Cuban Cigars!
Feb 6, 2021 18:41:02 #
I was always amazed at the Canadian medical doctor who was the head of Medical Advisory in our home office. We had a regular monthly meeting to discuss what I would then be writing and recommending to the field sales force. Usually, this meeting would be attended by the product manager of the drug category, the assistant national sales manager and me, the sales training coordinator who would write the “how to” for a field sales bulletin that I would prepare and after all had approved, mail it to the entire sales force.
The reason I am writing this story is the unusual suits the doctor would be wearing. He had his suits especially tailored so he could carry one or two cigars in his pocket without either being broken when he would sit down. This was a pocket in the side of his suit coat that slanted at about a 45-degree angle, higher in the back and lower in the front, so when he would sit down the cigars would be folded safely and not broken.
Further, since these were the days when smoking was allowed in the office, at least if you were ranked high enough in the organization, so that on one could safely criticize it, so the good doctor would whip out a long Cuban cigar about half way thorough our two-hour long meeting. Now, sometimes if he had forgotten to bring his cigar, he would call his secretary to bring one to the meeting!
Now, during this period I am in my early thirties and smoked cigars but was neither of the wealth or the status to pull it off in our offices at that time but did envy the doctor for his rank and privilege. Upon my being promoted and being sent to New Orleans as district manager I went around to first have my picture made for the announcement, and to say goodbye to all the friends I had made. With the good Canadian doctor, I mentioned his Cuban cigars and said that I admired his smokes and wished that I could afford a box.
The doctor laughed and said I would be surprised. I said well, I would take a box regardless of their cost. He, being Canadian, said they only cost about $8 a box. So, I took two boxes. The se******n I made was not the super long Cubans but a more modest sized mellow smoke which I enjoyed for some time after I got to New Orleans. It really pays to have friends in high places and a good Cuban cigar is a smoke.
I suppose everyone knows about Rudyard Kipling’s poem about the English gentleman who was engaged to a woman who told him it was either her or the cigars, but not both?
The Betrothed
“You must choose between me and your cigar.” Breach of Promise Case, circa, 1885
OPEN the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.
We quarrelled about Havanas—we fought o’er a good cheroot,
And I know she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.
Open the old cigar-box—let me consider a space; 5
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie’s face.
Maggie is pretty to look at—Maggie’s a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.
There’s peace in a Laranaga, there’s calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away— 10
Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown—
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o’ the talk o’ the town!
Maggie, my wife at fifty—grey and dour and old—
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!
And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are, 15
And Love’s torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar—
The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket—
With never a new one to light tho’ it’s charred and black to the socket!
Open the old cigar-box—let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manilla—there is a wifely smile. 20
Which is the better portion—bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in a string?
Counsellors cunning and silent—comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?
Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes, 25
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,
This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee’s passion—to do their duty and burn.
This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead. 30
The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.
I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.
I will scent ’em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides, 35
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.
For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o’ Teen.
And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year; 40
And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.
And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o’-the-Wisp of Love.
Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire? 45
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?
Open the old cigar-box—let me consider anew—
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?
A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke. 50
Light me another Cuba—I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I’ll have no Maggie for Spouse!
Just Sayin….RJS
The reason I am writing this story is the unusual suits the doctor would be wearing. He had his suits especially tailored so he could carry one or two cigars in his pocket without either being broken when he would sit down. This was a pocket in the side of his suit coat that slanted at about a 45-degree angle, higher in the back and lower in the front, so when he would sit down the cigars would be folded safely and not broken.
Further, since these were the days when smoking was allowed in the office, at least if you were ranked high enough in the organization, so that on one could safely criticize it, so the good doctor would whip out a long Cuban cigar about half way thorough our two-hour long meeting. Now, sometimes if he had forgotten to bring his cigar, he would call his secretary to bring one to the meeting!
Now, during this period I am in my early thirties and smoked cigars but was neither of the wealth or the status to pull it off in our offices at that time but did envy the doctor for his rank and privilege. Upon my being promoted and being sent to New Orleans as district manager I went around to first have my picture made for the announcement, and to say goodbye to all the friends I had made. With the good Canadian doctor, I mentioned his Cuban cigars and said that I admired his smokes and wished that I could afford a box.
The doctor laughed and said I would be surprised. I said well, I would take a box regardless of their cost. He, being Canadian, said they only cost about $8 a box. So, I took two boxes. The se******n I made was not the super long Cubans but a more modest sized mellow smoke which I enjoyed for some time after I got to New Orleans. It really pays to have friends in high places and a good Cuban cigar is a smoke.
I suppose everyone knows about Rudyard Kipling’s poem about the English gentleman who was engaged to a woman who told him it was either her or the cigars, but not both?
The Betrothed
“You must choose between me and your cigar.” Breach of Promise Case, circa, 1885
OPEN the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.
We quarrelled about Havanas—we fought o’er a good cheroot,
And I know she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.
Open the old cigar-box—let me consider a space; 5
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie’s face.
Maggie is pretty to look at—Maggie’s a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.
There’s peace in a Laranaga, there’s calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away— 10
Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown—
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o’ the talk o’ the town!
Maggie, my wife at fifty—grey and dour and old—
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!
And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are, 15
And Love’s torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar—
The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket—
With never a new one to light tho’ it’s charred and black to the socket!
Open the old cigar-box—let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manilla—there is a wifely smile. 20
Which is the better portion—bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in a string?
Counsellors cunning and silent—comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?
Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes, 25
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,
This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee’s passion—to do their duty and burn.
This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead. 30
The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.
I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.
I will scent ’em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides, 35
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.
For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o’ Teen.
And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year; 40
And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.
And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o’-the-Wisp of Love.
Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire? 45
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?
Open the old cigar-box—let me consider anew—
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?
A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke. 50
Light me another Cuba—I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I’ll have no Maggie for Spouse!
Just Sayin….RJS
Feb 6, 2021 19:18:41 #
well, if they weren't aware, they are now.
Thank you sir.
A little Kipling is never a bad thing.
Thank you sir.
A little Kipling is never a bad thing.
Feb 6, 2021 22:32:36 #
Yes, Fifty duskey beauties is a hard thing to ignore. Just Sayin...RJS
Feb 7, 2021 13:41:59 #
Able Man
Loc: North Coast (Cleveland, Ohio)
Thank you Robert; although, reading that; DID bring a certain female to mind (who I have CERTAINLY "missed" from time to time... She'd once told me: "This 24 hour-a-day drinking bulls**t, has GOT TO STOP!" )... Well, I went on, to drinking 24 hours a day, for about another 1/2 dozen years; then, ... It becomes a long story.
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