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Cigar Diary: A Quiet Champion

Rick Meerapfel restored the reputation of Cameroon wrapper. He will be missed.

James Suckling
From the Print Edition:
Andy Garcia, Mar/April 2004

Meerapfel created CETAC with local businessmen and almost completely without government involvement. The then president of the Central African Republic had supported the idea of a private company establishing itself in the tobacco business. By the time other government officials realized that they missed an opportunity to get their hands into the fledgling company (something Meerapfel probably would not have allowed anyway), it was too late. Some bureaucrats in the Central African Republic government tried unsuccessfully to hinder CETAC’s development through legal and illegal methods. Meerapfel once said that a government official asked during a meeting with CETAC when his new Mercedes would be delivered to him in return for business concessions. Meerapfel answered, “Never.” Meerapfel allegedly told another politician to send in his résumé to CETAC if he thought he was qualified for a position with the company, but he wouldn’t automatically be given a job based on some sort of spoils system.

Before CETAC, Meerapfel and other companies bought Central African tobacco from the French government, which for decades monopolized the crop from Cameroon and the Central African Republic through operations controlled by its tobacco monopoly, SEITA. The French ceased operation in Central Africa in 1993, claiming there was no longer demand for the tobacco and that the enterprise no longer fit within SEITA’s goals. The Africans apparently went to Meerapfel for help when the French pulled out. Even though most people said that he was crazy and that nothing could be done, he worked hard to create his company with the Africans.

Straight talking, honest and down to earth, Meerapfel preferred talking about tobacco and other good things in life like family, friends, travel, fine wine and food instead of getting involved in politics. When he set out to do something, he did it. “What my father did was amazing,” said Jeremiah, his older son. “We are going to continue his work to the best of our ability. His dream lives.”

Meerapfel also had a wicked sense of humor. During my trip, I spent a half day walking through the Central African jungle visiting small growers in tiny villages reached by small dirt paths. The growers lived in mud huts with nothing more than a blackened iron cauldron as a possession. Speaking through an interpreter, Meerapfel explained how they should grow and harvest their tobacco, and when they should ship it to the central warehouse for processing. “James, it’s good to have you here with us,” he said as we walked through the thick vegetation with the sun burning the backs of our necks. “One of the last tobacco technicians from our company who was on this path had a small problem here. A leopard attacked him. Luckily he had a hunting knife and managed to kill the cat.” To this day, I am not sure if Meerapfel was joking.

Yet, it was obvious that he took his work in Africa seriously. Not only was he building its global reputation for great tobacco, he was helping the people of two countries. He was a legend with the locals. “It means a lot to me,” he often said. “We are helping the Africans help themselves.” Through the work of his company, which employs about 5,000 people, CETAC has enriched the lives of more then 100,000 people, from the small farmers to local mayors.

I still remember his words one day when one of his bulldozers broke down about 15 miles from his base in Gamboula, Central Africa. The company couldn’t get the parts in Africa to fix it and the machine was stranded on a muddy road in the middle of nowhere. The bits needed would not arrive for another week or so from Europe. “People have no idea what it takes to put up a building or anything else around here,” he said, shaking his head in frustration. “It really is against the odds. You have to be determined to do it. Otherwise, you will never succeed. However, should we fail, there will be no more wrapper coming from Central Africa. So I am not going to fail. I don’t want to let the Africans fail, either.”

He didn’t. And he certainly didn’t let down cigar lovers around the world who enjoy a cigar with good Cameroon wrapper. Near the end of my trip in Africa, he asked me a question late one night. We were sitting on the veranda of his plantation house in the middle of nowhere in the Central African Republic. “I wonder if some banker in New York, smoking his cigar with Central African wrapper and with a glass of fine Scotch, has any idea what it takes to get tobacco out of here? He probably doesn’t care. But I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. I love it here doing this; and in the end, we both love cigars and we love what we do.”

He was probably right. It’s hard to realize the incredible dedication it takes to grow outstanding wrapper tobacco in a place like Central Africa, but at the end of the day, it’s the love of a good cigar that keeps us going day in and day out. That’s what Rick Meerapfel knew better than most.

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