From: ?????????????????????????? (Steve Masticola)
Subject: The first-ever Pipenet Rendezvous

On Tuesday, July 11, it finally happened. In fact, a couple of "its" finally
happened.

I met Elias Mazur. The man who threw out the first bowl. The man who took
the flame for his beliefs. The man who set the Pipes Mailgroup alight.

OK, enough smelly puns (probably too much Latakia :-). Elias and I met to
explore the New York pipe scene, and smoke a few bowls with the members of
the New York Pipe Club.

Elias was in New York for a few days, mainly to visit relatives and go on a
few interviews there and in North Jersey. We rendezvoused at Penn Station,
and recognized each other after a bit of indecision (is this the right guy?)
We had about an hour and a half before the meeting, so we visited the
Connoisseur Pipe Shop at 51 W. 46th Street. He'd been there before, and liked
their handmade pipes and "Turkish Blend" tobacco, so I convinced him to humor
me and walk the nine or so blocks there.

The Connoisseur shop is tiny. It's also very good. The owner, Mr. Edward
Frederick Burak, designs all the pipes that the store sells; they also
custom-blend their own tobacco. There were no ceramic German beer steins or
lottery machines in evidence. It's a _serious_ pipeshop.

Mr. Burak wasn't in, but the salesman who was there was knowledgable and
helpful (in a New York-y kind of way, i.e., with vague disdain :-). We
admired the freehands behind the counter and in a glass cabinet at the front
of the store, but neither of us had plans to spend $250 for a pipe that day.
(If you've ever been in grad school, you know why not.) I decided on a
purchase - a huge bent rough-carved pipe ("NOT sandblast! Sandblasting shocks
the wood!" declared the salesman) and four ounces of their Turkish Black
tobacco, which he and Elias had both endorsed. ("What kind of tobacco do you
usually smoke?" "Well, lately I've been smoking some Sherlock's Choice from
the Tinder Box..."  "TINDER Box? Bah!" The salestype was assuredly not too
shy to express an opinion.) The three or four pipes I'd brought were
neglected for the rest of the evening, in favor of The Pipe That Burned
Manhattan And Parts of the Bronx.

Elias and I had hoped to also see Pipeworks and Wilke on 55th Street, but by
the time we got there the store had closed. We contented ourselves with a
short look through the window, then sallied forth to La Bonne Soupe to
negotiate the provendor of some souply comestibles. And, of course, to smoke
some good pipes and have some good conversation.

We asked where the Pipe Club meeting was ("Upstairs - you CAN'T miss 'em!"),
and up we went, following our noses. Steve Shoopak, also from Rutgers, had
been in the city all day, and he greeted us as we entered the dining room.
About fifteen people were there, smoking, trading, and talking pipes with
gusto. 

Steve, Elias, and I picked out a table to one side of the general hubbub and
ordered dinner. The food was excellent, and very reasonable. A few times
during dinner, one of the club members would come over and ask us if we had
any pipes to trade; unfortunately, none of us had (Steve, sadly, hadn't even
brought his own pipe; it had been temporarily, but irretrievably, buried in
the course of moving!) One gentleman was intent on selling his copy of
Richard Hacker's "Ultimate Pipe Video", and made a point of offering it to
all comers. (I'd like to see it someday, but have no plans to actually own
it.)

After dinner, Elias and I finally lit up, he with a small, beautiful briar
with brass inlays (which was admired by all), I with my new Connoisseur.
Sailorman Jack, the president of the club, eventually came in, welcomed us
warmly, and introduced us to the other members. We scouted around the dinner
tables, smoking, investigating the pipes on display, and exchanging views
with the members. Elias came across a nice buy: a small, straight-grain
Comoy that he picked up for a song; I, meanwhile, bought the Pipe Club's
handsome T-shirt (another copy of which was later given to the
long-suffering waitress!) 

We eventually drifted back over to our original tables, and joined the
Sailorman and a varying cast of other members in a wide-ranging conversation.
We talked of history, politics, plays, the ethics of the warrior, the nature
of college education, and of course pipes. Time flew; Elias and I shifted
from the Turkish Black to Balkan Sobranie, by way of a home-blended vanilla
mixture I accepted from another member. My pipe and I began to know and
trust each other, as did the old and the new members of the Club. My
friends, if you ever can an evening smoking your pipe and conversing with
intelligent fellows over good wine and beer, please by all means do so
without hesitation. It was a time of great quality.

Gradually, bowls burned low and members drifted into the night; soon it was
time to find our way home. Elias and I parted at the subway, vowing to
return to the Pipe Club next month if we could find a way. As I waited for
the returning train, I finished the last puffs from the Connoisseur's huge
bowl, and became aware of the glance of a pretty young lady, presumably also
biding her time for a train. Alas, I could do no more than to return it in
kind; the station, unlike the Club, does not encourage strangers to become
friends.

					Smoke in peace,
					~\U Steve.


 U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ | ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U
 )				       *   *				  )
( Pipe smokers will rule the world!      *   ??????????????????????	 (
 ) (if they don't run out of matches...) *   Steve Masticola, moderator	  )
(				       *   *				 (
 U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ U/~ | ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U ~\U