA thing ?

 

[magicpiper]

Granddaddy was the son German immigrants. He joined the Navy in WW-II and joined the Army Air Corps after his first turn was up. By trade, he was a mechanic and welder. Had hands that looked like bear paws and fingers as big as sausages. He smoked unfiltered cigarettes, flew airplanes, drove a badass 1966 Mustang GT (until the 90’s) and carried a Super Blackhawk with him everywhere he went. He was imposing in size, more teddy bear than grizzly. He is the coolest guy I’ve ever met. It’s been almost 20 years since he moved on and I miss him everyday.

 

[warren]

Maternal, logging accident in Oregon before I was born.
Paternal, cancer before I was sentient.

 

[lightmybriar]

Lots of great history here!

my maternal grandfather was Russian-Armenian, met my German grandmother in Tehran, and moved to the states in the 1960s. He spoke six languages and collected WWII items. Chainsmoked cigarettes and drank Turkish coffee.

My paternal grandfather was a federal immigration agent, who also made bows, arrows, and all sorts of leather and wood work. Also a cigarette smoker until his doctor had him quit for the sake of his bad heart.

Both were very harsh men, which is completely explained by their life experiences...but that’s easy to see from my perspective. They both really negatively affected their children, my parents. I wish I could have known them as an adult, but I just have blurry memories of times with them during my childhood.

My pipe lineage comes from my father, who smoked cheap cherry tobacco once or twice a year when he wanted to feel like Sherlock Holmes ?. All he ever had was a Dr. Grabow that he woodburned Native American symbols onto.

 

[cigrmaster]

My mother's father was a pipe smoker and I can remember sitting at his feet and smelling whatever he was smoking. My fathers dad smoked cigars and I can remember him chewing the ends of his cigars. I have no idea what kind of cigars he smoked. I do remember him quitting while I was still pretty young.

My dad smoked mostly cigarettes always Kents, I hated those things as when I would steal them they always tasted like shit. He also had half a dozen pipes he would use when he would try quitting cigarettes. He also smoke cigars when I was older and I was smoking cigars at the time as well. All he would smoke were Macanudo Prince Phillips. if I remember correctly. He like the claro green wrappers and he only smoked a mild cigar. When he would go on vacation over seas he would always bring me back a box of Cuban cigars. He never smoked them but he knew I liked them. I would try to get him to smoke a Cuban with me but he saiid they were too strong.

I bought him a box of Fuente 858's in Maduro and he thought they were too strong. He would buy his one box and put the cigars in his only humidor which I bought for him. I turned him onto Jrcigars and he used them exclusively. His cigars office was in Boston and very close to Peretti but he liked the price of lew's and he got a kick out of his catalogue.
Our last trip we took together was in Alaska king Salmon fishing and he died a month later with no warning. He was a travel fanatic like his mother and I was thankful we got that last trip together.

 

[dontbeaburleyman]

My maternal grandfather was an immigrant from the Azores and smoked cigarettes. Dairyman. Can remember going to town with him to meet up with other Portuguese speaking friends. I couldn't really converse but will always remember our times together. He died when I was about 5.

Paternal grandfather is pictured in my avatar. Never met him. Immigrated from Italy. Grew Elberta peaches and vines. He died when my father was about 12. My father tells me he smoked a pipe from the second he placed his feet on the floor every morning until he went to sleep at night. Always smoked Five-Brothers that came in a rolled up cloth pouch.

 

[markus]

My maternal grandfather was a Navy Veteran during WW2, but never spoke much about his service in the war.
He was also a steamfitter/welder (which he retired from) and died from COPD and lung cancer that he got from the asbestos they used to insulate the steam pipes with. He was a pipe smoker as well, I remember he smoked a 50/50 mixture of Prince Albert and Middleton's Cherry and I loved that smell. I still smoke the same mixture occasionally just to reminisce and remember him. I was his favorite, he never told me, but my Grandmother told me in later years, when we were alone.
He used to tell me stories about cowboys, that he had made up and I loved to listen to them, as he smoked his pipe. I remember staying the night with my grandparents on the weekends, because my parents were usually working and we would always watch Hee-Haw together.
He seemed very wise, always knowing when to talk and his words always had depth and meaning, especially to me.
He would impart his wisdom if asked, but never volunteered much and if you weren't prepared to hear the truth, then you had best keep your questions to yourself.
His hands were always hard, rough, and strong, the hands of a working man! In his later years, after he retired (before he had to wear an oxygen mask) he worked in his own welding shop, repairing broken farm machinery that local farmers would bring to him and he would always charge them next to nothing (if anything at all). Anytime he was working in the shop, he always smoked cobs or an old beat up Dr. Grabow.
I found that beat up old Grabow, in his shop after he passed and I still have it, although it's no longer smokeable.
He taught me how to hunt, fish and let me help him in the shop and basically, how to become a man.
I miss him dearly, God rest his soul!

 

[sablebrush52]

I come from good solid peasant stock. And damned smart peasants at that.
I never knew my maternal grandfather. He died before I was born. Both he and my grandmother owned a bakery in Bridgeport Connecticut which they lost, along with their home, during the Great Depression. Seems they couldn't turn away anyone hungry and eventually all of the free goods they gave to their neighbors led to the loss of the business. Later on, they rebuilt the bakery business. My mother's people were bakers for generations. Al of them worked in various trades, baking and butchery being two of them, and many owned their own businesses.

My father's side was a bit more colorful. My grandfather came to the US in 1906 and was a barrel maker and harness maker. Sensing that the harness making business had a limited future, he learned auto repair, and opened a auto body repair in Waterbury Connecticut, Jake's Auto Body, that's still in business. They got a lot of the carriage trade and had a profitable business. My uncle Max used to organize a card game with the other workers every week, right after they received their pay packets, and fleece them out of a proportion of their earnings which went back into the business. This continued until the workers wives started showing up to grab the pay packet before their husbands could gamble it away. My father described the business as a "home for tough mugs".

Grandpa Jake was brilliant, learned, hot tempered, not opposed to decking someone who irritated him. At least he didn't shoot people, like my Great Granduncle Max, who emptied the contents of his revolver into a crooked revenue agent and got off for justifiable homicide. Then as now, people don't much care for tax collectors.
Even into his 70's, Jake was strong as a bull. I remember once when one of my older brothers was in the garage, working out with weights. Jake came into the garage and seeing Richard doing some military lifts, asked him what weight he was working with. Richard said it was about 140 lbs. Jake asked if he could try it. Richard expressed some concern that the stocky old geezer might hurt himself, but Jake said he would take responsibility. Jake picked up the barbell and did a series of curls with it. Then he flipped it into the air, caught it and did some underhand curls with it. Then he held the barbell straight out at shoulder height and said, "nice weight". Nobody fucked with Jake.

 

[condorlover1]

I remember my Father buying a Falcon Pipe and wondering why! My Mothers Father smoked a pipe and was a devotee of an English brand called Bondman. He passed away before I was born. My Great Grand Father on my Fathers Mothers side lived to either 99 or 101 and was a carpenter and smoked a pipe and also rolled his own cigarettes. His sons both smoked a pipe. My Grand Father smoked a pipe as well as Woodbine cigarettes, his three children all smoked pipes which included my Father. My Uncles all smoked pipes apart from my Uncle Charles who smoked a pipe but also rolled his own cigarettes which was a habit he said he got during WW1. I remember they all seemed to smoke Condor and various plug tobaccos which accounts probably for my taste.

 

[ssjones]

I never new my real grandfather, on my fathers side. He was a coal miner and died young. By all accounts, not a nice guy. I only have one picture of my father as a boy,and found this one, pictured with his grandfather, the guy holding the pipe. My father was born in 1919, so I never new my great-grandfather either. I found that picture, it was very tattered. A forum member, "tuold" restored it for me, so I have a decent print. My great-grandfather is picture here smoking a pipe, probably around the late 1920's, with his new car. My father is the little dude in overalls. The two girls, his sisters.