Tobacco Baron
In
my younger years, before the day of enlightenment as to the
evils of tobacco, it was fashionable
and really quite the in and the done thing for men to smoke. Not
so for women but movie stars and ladies of distinction could be
seen posing with long cigarette holders. Both my dad and my
grampa smoked a pipe. Indeed I think every man in Earlsferry, smoked a pipe.
When radio was in its infancy and TV had never been heard of it
was the custom for Earlsferry men to meet in
the evenings with their cronies at The Gyle, that's another
name for what was the Earlsferry corner of bygone days, to discuss the events of
the day and whatever. The Gyle was their meeting place; the place
where they stood with their back's against the gable of the
corner house, lit up their pipes and puffed away as they conversed
with each other while they walked back and forth from one
side of the street to the other. In the winter time this
would often be long after dark.
The
Gyle
One
day in the springtime when I was about twelve years old I was
shopping at the Woolworth store in
Leven where I spotted packets of
Virginia tobacco seeds
along with instructions as to how to make your own pipe tobacco.
After a moment of wondering if tobacco plants could grow in
Earlsferry, about 700 miles from the Arctic Circle, I decided to have a go. As events unfolded the
Earlsferry climate in our sheltered
walled garden turned out to be very much to the seeds liking and
by autumn I harvested several pounds of good size tobacco
leaves. I cut the leaves from the plants and hung them up to dry
by hanging them over a long rope in our garden shed, our
Howff. After the leaves were dry the
next step was to give the leaves a quick dip in a tub of water
to which was added black treacle and a small amount of saltpetre
which I got from Wood's the chemist's shop
in Elie. The leaves were hung up again
and allowed to dry until they were just slightly moist. At this
point I packed the leaves into small wooden boxes that had heavy wooden lids. Next was to place each box in a vise to
give the tobacco shape as I pressed out the excess moisture.
When removed from the boxes my plugs of tobacco were about one inch
square and six inches long. These I carefully placed on a shelf
to give the plugs time to dry and cure.
As I
was admiring my accomplishment who shows up at The
Howff but my elderly friend Monty.
After I explained to him what I was doing he said, “While you’re
waiting for your tobacco to dry and cure I have several plugs of
tobacco that were
just given to me by my friend Commander Heathcote. You’re
welcome to have one. I’ll go home and bring one back.” In short
order Monty returned. His tobacco plug for me turned out to be
tobacco that the navy issues to sailors aboard ship. Navy plug
is tobacco that’s wrapped in sailcloth then is wound from end
to end of the plug with tarry hemp cord like an Egyptian mummy.
Through time the flavor of tar seeps through the cloth to permeate the
tobacco. As Monty left he
said, “Let me know how you like it.” How Jack Tar sailors can smoke this
stuff is beyond me. Talk about blowing your head off. Before I
got my first pipe-full smoked I became so sick I thought
I’d die. I really had no idea as to which end was up. Later when
I met Monty again, with a twinkle in his eye, he asked me,
"how did you like the navy plug?", but before
he finished his question he could contain his mirth no longer
and burst out laughing. He knew he’d given me the cure. I was
so put off with that navy plug that I didn't even offer my plugs of
tobacco to my dad or my grandpa. I dug a hole in the garden
and my beautiful plugs of tobacco ended up from whence they
came. Amen to that experiment. Ha, ha, ha. I chalked that one up
to-- all part of life's learning
experience.
Monty
did have my best interests at heart but he did put a stop to any
aspirations
that I might have had as to me becoming a Scottish tobacco baron.
