The Stogie Guys

The other evening we streamed an old movie to our television and not long into it I got a surprise. One of the actors reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar.

But that wasn’t the surprise. The movie, The Spanish Cape Mystery, was the first Ellery Queen film, and it was released in 1935. In that era, cigar smoking was common. You’d even see photos of Marlene Dietrich sporting a cigar in the 1930s. No, the surprise came as I watched Berton Churchill—not only aptly named for a cigar smoker, but a long-time actor and Screen Actors Guild founder you’d almost certainly recognize if you watch many pre-1940 movies—slide the cigar from a cellophane sleeve. I knew cellophane had been around a long time, but I had no idea it was used on cigars back then.

So I immediately turned to my buddy Doc Stogie, who I always think of as a font of cigar knowledge, from major to minutia. In fact, Doc’s website is so focused on education, he recently changed it from a .com domain to one that ends with .info.

Doc, of course, knew just where to turn for a definitive answer: Tony Hyman, whose National Cigar Museum is an online treasure. (Warning: Don’t go there unless you have time to while away because you’ll be deeply immersed in the fascinating photos, stories, and lore before you know it.)

The cellophane story goes back a ways before the 1930s and isn’t quite straightforward, according to what Doc reported.

“In 1921, domestic cigar makers started making short-filler cigars to better compete in the post-war boom,” he wrote. “Since short-filled dried out more
rapidly, cigar makers employed foil to preserve cigars.”

Then, in 1931, tobacco giant P. Lorillard began using cellophane on its Postmaster cigars, which listed at 2 for 5 cents in boxes of 100, Doc told me.

And the kicker? Well, Doc let me know that in the same year, Cornell University issued a solemn warning against “eating transparent wrappings
(cellophane) of cigars and other articles.”

There you have it. While it doesn’t quite live up to the intrigue of the Spanish Cape Mystery, the Tale of the Cellophane Conundrum is solved.

-George E

photo credit: Flickr

In the early days of Cigar Rights of America (CRA), the creation of the organization caused a stir for existing groups, especially the International Premium Cigar & Pipe Retailers Association (IPCPR).

While it’s often forgotten now, just days after the announcement of the founding of CRA in 2008, IPCPR moved to start its own organization for consumers. The group, called “Friends of the Industry,” was hastily announced just a day after CRA was unveiled. Manufacturers, who had lined up behind, and provided the initial funding for, CRA were caught off guard by the IPCPR’s seemingly unplanned attempt to copy the CRA. “All the cigar manufacturers are lining up to be part of the CRA, and we invite the IPCPR to join our organization. I think we should work together,” Ashton president Robbie Levine told Cigar Aficionado.

Nothing much became of IPCPR’s consumer group, at least not officially. Though the association has (thankfully) made more effort lately to encourage consumers to contact their elected representatives, even if they’ve dropped the “Friends of the Industry” group name.

In hindsight this seems to be a good thing. My opinion is informed by being a member of Cigar Rights of America since soon after its founding, and becoming an online media member of the IPCPR last year. Now more than ever I’n glad the CRA was created.

Recently, the need for an independent consumer-oriented group has been reinforced by an ongoing controversy over the role of media (and specifically online media like StogieGuys.com) at the IPCPR annual trade show. My intention isn’t to get into that controversy, but if you want to read more I recommend checking out the opinions of Cigar Craig and Jerry of Stogie Review.

IPCPR primarily represents two key constituencies: the retailers whose numbers make up most of its ranks and the manufacturers who pay a large percentage of its fees, particularly to be part of the trade show. These are important groups, whose fundamental goals are in line with cigar smokers, especially when it comes to anti-tobacco zealots’ attempts to regulate and tax cigars out of existence.

But when it comes to smaller, more internal, issues, cigar consumers’ interests are not always perfectly in line with manufacturers or retailers. The debate over cigar media access to the annual trade show makes this clear. Our readers certainly benefit from our reporting (and that of others) from the trade show, even if some people would prefer a more controlled release of information. That’s part of why the Cigar Rights of America is so fundamental. It represents an increasingly independent voice for consumers and their interests. Cigar smokers need to join the CRA, so the organization can effectively represent cigar smokers exclusively.

“Industry” voices (both manufacturers and retailers) are important and should be supported. But the pure number of voting cigar smokers is a force they need to counter the anti-tobacco lobby. Join today and be proud that you’re a part of the solution.

-Patrick S

photo credit: Stogie Guys

A good cigar enthusiast is an informed cigar enthusiast. That’s why I’m so thankful for the vibrant online cigar community as a whole, and why my colleagues and I continuously strive to accurately and comprehensively provide information about the cigars on the market, who makes them, which ones are worth smoking, and what legislation is threatening cigar rights.

In each cigar review, for example, we always try to provide the country (or countries) of origin of the wrapper, binder, and filler, when that information is available. And it often is. So most of our full reviews include a sentence like this: “The blend boasts an Ecuadorian wrapper with a Nicaraguan binder and a three-country filler blend from Nicaragua, Honduras, and the Dominican Republic.” Now that information is important, but it doesn’t really tell us all that much about the cigar or how the cigar will taste. Almost every cigar on the market is some combination of the aforementioned nations, or maybe it also has tobacco from Connecticut, Mexico, Cameroon, etc.

Do I want to know that a cigar has a Mexican wrapper? Yes. But I also want to know a whole lot more. And what I want to know isn’t typically so easily found.

Now I’m not calling for industry standards or government regulations. But it would be nice if cigar manufacturers and retailers listed the kind of tobacco in a cigar, not just the countries of origin. Most already do this for the wrapper, listing it as maduro, corojo, criollo, etc. It gets tougher to find this info on binders and fillers. In a perfect world, I would be able to tell if a stick is, say, stuffed with ligero.

Another huge variable is time. Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone listed the box date, or the age of the tobaccos within the cigars, or both? That would help us all better determine if recently purchased smokes need more age or if they’re ready to smoke immediately. And personnel can also make a big difference, especially in terms of setting expectations for quality and consistency. We often know who blended a cigar and where the cigar is rolled. Sometimes, though, those answers are either vague or hard to come by.

As someone who writes often about cigars, you could say I have a vested interest in getting access to information. True. But I would say the same thing about cigar smokers, who need that information in order to make decisions about purchases. To those cigar manufacturers and retailers who already make a lot of the above information available, I applaud you. Those that are more secretive might consider opening up a little.

-Patrick A

photo credit: Flickr

Only a couple years ago, Mexican tobacco was quite the rage. It seemed you couldn’t pick up a cigar magazine or check out a new brand without wading through the hype. Features about the Turrents, Mexico’s leading cigar family, and San Andreas morrón wrapper were as common as Black & Mild displays at a 7-Eleven.

Mexican tobacco, the declaration went, was breaking out, no longer consigned to the New York cabbie smoke, Te-Amo. Well, maybe not. I wouldn’t rank the effort with the failed public relations campaigns behind, say, New Coke or Ford’s Edsel. But I also would call it far from successful.

I couldn’t help but recall all this the other day when I was flipping through a reprint of Cigar Journal’s Finest 25 Cigars of 2011. The intro mentioned how impressed the tasting panel was with the number of countries where the cigars’ tobacco originated, including Mexico.

Looking through the list, though, I couldn’t find any that included Mexican tobacco, though there were two with “secret” filler components. So, maybe the Journal knows those are Mexican or, since it was a reprint, the lead-in referred to other cigars in the full issue.

Next, I went through Cigar Aficionado’s top cigars list for 2011 and quickly found one: La Aroma de Cuba Mi Amor Belicoso with that San Andreas wrapper in the second slot. But that was it. Nothing Mexican was listed in the other 24.

When I went back to CA’s list the year before, there were four in the top 25 with Mexican wrappers, including another size of the La Aroma de Cuba Mi Amor.

What does all this prove? I’m not sure. I’d posit that it’s another indication that cigar smokers are discerning, generally make up their own minds, and aren’t particularly swayed by advertising or promotion.

I also think my opinion of Mexican tobacco is probably similar to that of many smokers. I routinely find it to have what I can best describe as an unpleasant dry, dirt taste that more often spoils, rather than enhances, a blend. And while I wouldn’t automatically reject a cigar because it had Mexican tobacco, it likely would drop in consideration.

Sometimes I’m surprised to discover that a cigar I enjoyed contains Mexican tobacco; more often, I find it’s in a stick I didn’t particularly like.

What do you think?

-George E

photo credit: Ben Miller

For Americans, Cuban cigars hold a unique mystique. Illegal but not overly difficult to obtain, nearly every cigar smoker has smoked one or knows a guy who can get them. Lately, I’ve been asked a few times about Cuban cigars, so I’ve done some thinking about the puros from that “Island South of Miami.” Specifically, I get asked two common questions:

Are Cubans really the best?

In my opinion, not really. Cuban cigars can be fantastic, but they are far too inconsistent. Construction and flavor seem to regularly vary from box to box, and sometimes stick to stick.

Cuba is probably the best possible place to grow tobacco. Cuba is to cigar production as France is to wine production. It was a comparative advantage in terms of micro-climate. The problem is the production of Cuban cigars is state-owned by a totalitarian regime. No doubt, if the French wine industry was run by a Communist dictator for half a century, the great French wines would have turned unreliable and often poor.

Under one government conglomerate, many Cuban cigars have lost their character. While I’m too young to have experienced it myself, I’m told there was a time when every brand had a unique flavor profile. Today, in addition to the construction issues and lack of properly aged tobacco, too often all Cuban cigars seem to be a variation, of the same basic blend.

What happens when the embargo ends?

Or, more likely, I’m asked something like, “You must be looking forward to the embargo ending?” My answer: Yes, but not for the reason you think.

When the embargo finally ends, and you have to imagine it will eventually, there will certainly be a big run on Cuban cigars. Everyone who has ever smoked a cigar will want to try a Cuban and the result will be more rushed, poorly constructed Cuban cigars than ever.

In other words, once the embargo ends I’ll probably smoke fewer, not more Cuban cigars. Still, I’m excited about one aspect of the embargo ending: the ability for non-Cuban cigar makers to use Cuban tobacco. Once the great cigar makers of our time get access to Cuban tobacco, which they can properly prepare and age and blend with other tobaccos we’ve come to enjoy, then I’ll really be excited about the embargo ending.

-Patrick S

photo credit: Wikipedia

“Wait until you see the painting of Tom Kelly!” declares the tour guide with a proud smile. We walk down the suite-level corridor at Target Field, home of the Minnesota Twins, and suddenly find ourselves staring at a giant painting of former Twins manager Tom Kelly chomping on a cigar. “This is his official portrait,” says the guide.

Kelly is having his number retired this year. After leading the team to two World Series titles and then sticking around to work in the Twins front office and occasionally moonlight as the color commentator on Twins TV broadcasts, it’s fitting that the franchise would retire #10. After all, he’s exalted in Minnesota baseball, the most successful manager in Twins history, and the only one to lead the Twinkies to a World Series title, which he did not once but twice.

So if one were to visit the suite level of Target Field, you’d see a wall covered with paintings of all the Twins managers. It’s sort of like a baseball hall of presidents, where a portrait of each skipper hangs in chronological order and stretches the length of a hallway. Painted by Max Mason, who used photos selected by Twins management, each painting depicts a Twins manager either in action, or posing for the shot. But none of them—and I mean none of them—stand out like the painting of Tom Kelly. The image of this cigar-chomping, prescription sunglass-clad skipper is already a classic.

“He was a big cigar guy,” says Joe Pohlad, marketing specialist for the Minnesota Twins. Kelly no longer smokes, but back in the day he used to stomp around the field with a cigar dangling from his lips and could sometimes be seen puffing on a stogie during batting practice. “We have some great photographs of TK,” says Pohlad. “This was a very iconic picture, where he has very stern look on his face. Ready to get it done.”

But it’s the cigar that makes this painting great. The Target Field tour guide says Tom Kelly himself chose the photo that would become the iconic painting. When pressed for the story, Pohlad confirmed that Tom Kelly did choose the image, and to the delight of the Twins front office. Says Pohlad: “If he didn’t pick it, we definitely would have picked it.”

Max Mason, the artist, is happy with how the painting turned out. Commissioned to paint portraits of all 13 Twins managers, Mason just completed a panoramic painting of Target Field that the Twins also purchased. View more of his fantastic work at his website.

-Mark M

photo credit: Max Mason

[Editor’s Note: The Cigar Maker is the story of a Cuban cigar maker who battles labor strife and vigilante violence in 1900’s Tampa. It recently won the Bronze Medal at the Independent Publisher Book Awards and has been named a Finalist in ForeWord Magazine’s 2010 Book of the Year Awards. Click here to learn more.]

“Boxing? I should sell you to the circus!” Olympia stood on the porch with her fists on her hips and glared at the boys below. Lázaro’s crooked nose was smeared with blood and Javier wavered in a drunken daze with blotches of red coloring his shirt and tie. “Get inside, the both of you, before I knock your teeth out!” Lázaro climbed the steps and as he passed his mother and entered the house, Olympia slapped his backside. Javier tried to follow but Olympia stood in his way. “And why didn’t you stop him?”

His jacket was folded over his arm and his hat was in his hand; his eyes sagged, tired and drunk from a long night on the town. Javier shrugged. “I’m not his father. He can do what he wants.”

“Be careful what you say or I’ll throw you out of this house!” They went inside where Lázaro sat on the couch in the parlor. Josefina was sitting on the floor reading a book, which she set aside when her brothers walked in. Javier joined Lázaro on the couch and Olympia stood before them with her fists still locked against her hips. She said to Lázaro, “If you spill blood on that couch, you will pay for a new one.”

“Fine,” Lázaro said and dabbed his nose with Javier’s bloody handkerchief. His eyes were closed, his head hurt, and he wished she would leave him alone so he could rest.

Josefina rose. “I’ll get ice and a fresh towel.” She crossed the parlor and disappeared down the hallway, passing Salvador as he entered the room. “Bring a dirty dishrag instead!” Olympia called to Josefina. “I don’t want to ruin another good towel with this one’s blood!”

Salvador came into the parlor with his shirt off wearing only his pants and a belt, almost ready for bed. He saw Lázaro on the couch a mess of bruises and Javier beside him with a bloody shirt. Javier’s normally perfect hair was disheveled and both boys looked guilty as thieves. “Now what is all this about?” He stood next to Olympia and glared sternly at the two boys.

“He entered a contest,” Javier began.

Olympia interrupted. “Let him say it.”

All eyes went to Lázaro, who sighed and looked to the floor. Finally he said, “I’m not going to sit at a factory workbench all day.”

Salvador and Olympia shared a glance; they had expected this moment. Inside of her anger, Olympia found that she understood, but she tried not to let it show by crossing her arms and tapping a foot. “You entered a contest?”

He nodded. “It was a great fight,” Javier said merrily. “All the men were cheering.”

“Javier!” Olympia pointed at her oldest son, “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to break your nose!”

“What’s wrong with boxing?” Javier asked innocently. “He’s good at it, and if he keeps practicing, he can make money for the family.”

Olympia asked Lázaro, “How much money did you make tonight?”

He shook his head. “None.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t win.”

Javier said, “I made ten dollars.”

“You bet against him?” Olympia asked. Javier shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Olympia held out her hand. “Give me half.” Javier was surprised. “I spent it already.”

“You already spent ten dollars?” Olympia said doubtfully as she took a step closer. She didn’t believe he already spent ten dollars and made sure her face showed him how angry she would be if he had.

He shrugged. “Most of it.”

“So you’ve just lied to your mother? Give me what’s left.” She waited with her hand extended as Javier reached into his pocket and handed her a couple of crumpled bills and some change. “Two dollars? You good for nothing fool,” she folded the money into her palm.

Josefina returned from the kitchen with a fresh towel and a handful of ice, which she handed to Lázaro. Olympia said to Javier, “Your father and I want to talk to Lázaro.”

Javier and Josefina dismissed themselves and went into the boys’ bedroom where they sat with E.J. and listened. The walls were so thin it was impossible to avoid hearing everything that was said. Salvador moved to the couch and sat beside Lázaro while Olympia remained standing, her hands back on her hips. Salvador said, “Let me look at your nose.”

Lázaro sat back, allowing his father to inspect his face. Black bags would form under his eyes, his nose and mouth were caked with dried blood, and his nose was smashed, but the bleeding had stopped. “Your nose is broken again but it doesn’t look too bad. Do you still have all of your teeth?” Lázaro clenched his teeth and opened his lips to show his father that he did.

Olympia shook her head. “You’re going to come home dead one of these days, little raccoon.”

Salvador said, “Lázaro, fighting and scuffling with your brothers is one thing but boxing is no way to make a living. You don’t make real money unless you turn pro and you don’t turn pro unless you fight constantly. In the meantime you’ll break your nose, your ribs, your hands, and your neck.”

Olympia added, “And when you’re hungry with broken hands you won’t be able to work any other jobs and you won’t be able to eat.”

“Boxing is a life for men with no other skills,” Salvador said.

“Boxing is a skill,” Lázaro insisted as he held a handful of ice to his nose.

“But it is not work. How are you going to feed yourself?”

“I won’t go hungry,” Lázaro said. “There is a man visiting town who trains professional boxers in New Orleans.” Olympia threw her head back and forced an exasperated laugh. “You’re going to waste your life on some circus clown?”

“He’s not a clown.”

“You are a clown for even considering this ridiculous stunt!”

Lázaro finally lost his temper and yelled, “Then why don’t you kick me out of this house so I can go about my life as I please?”

Olympia pointed at him. “The only place you’re going is back to the workbench so you can earn money for this family. You will do your part like every one of us.”

Then Lázaro said something that not only enraged Olympia, but hurt her feelings in a way that Lázaro would regret for the rest of his life. He shouted, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, “You don’t work! You don’t do anything!”

Olympia’s eyes opened wide and black as the volume of her voice became frighteningly lower. “What disrespect have you just shown your mother?”

Lázaro rose to face Olympia. Salvador tried to hold him back, but Lázaro broke away and stood face to face with his mother, looking down at her from above. “Papa, Javier and I work full time in the factory. Josefina is a nurse, and even E.J. is learning the trade. You stay home all day playing and bossing everyone around.”

She took a step closer so their faces were inches apart. Though she was small compared to her son, to Salvador she looked as if she had risen to the same height. There was a fury in her eyes unlike any Salvador had ever seen. In a deep, controlled voice that stifled her rage, Olympia said, “Are you telling me that I don’t wash your clothes and keep your bed clean? That I don’t fix your daily meals? That I’m not awake long after everyone has gone to sleep, and that I’m not the first to rise in the morning? When you were five and wandered over a beehive, and ran home crying like a baby, it was my shoulder you cried on! I was the one who treated your stings! I looked after you when you were sick, I picked you up when you fell, I carried you when you couldn’t walk, and I fed you when you could not eat. And when you were an infant, and didn’t know your foot from your ear, it was me who wiped your ass and cleaned you off after you had shit all over yourself! So if you think I don’t do anything, then get the hell out of this house and do it yourself!”

Her eyes watered and tears fell immediately. “I am so mad I can no longer look at him,” her voice cracked as she stomped down the hallway, into the kitchen and out the back.

-Mark M

photo credit: The Cigar Maker