Murray's 1a Linfield and C&D Tuggle Hall
Dec 27, 2018 16:44:56 GMT -5
Ronv69, zambini, and 7 more like this
Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2018 16:44:56 GMT -5
In Belfast, feeling like a new man after a few weeks between ships, I took a walk to 1a Linfield wanting to get enough Tuggle Hall for the trip from Belfast to New York. I don’t sign on until Southampton, but the extra money I pocketed gave me enough to take a second-class birth for the ride over.
I walked through the doors of Murray’s Tobacco and was immediately greeted by Paddy. My non-greeting almost exploded out of my mouth.
“Paddy, as much Tuggle Hall as ye got! That was such good advice I want no other. The tin note is a manly thing of men who will sing songs of this round the fireplace one day. The tin note must be what my ancestors marveled at in days of yore.”
“Aye, a little Latakia laid on some Burley with a tad of Perique. A pure smoke. A manly smoke as yer say. Did you get the toasted nuts and charry bits in the back-taste?”
“I sure did. Now, come, laddy boy. I have to catch my berth.”
“Sold out, Turk. I won’t have any until the shipment comes in again from the Carolinas.”
“Harumph! What have you got to replace this Four-Star tobacco with? I need something manly, of course, something to please the Gentle Voices in the air.”
“Might I suggest our own brand, brand new, 1a Linfield? It’s strictly British, but I claim it is as Balkan as Balkan can be. It’s a dry smoke. It’s pure smokestack. There are no softening nor sweet burleys or cavendishes in there. Pure incense, in a good way.”
“Sold. I’ll need a pound.” I paid Paddy and off I went to the docks and boarded my passage.
I walked on the four-stacker with my carryall and went straight for my room. I would have privacy until I joined the crew as Wine Porter.
I immediately set about getting comfortable in the abridged overstuff. Plenty comfy, if a little tight. I loaded the pear-wood that I carved as a young man, which was not all that long ago.
1a Linfield, named after Murray’s location, gave a rush of clean coal when I opened the tin. Though not physically too dry, it had a dry wisp about it. It lit fairly easily on one match. If Paddy says this is Balkan, it is ancestor of all Balkans. Dry, Woodsy, Charcoal, no sense of sweetness. It reminds me of the days when I stoked coal. Clean flavor. I would give this 4 ½ of 5 stars, but I am happy to have a bowl or two of Tuggle Hall left. They both are indeed manly, and both have a rawness of flavor. Tuggle with smoked walnut, 1a Linfield with clean wood smoke.
Arriving at Southampton I exited the ship and entered it by the crew entrance. I introduced myself to Mr. Verdugo, head of the waitstaff. He assigned me a birth with Thomas Wiggins. The average waiter shared a room with seven others, so I was happy. The next several days at Southampton were spent dusting off bottles, wiping down glasses, and getting our routine down. I had to show many of the waiters how to serve the wine consistently from one waiter to the other.
In the evenings we gathered in one another’s rooms and talked, played Whist, and smoked our various leaf. Both Tuggle Hall and 1a Linfield had a rather potent room note and either the boys complained of the note or asked if they could try a bowl. I was out of Tuggle Hall by then, but more than happy to accommodate the uninitiated.
After several days of work and play the first Southampton Passengers boarded. Several people of note, the most prominent of whom were the Strausses of Macey’s fortune. What a wonderful couple, and it would be my honor as the head Wine Porter to pay utmost attention to whichever table they were present at.
When we docked at France there would be more important passengers to add to my tables. Often that class of people dined together so my task would be no more difficult. When they are invited to dine with the captain, I have to make sure that my motions be more than perfect.
On the short trip to France gossip was already rampant. Would BG have his girlfriend? Would the elite spurn JA and his new, quite young wife? Margaret Brown hoped not, but she was “New Money”, so she had been spurned herself from the highest circle of the rich. “I don’t care if he married a young girl! Should he be forced to marry an old bag just because he has money? Doesn’t that work the other way around,” she blustered.
Mr. Gracie, a man of self-earned distinction, gave a soft, but well heard, “Here here!”
Life settled down by evening. Mr. Guggenheim’s servant and I took a few free minutes in the hall to smoke a bowl. We shared each other’s tobacco. He liked the 1a Linfield, and I enjoyed his Spilman’s Mixture. Both being very British in style, stiff upper lip and all.
“How well does Mr. G treat you, Mr. Giglio (Jill-yo)?”
“Victor, please. I could not be happier. When we’re alone we dine together. Of course, I must wait on him in company, but he never belittles me, he asks my advice on everything from dressing to politics. Some evenings we sit and smoke together by the fire.”
“That sounds nice, Victor. Better than my rough road. I have to ask how he handles the gossip.”
“He does his best to ignore it, but it does hurt him. Men who are men do the things men do. Save the sorrow for later. He’s a good man and I am a lucky servant and friend.”
There were friends who paid no attention to the gossip. The Strausses were the epitome of grace, as were John Astor and wife, with Mr. Gracie. They laughed, they dined, they talked of family. Mr. G’s mistress was treated kindly and included in the chatter, as was the very young and with child Mrs. Astor. Nothing changed in the ensuing days.
Victor and I were spending a late night moment smoking a bowl when we heard a bell ring and from the Crow’s Nest, “ICEBERG! DEAD AHEAD!” Then we felt a big crunch.
Victor ran to wake up Mr. Guggenheim, and I went back to the dining room to see what I could do.
During the next two hours I was following orders of anyone who seemed in charge. Mr. G’s mistress boarded a boat after he kissed her goodbye. He told one of the other women “Should you see my family, please tell them I acquitted myself as a gentleman” He stayed helping load women onto the boats and doing whatever he could to help. Later he retired to the lounge, ditching his lifejacket and pulling a cigar from his waistcoat.
John Jacob Astor IV asked about boarding with his wife, as she was with child. He was told that no men could board before all the women were boarded, a rule that seemed to be enforced loosely everywhere else. They exited the area and waited for the last boat. After Mrs. Astor, her nurse and maid boarded. Mr. Astor was about to board when two young women appeared. He kissed his wife and helped the girls on, exiting the boat and going to help where he could.
When told men couldn’t yet board, Mrs Strauss decided to remain on board with her husband, thus sealing their fate.
In the dining room, the remainders gathered after most of the boats had left. Mr. Gracie was seeking to find others who might stick together, finding something to float, and trying their best.
Mr. Guggenheim responded that he and his servant have done what they could and were prepared to go down with the ship. Victor looked at me, smiled, and let on that he was totally at peace.
John Jacob Astor decided to make a try for it with Mr. Gracie. I could hear people saying prayers for them as they took off.
In the background I could hear the band still playing. I didn’t know the tune, but it had an eternal feel to it. The “gentle voices” spoke softly to me, telling me not to fear.
As the ship slid into the ice cold water I felt a moment of cold when I started ascending into some angelic chorus. The band was ascending, still playing, not missing a beat.
Mr. Guggenheim, The Strausses, and Mr. Astor (who did not make it, though Mr. Gracie did), were all ascending. I could see a puzzled look in Mr. Guggenheim’s eyes, when some voice rang out, that greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for a friend, more so a stranger.
Victor looked at me and our thoughts were in tune. While hearing the gentle voices we both seemed to wonder if 1a Linfield, Tuggle Hall, and Spilman’s would be available where we were going.
The “gentle voices” said “even better”.
I swear I could see Victor winking
I walked through the doors of Murray’s Tobacco and was immediately greeted by Paddy. My non-greeting almost exploded out of my mouth.
“Paddy, as much Tuggle Hall as ye got! That was such good advice I want no other. The tin note is a manly thing of men who will sing songs of this round the fireplace one day. The tin note must be what my ancestors marveled at in days of yore.”
“Aye, a little Latakia laid on some Burley with a tad of Perique. A pure smoke. A manly smoke as yer say. Did you get the toasted nuts and charry bits in the back-taste?”
“I sure did. Now, come, laddy boy. I have to catch my berth.”
“Sold out, Turk. I won’t have any until the shipment comes in again from the Carolinas.”
“Harumph! What have you got to replace this Four-Star tobacco with? I need something manly, of course, something to please the Gentle Voices in the air.”
“Might I suggest our own brand, brand new, 1a Linfield? It’s strictly British, but I claim it is as Balkan as Balkan can be. It’s a dry smoke. It’s pure smokestack. There are no softening nor sweet burleys or cavendishes in there. Pure incense, in a good way.”
“Sold. I’ll need a pound.” I paid Paddy and off I went to the docks and boarded my passage.
I walked on the four-stacker with my carryall and went straight for my room. I would have privacy until I joined the crew as Wine Porter.
I immediately set about getting comfortable in the abridged overstuff. Plenty comfy, if a little tight. I loaded the pear-wood that I carved as a young man, which was not all that long ago.
1a Linfield, named after Murray’s location, gave a rush of clean coal when I opened the tin. Though not physically too dry, it had a dry wisp about it. It lit fairly easily on one match. If Paddy says this is Balkan, it is ancestor of all Balkans. Dry, Woodsy, Charcoal, no sense of sweetness. It reminds me of the days when I stoked coal. Clean flavor. I would give this 4 ½ of 5 stars, but I am happy to have a bowl or two of Tuggle Hall left. They both are indeed manly, and both have a rawness of flavor. Tuggle with smoked walnut, 1a Linfield with clean wood smoke.
Arriving at Southampton I exited the ship and entered it by the crew entrance. I introduced myself to Mr. Verdugo, head of the waitstaff. He assigned me a birth with Thomas Wiggins. The average waiter shared a room with seven others, so I was happy. The next several days at Southampton were spent dusting off bottles, wiping down glasses, and getting our routine down. I had to show many of the waiters how to serve the wine consistently from one waiter to the other.
In the evenings we gathered in one another’s rooms and talked, played Whist, and smoked our various leaf. Both Tuggle Hall and 1a Linfield had a rather potent room note and either the boys complained of the note or asked if they could try a bowl. I was out of Tuggle Hall by then, but more than happy to accommodate the uninitiated.
After several days of work and play the first Southampton Passengers boarded. Several people of note, the most prominent of whom were the Strausses of Macey’s fortune. What a wonderful couple, and it would be my honor as the head Wine Porter to pay utmost attention to whichever table they were present at.
When we docked at France there would be more important passengers to add to my tables. Often that class of people dined together so my task would be no more difficult. When they are invited to dine with the captain, I have to make sure that my motions be more than perfect.
On the short trip to France gossip was already rampant. Would BG have his girlfriend? Would the elite spurn JA and his new, quite young wife? Margaret Brown hoped not, but she was “New Money”, so she had been spurned herself from the highest circle of the rich. “I don’t care if he married a young girl! Should he be forced to marry an old bag just because he has money? Doesn’t that work the other way around,” she blustered.
Mr. Gracie, a man of self-earned distinction, gave a soft, but well heard, “Here here!”
Life settled down by evening. Mr. Guggenheim’s servant and I took a few free minutes in the hall to smoke a bowl. We shared each other’s tobacco. He liked the 1a Linfield, and I enjoyed his Spilman’s Mixture. Both being very British in style, stiff upper lip and all.
“How well does Mr. G treat you, Mr. Giglio (Jill-yo)?”
“Victor, please. I could not be happier. When we’re alone we dine together. Of course, I must wait on him in company, but he never belittles me, he asks my advice on everything from dressing to politics. Some evenings we sit and smoke together by the fire.”
“That sounds nice, Victor. Better than my rough road. I have to ask how he handles the gossip.”
“He does his best to ignore it, but it does hurt him. Men who are men do the things men do. Save the sorrow for later. He’s a good man and I am a lucky servant and friend.”
There were friends who paid no attention to the gossip. The Strausses were the epitome of grace, as were John Astor and wife, with Mr. Gracie. They laughed, they dined, they talked of family. Mr. G’s mistress was treated kindly and included in the chatter, as was the very young and with child Mrs. Astor. Nothing changed in the ensuing days.
Victor and I were spending a late night moment smoking a bowl when we heard a bell ring and from the Crow’s Nest, “ICEBERG! DEAD AHEAD!” Then we felt a big crunch.
Victor ran to wake up Mr. Guggenheim, and I went back to the dining room to see what I could do.
During the next two hours I was following orders of anyone who seemed in charge. Mr. G’s mistress boarded a boat after he kissed her goodbye. He told one of the other women “Should you see my family, please tell them I acquitted myself as a gentleman” He stayed helping load women onto the boats and doing whatever he could to help. Later he retired to the lounge, ditching his lifejacket and pulling a cigar from his waistcoat.
John Jacob Astor IV asked about boarding with his wife, as she was with child. He was told that no men could board before all the women were boarded, a rule that seemed to be enforced loosely everywhere else. They exited the area and waited for the last boat. After Mrs. Astor, her nurse and maid boarded. Mr. Astor was about to board when two young women appeared. He kissed his wife and helped the girls on, exiting the boat and going to help where he could.
When told men couldn’t yet board, Mrs Strauss decided to remain on board with her husband, thus sealing their fate.
In the dining room, the remainders gathered after most of the boats had left. Mr. Gracie was seeking to find others who might stick together, finding something to float, and trying their best.
Mr. Guggenheim responded that he and his servant have done what they could and were prepared to go down with the ship. Victor looked at me, smiled, and let on that he was totally at peace.
John Jacob Astor decided to make a try for it with Mr. Gracie. I could hear people saying prayers for them as they took off.
In the background I could hear the band still playing. I didn’t know the tune, but it had an eternal feel to it. The “gentle voices” spoke softly to me, telling me not to fear.
As the ship slid into the ice cold water I felt a moment of cold when I started ascending into some angelic chorus. The band was ascending, still playing, not missing a beat.
Mr. Guggenheim, The Strausses, and Mr. Astor (who did not make it, though Mr. Gracie did), were all ascending. I could see a puzzled look in Mr. Guggenheim’s eyes, when some voice rang out, that greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for a friend, more so a stranger.
Victor looked at me and our thoughts were in tune. While hearing the gentle voices we both seemed to wonder if 1a Linfield, Tuggle Hall, and Spilman’s would be available where we were going.
The “gentle voices” said “even better”.
I swear I could see Victor winking
