All-time great cigar men

Of civilization’s many recent setbacks, the ever-widening loss of pipe-smokers is a prime milepost. “Did you ‘misnome’ this diatribe, Laddie Boy?”, one might be thinking after that lead. Nay, but I am at a loss to set a personal example – the optimal response always – to ameliorate above reasoned charge. Though my own father was a confirmed Dunhill private mix man, the lovely aroma of a lit pipe doesn’t suit me (though I do look quite fetching, still, in the requisite matching argyle cardigan with oversized ivory buttons).

No, I am brusque & biting not smooth & soothing. My personal Basie rhythm section modus operandi stands juxtaposed to this latter description of something more akin to a Bing Crosby, swingin' sweetly left, melody. [Preferably, one can only hope, sans a child wailing in the background from the incipient bubbling of their buttocks due to ‘Der Bingle’ recently exercising the family hair brush. Ahem.]

My persona is that of the cigar – burning brightly pungent & perniciously. Also, as occurred to me only recently (and as sworn to on whatever stack of books you consider holy) many of my favorite men were/are imbibers of hand-rolled delights too. So, in a most self-indulgent vein admittedly, let me expound briefly upon this pantheon of Cuban-derived greatness in character & taste by supplying some not so well known tidbits about these designated Connecticut wrapper gentlemen.

1.) H.L. Mencken

Many of you, I’m sure, have noticed a near felonious borrowing with pride on my part of the verbiage, flavor & tone in this ongoing internet funfest from Mr. Henry Louis Mencken of 1524 Hollins St. Guilty, as charged, is all I can answer. My only weak mea culpa is that even if I tried to exorcise such an influence, I would fail if only due to osmosis. Mine was a misspent youth, at least in part, and the Chrestomathy loomed large and often in my literary debauchery.

Mencken's latent anti-Semitism aside, there is much in the tragic figure of H.L.M. I have always regarded highly besides his obvious textual genius. In fact (and I do mist-up even at the thought of such), that which I loved more than anything else in this world was named in honor of the ‘Bard of Baltimore’. As alluded to in a previous post, FDR’s & William Jennings Bryan’s primary nemesis not only puffed copiously in his own private life, but, in fact, was the descendant of a family prominent in cigar-making and had, at one time, their own factory for manufacturing Indians right in the heart of the ‘Charm City’.

2.) Winston Churchill

Could I really need to write anything that would even approximate that which has been scribed (including most trenchantly - and voluminously - by the man himself) already? No, sir, certainly not. My only addition, albeit a small one, is to note that the Great Lion came to his habit early when, as a young man, he and a companion were literally stranded & near penniless in Habana. For a period of two weeks Winnie subsisted, by his admission, on nothing more than oranges and the peculiar size ‘stick’ that came to have his surname’s appellation. Surprisingly he doesn't add in this diet reference to a decent cup of Cuban coffee?

3.) Groucho Marx

Speaking of oranges, there's a nice biography of the comedic brothers which describes a '50's desert road trip they made. Strip malls then were still a concept rather than utterly ubiquitous. Groucho, as background, had lost a small fortune during 1929’s Great Crash. Since such time, he had never slept very well nor trusted practically anything. Paranoia, in this case, caused the prankster to bring on the trip a large brown bag of oranges & tomatoes just in case the car broke down somewhere near the future grave sites of various Teamster loan officers. His companions, much to their amusement, noted that he kept the bag in sight as if the Holy Grail, itself, were being protected. Another salient morsel: The funniest brother, in reality, was Zeppo and the top side-splitting prize in the family went to Gummo, a brother who dropped out of the act to become an agent when the troupe transitioned from Vaudeville to the silver screen.

4.) Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman

‘Uncle Billy’ to his men, it is my regret that I will never attempt a historical work which examines the true lynchpin of the Civil War – Grant’s personal relationship with this quirky individual who – besides breaking the back of Confederate resistance – invented the modern theory of war. Possibly the only superior memoirs to U.S.G.’s are those of Sherman’s - “He (Grant) stood by me when I was crazy and I stood by him when he was drunk.” Personally I’m completely biased on this matter because, despite no physical proximity, the figure in history I most approximate is W.T.S. – with regards to the good & (in particular) the bad.

From a ‘stick’ perspective, most reports are that it was rare for the General, especially in the field, not to be seen working an Indian (lit at times, no doubt, by the smoldering remains of that which his “Boys” had just marched through). A soldier is said to have remarked during Sherman’s infamous ‘March To The Sea’, that his army’s practice of living-off-the-land was so effective “A pig found would be tossed back through the marching ranks – gutted, cleaned & eaten - so that only the bones and a piece of the ear remained by the time it reached the rear. The ear kept so that Uncle Billy would have something on which to strike a match!”. A bit of hyperbole this is, certainly, but colorful nevertheless.

5.) ‘Joseph Petroni’

Who? This one is quite a stretch and not even remotely in the same weight class as any of the other gents listed above, but, please, indulge me. This is the George Kennedy character [Seen right explaining the meat grinder effect through cabin windows of decompression at thirty thousand feet] in that late ‘60’s movie epic - and spoof engine extraordinaire - “Airplane”. The fill-um is remembered most now, I admit, for the near-splatter level testosterone contest between the characters of Burt “I love my job more than my damn wife!” Lancaster and Dean “Damnit, Lincoln, I need runway 2-9-er!” Martin. My favorite part by far, however, involves ‘Petroni’.

Despite being from TWA [There’s a blast-from-the-past name] in the picture, George Kennedy’s guy is charged with trying to dislodge a fictitiously named airline’s 727 from the infield so that ole Dino’s prized runway can become available for a landing which will save the passengers and, in so doing, also not further endanger the love child he has conceived with Stewardess Jacqueline Bisset (beyond, to be certain, a genetic proclivity of the tot to double Martini milkshakes during most of his/her elementary school years). When our husky hero, 'Petroni', finally climbs into the cockpit to “give her (the plane, that is) all she’s going to get” and blow, quite literally, the 727 out of the ditch, he so overworks his Indian in the process that the spent carcass is simply tossed over his shoulder after the deed is most assuredly (and violently) done.

Obviously I could go on, but enough frivolity for now. To those of who indulge, more power to you! To those who don’t but know/like someone who does, we appreciate your indulgence of our enjoyment and can only say, “May a thousand camels ring your caravan and you always be upwind of them!”