Spring 98 Volume I Issue 4

I want to take issue with a pernicious idea I recently came across in print that referred to the doubtlessly very fine works of some master pipernakers as the "Stradivari" and "Guarneri" of pipes. The explicit suggestion was that all pipesmokers should aspire to possess such high-priced and valued pieces of briar; the inference is that if you don't own, or don't want to own, one of these flawless masterpieces, then you just aren't cutting it. Lesser mortals who neither own nor desire one of these very expensive pipes are put on notice: You're not in the "club," and never will be!

Surprise, surprise. There are some of us who don't wish to skip a mortgage payment, tell our spouse that there's no new coat or vacation in the offing, or inform the kids that they don't need a Fender Stratocaster and amp to blast three chords to the suffering world. We still smoke pipes, still enjoy them, and still find great moments when it is "... the time and the place/And the loved one all together"'

Moreover, the extension of the "if you don't have it, you don't count" argument is that without a Piaget you can't tell time correctly; without a Rolls Royce you don't know what it is to drive; without a Mont Blanc your signature means nothing. While no one would deny that the above are fine products, not aspiring to own them does not create lesser mortals, and owning them does not create greater ones.

The ultimate fallacy of comparing pipes, however exquisitely wrought, with the great instruments of 18th century Cremona, is that in the hands of a Paganini or Heifitz, the exquisite art of a Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, or Bach is performed on a great instrument played by a great artist. What comes out of a pipe is just smoke, even from an accomplished pipesmoker. Tasty yes, art no.

And that is said as a lover of great pipes, who owns many. Some of the costly ones are beautiful, but taste no better than ordinary ones chosen carefully at my favorite smokeshop. A few of the most expensive yield a superb smoke, but so do some of the most modest. Old briar, well aged, tightly grained, correctly drilled, properly fitted (with mouthpiece), wax finished (no varnish), carefully broken in, and thoroughly cleaned after use is what it's all about. The rest is scoreboard stuff, only important if you're hooked on the game. And then there's what gets put in the bowl. I once sat next to a guy on a flight to London who insisted that the flight attendant serve him a particular Scotch. When her drink cart proved lacking, he was furious. I pay a fortune to fly first class," he ranted, "and if I want to drink Loch Kazootie, you'd better have it, or why the hell should I fly this f--ing airline?" After a search throughout the plane finally produced a bottle of the only Scotch this prince would deign to drink - a twenty-year-old single malt that cost the earth - he poured it over ice and then added Coca Cola!

Enough said. I leave you thinking about the difference between status and class and the role of external symbols to disguise the lack of either, or both. Caveat Fumor: Beware of pipe weenies bearing brands!

Alan Schwartz
ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
and EDITORIAL DIRECTOR