Subscribe to Cigar Aficionado and receive the digital edition of our Premier issue FREE!

Email this page Print this page
Share this page

Out of the Humidor

CA Readers
From the Print Edition:
Groucho Marx, Spring 93

(continued from page 6)

I thought Jim Gordon's article about me was entertaining and had some good cigar info, but I would like to set the record straight about a few things: I do not have a picture of George Bush that I throw darts at; in fact, I do not even have a picture of him at all. And despite any previous source, I have never had an interest in cocaine, nor have I ever experimented with it. Apocalypse Now was made all on my own--personal madness without any help.

Sincerely,

Francis Ford Coppola
San Francisco, California

Editor's Response: CIGAR AFICIONADO apologizes if there were any errors in the story. However, in an interview five years ago, the writer Jim Gordon observed the dart-throwing at a picture of George Bush. And, in a published interview two years ago in Rolling Stone, Mr. Coppola was quoted as saying he tried cocaine three times.

* * *

Dear Marvin.

The following excerpt from The Idiot, by Dostoevsky, shows that harassment of cigar smokers is not a new phenomenon. The narrator, a retired general, recounts how he dealt with a particularly aggressive objection to his cigar.

Two years ago--yes, nearly two, just after the opening of the new X. railway--I was already in civilian dress then and busy about an affair of great importance in connection with my giving up the service. I took a first-class ticket, went in, sat down and began to smoke... Just before the whistle sounded, two ladies with a lap-dog seated themselves just opposite me. They were late. One of them was dressed in gorgeous style with a cape. They were nice-looking, had a disdainful air, and talked English. I took no notice, of course, and went on smoking. I did hesitate, but I went on smoking close to the window, for the window was open. The lap-dog was lying on the pale blue lady's knee. It was a tiny creature no bigger than my fist, black with white paws, quite a curiosity. It had a silver collar with a motto on it. I did nothing. But I noticed the ladies seemed annoyed, at my cigar no doubt. One of them stared at me through her tortoise-shell lorgnette. I did nothing again, for they said nothing. If they'd said anything, warned me, asked me--there is such a thing as language after all! But they were silent....

Suddenly, without the slightest preface--I assure you, without the slightest, as though she had suddenly taken leave of her senses--the pale blue one snatched the cigar out of my hand and flung it out the window.

The train was racing along. I gazed at her aghast. A savage woman, yes, positively a woman of quite a savage type, yet plump comfortable-looking, tall fair woman, with rosy cheeks (too rosy, in fact). Her eyes glared at me. Without uttering a word and with extraordinary courtesy, the most perfect, the most refined courtesy, I delicately picked up the lap-dog by the collar in two fingers and flung it out the window after the cigar! It uttered one squeal. The train was still racing on.


< 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 >

Share |

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Log In If You're Already Registered At Cigar Aficionado Online

Forgot your password?

Not Registered Yet? Sign up–It's FREE.

FIND A RETAILER NEAR YOU

Search By:

JOIN THE CONVERSATION

    

Cigar Insider

Cigar Aficionado News Watch
A Free E-Mail Newsletter

Introducing a FREE newsletter from the editors of Cigar Aficionado!
Sign Up Today