Smoke Inn Blog Smoke Inn Cigar Talk
I’m not exactly sure what Abe wants me to do other than just write some stuff about the cigar business and what it was like before everyone started making up all this bullshit about how their grandfathers worked in the Cuban cigar factories before the embargo. And how every new cigar they make is a limited edition in honor of some trivial bullshit… and then given some weird freakin’ name that no one can remember— and sometimes… no one can even pronounce!
Well, I’m getting sidetracked. I was going to write about one of my earliest experiences going out of the country to a cigar factory. Bear in mind that other than me, I seriously doubt any other cigar retailer had ever been to any factory in Mexico, Honduras, Nicaragua, or the D.R. This was over 50 years ago and even though I had been in the Marine Corps and lived on a farm in Kansas, in the absolute middle of nowhere, the conditions in these places were really sketchy by comparison.
My very first trip was to the Dominican Republic. Manuel Quesada had just started in the business and was making a cigar called Ricardo Samuel for Faber, Coe, and Gregg, a major N.Y. cigar importer. And that cigar was a dead ringer for Macanudo, which at the time was being made in Jamaica and was the singularly most popular handmade cigar in America.
So, I had Manuel make the same exact cigars for me as a bundled cigar called Five Star, and it was a home run, actually outselling the Ricardo Samuel by at least ten to one! It was on this trip that I met two people who to this day I think of as the absolute nicest people on earth – Seigfried and Mercedes Mrushka.
They were tobacco dealers supplying the better cigarmakers in the industry with tobacco they had grown or acquired. They treated me like a long lost relative and while Seigfried is long gone and Mercedes must be at least 90 by now, they hold a special place in my memory. I know their family is still in the business, and since the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it’s probably still a great company to do business with.
But that’s another whole story because what I really wanted to talk about was a trip I took to San Andres Tuxtla Veracruz, Mexico in 1977 where I created the brand Santa Clara, and the Import company by the same name. But since I mentioned how no one ever went to these backward places 50 plus years ago, I had to mention that other trip first.
Well, this second trip was to a factory in San Andres Tuxtla, Veracruz, Mexico. Yeah, Mexicans have long names for everything, especially themselves as they add the name of every person they are descended from to their name. I was sick as a dog the day of my trip and LaVonda begged me not to go, but like a shmuck, I went.
To make a long story really short, it was a great trip, and I learned a lot about the hundreds and hundreds of steps involved in the making of cigars. I never got the dreaded Montezuma’s Revenge because I took all the food I would eat with me… canned tuna and water! Essentially my baggage was jeans, underwear, t-shirts, water and food.
I could write a lot about this trip, and someday I will, but what stands out in my mind is the fact that the owner of the factory that was making our new Santa Clara cigars (which, by the way used Roman Numerals to indicate the sizes in the same way as I had used Roman Numerals when I invented the Excalibur brand) was coming to the U.S.A. to visit us and tie up the agreement for the brand.
So, Jorge (a bunch of more names) Ortiz arrives and we invite him to dinner at our place in NYC, and we’re all in the kitchen where LaVonda is cooking the meal. She had mentioned to Jorge that she was going to make burritos, and Jorge said, “burritos are little donkeys”. Apparently, Mexicans call this dish something else. Anyway, my second daughter Samantha was on this high-top table and while I was talking to Jorge, she rolled off the table and dropped about three feet to the floor!!!! Holy shit! LaVonda is going to fucking kill me! But that never happened because something incredible happened next.
The phone rang and it was Jorge’s daughter on the phone. She was talking and crying, and although it was hard to catch what she was saying — she said Jorge would not be coming to New York. The flight he was on crashed and everyone on the plane was dead! No! I shouted… Jorge’s right here in the kitchen with me — and I handed him the phone.
I’m not sure exactly what he said because it was in Spanish, but after he hung up with his daughter, he explained that he had made great time getting to the airport and was able to catch an earlier flight to Mexico City and New York… and that saved his life!!
Well, I can tell you that no Mexican visitor to the U.S.A. has ever enjoyed eating little donkeys more than Jorge did that night.
I was never much for details but Jorge needed a firm order to get the financing for the amount of tobacco and cedar boxes to make the brand, so I grabbed something of the table and wrote how many thousands of each size I would need, AND JORGE TOOK THAT PAPER NAPKIN TO THE BANK TO GET THE FINANCING! From that day to this, that is the only purchase order I have ever written.
By the way, Jorge is retired now and living in Texas!
Um…. I’m retired too!
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Smoke Inn, its employees, or its affiliates.
