Dunhill 965

 

I am well aware that my interests seem odd, and then even further aware that my narrow preferences within those odd interests appear comically absurd. 

For example, I have acquired a taste for smoking pipes. No, not those pipes, the ones that were already quite popular when I was in high school and college, but the other sort. I enjoy fine pipe tobacco, much like another fellow might enjoy a fine single malt whisky. 

I like the whisky too, but I find that I like it too much. 

And then I get quite picky in my taste. I won't settle for the pouches you might still find, if you're lucky, at the convenience store. I will not tolerate sticky black cavendish tobaccos saturated with cherry or vanilla flavorings. No, I need my virginias, periques, orientals, and latakias. Yes, I am a snob in this regard.

If I had only one choice for a desert island tobacco, I would be torn between Samuel Gawith Squadron Leader and Dunhill My Mixture 965.  Both are loaded with history, and both are without question at the top of their game. I have many pounds of both cellared away for the end times. 

But it isn't just about those mixed strands of brown and black, is it? When I smoke a good leaf, I must admit that I am also thinking about all the baggage that goes along with it. 

I do like my Squadron Leader, because of the name and the picture on the tin. 

I love my Dunhill 965 even more, because I think about a man I never met, and have no chance of ever meeting. He is a mystery to me, and that absolutely has me hooked. I am fascinated by the humanity behind the blending of tobacco. 

I can not do justice to the history of Dunhill pipes and tobaccos, but the whole Dunhill blending thing started in the early 1900's, with the idea that a gentleman could order a tobacco much like he could order a suit. Off the rack was quite unacceptable; bespoke was the way to go. 

Imagine if you could walk into a tobacconist—wait, you don't even know what that is, do you?—and tell the clerk to make you a mixture, specific to your own tastes. That was what Alfred Dunhill was trying to do, along with selling some of the classiest briar pipes you could find. 

And so began the "My Mixture" Book, which, legend has it, ended with about 37,000 personal blends by the time political correctness finally forced Dunhill out of the tobacco trade in the early 2000's.

Blend 965 on that list was clearly an early one, and it later ended up becoming a regular tinned offering for us normal folk. I believe it has now been in continuous production for over a century. If you want to start smoking a pipe with any class, you need to try 965.

Who made that blend? The fellow behind the counter is long lost to us, but the fellow who originally ordered it remains only as a name in the book: E.A. Baxter Esq. 

Yes, laugh at me for my nostalgia, yet I cannot help but wonder who this man might have been. I have actually searched for references on him, and can find nothing at all. He must have walked into the Dunhill shop in London somewhere around 1910 and asked for something rather specific. The end result was a blend of Macedonian, Latakia, and brown Cavendish. 

And what a brilliant blend it is. I never grow tired of it. Mr. Baxter had impeccable taste. 

If you just drag at it like a cigarette or a cheap cigar, it will bite and burn you. If you sip at it, slowly and gently, you will enter Valhalla. I do make fun of wine connoisseurs when they talk about all their nuts and berries and hints of leather, but I must admit that 965 does exactly that for me.

And whenever I smoke it, I think of Mr. Baxter. Was he some terrible shit, or was he hopefully a kind and decent man? That is what strikes me most about the things in this life, how they relate to the people in this life. 

E.A. Baxter Esq. lives on in my life, and I am grateful for that. I suspect that when my own children are gone, that will be the end of any memory of me. 

What, however, will be the equivalent of 965 that I offer to them, something of beauty that might inspire them to greater character? A tobacco blend won't really cut it, will it?

I have a weird hope that they will say something like this:

"Dad was on the edge of insanity, and he never made any money, and we could never quite figure out his annoying quirks, but he always tried to show us what was right and what was wrong. He played us strange music, and threw old books at us, and quoted obscure philosophers during dinner. Still, he so desperately wanted us to be thoughtful, kind, and compassionate.

"And for some darn reason, he left us with a dozen mason jars full of something called 965."

Written in 6/2015