A New Leaf

Though he may smoke it only for the pleasure it provides, there is something about a man enjoying a cigar that suggests he has his affairs well in hand.

Since the end of the 15th Century, when Columbus stumbled upon America--and Indians smoking cigars--history records an impressive line-up of charismatic cigar smokers. The charisma was obviously not a direct result of their smoking cigars, but it was definitely related to and bolstered by it. There are many stories about famous and infamous cigar smokers (Napoleon, Churchill, Farouk, Freud, Casanova, Kennedy--and Capone), but myths about cigar quality, etiquette and style are even more numerous--and they have been created, largely, by cigar smokers themselves.

Probably the most indelible myth that stubbornly lingers on today is that Cuban cigars were and still are the best, most unwaveringly delicious smokes to be had. But don't let the smoke get in your eyes.

It was a little over a decade ago that American cigar lovers danced their Last Tango in Havana. Since that fateful time when President Kennedy ordered an embargo on all Cuban goods, the unavailability of these Habana delights has exalted them to legendary status. Those who have taken up cigar smoking in the past ten years feel they have been denied the ultimate experience.

A friend of ours who was taken in by all this Cuban puffery used to make periodic sorties into Canada, where he would stock up on boxes of the forbidden smokes. He would then smuggle his newly acquired contraband--smuggling is the only viable way of getting them into the country--for himself and to black-market.

This ritual continued intermittently for about a year, until he was caught by a suspicious Customs inspector on the Northern border. He got off with a scolding for his un-American misdeed, but his Havanas were confiscated.

It was just as well, our friend decided afterward. He learned by experience that the quality of Cuban cigars since the embargo is, in the words of Walter Harris, president of Alfred Dunhill, "inconsistent at best."

Dunhill's, which has offered irreproachable cigars for 70 years in England and America and sold Cuban cigars in the States right up to the day of the embargo (it still does in its British stores), is highly demanding about the quality of the tobacco it dispenses. Consequently, Harris is not all that enthusiastic about Cuban harvests anymore--especially when compared with what's available today from other sources.

"You constantly hear about the cigars with vintage pre-embargo tobacco blends," Harris says. "The fact of the matter is, the tobacco left over from before the embargo is just that--left over. It's used only as a sales gimmick."

Cuban tobacco is strong. Since the embargo, American cigar smokers have been raised on mild tobacco from other places. So, as one cigar-company executive notes, "even if we were to resume trading with Cuba, its tobacco would take some getting used to."

Just about every cigar company operating in pre-Castro Cuba literally replanted its interests in other tropical countries to produce leaves equal to and most likely better than the legendary Cuban ones. And most of the native cigar craftsmen took their talents elsewhere after the revolución.

The number of master Cuban cigar-making families is, alas, diminishing and not likely to be replenished. At present, though, there are enough remaining so that we can, fortunately, luxuriate in their product, expertly made from tobacco leaf grown in new locations.

Jamaica, the Canary Islands, Honduras, Mexico and Tampa, Florida, are the refugee strongholds where the old cigar artisans continue their special craft. But Americans are proving that you don't have to be Spanish to make cigars by using their mechanized know-how to manufacture them in rambling factories located primarily in Pennsylvania and Florida.

Because of the almost (continued on page 208) New Leaf (continued from page 167) reverent regard Americans have had for Cuban cigars, we only recently have begun to truly savor and appreciate the exotic aromas offered by cigars from other parts of the world, such as the Philippines, Brazil and even Holland.

Judging from the sales of domestic smokes and the ever-growing demand for quality imported handmades, it seems that the Cuban myth is gradually being dispelled. Americans puff up a hefty $750,000,000 in cigar smoke annually. And, according to the Internal Revenue Service, which levies a tax scaled (by ascending letters, A to G) to the quality of ingredients in each cigar, the most popularly priced smoke is the less-than-chic five-cent stogie. (This country still needs a good five-cent cigar, and has ever since Thomas Marshall, Vice-President under Woodrow Wilson, called for it back in 1917.)

The tax boys also report that among the smallest percentages of cigars purchased in the U.S. are those that sell for 20 cents or more. They account for a minuscule four percent of all cigars sold, yet include the best to be found.

Undoubtedly, this reflects more on the wallet than on the palate of cigar lovers. The Cigar Institute of America, the imposingly named public-relations arm of the industry, reports that there will be 15,000,000 to 20,000,000 cigar buyers this year.

Handmade cigars are still the best, and they command higher prices. A highly skilled hand worker can produce about 200 or so per day. Conversely, modern-day technology has swept in to meet the increasing demand with streamlined machines that grind out up to 1000 cigars in one hour.

No matter who or what makes the cigar, its form is always the same. There is the innermost core, which is called the filler. Wrapped around this is the binder, which keeps the filler packed in place. The binder is then sandwiched in the wrapper--the outermost leaf, which touches your lips when you smoke. The wrapper is a delicate paper-thin leaf that comes in standard colors ranging from the blackened oscuro to the dark-brown maduro to the chlorophyll-green double claro. A light shade of maduro is commonly referred to as English Market Selection (E.M.S.). In addition, there are about a dozen gradations in each color.

The color of the wrapper has been the source of much confusion. A great many smokers mistake the wrapper's color for an indication of its strength. Not so. Whether a cigar is pungently strong or very bland depends mainly on the type of filler used. Of course, the slimmer the cigar (with less filler), the more the wrapper will contribute to the over-all taste.

The pencil-thin cigars are generally frowned upon by aficionados, who claim they are usually so insubstantial in filler that they don't offer a firm, enduring smoke. Be that as it may, they do make every smoker look like a Rhett Butler.

There should really be no problem in finding the cigar shape and size that you feel comfortable holding. In fact, the variety of shapes available in any one brand of cigars boggles the mind. The distinguished Montecruz line marketed world wide by Dunhill has 21 shapes alone.

As it happens, the three best-selling models, according to retail tobacconists surveyed, are the palma, the Lonsdale (full corona) and the panatela. The first two are relatively thick cigars about six and one half inches long; the third is a moderate, more tapered, youthful-looking cigar that can reach a similar length.

The cheapest handmade cigar costs about 40 cents. That a cigar is handmade does not ensure its quality. It does assure you, though, of the type of ingredients used. The binder in the majority of mass-produced American cigars is a fabricated substance referred to as homogenized tobacco leaf. It is a mixture of leftover scraps of tobacco combined with a dash of a chemical adhesive agent, then turned--or, better, churned--into rolls of durable paperlike sheets. (With handmade cigars, the binder is all natural leaf often grown in Santo Domingo.) Top-echelon executives of the major cigar manufacturers maintain that homogenized tobacco is necessary. Says a spokesman for the General Cigar Company: "Americans are chewers more than they are smokers. Reinforced binders keep the cigars from crumbling." There is, alas, truth in what he says. As far back as the early Fifties, veteran cigarman Groucho Marx, in his inimitable style, noted the problem. Groucho was questioning a contestant on his TV quiz program You Bet Your Life.

"I see here, Mr. Kravitz, that you have thirteen children and have been married twelve years. Isn't that an awful lot of children?"

"Yes, Groucho--I love my wife a great deal."

"Well, I love a good cigar, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while!" was Groucho's retort.

Many smokers huff and puff on cigars, never removing them from their mouth--which, dilutes personal enjoyment and makes things disagreeable for nonsmokers in the vicinity. Moreover, a chomped-up cigar not only loses its aroma, it becomes an eyesore.

Arnold Goldstein, a New York tobacconist for over a quarter century, says, "Cigar smoking must be done when you are relaxed--not to relax. Chewing on a cigar releases undesirable acids, which ruin the cigar. Puffing on a cigar slowly--as you would sip brandy--is the proper way to enjoy it."

Smoking is best done after a meal, not before. An upset stomach or a cold will diminish the pleasure a cigar is able to bring. "Smoking when you are working is nothing more than smoking for smoking's sake" is the somewhat narrow view of another tobacconist.

Despite what cigar smokers are supposed to do, they still gnaw and chomp. If you find that you do this naturally, try a cigar holder. While it does take away some of the flavor of a cigar, at least the cigar will be in one piece for the entire smoke.

How you smoke a cigar may provide a key to your psyche. Julius Fast, author of the best-selling Body Language, reports that cigar smokers may be sending out "unconscious messages," revealing some of their aggressive or defensive attitudes.

He notes, for instance, that "an executive frequently emphasizes his subconscious feelings by the positions of his cigar. Tilted upward he manifests a strong dominant position; lowered, his position is weakened. Although it's considered impolite to point with a finger, a cigar makes the action socially acceptable." Fiddling with a cigar can also cover up or displace nervousness.

Even if there were no women's lib, it still would be no social gaffe to offer a woman a cigar. More and more, women are getting into cigar smoking. Most of them still prefer, however, to smoke them in the privacy of their own homes rather than in public. The Cigar Institute optimistically estimates that 1,000,000 women have now breached what has been considered "the last bastion of masculinity."

Although cigars have been stereotyped as a strictly male indulgence, women have long had a stake in them. For example, most handmade cigars are still sculpted by women. Also, the cigar band traces its roots to the legend that a wide band of paper was placed on all cigars so that milady's dainty fingers would not be stained by the residue of the earthy dark leaf.

Actually, bands have been placed on cigars since pre-Civil War days. At that time, many cigars sold were counterfeit versions of the ones blended by prestigious cigar makers. Bands were used like brands on cattle and the identifying tradition remains.

Though the variety of fine cigars available today is growing, there is no "best" cigar. Like any other leisure commodity, cigars are a matter of personal taste. Don't let high prices seduce you. The "right" cigar is the one that you can comfortably afford. Of course, many demanding cigar lovers are willing to sacrifice a few necessities to maintain a steady supply of luxury smokes.

Indeed, for some inveterate smokers, cigars are as de rigueur as food, sleep--and sex. Once Groucho's wife issued an ultimatum that he had to give up cigars.

"Never, my dear," he replied, "but we can remain good friends."

The law of supply and demand dictates that the higher-priced luxury cigars (40-50 cents and up) are harder to find, especially out of metropolitan areas. Nevertheless, the whole cornucopia of cigars is available by mail from a number of large-volume and specialized dealers.

No cigar expert worth his weight in tobacco seed will tell you, if you ask him, what brand and size you should smoke. The vagaries of human taste suggest that the final decision depends upon the smoker himself. To help make your decision a wise one, take note of a few caveat emptors.

Examine the wrappers to make sure they haven't come undone. If they have, the cigars have dried out.

Watch for telltale veins and plant ribs, which indicate poor construction and ingredients.

Refuse or return cigars that are too soft and mushy, a sign of overhumidity, which affects the taste.

An easy way to be certain that you are getting fresh cigars is to notice how they are stored where you buy them. Whether it's a local corner drugstore or an exclusive smoke shop, the cigars should be kept in a humidor or properly humidified cabinet. Chances are that if the retailer is selling premium cigars, he will have temperature-controlled storage space for his stock.

Because freshness is so vital to the flavor and life of cigars, American cigar companies offer their product in packages and boxes dressed up in a surfeit of cellophane and foil. Actually, cigars do their best in cedar-enclosed humidors, where they can last for months and even improve with age. The cedarwood adds a tangy zest to the taste as well. If you don't want to invest in a wooden humidor, a small clay humidifier the size of one cigar can be placed in any box. Or you can wrap the box in a plastic bag to trap the moisture. Whatever you do, don't store cigars in the refrigerator. The sensitive tobacco leaf will easily pick up foreign odors.

Tobacconists recommend that before lighting up, you snip the tip with a cutter; if you do it with your teeth, the end will shred in your mouth. Less expensive cigars, which are precut by machine, preclude this ritual.

When lighting the cigar, singe the end as you would roast a marshmallow, without letting the flame touch the cigar. Rotate the cigar over the flame (a butane lighter or wooden match is best, say experts), so it will burn evenly.

It isn't necessary to stamp out a cigar. Give it a chance and it will die by itself. Dispose of the butt as soon as possible--it does give off a swampy smell if it lies around in an ashtray too long.

Cigar smokers are a dedicated, sometimes fanatical lot. Napoleon III bought 20,000 gold-tipped panatelas at $7.50 each; Winston Churchill was awakened at two in the morning by a clerk from the London Dunhill store who told him that the German blitz had hit the shop but had not hurt his special stock of cigars. Sigmund Freud interpreted the cigar as the prime phallic symbol; yet the father of psychoanalysis was hardly ever seen without one in his mouth. And then there was Maurice Ravel, who claimed that cigars inspired him to compose.

Unfortunately, there is absolutely no evidence that cigars can supply you with vast creative powers. What they can give you, though, is a most uncommon pleasure and panache. In the last analysis, that's all you should expect--and probably all you'd want.