What tobacciana can tell us













Sometimes, in moments of pipe-smoking reverie, I enjoy imagining myself living in earlier times. Like many pipe-smokers I am drawn to Holmes’ and Dickens’ Victorian London. I am also intrigued by the “Roaring Twenties,” when the Streamliner and Art Deco movements marked industrial design, architecture, and merchandising design.
A recent birthday gift from a pipe-collecting friend who is well-acquainted with my great fondness for pipes from the House of Comoy has piqued my interest in pipes-and tobacco-related tobacciana from these periods, especially retail sales and marketing objects of the time.
Though my wife thinks I have lost my mind - believing that my den is progressively becoming kitchier and tackier by the moment, I love being surrounded by great old tobacciana. These old items convey charm and energy sufficient to bridge decades, if not centuries.
Imagine this: when these retail displays were sent to Comoy pipe dealers in the late 1920s and early 1930s, the House of Comoy had been manufacturing and selling briar pipes for over a century. As the story goes, a woodcarver named Francois Comoy began carving briar pipes in the Jura Mountains in 1825, after learning about the unique properties and great beauty of briar wood.
It would be Francois’ grandson, Henri, however, who would become a prime mover in the London briar pipe trade. Henri Comoy is credited with authoring the phrase, “London Made,” a branding move that led to pipe smokers equating briar pipes with London and Britain. There is no little irony in this twist in perception, given St. Claude’s historical importance and near cartel-like hegemony in the manufacturing of briar pipes.