The Briar Files

Samuel Seymour

2012-02-11T20:15:00.000-06:00

Here's a film clip of the old TV show "I've Got a Secret," with 96-year-old Samuel Seymour. A very interesting clip that also has a pipe connection.

Like a Sir

2012-01-25T19:25:00.002-06:00

Found at verydemotivational.com.

Vintage Ad: Genuine French Briar Pipes

2012-01-16T15:10:00.003-06:00

From an old Sears catalog, date unknown.

Via Voice of the Monkey.

Pipe, not pipe #1

2012-01-03T18:44:00.000-06:00

click to enlarge

When is a pipe not a pipe? When it's a cigar holder. Here we have a nattily-dressed late 19th century young man, complete with top hat, smoking his cigar in something that looks somewhat pipe-like.

Honestly, in my opinion, he doesn't pull it off. If he was thirty years older, maybe, but as is, I can't help but think that this is the 1890s version of the modern douchebag.

From My Ear Trumpet Has Been Struck By Lightning via Brer.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T19:14:00.001-06:00

Although I don't do much to observe this time that was arbitrarily appointed as the beginning of the year (in some cultures--personally I think the year should end/begin with the Winter Solstice), I hope the coming year brings you much pipe-smoking pleasure.

Graphic found at Laughing Squid.

2011-12-25T00:01:00.000-06:00

Santa takes a break

2011-12-14T19:58:00.002-06:00

From ca. 1900. Via Victorianon.

Featured Pipe Smoker: Captain Robert Falcon Scott

2011-12-09T20:13:00.001-06:00

Robert Falcon Scott (1868 - 1912)

Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman.

These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale, but surely, surely, a great rich country like ours will see that those who are dependent on us are properly provided for.

Robert Falcon Scott was a Royal Navy officer who made two expeditions into Antarctica. During the last one, he reached the South Pole, but he and his four companions died while trying to return. Their bodies were discovered several months later, and left buried beneath a cairn of snow.

The above photo was taken during that expedition in 1911.

Link: Captain Scott's final letter revealed for the first time

J.C. Leyendecker: Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T19:48:00.001-06:00

Joseph Christian Leyendecker (1874 - 1951)

Illustrator famous for his magazine covers, especially for The Saturday Evening Post. His style was an enormous influence on Norman Rockwell. This piece was used for the cover of American Weekly of July 24, 1946, and shows the artist painting a portrait of a sumptuous Thanksgiving feast while smoking a pipe and preparing his own meager meal of sausages cooked over a small cast-iron stove.

Thanks to PowerOfBabel.

More news about the movie "Barquero"

2011-11-01T14:40:00.003-05:00

I briefly mentioned Barquero once before. The new news about it is that if you're a subscriber to Netflix's streaming service, it is now available for streaming! If you're a fan of westerns, or Lee Van Cleef movies, or pipe smoking, or especially a western starring Lee Van Cleef who does a lot of pipe smoking, you should see it.

Ia R'lyeh pipe smoke ftaghn!

2011-09-19T15:01:00.002-05:00

Great Cthulhu takes a break from driving artists and poets insane. I don't know how he manages to light a pipe under the ocean, but I suppose if he can get his fireplace to burn, then the pipe isn't much more difficult.

via Lovecraft eZine

Blending

2011-09-14T20:02:00.005-05:00

Here's what I've thrown together to smoke for the time being:

1 part Latakia
2 parts burley
4 parts Virginia
4 parts Perique

Nice, but I think I'll increase the latakia.

UPDATE: I changed my mind. The leaves are beginning to meld now and the latakia has asserted itself just a little. I'll have to give it a few more days before I make a decision on this blend.

Today's work

2011-09-12T15:22:00.002-05:00

Today I made a trip to the only tobacconist in the city (that I know of): The Humidor on San Pedro Ave. I have run out of all my favorite bulk tobaccos and I don't wish to smoke too much of my "good stuff" all at once, so I bought some various bulk leaves to whip up some of my own concoctions.

I bought 2 ounces each of Virginia and Perique and 1 ounce each of burley and Latakia. Before leaving their parking lot, I whipped up a quick pipeful of Perique mixed with C&D's Gray Ghost for the drive home. I enjoyed it quite a lot, and it was a good, long smoke. I have smoked Perique straight before, and enjoyed it, although it isn't something I want to do too often. However--and I should preface this with in my experience--straight Perique is difficult to burn. It works much better with a little something extra to more or less serve as an accelerant. The Gray Ghost is on the dry side and worked very well.

I also purchased a bunch of bristle pipe cleaners and a small container of Zippo lighting fluid. This stuff is hard to come by around here. I used to be able to buy it just about anywhere, but now no one stocks anything but butane. I think I might get a butane lighter eventually but I want to make sure I get a really good one that will last a long time, so I'll have to start researching that.

Upon arriving home, I mixed another very small sample with some of all four leaves and am enjoying it right now. Later on I will mix bigger samples and allow them to meld for a while before smoking. Right now it's just nice to have some decent bulk tobacco again.

And finally, I dropped off a pipe that needs a stem replacement. It is a pipe that I rescued from an estate lot and have never smoked because the stem was so badly damaged, but when I get it back I'll be sure and write something about it--after I've had chance to smoke it.

The end of an experiment

2011-09-09T19:42:00.002-05:00

Some years ago I put up several batches of tobacco in vaccum-sealed bags, and eventually smoked all except one which somehow got pushed to the back of the cabinet and I overlooked it. Later I rediscovered it and decided it would be a good candidate to test long-term tobacco storage in vaccum sealed bags. So I put it back and decided to wait.

I did this because although I asked in different online forums about it, I got only replies such as, "I don't think it will work because..." or "it might not work because..." or "sounds like a good idea! let me know how it goes..." No one ever gave me an unequivocal yea or nay on the subject.

So let me now tell you, after 4 years and 3 months of storage: It does not work. So if you're thinking about this method for long-term storage, forget it. You will only waste your tobacco.

The tobacco in question was 2 ounces of C&D's Bayou Morning. Upon slitting open the bag, the tobacco had hardened into a near rock-like chunk. Small pieces could be chipped off which immediately fell apart into a nearly dust-like powder.

And that's that.

No

2011-09-06T20:03:00.001-05:00

Featured Pipe Smoker: Lord Nibbler of Eternium (fictional)

2011-09-03T20:32:00.002-05:00

Lord Nibbler of the planet Eternium is a fictional character from the animated series Futurama. He is a member of a very cute and adorable race with voracious appetites who are extremely long-lived (having lifespans of thousands of years).

"Nibbler" is only the cutely ironic nickname that his human companions have given him, ironic because he is capable of swallowing animals whole that are several times his own size. His real name is never given, because as he once said, "in the time it would take to pronounce one letter of my true name, a trillion cosmoses would flare into existence and sink into eternal night."

Throughout most of the series he appeared to be a semi-intelligent being who made simple animal sounds of chattering or warbling, would purr like a cat when his fur was stroked, and had a litter box for pooping. His feces are made of dark matter, "each pound of which weighs over ten thousand pounds," and was originally able to power space ship engines, although later on dark matter was rendered inert and could no longer be used as such. It is unknown if Nibbler is actually not potty-trained or if he simply prefers pooping in his diapers.

Later in the series, he revealed himself to be the extremely hyper-intelligent alien that he is, and when he desires to do so, can communicate with his human companions in a very deep, booming and well-modulated voice.

It was Nibbler who had the main protagonist, Philip J. Fry, cryogenically frozen so that he would be present in the 31st century because Fry was the only being in the universe capable of defeating a race of hyper-intelligent brains who were going to destroy the universe.

His race is called the Nibblonians by his human companions, and he and his kind also refer to themselves as such for the sake of convenience. The Nibblonians are the oldest race in the universe; at the time of the Big Bang they were already 17 years old.

In the episode from which these screen captures were taken, Nibbler discovers that the cats of Earth are actually a race of intelligent aliens who are going to destroy the Earth in order to save their own planet. He and his human companions succeed in foiling the cats' plan, although after they save the Earth they discover that the planet now rotates opposite from its original rotation, meaning that the sun would be rising in the west. This, they decide, is "close enough."

In the last picture above we see that Nibbler's pipe allows him to retain a quiet dignity even while having his diaper changed.

Vintage Ad (1942): Bond Street

2011-08-29T19:59:00.003-05:00

Here we have a man enjoying his pipe, only to be accosted by what I assume is a rabid werewolf. Knowing that his life is about to end, the man cranes his head backward, exposing his throat in the vain hope that it will bring about his death as swiftly and painlessly as possible.

Bond Street does it again.

The game explained

2011-08-26T15:03:00.002-05:00

From Gin Rummy, 1949. Illustration by Arthur Ferrier. Via Vintage Scans.

Attention!

2011-08-23T19:38:00.001-05:00

I just noticed that my old blogroll has vanished due to changes at Bloglines, which I no longer use and my account is no longer active. So if you have a pipe blog and would like it listed here, please leave a comment. I'll have to rebuild the blogroll from scratch.

Thanks!

Vintage Ad (1946): Bond Street/Revelation

2011-08-22T20:35:00.003-05:00

I have a sub-sub-hobby. Main hobby: pipe smoking. Sub-hobby: vintage pipe ads. Sub-sub-hobby: vintage ads featuring creepy Bond Street guys.

Bond Street seemed to have a knack for disturbing imagery in their ads. This guy isn't nearly as creepy as the official Creepy Bond Street Guy, but it's still pretty creepy.

I don't know what this is about

2011-08-18T20:10:00.001-05:00

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

Mr. Pudgins

2011-07-31T17:12:00.004-05:00

"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

2011-07-25T19:56:00.002-05:00

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

2011-07-23T16:54:00.000-05:00

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...

2011-07-21T20:38:00.000-05:00

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

Thanks, everyone!