The Stogie Guys

“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

The Super Bowl has plenty of cigar tie-ins. In fact, for a brief few days in the run-up to the big game, Indianapolis might have been the center of the American cigar scene.

Ron Jaworski hosted his third annual cigar party to support his charity. A celebrity poker event hosted by Devin Hester and LeSean McCoy at the Indianapolis Zoo featured Punch cigars. Anther charity fundraiser offered guests El Tiante cigars. And revelers at the Rolling Stone party were treated to a pairing featuring Bacardi rum and cigars (La Gloria Cubana or CAO La Traviata).

But really there’s only one cigar every fan and player wants to smoke at the Super Bowl: a victory cigar. As a New Yorker and a Giants fan I was  lucky enough to get to light up a victory cigar after this year’s game. (I’m also a Mets, Knicks, and Rangers fan, so celebrating championships is a rare thing indeed.)

For my celebratory smoke I fired up the last of my Cohiba Behikes and poured a glass of fine bourbon. The cigar tasted great, even though in the past I’d always found the Behike 54 to be a little underwhelming, especially for the $50 pricetag.

But then that’s the point. A cigar tastes better when you’ve got something to celebrate, and the bigger the celebration the better. Birthdays, weddings, and championships are all prime time for a fine cigar. And while those events may be few and far between (especially for Mets fans), there’s a lesson in there that’s applicable to everyday life. The most under-looked aspect of whether a cigar will be enjoyable or not is the mindset of the smoker.

So find something (even if it’s small) to celebrate every time you light up a cigar, and you’ll find the cigars taste better.

–Patrick S

photo credit: Winston Churchill Gallery

Years ago, I overheard a gentleman make a wise statement in a cigar shop that has stuck with me ever since. “The best cigar is the cigar you like the best,” he said.

What a wonderfully simple (and true) declaration. So many people choose to smoke cigars that are new or expensive because they think those sticks will make them look cool. Others only choose cigars that have received the highest ratings, or those that are made by the trendiest cigar makers. Still others only smoke the biggest, the boldest, the darkest, or the thickest. And others hunt for certain flavor profiles.

But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is that the cigar you choose makes you feel great and provides a pleasant experience. There’s no right answer when it comes to picking your cigar or deciding when, where, or how to smoke it. As long as enjoyment is the end result, you’re doing it right. Keep up the good work.

And if you have an all-time favorite cigar, well that’s fine too. I applaud your ability to narrow down the massive field to one supreme smoke, whether you’ve deemed that smoke supreme for its sentimental value or its physical attributes. Just don’t be shocked when I tell you I don’t have a favorite.

I often get asked what my favorite cigar is, and I think people are surprised—and sometimes disappointed—when I don’t have an answer. The truth is, I don’t have a favorite all-time song either. The music I listen to depends on a lot of different variables, not the least of which is my mood. Results can vary across genres that are completely dissimilar. If I could name a favorite song, it would change so often that it would render the act of naming a favorite completely meaningless.

That said, I do have a dozen or so songs that I would consider consistently among my favorites, some because they have sentimental value, some because I just really like the way they sound. The same could be said for cigars. Maybe I should have a “top five” answer prepared for the next time I’m asked what my favorite cigar is. Or maybe it’s enough to say, “I like too many cigars for too many different reasons to pick a favorite.”

No, I don’t think you have to have a favorite cigar. But I won’t hold it against you if you do. If you have a favorite, feel free to share it in the comments below, and feel free to mention why it’s at the top of your all-time best-of list.

–Patrick A

photo credit: Stogie Guys

As is customary each January, seemingly everyone is making their list of the top cigars of the previous year. We haven’t published such a list in the last few years, but we did create a best-of list to send out to subscribers of our newsletter two years ago.

Such lists are fun, as you compare your preferences with the list author’s. And sometimes you’ll realize there is a cigar you’ve wanted to try but haven’t, or maybe an old favorite that you’ve gotten away from for no particular reason.

But creating a best-of list (or at least a good one) is problematic. For starters, you need to determine criteria that will result in a meaningful list.

Will only new cigars be considered? Is smoking just a single enough to to fairly evaluate a cigar? (If you review cigars like we do, is a full review required?)

Once you’ve determined which cigars are eligible, how exactly do you determine the best? Should price be a factor? Cigar Aficionado says they re-review all top-scoring cigars blind (but if they get different ratings one must wonder if the ratings are at least a bit arbitrary). Others, I’m sure, just reflect on what they’ve written or said, mostly relying on memory.

One of the best ways to determine your favorite cigars of the year is to consider the cigars you bought and/or smoked most regularly. This method is used the least. (Under that criteria, the Tatuaje Petit Cazadores Reserva, 7-20-4 Dogwalker, CroMagnon, and the Illusione Singulare LE 2010 Phantom would be my top smokes of 2011.)

But then some hidden gems that I didn’t get to smoke as much as I might have liked would miss the list (Humo Jaguar, Grimalkin by Emilio Cigar, San Lotano Oval, Crowned Head’s Four Kicks, and the E.P. Carrillo LE 2011 “Dark Rituals”).

Ultimately, I think the best part of making a best-of list isn’t the final list but thinking back on what you smoked last year, what you enjoyed, and what you wish you smoked more of. Whether you share your personal “Best Cigars of 2011” list with others (feel free to do so in the comments if you want) or not, what’s important is that you reflect about your favorites from the past. Doing so will make for better smoking in the future.

–Patrick S

photo credit: Flickr

Back in 2003 when New York City passed a smoking ban in all bars and restaurants, critics said it was only the beginning of the new expanded nanny state powers. Despite such pleas while the law was being debated and enacted, few non-smokers joined the battle against the smoking ban, leaving the battle to tobacco-using adults, bar owners worried about their businesses, property rights advocates, and retailers and manufacturers in the tobacco business.

Now, nine years later, a look at the many laws in New York shows that smoking was just the beginning. In the time since then, a ban on selling food cooked with trans fats has gone into effect, and New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg has also gone after sugar-rich sodas. Bloomberg has pushed for reduced salt in prepared foods and the city council even proposed a complete ban on restaurants cooking with salt. And now the New York Post reports Bloomberg has his nanny-state sites set on alcohol.

In other words, smokers were just the beginning of the paternalistic crusade that now impacts everyone who eats food cooked with salt or trans fats, smokes in bars, drinks soda, or wants a glass of wine or a beer. If Mayor Bloomberg gets his way, good luck getting a rum and coke, or a margarita with salt, let alone a fine cigar to enjoy with them.

It’s an important lesson to remember the next time a non-smoker says that, although they don’t think the government should stop a bar owner from allowing smoking on their property, they still won’t oppose the smoking ban because they don’t like the smell of smoke on their clothes after a night out.

When they tell you that (as I’ve been told many times), remind them that smoking bans are not the end, but just the beginning. Remind them that once you start encouraging government to restrict people’s choices in the name of “public health” it will inevitably be used to restrict their choices. New York’s smoking ban was once an anomaly, but since it’s become the model for countless smoking bans elsewhere.

Fat, salt, sugar, tobacco, alcohol…they are all targets of the nanny state, and sooner or later everyone will be affected. Just ask the citizens of New York City.

–Patrick S

photo credit: Flickr

Tomorrow, Clemson and West Virginia will face off in the Orange Bowl, but freedom already lost when anti-tobacco lobbyists and three U.S. senators successfully bullied the Orange Bowl into canceling their three-year sponsorship deal with Camacho Cigars.

In early December, Camacho Cigars, a subsidiary of premium cigarmaker Davidoff of Geneva, announced their partnership with the Orange Bowl to be a “corporate partner” of the game for the next three years and for the BCS Championship game in 2013 when the site of the Orange Bowl would host the biggest game in college football. The deal included cigar lounges at the site of the game, and Orange Bowl officials praised the deal saying, “We pride ourselves in affiliating with quality brands, especially those with strong South Florida ties, like Camacho Cigars.”

But the praise didn’t last long. Anti-smoking lobbying groups got wind of the new partnership and quickly began complaining: “The association of cigar smoking with one of the nation’s top collegiate sporting events sends the wrong message to impressionable young fans and helps market cigars as athletic, masculine, and cool,” the groups wrote in a letter to the Orange Bowl Committee and the NCAA.

Soon, anti-tobacco politicians were piling on. Three Democrat senators (Dick Durbin, Frank Lautenberg, and Richard Blumenthal) wrote to demand the game drop Camacho as a sponsor, writing, “Tobacco has no place in sports, and the promotion of cigars at the Orange Bowl sends the wrong message to young fans.”

Faced with this professional PR campaign and the implicit threat of three powerful senators, the Orange Bowl caved and canceled its sponsorship with Camacho, which it had so proudly announced two weeks earlier.

The whole incident shows the hysteria and propaganda that the are the basis of the anti-tobacco movement. Take a look at some of the other sponsors and you’ll be unable to come to any other conclusion:

No one blinks an eye at the fact that Bacardi and Bud Light are sponsors, apparently “promoting” alcohol towards minors by being sponsors. Meanwhile, Orange Bowl partners Taco Bell, Frito Lay, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and Coca Cola are “promoting” horrible health that kills millions who suffer from obesity, diabetes, and heart disease.

Then there’s Bank of America, perhaps the most offensive sponsor of the game. They took billions in tax dollars for a bailout after helping ruin the American economy by significantly contributing to the mortgage crisis, but no one is clamoring for the Orange Bowl to drop them.

And yet, according to these zealots, “tobacco has no place in sports” and “cigars are just as harmful to [one’s] health as cigarettes.” Even though both claims are demonstrably untrue.

Ultimately, that’s the difference between us cigar smokers and the anti-tobacco crazies. We just want adults to be able to have the choice to enjoy a cigar if they want to. They lie and threaten to stop adults from having that choice.

–Patrick S

photo credit: Flickr