It’s Good To Be Back
By Todd L.
Platek
After a lengthy hiatus of many years, I have returned to
pipe collecting and pipe smoking with glee. The
reasons may be several, but it’s good to be back.
I grew up in a home filled with
pipe smoke. East 89th Street in Manhattan, and, from
my earliest memories, dad smoked his pipe with black coffee
starting at about 6:00 a.m. each morning, except for
weekends when he woke a bit later and lit up at about 8:00
a.m. He didn’t have many pipes by a collector’s
standard, maybe a dozen. Nothing too fancy - some
Jobeys, Wally Franks, and a Cavanaugh. Bought
Brindley’s Mixture and Carter Hall in big cans. Used
a plastic tobacco pouch. In the evenings, after work
and dinner, he’d sit in the recliner reading and watching
television simultaneously, pipes going furiously.
Smoke wafted in the room, and we could see the layers of
smoke dancing their way higher, then lower, then replaced
by ever-new streams. My mother loved it, and whenever
my brother or I would complain, my mother quickly
interrupted, defending dad’s right to enjoy his
relaxation. She thought he looked great with a pipe,
and often told him how good he’d look with a cigar, but he
was a pipe man, through and through.
Before I went off to college in 1970, I asked him if I
could have a pipe, and he gave me a Jobey full-bent, and
that was my start. When I moved to Washington, D.C.
to attend George Washington University, I quickly found
National Pipe and Tobacco Shop a few blocks away, met Ed
Love, and bought my own first pipe – a black, sandblasted
Savory. It probably cost me a week’s allowance.
Six months later I bought a Ben Wade poker there, and
smoked Borkum Riff. Within two years, I was working
part-time at National Pipe and making my own English
blends. I bought a few more Ben Wades, a Dunhill and
a Barling with my paychecks. When Jack Weinberger
came by, toting his carrying case to sell his creations to
National Pipe, I bought one for my dad’s birthday, and
later bought him a Charatan. He enjoyed both and I
was pleased. He later bought a few Knutes because of
the fabulous, and, I suppose, novel Danish freeforms which
were unusual in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s in
comparison to the standard shapes with which he had grown
up. Then fell in love with Butz Choquins and Morels,
claiming they reminded him of his wonderful trips in
France. He never did change tobaccos though, nor
those plastic pouches. Pipe smokers are an
independent lot.
When I left college and returned to New York, I still
smoked a pipe. Then came stints in the Far East,
marriage, children, and a hectic life of lawyering.
Somehow, the pipes came to rest and I rarely smoked for
over 20 years. But I never lost my fondness for my
pipes and what they meant to me.
My dad is no longer with us, but his pipes still are.
The pipes are part of the legacy he left, and I think
of him when I see and smoke them.
Maybe that’s why I returned. Time catches up with all
of us, and that’s usually not a bad thing.
Now, as I get older, I find solace in a good bowl of
tobacco. It’s that time of the day for relaxing,
reflecting and focusing. It can be while sitting at
home, walking outside, or driving the car. Puffing
while writing. Smoking with fellow pipe lovers.
All the joys of the pipe.
It’s also the appreciation of the beauty of the
briar. The sweet smell of briar before the tobacco
fills the bowl is a pleasure in itself. The thought
of craftsmen toiling, with their equal appreciation for the
briar, to create the many pipes that now sit before me, or
indeed the very pipe in my hand, is humbling.
Discovering only very recently the fascinating and
illuminating world of eBay, and meeting pipemakers and
fellow enthusiasts, has brought me tremendous
satisfaction.
Each pipe I buy is special to me, and I suppose I never met
a pipe I didn’t like. From Dunhills, Ben Wades and
Parkers, to old Knutes and all those sexy Italian pipes and
stylistic French pipes, to the wonderful world of briar
crafted by individual American makers like J.M. Boswell
& son, Tim West, Mark Tinsky and many others whom I am
encountering, my pipe world continues to expand in
many-splendored ways and directions.
On April 5, I attended my first pipe show, held in Newark,
New Jersey. The people there, exhibitors and
attendees alike, filled me with a feeling of brotherhood in
their glorious enjoyment of our shared love of pipes and
tobacco. As I write this, I am smoking the tan
Caminetto I bought that day from Matt Hayes. Paige
Simms and Bob Palermo contributed to my collection that
day, and we all keep in touch. Helpful friends
such as Dave Neeb have been met on eBay, and it's only a
matter of time until, at a pipe show somewhere and
sometime, we place the faces with the emails and phone
calls. It is a warm and welcoming community, and I am
proud to have joined.
My daughter’s recent Spring Break occasioned a car trip
which I planned, without complaint from her or my wife,
around J.M. Boswell’s shop, Matt Hayes’ shop, Pipe &
Pint, and few other shops. My daughter can’t wait to
go back to J.M.Boswell’s, so she can play with his Labrador
Retrievers and see all of Gail Boswell’s birds. My
sons want to visit J.M.’s pipemaking shop in the
back. And me? I just want to sit and smoke and
pass the time of day with J.M. and Dan and whatever other
briar lovers stop by to smoke and chat.
We pipesmokers, we happy few.
It’s good to be back.