I don't know what this is about

Just something I came across. If anyone knows anything about this, let me know. Otherwise, feel free to caption it.

Mr. Pudgins

"Wild and wacky things happen when Mr. Pudgins comes to sit for John, Pete, and Jane. Strangely enough, they only happen when Mr. Pudgins smokes his pipe."

Sent to me by my friend Brer, who also says "at the end of the book he blows smoke bubble Christmas ornaments that commemorate their adventures!"

I think this was published in 1951.

Edinburgh Pipe Club

If you live in the middle of nowhere and don't get around much (like I do/don't), you might not know that there is a national pipe museum in Amsterdam. Yes, that Amsterdam. The Edinburgh Pipe Club clues us in.

Peter also covers cleaning an estate pipe, something which is near and dear to my own heart, as you probably know if you've read this blog long enough.

Click, and go read!

This post is for the Pipe Smoking Bloggers event #1.

Some fragmentary pipe fiction

I thought I'd post something a little different in honor of reaching 50 followers. Back when I used to sell lots of refurbished pipes on eBay, at one point I got bored with writing dry, unimaginative descriptions of the pipes I was selling, and this happened. Someone found the auction and posted a link on alt.smokers.pipes, and it got the most traffic of any auction I ever held. The auction was, of course, for a Falcon. I think it sold for $8.

It had been a slow day and a slower night. I locked up the office and in the chill of the sunset walked down the block to a low-slung bar, the kind where you have to duck your head to go through the door. The kind where drinking is mandatory and smoking is recommended. The kind that has every song the Texas Tornados ever recorded in their jukebox. That kind of bar.

I chose a stool near the back where a couple of old guys were playing backgammon and talking in Spanish. I tried eavesdropping, and understood just enough to know they weren't talking about much of anything in particular. So I gave up and stopped sipping a lukewarm whiskey long enough to pack my pipe. Like I said, it was a slow night, so I took my time, sizing it up, tapping the bowl to settle the leaves, anything to kill some time. I finally decided it was worth putting a match to, and after the smoke settled around me I realized I had company.

I had seen her around a few times, and seen her kind a million times. She had an off-black coat slung over a dress that once might have been red, and once had probably fit better. She had eyes as blue and faded as pipe smoke and hair of pale auburn, the color of a well-stained and well-worn briar.

"I like a man with a pipe," she said.

I don't know what brought her to my corner of the bar that night. Maybe it was the smell of my pipe. I puffed a wreath of smoke that smelled like some kind of antediluvian fruit fermenting on the bottom of a Louisiana bayou on a hot August night. Just the way I liked it.

"You should see my Kaywoodie," I said back.

"Oh," she touched the rim of my glass with a finger, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"So what brings you out on a night like this?" I asked. It was cold out there, cold enough to make the dogs sleep with the cows.

"Oh...you know." She touched my pipe with a fingertip and pulled back quick, but not too quick. "It's hot," she said.

Yeah, I knew what she was selling, but I wasn't buying. I offered to buy her a drink. Whatever you're having, she said.

So I bought her a straight bourbon in an old-fashioned, and she sipped it long and slow, making it last. We talked about the weather, we talked about whiskey, we talked about the latest war. We talked about nothing.

"So what's your name, anyway?" she finally said.

"Most folks just call me Falcon."

"Oh? Are you a hunter, Falcon?"

"Sometimes." I grinned. "But not tonight."

She finished her whiskey, polishing off the last drop without even tilting her head back. Just like a real lady. Or just like someone who had a lot of practice with finishing off glasses of whiskey.

"See you around, Falcon." She sidled across the room. I glanced at her once as she walked away, then shook my head. I was saving myself for a one-night-stand that wouldn't cost me anything in the morning.

She sat down in a booth with some other guy, another pipe smoker. I had never seen him before but I wasn't in the mood to pay attention anyway. A few minutes later they left. I saw the soft silvery glint of aluminum in front of his face as he ducked his head to go out the door. It was the last time I saw her alive.

* * * * *

McCloskey was an okay guy, for a cop. Now and then he'd steer a case my way. Now and then I'd get some information for him, the kind of information that's hard for cops to get, but not quite so hard for a P.I. who wasn't too particular about the rules. So when he called me before sunrise the next morning I listened instead of just hanging up.

"Meet me at the county morgue," he said, without much of an explanation.

"What's in it for me?" I wanted to know.

"Jail time, maybe," he answered shortly. "Or maybe just something to keep you from getting too bored."

Jail time, okay. I figured the morgue was as good a place as any to fight a hangover, so I said I'd be right there.

McCloskey didn't say much at the morgue. He never said much anywhere. He pulled open the drawer and flipped back the sheet. "You seen her before?"

There she was, more relaxed in death but yeah, I knew her. In the harsh florescent light of the morgue, and in spite of the bruises around her throat, I realized that once, a long time ago, she had probably been a real knock-out. And longer ago than that, she may have even been pretty.

"Yeah, I've seen her."

"We got a witness says you were with her at Cantina del Alamos last night."

"Yeah, we chatted," I answered. "Bought her a drink. So?"

"Just following the trail," he said. "Last person to see her alive, and all that."

I knew the routine. I also knew that I wasn't the last one to see her alive, and told him so.

"Can you describe him?"

"Sure. Average height. Average build. Wore a coat and hat."

"Gotcha. A real stand-out. Nothing else?"

"Only one thing," I added. "He smoked a Falcon--it's a pipe with an aluminum stem and a briar bowl."

He let me go then, with the standard warnings not to leave town and so forth. Right. Like I had anywhere else to go.

On my way back to the office I stopped at the tobacconist and spent my lunch money on a tin of Escudo. I needed cheering up.

A momentous occasion...

I would like to announce that this blog now has 50 followers!

Thanks, everyone!

Vintage Ad: Kaywoodie (1944)

Another World War 2-era home-themed ad from Kaywoodie. Unfortunately I don't have a hardcopy of this one and this scan from the internet is the best I could find. Artwork, once again, by Rudolf Wetterau.

Featured pipe smoker: Stanley Baldwin

Stanley Baldwin, 1st Earl Baldwin of Bewdley (1867-1947)

To me, England is the country, and the country is England. And when I ask myself what I mean by England when I am abroad, England comes to me through my various senses — through the ear, through the eye and through certain imperishable scents ... The sounds of England, the tinkle of the hammer on the anvil in the country smithy, the corncrake on a dewy morning, the sound of the scythe against the whetstone, and the sight of a plough team coming over the brow of a hill, the sight that has been seen in England since England was a land ... the one eternal sight of England.

Stanley Baldwin was born in Worcestershire, England and was first cousin of Rudyard Kipling. He served as Member of Parliament, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Leader of the Opposition, and finally as Prime Minister (1935-37).




He was an advocate of partial disarmament in the years before Germany initiated the second World War, and some hold him partly responsible for England's ill-preparedness when war began. But then, it's easy to criticize those in the past from our own vantage point, and many people didn't want to recognize what was brewing in Europe during the 1930s. I know only what I have read about him online and in a few books relating to WW2, and I don't consider myself knowledgeable enough to comment any further.

Vintage Ad (1942): Friends tobacco

A very small reproduction that I captured from eBay at some time in the past. Captions read (to the best of my ability):

All you pipe lads, Ahoy! [I think]

Here's a smoke you'll enjoy!

YO HO! AND THE FLAVOR IS RUM!

Not a trace of tongue-bite,

This new mixture is right!

YO HO! AND THE FLAVOR IS RUM!

Give your pet pipe a lift--

At a dime, it's a gift!

YO HO! AND THE FLAVOR IS RUM!

Ask for Friends, don't forget!

Friends, you'll like it best yet!

YO HO! AND THE FLAVOR IS RUM!

Hmmm...yes, well, perhaps advertising poetry has come a long way since then.

Featured Pipe Smoker: A. A. Milne

Alan Alexander Milne (1882-1956)

"One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries."

British author of plays, novels and poetry, he is best known for being the creator of Winnie-the-Pooh.

As for pipe smoking, here is an excerpt that I found some time ago which someone had posted on an online forum. It is from a newspaper article titled "Not That it Matters," from 1920.

However, it is the pipe rather than the tobacco which marks him as belonging to this particular school. He pins his faith, not so much to its labor saving devices as to the white spot outside, the white spot of an otherwise aimless life. This tells the world that it is one of the pipes. Never was an announcement more superfluous.

...Whereas men of an older school, like myself, smoke for the pleasure of smoking, men of this school smoke for the pleasure of pipe-owning--of selecting which of their many white-spotted pipes they will fill with their specially blended tobacco, of filling the one so chosen, of lighting it, of taking it from the mouth to gaze lovingly at the white spot and thus letting it go out, of lighting it again and letting it go out again, of polishing it up with their own special polisher and putting it to bed, and then the pleasure of beginning all over again with another white-spotted one. They are not so much pipe smokers as pipe keepers; and to have spoken as I did just now of their owning pipes was wrong, for it is they who are in bondage to the white spot.

...You may be excused for feeling after the first pipe that the joys of smoking have been rated too high, and for trying to extract your pleasure from the polish on the pipe's surface, the pride of possessing a special mixture of your own, and such-like matters, rather than from the actual inspiration and expiration of smoke. In the same way a man not fond of reading may find delight in a library of well-bound books. They are pleasant to handle, pleasant to talk about, pleasant to show to friends.But it is the man without the library of well-bound books who generally does most of the reading.

So I feel that it is we of the older school that do most of the smoking. We smoke unconsciously while we are doing other things; they try, but not very successfully, to do other things while they are consciously smoking. No doubt they despise us, and tell themselves that we are not real smokers, but I fancy they feel a little uneasy sometimes. For my young friends are always trying to persuade me to join their school, to become one of the white-spotted ones.

Vintage Ad: (1923) MM Pipes

No information on this one, except that I noted it was from 1923.

Vintage Ad: Philip Morris English Mixture and Cut Plug (1911)

I thought I'd get back to having a little more activity on the old blog and start posting vintage ads and some featured pipe smokers again, so here's the oldest I currently have in my "found somewhere on the internet" collection.

I will attempt to include any information on these ads that I can, rather than just posting them as found. I was not able to find any information about the specific blends advertised here, but I was able to determine that this ad appeared on page 125 of volume XLIV (July-December 1911) of The American Review of Reviews. Click to link to go to Google Books, where you can read or download the entire volume (and many others) for free.

The message of this ad was that the tobacco was good enough to pay $2.00 per pound for, which adjusted for inflation would be about $46 per pound today, which I think is a little more expensive than most bulk blends.

Pipe lore: No Smoking

[Albert Lewis, C. S. Lewis' father] was a master of the anecdote, a fund of improbable stories, many of which for him epitomized the tragicomedy of what it meant to be Irish. One of the more bizarre 'wheezes' (as he habitually termed these stories and observations) concerned an occasion when he was travelling in an old-fashioned train of the kind which had no corridor, so that the passengers were imprisoned in their compartments for as long as the train was moving. He was not alone in the compartment. He found himself opposite one other character, a respectable-looking farmer in a tweed suit whose agitated manner was to be explained by the demands of nature. When the train had rattled on for a further few miles, and showed no signs of stopping at a station where a lavatory might be available, the gentleman pulled down his trousers, squatted on the floor of the railway carriage and defecated. When this operation was complete, and the gentleman, fully clothed, was once more seated opposite Albert Lewis, the smell in the compartment was so powerful as to be almost nauseating. To vary, if not to drown the odour, Albert Lewis got a pipe from his pocket and began to light it. But at that point the stranger opposite, who had not spoken one word the entire journey, leaned forward and censoriously tapped a sign on the window which read NO SMOKING. For C. S. Lewis, this 'wheeze' of his father's always enshrined in some insane way a truth about Northern Ireland and what it was like to live there.

--A.N. Wilson

from C.S. Lewis: A Biography

Pipe lore: Slow talker Eero Saarinen

Eero Saarinen was a Finnish architect who lived from 1910-61.

Saarinen, an exceptionally slow talker, was being interviewed for a television program. The allotted time was rapidly running out, and the anxious interviewer ventured to ask Saarinen if he could speak just a little faster. "No, sir," replied the architect, casually lighting up his pipe. "But," he continued, more slowly than ever, "I could say less."

Compare to Philip Marlowe in thoughtful when you are not thinking.

I submit for your examination

This corncob pipe is on display at the National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas. According to the museum's display notes, this pipe actually belonged to Douglas MacArthur.

As you were.

Pipe lore: Israel Putnam and the powder keg duel

Israel Putnam was an American army general during the U.S. Revolution, and previously served at a lower rank during the French and Indian Wars.

During the French and Indian War Putnam was challenged to a duel by a British major whom he had insulted. Realizing that he would stand little chance in a duel with pistols, Putnam invited the major to his tent and suggested an alternative trial of honor. The two men were sitting on small powder kegs, into each of which Putnam had inserted a slow-burning fuse. The first to squirm or move from his seat would be the loser. As the fuses burned, the major showed increasing signs of anxiety, while Putnam continued to smoke his pipe with a casual air. Seeing the spectators gradually disappear from the tent to escape the impending explosion, the major finally leaped from his keg, acknowledging Putnam as the victor. Only then did Putnam reveal that the kegs contained onions, not gunpowder.

Cigar lore: Count Gottlieb von Haeseler in good company

This isn't actually a pipe story, but cigar. Still, I liked it and I'll include it. Von Haeseler was a German general who lived from 1836-1919.

Count Haeseler was sitting in a railway waiting room, enjoying a cigar. The room's other occupant, a young lieutenant, was not quite so comfortable. "You shouldn't be smoking that cabbage-leaf of yours in good company," he said, offering Haeseler one of his own cigars. The count accepted it, slipped it into his pocket, and continued to smoke his own. "Sir, why are you not smoking my cigar?" demanded the lieutenant angrily. "I think I'll wait, as you suggest, until I'm in good company," Haeseler replied.

Pipe lore: Leonhard Euler's last words

Leonhard Euler was a Swiss mathematician who lived from 1707-83.

After having amused himself one afternoon calculating the laws of ascent of balloons--on his slate, as usual--Euler dined with Lexell (a mathematical colleague) and his family. "Herschel's Planet" (Uranus) was a recent discovery. Euler outlined the calculation of its orbit. A little later he asked that his grandson be brought in. While playing with the child and drinking tea he suffered a stroke. The pipe dropped from his hand, and with the words, "I die," Euler ceased to live and calculate.

I think I overdid it...

Today I stopped by the local shop (The Humidor on San Pedro) and bought a couple ounces of Perique to mix with my Grey Ghost (from C&D) to make more of my hybrid creation which I call Don't Tread On Me. I didn't bother to weigh the mix, I just slapped some together. I think I put in too much Perique.




Ha! Just kidding! There's no such thing as too much Perique!

Santa smokes a pipe #50

We've seen him before, but this is my annual Christmas Day post.

"Santa Claus" by Charles Bush (1867) (Santa #49)

Click to enlarge.

"Hello Little One" by Thomas Nast (1884) (Santa #48)

Click to enlarge.

Santa smokes a pipe #47 (date unknown, Finland)

Santa smokes a pipe #46 (date unknown)

Santa smokes a pipe #45 (early 1900s)

Santa smokes a pipe #44 (date unknown)

Santa smokes a pipe #43 (1920)

The problem with the world today is that almost everyone who reads this is immediately going to think of making a dirty joke about it--that's how cynical we are, and it's our loss.

Santa smokes a pipe #42 (1919)

Another Santa from 1919. This time Santa has spent a little too much time taking a pipe break and is about to get caught!

Santa smokes a pipe #41 (1919)

Another Santa with a somewhat sly and off-putting grin. Possibly the same artist as the creepy Santa from several days ago? From 1919.

Santa smokes a pipe #40 (1916)

Santa smokes a pipe #39 (1915)

Santa smokes a pipe #38 (1915)

Santa smokes a pipe #37 (1913)

Santa smokes a pipe #36 (1911)

Santa smokes a pipe #35 (1909)

Santa smokes a pipe #34 (1908)

Santa smokes a pipe #33 (1914)

Santa smokes a pipe #32 (1912)

Santa smokes a pipe #31 (1911)

Santa smokes a pipe #30 (1910)

I've seen this one before, and skipped over it because this is one creepy-looking Santa. But now I'm sharing it with you. From 1910.

Santa smokes a pipe #29 (1910)

A rather grumpy-looking Santa from 1910.

Santa smokes a pipe #28 (1910)

Santa with a clay from 1910.

Santa smokes a pipe #27 (1910)

I am trying not to post any duplicates of images already posted. This one looks awfully familiar, but in looking through my old posts I don't think it's a duplicate. Santa with a porcelain-bowl pipe from 1910.

Santa smokes a pipe #26 (1908)

In keeping with a previous custom of posting vintage pictures of Santa Claus smoking a pipe, here is the first one of this year for your enjoyment.

The Bertram is back!

Although I am not currently able to take any new photos of this pipe, you can see my previous posts and some pictures of it here and here. This was a pipe that I rescued from an eBay lot of estate pipes and did some serious refurbishing/refinishing on. However, the previous owner had badly bitten through the stem and it needed a replacement stem. Quite some time ago, I took it to a local area shop to have the stem replaced.

And then I forgot about it. Today I was working in the neighborhood just behind where that shop is located, and I remembered it. So I looked through my glove compartment and found the old receipt still there and drove around to the shop to see what was up. I told him that I had left it there a long time ago and then forgotten about it, but they had never called me to let me know that it was ready either, and did they know what had become of it. It took the guy only a few seconds to step into the back room with my receipt and return with the pipe. He said there was no price recorded for it, nor any record they had ever called me about it, and since it had been such a long time he just let me take it for no charge.

The new stem is tapered a little differently from the original, but in this case, that's a good thing. The old stem had a very diagonal taper and holding it in the teeth caused it to slowly (or sometimes not so slowly) squeeze out of the mouth. The new stem has a more curved taper so that by the time it gets to the bit, it's almost flat and much easier to hold in the mouth.

This pipe is unusually large. It has the largest bowl volume of any pipe I have, not including the Oom Paul. It's also heavy and hard to smoke without hand support, but I am puffing on it right now and I think it's going to be a great pipe once it gets seasoned.

To see pictures of two other large Bertrams that I have yet to refurbish, just click on the Bertram label on the sidebar.

UPDATE: One hour and 15 minutes. One pipe. Yow.

I've gone green

Heh.

Got in some straight Perique for blending experiments today. I'm currently smoking a hybrid mixture that's roughly 60% Bayou Night and 40% Perique. I call it "Marie Laveau."

The Anspessade

click to enlarge

I don't remember exactly the book I scanned this from; I think it was a book on French history titled something like The World of Louis XIV. This graphic, listed as "ranks and uniforms of Louis XIV's army," is notable to us because of the picture on the third row center. The anspessade apparently has a pipe as part of his uniform.

Quick note

I have added a new Blogger gadget at the bottom of the sidebar that shows the top 10 most popular posts, going back to when Blogger instituted its own statistics function.

Pipe lore: Emerson and Carlyle

I have been re-reading a collection of anecdotes recently and have come across a couple of pipe-related anecdotes. I will be filing these under the category of "pipe lore."

At one point in his life, Ralph Waldo Emerson traveled to Europe to meet his poetic idols: William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Thomas Carlyle.

Among the sages who Emerson sought out on his visit to Europe was the notoriously reticent and difficult Thomas Carlyle. He called on Carlyle one evening and was given a pipe, while the host took one himself. They sat together smoking in perfect silence until bedtime, and on parting shook hands most cordially, congratulating each other on the fruitful time they had enjoyed together.

Another good reason to smoke a pipe...

click to enlarge

In this selection from a vintage ad (from 1935) found at The Gallery of the Absurd, there is--or may be--a lesson to be learned. Who is the only one not making fun of his co-worker's stubble? Why, the one with the pipe, of course!

Featured Pipe Smoker (Fictional): Kūkaku Shiba

Kūkaku Shiba is a character from the anime series Bleach. She is a former Soul Reaper who has gone renegade from the ranks of the Soul Reapers and lives with her brother Ganju in an outlying district of the Soul Society (the place where departed souls go after death). She is a very powerful spirit being with an expertise in fireworks and when left alone enjoys smoking her pipe, which is of the old Japanese kiseru design. She always appears with what seems to bandages around her head, right shoulder and ankles, and if you look closely you can see that her right arm is prosthetic.

She has a very elegant way of holding her pipe which keeps her fingers away from what is most likely a very hot bowl.

Her brother Ganju had previously encountered Ichigo Kurosaki (the main protagonist of the series). Kūkaku's and Ganju's brother, who had also been a Soul Reaper, had been killed by another Soul Reaper, which was one thing that led to Kūkaku's departure from the Soul Reaper ranks. As a result of her brother's death, both she and Ganju have great animosity for other Soul Reapers, of which Ichigo is one. He and Ganju begin fighting, which she tolerates as she placidly smokes her pipe.

Until one of them knocks it from her fingers during the fight.

At this, she becomes somewhat agitated.

Soon after, in their ongoing struggle, Ichigo steps on...

...and shatters her pipe.

At which point she becomes quite perturbed.

And things tend to...

...escalate...

...from there.