Choice Places to Smoke a Cigar, II
As Resident Tobacconist for Red Clay Soul, I decided it was time for the second installment of Choice Places to Smoke a Cigar. As stated in Part I, I enjoy tobacco, be it a cigar, my pipe, or an occasional chew of Red Man. I sympathize with Washington’s appeal to the Continental Congress when he famously wrote, “If you can’t send money, send tobacco.” There’s something terribly good about tobacco. Is it the silence and solitude it provides, the fact that the hands of time are malleable under its spell, or the joy that comes from exhaling billowing clouds of smoke? I opine that tobacco still provides value – especially in today’s world.
But, as with everything in this God-forsaken 21st century, the whiners have had their way with my way of life. Gone are the days of smoking in golf clubs (sans Seminole and a few other holdouts). It wasn’t that long ago when you could enjoy a cigar in every men’s locker room. What’s better than a round of golf, a long shower, and a relaxing cigar – indoors? God help us if the health police ban cigars from the golf course! Don’t laugh…I’m sure there are nuts working on it right now. Before we know it, the trees will be dying of secondhand smoke.
The world is heading in the wrong damn direction when a man can’t enjoy tobacco without being made to feel like an agent of death to every snowflake and woke college freshman.
But it ain’t over. That fat lady hasn’t sung. There are still a few places where a man can light a cigar in peace. As a matter of fact, some of these places were built for smoking. Over the years, I’ve noticed quite a few strangers nodding their heads in approval when they see me smoking; as if to say, “Brother, we’ve lost some battles, but we haven’t lost the war.” It’s an act of old-school solidarity in that a man should be able to smoke a damn cigar.
If you’re over 40, my guess is you grew up with a grandfather who smoked a pipe; the contents of which, when burning beneath a flame, produced aromatics that are lodged in your memory bank. Every time I catch a drift, it brings me back to riding in Grandpa’s 1980 F-100 while he puffed away listening to AM radio. Funny story: the first time I smelled scotch, I was with Dad, and I said, “It smells like Grandpa’s cologne.” His reply with a shrug of his eyebrows, “Exactly.” A generation who smoked and drank with impunity. Lucky SOB’s.
So here goes: another list of Choice Places to Smoke a Cigar (while you still can).
The Masters, Augusta, Georgia. That’s right, you can enjoy a stick at the most exclusive golf tournament in the world. You can’t bring a phone or camera, but you can bring cigars. I’ve been to several, and as anyone who’s been can attest to, plenty of patrons smoke. I prefer puffing away beneath the trees on the 13th fairway. There’s always a moment when I shake my head in amazement and wonder, “Am I really at Amen Corner smoking a Davidoff?” Add in a green cup or two and it’s heaven.
Ocean Cliff Hotel, Newport, Rhode Island. I’ve been loafing around Newport since my first trip to Brown for grad school – it was love at first sight. Sailboats effortlessly come and go, architecture is plentiful and engaging, and the manicured grass courts at the Tennis Hall of Fame make for a WASPy Shangri-La. If you’re a golf history nut, Newport Country Club (host of the first U.S. Amateur and the first U.S. Open in 1895) is worth quietly checking out. Most of these historic clubs are like the Playboy Mansion in that you know you’re not getting in, but you’ll sure as hell take a peek if given the opportunity. Suffice it to say, it’s impressive. Down the street is the Ocean Cliff Hotel. Built in 1894 for a steel industrialist, it was once one of Newport’s great summer cottages. And if you’ve been to Newport, you’re aware that “cottage” is used quite erroneously; this place is a castle and befitting of a robber baron. I was instantly taken by its magnificent views of Narragansett Bay. I fired up a cigar on the lawn and have been coming back ever since. If you’re looking for the quintessential New England getaway, this is it.
San Antonio River Walk, Texas. I cannot recall the last time a city surprised me as much as San Antonio did – positively, of course. After visiting the Alamo, which is certifiably boring, I ventured down to the River Walk and was BLOWN AWAY! There’s nothing else like it in America, and it’s cigar friendly. I took a stroll along its waterfront sidewalks with a cigar in hand, with no self-appointed health department official being offended. In addition to being a beautiful city, it’s just flat-out fun. Live music is always playing, water taxis are everywhere, and the culture is rich. And the margaritas — my God the margaritas!
18th Hole, Pebble Beach Golf Links, California. If you haven’t driven the Pacific Coast Highway, you ought to. It’s a uniquely American experience that will leave you speechless. In three hours from San Francisco, you’ll see a lifetime’s worth of natural beauty. Eventually, you’ll make your way through 17-Mile Drive before arriving at Pebble Beach. The Lodge, Pebble’s four-star hotel, is like any hotel in that you’re welcome to come in, shop, and get a bite to eat. The difference is that you can walk up to the most famous 18th hole in golf. It’s a bit shocking how accessible it is. Folks are dining outside, kids are rolling around in the grass, and when someone sticks it, they receive a gentle round of applause; congeniality at its finest. I prefer smoking a cigar behind the 18th green, where waves crash and golf balls fall from the sky.
Sea Island Golf Club, Men’s Locker Room, Georgia. Thank God for men like Bill Jones III. Name another man who dreamed up and built not one, but two locker rooms listed on Golf Digest’s Top 50 Best Locker Rooms. You can’t, because Mr. Jones is the only one. Sea Island is 26th, and Ocean Forest Golf Club is 44th. I’ve been in both, and they’re not only spectacular, but they’re also cigar friendly. Sea Island’s intimate cigar lounge comes with broken-in leather chairs, wood-paneled walls, and plantation shutters that allow the perfect amount of sunlight in. Furthermore, the Atlantic Ocean and an 18-hole putting course are a few feet away. I just assume lay out a cot and call it home if they’d let me. I love smoking here.
