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El tabaco y la esclavitud en la rearticulación imperial ibérica (s. xv-xx)

 | 
Santiago de Luxán Meléndez
, 
João Figueirôa-Rêgo

Beyond iberian atlantic spaces: trans-imperial and trans-territorial entanglements in Havana cigar history (1756-1924)

Jean Stubbs

Résumé

This paper revisits broader historiography to interrogate the temporality of the hand-crafted Havana cigar's entrée onto the world stage in the «long nineteenth century», redrawing the start date for Havana cigar history as 1756, the outbreak of the Seven Years War. Subsequent developments, including the British occupation of Havana in 1762-3, and notably the advent of the «British cycle» of «liberal free trade» in global history, would see Spain's decline, resurgent Dutch competition, and British and U.S. involvement in Cuba's tortuous path to frustrated sovereignty. The paper charts the Havana cigar's vertiginous rise to iconic fame as one of diverse entanglements and mobilities, with political and social interests facilitating the spread and appropriation of knowledge and practice. In the race to re-create the quality and «authenticity» of the Havana cigar and leaf, this is illustrated by two transnational counterpoints: that of neighboring British colonial Jamaica and that of the distant Dutch East Indies in conjunction with the closer, independent United States. A brief concluding section reflects on the significance of origins (terroir) and reinvented perceived origins («Cubanicity») in how Havana cigar history became quite so «entangled».

Entrées d'index

Note de l’auteur

This paper is rooted in a project that has been ongoing over the past 20 years, provisionally titled Sovereignty, Identity and Reconciliation in Havana Cigar History and linking transnational migration and commodity production through the prism of what I have come to call the Havana cigar universe. The spatial and temporal frame of this has extended over the years from an initial study, whose focus was to compare the periods of Cuba’s late-nineteenth-century independence struggles and late twentieth-century revolution, and now embraces the period 1756-2016. I extend my special gratitude to the Iberian tobacco historians’ group for embracing me in their fold and nudging me toward fine-honing my understanding of the earlier part of my extended period. I draw inspiration from their recent volumes: Santiago de LUXÁN MELÉNDEZ, João Figueiroa Rego and Vicent Sanz Rozalén (eds.), Tabaco y esclavos en los Imperios Ibéricos, Lisboa, Universidade Nova de Lisboa. Faculdade de Ciências Sociais e Humanas. Centro de História d’ Aquém e d’ Além Mar, 2015, and Santiago de LUXÁN (ed.), Política y Hacienda del Tabaco en los Imperios Ibéricos (siglos XVII-XIX), Madrid, Centro de Estudios Políticos y Constitucionales, 2014. The responsibility remains mine, however, in the face of any factual or conceptual misgivings they, or other readers, may have.

Texte intégral

1As the Spanish Empire waned, the impact of momentous developments elsewhere in Europe and across the Americas was to open up markets for Cuba's tobacco, especially the Havana cigar. In Europe, cigars were the predominant smoke in Holland and Germany, as well as Spain; the cigar, along with pipe smoking, grew in popularity in Britain and, along with snuff, in France and Italy. Cigars also rapidly gained ground, alongside plug tobacco, in the United States. In all these countries, there was a growing home industry for such commodities and large quantities were also imported. To satisfy export markets as well as domestic demand, manufacturing industries developed in many tobacco-growing countries, especially when unfettered by colonial restrictions. However, manufacturing, protected by tariff barriers, developed at such a rapid pace in countries like Britain, France, Germany, Holland, Italy, Spain and the United States that these once major importers became more self-reliant and also major exporters. Cigarettes were also produced, but on nothing like the scale as when mechanization would later revolutionize the industry, heralding the end of what had been «the age of the cigar».

  • 1 Cf. Eliga H. Gould, «Entangled Histories, Entangled Worlds: The English-Speaking Atlantic as a Span (...)

2The history behind the Havana cigar's rise to fame was, from the outset, one of diverse trans-imperial and trans-territorial entanglements both within and ranging beyond the Iberian transatlantic world.1 It was shaped by political and trade wars between imperial and newly independent nation-states across the Americas, and Cuba’s own burgeoning nationalism, insurrection against and independence from Spain, subsequent U.S. dominance, and revolution. Competing political, economic and social interests combined with in- and out-migration and resettlement to facilitate not only trade but also the spread and appropriation of knowledge and practice. Just as Spain would experiment «back home» across the Atlantic, starting in the Canary Islands, so also the race was on among other imperial powers and their colonies, and in independent nations, to re-create in their territories the quality of the Havana cigar and its tobacco leaf.

  • 2 In my discussion I forefront a select range of work. My point of departure is «the long nineteenth (...)
  • 3 My work dates back to my early monograph: Jean STUBBS, Tobacco on the Periphery: A Case Study in Cu (...)
  • 4 Cuban «classics» are Fernando ORTIZ, Contrapunteo cubano del tabaco y el azúcar, Madrid, Letras His (...)
  • 5 More specifically for my arguments here, I draw on LUXÁN, Política y hacienda…: Santiago de LUXAN, (...)
  • 6 Relevant studies are Charlotte COSNER, The Golden Leaf: How Tobacco Shaped Cuba and the Atlantic Wo (...)
  • 7 In the context of a 1990s cigar revival, Cigar Aficionado was an early 1990s successor to the 1980s (...)
  • 8 For my initial refashioning of Cuba’s national counterpoint between tobacco and sugar, as construct (...)

3To contextualise this history, I begin here by revisiting broader historiography to interrogate the temporality of the hand-crafted Havana cigar's entrée onto the world stage in a «long nineteenth century» and «British cycle» in world history,2 that would see Spain's decline, resurgent Dutch competition, and British and U.S. involvement in Cuba’s tortuous path to frustrated sovereignty. I then draw on a range of sources, including my own earlier work,3 that of Cuban scholars and writers4 and Spanish historians who have worked on tobacco in Spain and the Spanish Empire,5 other academic and popular histories of tobacco,6 and glossy publications on the Havana cigar that have proliferated over recent years,7 to chart the Havana cigar’s rise to iconic status and the challenges this then posed. The stage is thus set for spatially mapping trans-imperial entanglements, which were already present in Cuba, in other territories near and far. This is then illustrated by two transnational counterpoints,8 each nurtured on several levels, from the state to the subaltern, to cultivate «Cuban-seed» cigar tobacco leaf, craft clone «Cuban» cigars, and compete in the trade and consumption of both. The focus of the first counterpoint is more narrowly on British colonial Jamaica, Cuba’s neighbouring island and part of the British West Indies. The second is broader, linking the far-distant Dutch East Indies, specifically the Indonesian island of Sumatra, with the closer United States, in particular northern New England and New York and southern Florida and Georgia. A brief concluding section signals the significance of origins and perceived origins in how Havana cigar history became quite so «entangled».

A long nineteenth century

  • 9 See footnote 2 for full bibliographical references of the works by Hobsbawm, Braudel, Stearns, Bayl (...)

4From a European perspective, the long nineteenth century as a historical concept is attributed perhaps most to Hobsbawm and his three classic volumes on the The Age of Revolution: Europe 1789-1848, The Age of Capital: 1848-1875 and The Age of Empire: 1875-1914.9 Hobsbawm’s underlying argument was that the political and economic dual revolution, the political being the French and the economic being the (primarily British) industrial revolution, challenged old elite power structures and enabled subsequent capital and imperial ventures that fundamentally changed the world. The outbreak of the First World War marked the waning of the European nineteenth-century power balance. The title to his sequel The Age of Extremes: The Short Twentieth Century, 1914-1991 speaks for itself, its endpoint being the fall of the Soviet Union.

5The concept of the long century has earlier and later parallels, from Braudel’s acclaimed earlier notion of the long sixteenth century for the Mediterranean world (1450-1640) to Stearns’ later quest for extending the global long nineteenth century (1750-1914). For Stearns, the explanatory power of world history depended heavily on periodisation decisions regarding significant shifts in a range of factors, from trading patterns and technology to the challenges of empire formation, the impact of which varied according to time and place. Thus, Russia, Japan, China and the Ottoman Empire did not sit well with Hobsbawm’s periodisation, nor did the Americas, where anti-colonial movements dating back earlier than 1789 were the backdrop to trans-Atlantic wars.

6The rise of the modern world economy, it was argued, should be viewed in a more global frame that situates European powers as one set of competitors among many. Bayly, for example, contended that a prolonged global crisis profoundly changed the late eighteenth-century world. When the crisis ended, France had lost its first empire (Haiti, Canada and India) and been transformed by revolution. Britain had emerged with a power base in South Asia. The old Asian empires had entered a period of political and economic transformation, and the United States and most of Spain’s colonies had become independent.

  • 10 Quoted in ARRIGHI, The Long Twentieth…p. 14. The earlier history of New York symbolises this well. (...)

7Arrighi, in what was for him a long twentieth century, succinctly recaps the development of capitalism’s longue durée as a world system having four systemic cycles of accumulation, each with a certain overlap: a Genoese cycle, from the fifteenth to the early seventeenth centuries; a Dutch cycle, from the late sixteenth through most of the eighteenth century; a British cycle, from the latter half of the eighteenth through the early twentieth century; and a U.S. cycle beginning in the late nineteenth century and continuing in the early 1990s, when he was writing. These cycles were associated with inter-state competition and the formation of political and organisational structures through imitation as well as innovation: to borrow Braudel’s words, «Amsterdam copied Venice, as London would subsequently copy Amsterdam, and as New York would one day copy London.»10 In the cycle of hegemonic British «free-trade» imperialism, Arrighi argued, colonialism, capitalist slavery and economic nationalism would all play their part, as also the rebelliousness that would ultimately be its downfall.

8Bulmer-Thomas, in his recent economic history of the Caribbean since the Napoleonic Wars, likewise argued the case for the «age of free trade» along the British liberal model but in a short nineteenth-century, lasting from the end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 to the Spanish-American War of 1898. This was the period witnessing the end of mercantilism and rise of economic liberalism, when transfers of sovereignty among European colonial powers were coming to an end in the region. After the British ending of the slave trade in 1807, restrictions and monopolistic practices gave way to a new orthodoxy based on imperial preference. Spain (which, along with Portugal, was conspicuously absent from Arrighi’s cycles) gave its colonies the right to trade with all countries while imposing tariffs favouring Spanish goods in Spanish ships, much along the lines of England’s earlier Navigation Acts; and France similarly introduced its own tariffs. By the final emancipation from slavery in the Caribbean (conceded by Spain in Cuba in 1886), orthodoxy had changed again. Britain and Holland had eliminated imperial preferences, independent territories had adopted tariff systems, and the door was open for U.S. encroachment in the region. Basing his notion of «long» or «short» century on cycles of growth or depression, Bulmer-Thomas saw the end of the nineteenth century as coinciding with the Spanish-American War in 1898, which marked the end of Spain as a colonial power in the Caribbean and the rise of the U.S. empire with its colonies and neo-colonies.

  • 11 Among other studies, see Matthew Brown (Ed.), Informal Empire in Latin America: Culture, Commerce, (...)

9In his previous economic history of Latin America since independence, Bulmer-Thomas chose as his start date that of Napoleon’s 1808 invasion of the Iberian Peninsula. This undermined Spanish authority in Latin America and provided the hitherto weak independence movement with impetus it desperately needed. He did, however, signal how Spain’s Bourbon reforms, which started in 1759, while not formally abandoning monopoly of external trade in Spanish America, had attempted to overhaul the external and internal trading systems, making the business of exporting and importing easier. With the exception of a handful of royal monopolies, such as tobacco, most productive activities were in private hands, and after independence tobacco also benefited from greater free trade and access to international capital markets. Spanish America, in effect, became Britain’s «informal empire».11

10In the case of Cuba and its iconic Havana cigar, an argument might well be made for Bulmer-Thomas’s Caribbean short nineteenth century: 1817, after all, marked the lifting of the Spanish tobacco monopoly and 1898 the end of Spanish rule. However, a compelling argument can be made for the long century corresponding to Arrighi’s «British cycle», starting earlier than the date Bulmer-Thomas adopted in his Latin American history and also ending later.

  • 12 Jean STUBBS, «Política e sapere: come si e globalizzato el sigaro avana?/Política y saber: cómo se (...)
  • 13 For broader studies of the impact of the war, see Fred ANDERSON, Crucible of War: The Seven Years’ (...)

11In recent work of my own,12 I began to question that it was the lifting of the Spanish monopoly that heralded the Havana cigar’s coming of age, and I set the clock back to the outbreak of the Seven Years’ War.13 I am now drawn to develop this further and argue that international political events, starting with the Seven Years’ War (1756-63), which saw the British occupation of Havana (1762-3), followed by the American Revolutionary War (1765-83), the French Revolution and French Revolutionary Wars (1789-99), the Haitian Revolution (1791-1804), and finally the Napoleonic Wars (1803-15), were all instrumental in weakening the already tenuous Spanish hold over Cuban tobacco.

  • 14 For an early argument attributing the Second British Empire as not having started after the Napoleo (...)

12Salient among Spanish historiography, for my purposes here, are the longue-durée studies by Fradera. In his most recent work on the imperial nation, Fradera signals the great revolutionary wave deriving from imperial wars in the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. Decolonization in the Americas - French (1763-1803), British (1776-1783), Spanish (1810-1824), and Portuguese (1822) - put in crisis the Atlantic monarchies and empires of the «Old Regime» compared with (imperial) nations and states developing in «the liberal era» over the period 1750-1918. In his earlier work on Spain’s «post-imperial» colonies - Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Philippines - Fradera held that all were marked by transition, which enabled the colonial relationship to endure a cycle starting with the Seven Years’ War up until the institutional «colonial pact» began to break down. The Seven Years’ War, which saw the British occupation of Manila and Havana, coincided with the emergence of the Second British Empire14 in Asia (and later Africa) and the incipient Monroe Doctrine as applied by the nascent United States to the Caribbean. According to Fradera, the Spanish empire in decline managed to recompose with a new colonial model for its three territories, each with its similarities and differences. Tropical agriculture was one, whereby Cuba would prioritise sugar, Puerto Rico coffee, and the Philippines tobacco. In the Cuban case, the Spanish «colonial pact» was primarily with the saccarocracy and their large slave plantations. As we shall see, however, and on Fradera’s own admission, this left room for maneuver in tobacco.

  • 15 See footnote 5 for full bibliographical references of their work. For a broader analysis of the cha (...)
  • 16 Santiago de LUXÁN Y MELENDEZ, La opción agrícola e industrial del tabaco en Canarias. Una perspecti (...)

13More specifically, on the Spanish Atlantic tobacco complex and Cuba’s role within it, Spain’s weak monopoly hold has been examined by, among others, Luxán, Gárate Ojanguren, Sanz Rozalén, and Bergasa Perdomo in Spain, Cosner in the United States, and Nater in Mexico.15 They all attach importance to late eighteenth-century events in repositioning Cuban tobacco in the Atlantic world. In defense of a commodity approach that takes into account territorial temporal specificity, I might highlight here the later start dates chosen for analysis in the case of Canary Island tobacco by Luxán (1827-1936) and Arnaldos Martínez and Arnaldos de Armas (1852-2002):16 the year 1827 was when the crown authorised tobacco-growing trials in the Canaries and 1852 saw the introduction of the Canary Islands as a Free Port, a date which Luxán also recognised as a subsequent turning point. Free ports, it must be said, were at the time very much in tune with the British, who themselves made their mark in the Canaries. Here I have chosen not to focus on the Cuba-Canary Islands connection, by no means to downplay the integral role this has played in Havana cigar history, rather to highlight other trans-imperial/trans-territorial connections.

14In effect, the Seven Years’ War cemented a process of opening Cuban tobacco to British, French, German, and U.S., as well as Spanish, capital and trade, paving the way for the Havana cigar to conquer European and North American markets. Thereafter, the Havana would become de rigueur in the male entrepreneurial world of the rapidly growing industrial, trading and financial conurbations such as London, Amsterdam, Bremen, Hamburg, Paris, Montreal and New York. With its fine taste and aroma, and its smoke assuaging the senses, the Havana made its mark as one of life’s pleasurable luxuries, sending out a message of wealth, power and distinction across the world. This it retained, though taking serious knocks in Cuba’s turbulent times and in the face of technological change. It was the First World War and its aftermath that marked the cigarette becoming the smoke of choice, by which time the threat of cigar mechanization also loomed ominously over the hand-rolled cigar, leaving the Havana’s fate hanging perilously in the balance.

The Havana’s long century

15Intrinsic to Hobsbawm’s analysis was that the great revolution was the triumph not of industry as such but of capitalist industry, not of liberty and equality in general but of middle class or bourgeois liberal society, not of the modern economy and state but those of a particular geographical region of the world (parts of Europe and North America). The neighbouring and rival states of Great Britain and France were, in his words, twin craters of a larger volcano, simultaneous eruptions that reverberated around the world. The sequel periods of capital and empire saw the rise of bourgeois liberal regimes, nation states, industrial economies, world trading and financial systems, and European domination of the rest of the world. Capitalist enterprise, the engine of change, the agency of the transformation of the world, however, also contained within itself the seeds of its own decay. The bourgeoisie sought protection for their commercial interests through the pursuit of empire, only to see capitalism and imperialism slide into a major conflagration of global impact.

16Curiously, in Hobsbawm’s texts there is scant reference to the rise and demise of commodities, the quest for which fuelled the developments he so eloquently described. Yet his description of the rise of bourgeois liberal society was so classically mirrored by that of Ortiz in accounting for the rise of the Havana cigar:

  • 17 Ortiz, Contrapunteo cubano…p. 717.

A medida que triunfan las libertades ciudadanas y se aseguran las constituciones políticas, triunfa también el cigarro puro, coincidiendo con el advenimiento a Cuba del liberalismo económico que abre el puerto de La Habana a todas las naciones. Y es en ese ambiente de libre competencia industrial y mercantil cuando el tabaco habano, por plebiscito unánime de los pueblos, deviene el cetro imperial del mundo tabaquero, El tabaco habano es desde entonces el símbolo de la burguesía capitalista triunfadora.17

17Ortiz fashioned a counterpoint out of Cuba’s two major commodities, encapsulated in the lowly sugar sack and the proud cigar band. In Cuba, the cigar came to be called simply un tabaco (a tobacco), un puro (pure in that it was made wholly with Cuban leaf), or un habano (a Havana, by virtue of the port city through which it made its entrée into the world). For Ortiz, sugar signified slavery and dependence while tobacco symbolised freedom and independence.

  • 18 Manuel Moreno Fraginals, Cuba/España, España/Cuba: Historia Común, Barcelona, Grijalbo Mondadori, 1 (...)

18The Ortiz counterpoint was one turned on its head in earlier times, as argued by Moreno Fraginals. Boldly asserting «Cuba fue la isla más codiciada por los intereses británicos,»18 he attributed the success of the 1761 British attack on Havana to the wider context of the birth of the industrial revolution generating stronger, precision artillery that rendered obsolete the concept of a city’s defenses. He also argued the British occupation made more transparent the breach between the power of the metropolitan Spanish Peninsula and the creole Havana oligarchy, when tobacco had been the peninsular monopoly and sugar an essentially local activity. The British occupying force suppressed Spanish central government yet retained local political structures, allowing the Havana oligarchy to benefit from British naval and trade superiority and expand sugar and plantation slavery. In his words:

  • 19 MORENO FRAGINALS, Cuba/España...p. 145.

Quedaba replanteado así el viejo contrapunto del azúcar y el tabaco que, aparte de su significación económica, tenía una excepcional connotación política. Era la pugna entre una producción azucarera dominada por las fuerzas sociales criollas, generada en unidades de propiedad privada, e inmersa en el libre juego del mercado; contra el tabaco sometido a intereses coloniales peninsulares, cultivado por labradores organizados en una institución estatal, y sujeta su venta a controles monopólicos. Los que estaba en contrapunto no eran dos productos y dos intereses, sino dos sistemas económicos y, en cierta forma, dos nacionalidades, la española peninsular y la naciente cubano-española.19

19Such a politics of sugar and tobacco sits at odds with Spain’s «colonial pact», as formulated by Fradera, and also Ortiz’s counterpoint. In the rapidly changing landscape, however, Moreno Fraginals conceded tobacco was one of the few plants that survived and multiplied at the hands of new settlers. A case in point, in the push for late eighteenth-century sugar expansion, was the emergence of western Vuelta Abajo, a region whose soils and climate would prove particularly suitable for cultivating cigar wrapper leaf, which became a fine complement to the mainly filler tobacco of central Vuelta Arriba.

20Moreno Fraginals also pointed to how the United States emerged well positioned:

  • 20 MORENO FRAGINALS, Cuba/España...p. 146.

A partir de 1763 las Trece Colonias inglesas inician un amplio intercambio comercial con Cuba, que aumenta de manera imprevisible cuando dichas colonias se convierten en los Estados Unidos de Norteamérica, cambiando el estatus económico y político del Caribe; la Revolución francesa determina un período de guerras continuas que aceleran el deterioro imperial español, rompiendo la comunicación fluida de Cuba con la metropolis y trastornando el sistema mundial de comercialización.20

  • 21 MORENO FRAGINALS, Cuba/España...p. 146.

21As the revolution in Saint Domingue catapulted Cuba into world primacy, «La Habana vivió una absurda orgía millonaria»,21 with a free-for-all of trade in ships of many nations. During the years when Spain was at war with France and Britain, the United States became the neutrals controlling much of the trade in Cuban sugar and all that was connected with it, presaging how they would also later seek to control much of Cuban tobacco.

  • 22 I refer to these in STUBBS, «Política e sapere/Política y saber…», pp.67-105, and «El Habano…, pp. (...)

22There is a certain historical inevitability to macro and micro tobacco histories sparking the Seven Years’ War and shaping subsequent developments.22 Washington, the lieutenant colonel son of a Virginia tobacco-farming family (later first U.S. President, 1789-97), triggered France declaring war on Britain, which in turn declared war on Spain. According to Jefferson (third U.S. President 1801-9), himself a Virginia tobacco farmer, this was the backdrop to the 1776 Declaration of Independence of Britain’s Thirteen Colonies, which forged alliances with France (1778) and Spain (1779) and ultimately peace with Britain (1782). Tobacco debts were negotiated as part of reparations, and trade resumed. In France, the expenses of war and the court occasioned taxes deemed intolerable by a people (of smokers) who rose up in revolution in 1789, and snuff (the mark of aristocracy) fell out of favour. Napoleon raised tobacco taxes to finance his armies and redraw the political map of Europe, in the process profoundly changing the continent’s smoking habits. Having defeated the combined French and Spanish fleet at Trafalgar and with Britain subject to continental blockade, an 1808 British expeditionary force was sent to Spain and took to smoking cigars, as had the French occupying Andalusia. Britain’s triumph at Waterloo was a triumph for the cigar, whose virtues were extolled by the Romantics. The House of Commons introduced a designated smoking chamber, and smoking jacket and cap were donned. Tobacconists specialised in cigar imports, as cigar imports skyrocketed.

23Across the Atlantic, Napoleon’s 1803 Louisiana sale doubled the size of the emergent United States and moved the frontier west, where Hispanics already smoked cigars. Along the eastern seaboard, the growing popularity of the «Spanish» cigar was attributed to General Putnam’s return from the British occupation of Havana with three donkeys laden with Havana cigars, which he sold in a tavern in Connecticut. Cuban seed was imported to grow cigar leaf and produce cigars there, and, by the 1820s, the likes of Adams (sixth U.S. President 1825-9) were inveterate cigar smokers.

24With free trade, Cuban cigars gained in preference. Shipping using the port of Havana increased, steam ships shortened crossings, commerce boomed, and Cuban tobacco growing and cigar manufacturing flourished. The earliest rolling shop of importance was said to be Hija de Cabañas y Carvajal, founded in 1810 by Francisco Cabañas, who had been rolling cigars since 1797. It was his segar, which would first hit the London market, where, by the 1820s, hand-rolled Havanas had a solid reputation. Among those consolidating Havana rolling shops were Jaime Partagás (1827) and Ambrosio de Larrañaga (1834), and Havana, with some 400 shops, was fast becoming «tobacco city». London prices for Havanas doubled and trebled, according to size and class, from 1828 to 1847. Catering to this growing demand in Britain, as well as Germany, Denmark and France, and to a lesser extent the United States and Spain, Cuban cigar rolling shops would multiple to over 1,200 throughout the island, 516 in Havana, with 158 registered as first class (with 50 workers or more). The Cabañas factory was recorded as having 300, and other major cigar factories included new ones such as H.Upmann’s La Madama (1844), followed by Gustav Bock’s Aguila de Oro, both early signs of direct German investment, and La Corona (1845). International accolades accrued: Cabañas took the Gold Medal at the 1851 Queen Victoria’s Great Exhibition in London, and Partagás took Gold at the 1867 Paris World Fair.

  • 23 For an analysis of Cuba’s cigar heyday and subsequent mid-nineteenth-century turning point, see STU (...)

25 A turning point had been reached, however, with the 1850s European trade depression. While the British market remained buoyant, German and French imports dropped by two thirds and one half, respectively. By the 1870s, the United States was Cuba's only fast-growing market, handling virtually all Cuba's cigar exports; and, by the 1890s, total cigar export figures were at half the 1850s level. Over that same period, leaf exports to those same countries increased by one third. Whereas in 1859, the value of cigar exports had been twice that of leaf, in 1890 the value of leaf exports was twice that of cigars.23

26 By the 1850s, U.S. manufacturers were producing «clear Havanas» made with Cuban leaf and retailing them at four to five times the price of the domestic cigar, and «half-Spanish» had become literally true of the U.S. industry as a whole. The amount of Cuban leaf imported - mainly through New York - was about equal to the domestic leaf produced in the whole of New England, and the Havana leaf was well established as the sine qua non of a good cigar.

27 A strong Havana tobacco oligarchy expressed growing concern over the future of Cuban manufacturing and the extent to which tariffs, especially U.S. tariffs, could hit the industry. The 1856 U.S. tariff, brought in to protect the domestic tobacco industry, was a case in point: Cuba's tobacco exports dropped by one-third overnight. Foreign competition, overseas tariffs, and heavy Spanish-imposed taxes and export duties made for Cuba’s anomalous position of political dependence on Spain - whose interests lay in protecting its own manufacturing interests - and economic dependence on non-Spanish markets, especially the United States – which had its own incipient industry embarking along the same protectionist paths as its earlier European counterparts.

  • 24 For in-depth studies of developments in Cuba in this period, see Doria C. González FERNANDEZ, «La m (...)

28The upheavals of the Cuban wars for independence from Spain – the Ten Years’ War (1868-1878), the Little War (1879-1880), and the Great War (1895-1898) – then took their toll.24 Habano history was marked by out-migration of growers, manufacturers and workers, who took with them their trade and know-how. Conversely, British and U.S. direct investment would consolidate in Cuba. In 1888, Henry Clay and Bock, and Partagás, were both set up as London companies set up under their same names, with Bock and Bances as their Havana managing directors. The British consul in Havana at the time commented how this would be regarded favourably by the Spanish and Cubans, because they understood that British interests were of a purely commercial character. The interests in Partagás, which had been largely directed to its leaf operations, were liquidated in 1896, but two years later the Havana Cigar and Tobacco Factories Ltd. was set up, subsuming Henry Clay and Bock and Co., with Bock as Havana managing director. The company came to control some of the largest factories in Havana, including 35 cigar and 18 cigarette brands.

29Until this point, relations between the United States and Cuba as regards tobacco had been almost exclusively mercantile. Direct U.S. investment came in 1899, when the Havana Commercial Company bought up one cigarette and 12 cigar factories in Havana, along with the important leaf operation of F. García Bros. and Company. It would massively increase when, in 1901, the American Tobacco Company (ATC), or Trust as it was known, combined some 20 factories under the newly created American Cigar Company. In 1902, after absorbing Havana Commercial, the Trust set up a new subsidiary, the Havana Tobacco Company (later to become Cuban Tobacco), to consolidate all its Cuban manufacturing and leaf holdings. Henry Clay and Bock and the Havana Cigar and Tobacco Factories Ltd. remained officially registered British companies but financial control passed to the Trust, which that year accounted for 90 percent of Cuba’s cigar exports. A new subsidiary set up in 1903 was the Cuban Land and Leaf Tobacco Company, which came to control supplies of the much-sought-after Vuelta Abajo leaf.

30Significantly, British capital had moved into a newly expanding Havana export industry of the 1880s. This was cut short when U.S. protectionism reached a new height in the form of the McKinletextualisey Tariff-Law of 1890, almost doubling duties on imported cigars, leading to a new wave of out-migration from the sector and the growth of existing and new U.S. manufacturing centres, undercutting the Cuban industry. Leading tobacco manufacturers in Cuba would plead with Spain:

  • 25 Quoted in Stubbs, Tobacco on the Periphery…p.24. The full texts of the report and government respon (...)

Before the rigours of the new U.S. tariff, which places the tobacco of the island in the most precarious circumstances, and having moreover almost completely closed to it the market of the Peninsula, help should be given to this most important source of wealth.25

31Their recommendations that there be an immediate end to export duties and a new trade treaty with the United States met with a stony response from Madrid:

  • 26 Stubbs, Tobacco on the Periphery…, p. 24

The criteria of the Government would be based on the necessity of harmonising the interests of Cuba with those of the regions of the Peninsula, largely favoured by the trade legislation in force in such a way that the former are producing as little as possible.26

32The Compañia Arrendataria de España was at the time buying only half the stipulated amount of leaf and the entry of manufactured tobacco into the Peninsula was strictly limited. Taxes on tobacco manufacturing in Cuba were raised so much that in 1893 manufacturers in Cuba again appealed to Madrid, declaring that soon they would be unable to continue; and a year later they decried the export of leaf and closing down of manufacturing concerns, since a cigar made abroad with exclusively Cuban raw material was cheaper than that exported from Havana.

33The Great War was devastating for tobacco, and in its aftermath U.S. occupation would facilitate U.S. investment, poised to sap its last strength with buy-out offers. After fierce competition between two cigar- and cigarette-manufacturing U.S. and British giants, ATC and Imperial Tobacco Company (ITC) - each of which had grown out of cut-throat competition and the merger of former companies - the two had formed a new cartel, British American Tobacco (BAT). This would trade outside Britain and the United States, except for Cuba, which, like Puerto Rico, would be ATC domain. With Cuba under U.S. occupation, Spain classified Cuban cigars as foreign and more than doubled imported duties. Cuba also lost markets in other countries, such that the British market was about the only important one left, and there duties were rapidly increasing. The 1903 Cuba-U.S. Reciprocal Trade Treaty only served to exacerbate the Cuban trend of exporting leaf more than cigars.

  • 27 For the dispute, see Gustavo Bock, The Truth about Havana Cigars, New York: Havana Tobacco Company, (...)

34There was, all the same, an element of restored prosperity, with some new injections of Spanish capital and companies changing hands: Ramón Cifuentes y Llano was one who bought the Partagás factory in 1900. A bitter rivalry developed, however, between the Trust, represented by Bock, and the smaller family firms, known as «independents», struggling to hold their own, honouring long-standing traditions and conditions, which, they claimed, the Trust didn’t.27 Unrest rocked the industry, and Bock himself resigned in 1909, a year before his death. By then the Trust was already transferring production to the United States, and its share of Cuba’s cigar exports dropped from an initial 90 percent to only 52 percent in 1904. Under the 1911 U.S. anti-trust Sherman Act, the company would be broken up into smaller companies, and, faced with opposition in Cuba, much of what was left of U.S.-owned Cuban cigar manufacturing later wound up the United States.

35Cuban manufacturing shifted more into cigarette production, while most new capital over the decade 2010-2020 went into leaf handling companies. The full long-term effects on Cuba’s cigar industry would not be felt until the 1920s, by which time cigar exports had fallen by almost two thirds and the value of leaf exports was almost triple that of cigars. The cigar hand-rolling industry would tip into a critical period, when, in 1925, Por Larrañaga attempted to introduce the cigar machine in Cuba, setting up a new subsidiary, Cía Tabacalera Internacional, under special contract with the American Machine and Foundry Company. The company and its backers underestimated the opposition this would arouse. The machine’s introduction was seen as suicidal to the nation’s prestigious hand-rolling industry. A nation-wide battle to ban the machine ensued and was won. A far greater threat, however, was the 1920s cigarette boom and competition from the cheaper machine-made cigar elsewhere, and the onset of the 1929 world depression would bring the Cuban industry to a virtual standstill. That, and how it would rebound after is, of course, is another story.

Mapping trans-imperial / trans-territorial entanglements

  • 28 See Jean STUBBS «Transnationalism and the Havana Cigar: Commodity Chain Transfers, Networks, and Ci (...)
  • 29 For a discussion of this, see Jean STUBBS, «Havana Cigars and the West’s Imagination» in Sander L. (...)

36Tracing the transnational connections in Havana cigar history, some much further field than I initially thought, I found myself delving into systems of land tenure and labour, cultivation and manufacture, as well as realms of science and technology, knowledge and communication, patterns of consumption, brand advertising, legend and mystique.28 I started out along this road thanks to the 1990s New York launch of the glossy Cigar Aficionado, which was highly successful in engineering - socially and culturally as well as commercially – an anti-antismoking cigar campaign.29 Written for the cigar connoisseur and punctuated by aggressive marketing, it nurtured a contemporary cult of «cigar cool», featuring articles on Cuba and a whole universe of where and by whom Havana cigar seed leaf was being grown outside the island and of what I came to call the «offshore Havana cigar». Some offshore cigars boasted identical brand names to those in Cuba, today referred to in Cuba as dobles marcas (dual brands), a modern-day rerun of the long-lamented older imitaciones (imitations) and falsificaciones (falsifications).

  • 30 Viz LUXAN Y MELENDEZ, La opción agrícola… and Arnaldos Martínez and Arnaldos de Armas, La industria (...)
  • 31 Among the pioneers were Louis A. Pérez Jr., «Reminiscences of a Lector: Cuban Cigar Makers in Tampa (...)
  • 32 The North Florida history is one I researched with the aid of Kyle Doherty during spring 2011 at th (...)
  • 33 See Lisandro Pérez, Sugar, Cigars, and Revolution: The Making of Cuban New York, New York, New York (...)
  • 34 Jean STUBBS, «Political Idealism and Commodity Production: Cuban Tobacco in Jamaica, 1870-1930», in (...)

37Behind the brands were global and local histories of leaf cultivation and cigar manufacturing, some more longue durée than others. For analytical purposes, I grouped these into four categories. First, there are closely interlocking histories of territories with significant migratory flows into and out of Cuba. Across the Atlantic, there was Spain, and especially the Canary Islands, geo-strategically positioned on the route between Spain, Europe, Africa and the Americas. This fuelled mass migratory waves of Canary Islanders into Cuban tobacco as well as subsequent return migration into the Canary Islands’ own tobacco growing and production, using a blend of tobaccos from various parts of the world.30 Geographically closer to Cuba, in the neighbouring United States, there was Florida, best known for its nineteenth-century Cuban émigré southern Florida cigar histories of Key West, Tampa and Ybor City.31 There was also, however, the lesser-known North Florida-South Georgia Cuban-cigar-tobacco-growing belt with its cigar centres such as Amsterdam, Gainesville, Havana, Jacksonville, Quincy, and Thomasville.32 Agronomists worked to locate soils and climatic areas for growing a Cuban-type cigar leaf and develop hybrid strains resistant to pests and blight. Earlier, migrant Cuban growers, workers, and manufacturers had taken their skills and knowledge north, to New England and New York, whose explosion of cigar manufacturing would see an influx of cigar rollers from depressed regions of Europe, such as Bavaria, and also Cuba.33 Finally, there was neighbouring British colonial Jamaica, with its little-known history of tobacco growers, workers and manufacturers who fled war-torn nineteenth-century Cuba to found the once-thriving Jamaican tobacco economy.34

  • 35 Juan José Baldrich makes this point in his work on Puerto Rican tobacco: «From the Origins of Indus (...)
  • 36 There is reference to nineteenth- and twentieth-century Cuban cigar makers alongside Puerto Ricans (...)
  • 37 See Stubbs, «Transnationalism and the Havana Cigar…» and «Beyond the Black Atlantic: Understanding (...)

38 In a second category are the closely intertwined histories of Puerto Rican and Cuban tobacco with no significant tobacco migration but closely monitored trade networks and circuits of knowledge.35 Puerto Rico’s own turbulent tobacco history of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries saw Puerto Rican cigar workers heading north to U.S. manufacturing centres, especially but by no means exclusively New York, working alongside Cubans.36 After 1898, tobacco was fostered on the island by U.S. capital, and not without incurring opposition, subsequently to be undercut mid-century in the U.S.-sanctioned, Puerto Rican strategy of Operation Bootstrap. State-engineered migrant farm labour programs then transported displaced farmers and agricultural laborers from what were once tobacco areas in Puerto Rico to work in New England tobacco, especially the Shade tobacco fields of Connecticut.37

  • 38 See Jean STUBBS, «Reinventing Mecca: Tobacco in the Dominican Republic, 1763-2007», Commodities of (...)

39 In the third category are cigar histories that have seen small yet significant catalysts of Cuban cigar migration over varying time frames - those of Mexico, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and also Brazil. Mexico was in the frame in the late nineteenth-century, while the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua and others would rise to prominence a century later as new epicentres of the offshore Havana cigar destined for the U.S. market, where - under the U.S. embargo on Cuba that had been in place since 1960 - the real Havana was forbidden fruit.38

  • 39 Jean STUBBS, El Habano and the World It Has Shaped: Cuba, Connecticut and Indonesia, in Cuban Studi (...)
  • 40 See Edilberto C. De Jesus The Tobacco Monopoly in the Philippines: Bureaucratic Enterprise and Soci (...)
  • 41 For this contemporary twist, see Gabriela Greess, «Meerapfel Tobacco Group: Excellent Wrappers from (...)

40Finally, further afield, there are Asian and African interconnections, linked to global cigar expansion. As descendants of pipe smokers became cigar smokers, the Netherlands exported more cigars per capita than any other nation except Denmark, overshadowing Spain and Cuba. By the latter part of the nineteenth century, it was the Dutch in their East Indies who would develop a cheaper Sumatra wrapper leaf that would ultimately flood the global market. The later wrapper leaf of Cuba, Connecticut and Florida-Georgia would itself be developed with hybrids and nets, deriving from that of the Dutch East Indies.39 The tobacco history of the Philippines - a U.S. colony until 1946 - in many ways developed in tandem with that of Cuba and Puerto Rico.40 In Africa, while the British moved into territories such as Rhodesia growing Virginia tobacco leaf for cigarettes, in territories such as erstwhile French Cameroon, it was the Dutch who would develop Cameroon wrapper leaf. Today, Indonesian and Cameroon leaf are found in most blends used in cigars made outside Cuba.41

  • 42 See Stuart McCook, «The Neo-Colombian Exchange: The Second Conquest of the Greater Caribbean, 1720- (...)
  • 43 See Alfred W. CROSBY, The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492. Westpor (...)
  • 44 MCCOOK, «The Neo-Colombian Exchange…», p. 14.

41What follows delves into two histories in our long century under consideration here, one from the first and the other from the last of my four categories: British colonial Jamaica and Dutch Indonesia in tandem with the United States. In each, we shall see in operation, what McCook calls the neo-Colombian exchange, or second conquest of the Greater Caribbean and the «global turn» in science.42 McCook’s argument is that new models of commodity-led economic development drove, directly or indirectly, neo-Colombian exchanges of the long nineteenth-century (roughly 1720-1930). They differed from the Colombian exchanges of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries43 in that they were increasingly mediated by imperial and transnational scientific knowledge on a far greater geographical scale. In his words, «Elite faith in commodity exports as the engine of economic growth proved surprisingly robust, even as liberalism supplanted mercantilism as the dominant ideology.»44 It survived the rise and decline of European imperialism, revolutionary nationalism, abolition of slave trade and slaver, and the advent of North American neo-colonialism. New agricultural frontiers replaced older exhausted ones, and new forms of coercive labour replaced slavery.

  • 45 Similar arguments are made in the Cuban context by Leida Fernández Prieto Cuba agrícola: Mito y tra (...)
  • 46 Among the work highlighting the role of British policy toward its Caribbean colonies creating and d (...)
  • 47 I concur with McCook and Fernández Prieto in calling for further study of multiple knowledge centre (...)

42Driven by boom-bust cycles and the dramatic expansion of the agricultural export economy, new scientific networks were what for McCook shaped the global movement of plants, animals and new technologies.45 By the end of the eighteenth century, all European imperialist powers had botanical gardens that collected and disseminated especially plants of scientific and economic value. The British Royal Botanic Garden at Kew emerged as the most important nineteenth-century centre for global plant transfer,46 and botanical gardens and agricultural experimental stations became instrumental locally around the world, as, for example, Hope Gardens in the Jamaican case we consider first below. Also, and importantly, by the mid-nineteenth century, the binary divide between Western/non-Western, European/non-European, coloniser/colonised could no longer be solely applied, such that there were revealing exchanges between producers and agricultural stations, as evidenced in Cuba, Indonesia, and the United States in the second of our cases.47

British colonial Jamaica

  • 48 Notable among them was General Antonio Maceo, who operated in and out of Jamaica after being deport (...)

43Jamaica, close to Cuba’s southeast coast, was strategically located for those fleeing late nineteenth-century war-torn Cuba. There British colonial authorities would offer them sanctuary, including some of Cuba's leading military independence fighters, deported, along with their families, by Spain.48 British interest in doing so, however, was not solely political. Among the economic interests was tobacco, and Cubans would give a crucial boost to the Jamaican economy.

  • 49 Guillermo de Zéndegui, Ambito de Martí, Havana, Fernández y Cía, 1954.

44 In the early 1890s, Cuban independence leader José Martí, himself in exile in the United States, visited Jamaica to rally support for the newly founded Cuban Revolutionary Party. He spoke of Cubans such as Don Benito Machado, founder-owner of Kingston’s Machado cigar factory, «respected for their moral standing and public service», and «the grey-haired veteran of the Ten Years War, his children around him, rolling cigars on his Sunday of rest to further the contribution to the homeland.»49 He spent time in Kingston and travelled to meet with Cubans who were growing tobacco on Temple Hall Estate, north of Kingston.

  • 50 As recounted in an oral history interview the author conducted in 1993 with Dudley Soutar, Simon So (...)
  • 51 Quoted in Hon. W. FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica», in West Indian Bulletin 8, 2, 1907, p.214.

45 At the time of Martí’s visit, the Temple Hall community was estimated as comprising 20 families, about 100 people in all, on part of what had been a much larger sugar estate that had been divided up and auctioned off mid-century. A substantial part had been rented and then bought, along with other properties, by Middle-East-born, American-naturalised Simon Soutar, who had been in Havana before travelling to Jamaica.50 Soutar left an account of how, in Havana, he was «struck with the great prosperity of the tobacco industry and the influence it had on the commerce and prosperity of that port.»51 In Jamaica, he sourced Cuban seed through Hope Gardens and, with Vuelta Abajo planter José Pita, cultivated a leaf similar to the celebrated Vega Pilotos of Vuelta Abajo, belonging to Partagás. Soutar also began making cigars. As he recalled:

  • 52 FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica…», p. 215.

I got about twenty of the best Havana cigar makers, revolutionists who came to Jamaica as refugees – Sestrero, Badell, Pino, and others, all celebrated workers from the factories of Partagás, Cabanas [sic], and «La Honradez». They made the cigars I exhibited at the Vienna exhibition in 1873, which gained the highest Medal and Diploma and secured orders from Prince Milan (afterwards King of Serbia), the Sultan of Turkey, and a number of other notables who considered them better than the usual run of the Havanas of that day.52

46In 1873, Cuban émigré Guillermo González wrote and published in Kingston a treatise on growing and manufacturing Cuban tobacco, in his words for no personal gain. This he prefaced:

  • 53 Guillermo P. GONZALEZ, Tobacco Culture: As Practiced in Cuba, Port Royal, DeCordova, McDougal, 1873

Since his residence in the Island of Jamaica, the writer of it has seen large quantities of native Tobacco of admirable quality and equal in their original state to any grown in Cuba. But through ignorance of the manner of planting it, in the first instance and by reason of even less experience in its proper treatment while growing, and subsequent process of curing, the value of the product was essentially diminished, while the labour bestowed on it, if it had but been properly directed, would have made it in every respect most valuable to the producer, and fully equal to plant of Cuban growth.
He therefore, as matter of instruction to the Island at large, and in grateful idea towards a country in which his compatriots have found genial shelter, has written the work.
53

47At the time, tobacco in Jamaica was sold in the form of rope, lengths of which were cut for a modest price in markets and by the roadside. This changed with the advent of Cuban leaf and cigars, though Soutar himself would later abandon tobacco, complaining:

  • 54 FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica…, p. 215. Soutar was later recorded in the 1882 Blue Book for Jamaica (...)

A number of people had by this time gone in for cultivation of tobacco and manufacture of cigars and were flooding the foreign markets with questionable Jamaican cigars to my prejudice, so I gave up my factory in favour of the Machados, renting the lands to Cubans.
The system of cultivation pursued now is that of Vuelta Arriba, which can never produce a high-class tobacco.
54

  • 55 The Machado Story: A Pioneer Industry in Jamaica, 1874–1962, Kingston, B. & J.B. Machado Co., Ltd., (...)

48 Benito and Juan Machado, according to Machado company history,55 arrived in Jamaica in 1874. They came from a Santa Clara landowning family. Caught up in the Ten Years’ War against Spain, they fled in their early twenties to the United States, where they learned the cigar business. There is no mention of whether the family land in Cuba was given over to tobacco, though this would have been quite possible since Santa Clara lay at the heart of Vuelta Arriba. They were in contact with Martí in New York, and, since their health was not good, Martí suggested they go to Jamaica, which was climatically more akin to Cuba, and take up tobacco. Their Cuban property confiscated, they had left with money and in Jamaica married two Cuban sisters, each of independent means.

  • 56 The Machado Story…no page numbers.

49 The Machados imported tobacco from Cuba’s Vuelta Abajo; contracted experts at Temple Hall, in the parish of St Andrew, and Colbeck, in Clarendon, whose land, soil, and climate were similar to Vuelta Abajo and which were within fairly easy reach of the capital city and port of Kingston; and employed refugee tobacco growers and cigar makers from Cuba. They «travelled throughout Jamaica encouraging farmers to grow the tobacco leaf, advising on the best methods of cultivation and curing, and advancing money» and set up their initial firm, «a small affair, no larger than a reasonable sized drawing room, and employing only about twenty-five workers, who were all ex-Cubans skilled in the art of making fine cigars.»56 Within a few years, they had gone from 25 to 300 workers, moved to new premises and registered their first trademarks, the first ever in Jamaica: Trademark No, 1 «Fantasía Habanera Cigarros Superiores» and No. 2 «La Tropical».

  • 57 These were recounted to the author in oral history interviews conducted in Kingston, Jamaica, in 19 (...)

50 Less affluent family histories, handed down through the generations, are those of Lorenzo Palomino and José Blanchet.57 Palomino escaped wounded from fighting in the Ten Years’ War and arrived in Jamaica penniless in a 14-foot rowboat. He and a fellow Cuban worked their way across the island, heading for Spanish Town, where they had heard there was a community of Cubans. There, he married a Jamaican and settled, growing tobacco in Colbeck for the Machados. Blanchet, thought to have grown tobacco in central Cuba, married another Cuban refugee, Margarita Rojas, and also grew tobacco for the Machados.

  • 58 See Severo Rijo, «Máximo Gómez, veguero», in Revista Tabaco 9, 1941.

51 Among the more prominent military and political figures with links to tobacco was veteran Dominican-born General Máximo Gómez, who, having risen in the ranks in the Ten Years’ War, in 1878 left Cuba to join his family in Jamaica and was offered money to grow tobacco in Corbet.58 In 1883, after a project with Maceo for a tobacco-growing colony in Honduras and at Monte Cristi in the Dominican Republic, Gómez was back in Jamaica in the late 1880s to farm La Reforma. In 1891, he would then found with Maceo and others a settler colony of some 100 Cubans farming sugar, tobacco and coffee in Nicoya, Costa Rica.

  • 59 Veront M. SATCHELL, From Plots to Plantations: Land Transactions in Jamaica, 1866-1900, Mona, Jamai (...)

52 The timing of the Cubans’ arrival in Jamaica was fortuitous. Tobacco had been cultivated in Jamaica from the time of the Spanish conquest. After the British took the island in 1655, when there was stiff competition from tobacco in the North American colonies, slave-based plantation sugar gained primacy, until it in turn could not compete with neighbouring Cuba. In his study of late nineteenth-century Jamaican rural land transactions, Satchell59 characterises the 1860s as a period of disintegration of the large sugar estates, with small settlers acquiring private and public land, and the 1870s as being marked by government and private repossessions and purchasing by foreigners.

  • 60 For further detail, see the tables in Stubbs, «Political idealism…», pp. 66-69.

53 Cubans were welcomed for their growing and cigar expertise, and, while in the late 1860s domestic growing and manufacturing were of little importance, already in the 1870s, Jamaica was transformed from a net importer to net exporter of cigars and began to be self-sufficient in leaf. By the 1880s, Jamaica was established in both,60 having the advantage of local backing and preferential status with Britain, when London was a major European cigar market of the time, and by extension other British colonies also.

  • 61 See Stubbs, «Political idealism…», pp. 69-70.
  • 62 Naturalisation of Cubans is mentioned in the Handbook of Jamaica 1884-5, Kingston, Government Print (...)

54 Census figures61 indicate a generally growing Cuban population in Jamaica 1861-1881. Their numbers halved by 1891 and halved yet again by 1911, though they would redouble in the 1920s. This would correspond with an influx during Cuba's first independence war, followed by a falling off during the interwar years, the period of arms shipments and insurgent expeditions being organized back to Cuba, and Cuba’s post-independence era, and a 1920s boom-cycle reversal. It is difficult to gauge how accurately census figures reflect actual numbers, and whether falling numbers were due to return or onward migration or acquired citizenship in Jamaica.62 Figures were also most likely underestimated - the 1881 census peak falls far short of the 5,000 quoted in Machado company history. It is likewise difficult to say how many were connected with tobacco. However, while scattered over the island parishes, Cubans were concentrated most in St. Catherine, Clarendon and St. Andrew, as well as Kingston, where tobacco was predominant.

55 British Jamaica Handbooks, Blue Book Departmental Reports and Governor's Reports commented favourably on tobacco. The 1880-81 Governor's Report referred to increasing tobacco cultivation and export, asserting:

  • 63 «Governor’s Report on Blue Book of 1881», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printi (...)

The Jamaican cigars of certain brands have now made a name for themselves in the English market. In the Colony, they are almost universally smoked and their manufacture in Kingston alone gives employment to a large number of men, foreigners and natives.63

56In the 1883-84 Departmental Report, there is reference to General Villegas, formerly of Cuba, an extensive cultivator of Havana tobacco at Colbeck's plantation, in whose judgement there were in Jamaica many thousands of acres well adapted for the cultivation of Havana tobacco. It was also commented that:

  • 64 «Departmental Reports: Public Gardens and Plantations 1883-4», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingst (...)

tobacco growing in small patches is being extended and new applications are made for the best qualities of Havana Tobacco Seed... The Cubans settled on the island are apparently the only persons who can cure tobacco properly but unfortunately their numbers are decreasing and in many cases they take up other industries which appear to them to offer better returns for their labours.64

  • 65 «Collector-General’s Customs and Internal Revenue Report 1892-93», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Ki (...)

57Almost a decade later, the 1892-93 Customs and Internal Revenue Report would again attribute falling tobacco acreage to the withdrawal of many Cubans who had been growing tobacco;65and an 1893-94 entry lamented cultivation being practically confined to St. Andrew and St. Catherine, in the hands of the Cubans.

58 In an attempt to remedy this, quantities of the best Cuban seed were brought in through the offices of the British Consul in Havana and Hope Gardens in Kingston and offered free of charge to potential growers, along with visiting expertise. The aim was to obviate the need for imported leaf and export any surplus at a good price on the European market. Hopes were fired by Jamaica (in the form of the Machado Company) sharing a London Chamber of Commerce prize for tobacco with British North Borneo, and, as stated in the 1896-97 Agricultural Society Report on new settlers on the island:

  • 66 «Agricultural Society Reports for 1897», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printin (...)

The Board recognises the advantages that have accrued to the island and will continue to accrue from the settlement here of large numbers … of tobacco planters from Cuba and further views the recent introduction of a considerable amount of capital for the development of our agricultural industries as a matter for cordial congratulations.66

  • 67 «Collector of Taxes 1,898-99», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establis (...)
  • 68 «Public Gardens and Plantations 1898-99, Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printin (...)

59In 1898-99, the Collector of Taxes Report was in «hopeful anticipation of the results to accrue from the establishment of a fast steam service between the Colony and the UK»,67 and the Public Gardens and Plantations Report celebrated the Hon. Evelyn Ellis estate, where 60 acres were planted with Vuelta Abajo seed and the tobacco, which was cured on the spot, «was sold to a New York buyer, realizing high prices».68

  • 69 Register of Incorporated Companies and Societies, no.1. Cigar entries also featured prominently in (...)

60 Cuban companies were all early entries in the official Jamaican Register of Incorporated Companies and Societies, which was kept after 1889.69 Their presence was also evidenced by 1890s advertisements in the Jamaica Post and Daily Gleaner: for Leonte Quesada, G.J. Cordova, M. Delgado, Lascelles de Mercado, L. Chacón, S.V. Durán and C.A. López. Brand names for their cigars included «Elegantes», «La Flor de Habana», «Especiales de Quesada», and «La Amalia».

61 Over time, however, they would face strong rivals: Colbeck’s Cigar Company, the Cooperative Tobacco Company Ltd., Desnoes & Geddes, Jamaica Tobacco Company (JTC), El Caribbean Cigar and Tobacco Company (successors to S.V. Durán), Black Horse Tobacco Co. Ltd., and Gore Ltd. Likewise, large tobacco plantations would be consolidated by Ellis and JTC, with British and U.S. capital.

62 A Cuban presence nonetheless remained, such that at London's 1907 Crystal Palace Tobacco Exhibition, Machado's award-winning «La Tropical» cigars were a firm favourite, along with «Flor de Machado», «Exquisitos» and others. An article written on the occasion of the exhibition lamented Jamaica being lightly considered in the world's tobacco markets, notwithstanding the cigars of Machado, JTC and El Caribbean having the «body» and «bouquet» of better-class Havanas:

  • 70 Alexander GRAY, «Jamaica’s Tobacco«, in Jamaica in 1907. Supplement to the African World, 9 March 1 (...)

It was the judgment of this expert that tobacco similar in quality could be marketed in England in quantity at remunerative prices – in face, too, of the fact that Cuba had one of its recurring rebellions on the tapis seriously affecting its tobacco crop. Why this island should not supply the United Kingdom with leaf tobacco and cigars is inexplicable.70

63The cigar department of JTC - which already had ties to British (mainly cigarette) companies such as Wills & Wills, Lambert & Butler, John Player & Sons – still had a Cuban-born manager, Miguel Founaris [sic], and skilled Cuban cigar makers in its employ.

64 That same year, 1907, the director of public gardens and plantations in Jamaica articulated two crucial points: that the Cubans provided the expertise and the British, through Kew Gardens in London and Hope Gardens in Kingston, guaranteed the quality seed from Cuba. In his words:

  • 71 FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica…»p. 209.

The history of economic plants in Jamaica is part of the history of the efforts made by the British Government to aid the colonies… The history of the tobacco industry in Jamaica is a good illustration. [In the time of Jamaica’s Governor Grant (1866-1874), it was] a scandal that with the East and West Indies in our possession we had not a good cigar from either [and he suggested Jamaica should be] getting seeds, together with histories of their manufacture, of various kinds from Cuba, Manila, etc., though our consuls, and… some enlightened Jamaican proprietors to commence the cultivation.71

65 Among the Cubans he commended as having contributed to the dramatic transformation of the late nineteenth-century Jamaican tobacco economy were Soutar, Count José Duaney [sic], owner of the Hall Head Estate; O.M. Fuertado [sic], owner of Bellevue; Pedro Cisneros, a grower at Cherry Garden; General Vijegas [sic], an extensive grower at Colbeck’s; J.C. Espín, who published a treatise on tobacco in the 1889 Jamaica Bulletin; and Antonio León, a planter who advised Hope Gardens on cutting and curing.

66 If the early Machados were reputed to have had benign paternalistic relations with their farmers, JTC was not. A possibly overstated case in this regard was made by the Machado Company:

  • 72 The Machado Story…, n.p.

When the crop failed or when, for some other reason, farmers could not pay back what they owed, the Machados were patient and waiting. There is no record of the Machados ever foreclosing or seizing a farmer's land because he owed money and could not pay. Thus, the relationship between the farmers and the Company and its officials flourished in an atmosphere of friendship, trust and co-operation.72

  • 73 For examples of mortgage on livestock, see Jamaican Archives, Spanish Town, Island Record Office: J (...)

67However, the Spanish Town Island Register Office recorded cases of planters trapped into mortgaging their livestock and other property to the Jamaica Tobacco in the event of crop failure.73 For some, this was a first step in a downward direction from planter to labourer.

68 A 1914 traveller, who stopped to talk (in Spanish) with an elderly man on a Temple Hall tobacco farm, described him as

  • 74 VAQUERO, Life and Adventure in the West Indies, London, Bale and Danielson, 1914.

evidently the family of one of those Cuban refugees who have introduced this industry so successfully that the best brands ... such as those of Machado, can hardly be distinguished from Cuban production, and are largely exported into the other British islands.74

  • 75 Cigar manufacturing ceased entirely in 1954, when it became the Cigarette Company of Jamaica Ltd. T (...)

69Long before then, however, ATC and ATC had formed BAT, which bought into JTC. JTC became the largest company, followed by Machado. The two were on a par in terms of cigar production, but JTC was poised for the twentieth century as a major cigarette producer. The two would merge in 1922, retaining the Machado name, but cigar operations dwindled thereafter and Jamaica’s Cuban cigar history was destined to be all but forgotten.75

Dutch Indonesia and the United States

70If Jamaica would become a forgotten player, this was not to be the case with Dutch Indonesia and the United States. As the Dutch and British had expanded their seventeenth-century empires, Amsterdam and London established themselves as European twin pillars for the international circulation of tobacco. Tobacco was big business, with Crown and state playing a central role. Spain, Portugal, and France all had their monopolies purchasing and processing tobacco, and German states enforced all-important taxation. While there were no such monopolies in Britain and the Netherlands, the state was still heavily involved. The United States rose to pre-eminence as an independent nation with an advantage over colonial systems built on global segmentation, but not without stiff competition from the British and the Dutch.

  • 76 See Anthony Reid, «From Betel-Chewing to Tobacco-Smoking in Indonesia», Journal of Asian Studies, V (...)

71Tobacco was not, of course, indigenous to Indonesia. The betel nut was to Indonesia what tobacco was to the Americas, and betel chewing only ceded to tobacco smoking76 when, from the start of the sixteenth century, successive waves of Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch and British had sought to dominate the spice trade in India and Indonesia. In the early seventeenth century, the Dutch parliament granted a monopoly on trade and activities in the region to the Dutch East India Company; and the Dutch went on to become the dominant European power in the eighteenth century.

72After the fall of the Netherlands to the First French Empire and the dissolution of the Dutch East India Company in 1800, the company’s assets were nationalised as the Dutch East Indies colony. During the Napoleonic Wars, the French treated it as a proxy colony, administered through a Dutch intermediary. In 1811, Java fell to a British East India Company force and was returned to the Netherlands following the end of the Napoleonic Wars, under the terms of the 1824 Anglo-Dutch Treaty.

  • 77 For the history of the kretek, see Mark Hanusz, Kretek: The Culture and Heritage of Indonesia's Clo (...)

73Tobacco had been early introduced to the royal courts in Java, such that the practice of mixing betel and tobacco was commonplace by the eighteenth century. In the late nineteenth century, the mixing of clove and tobacco would produce kretek cigarettes, a popular antidote to the «white» tobacco cigarette that was being introduced.77 Before then, however, the tobacco leaf was already destined for the Dutch manufacture of cigars. As Deschodt and Morane recount:

  • 78 Eric Deschodt & Philippe Morane, The Cigar, Cologne, Könemann Verlagsgesellschaft mbH, 1998 [1996], (...)

From 1825 onward, while British and French elites, and all the others after them, devoted themselves to Havana, huge workshops were set up in the Netherlands to treat tobacco from their Indonesian possessions, mixed with tobacco from Brazil, Java, and Sumatra for the wrapper and binder leaf and Bahia for the filler. Their experts developed a «special light» taste and matching prices which would make a fortune. 78

  • 79 See Cornelius Fasseur, The Politics of Colonial Exploitation: Java, the Dutch, and the Cultivation (...)
  • 80 Viz Peter BOOMGARDE, «Maize and tobacco in Upland Indonesia», in Tania Li (ed.), Transforming the I (...)

74Tobacco was, thus, well established when, in 1843, compulsory intensive planting was mandated as part of the Dutch Cultivation System, designed to foster export crops - sugar, coffee, and indigo first, and then others, including tobacco.79 This tied peasants to their land and forced them to work on government-owned plantations as indentured labour. When the System was ended, in 1870, and restrictions on small-scale production were finally lifted, smallholders would account for only a tiny share of the tobacco market. What emerged with liberalisation was a privatised plantation economy with Dutch, British and American corporate entities and associated trade and banking institutions, the beginning of an Indonesian tobacco industry fuelled by large capital.80

  • 81 This has been documented in the case of sugar by Ulbe BOSMA and Jonathan CURRY-MACHADO, «Turning Ja (...)
  • 82 Among other studies, see Ann Laura Stoler, Capitalism and Confrontation in Sumatra's Plantation Bel (...)

75Indonesia, like Cuba, was strategically located for global trade and, while half way round the globe from Cuba, had climatic and soil conditions similarly suited for sugar and tobacco, such that by the late nineteenth century Indonesia and Cuba would share the peak of world trade in both. Knowledge and practice would be sought and shared regarding their cultivation,81 and it was the plantation system that would come to dominate both in Indonesia. The Sumatra ‘plantation belt’ in particular developed into a multinational site with a variety of European plantation owners, operating with little interference from the Dutch colonial regime in Java, but with a harsh contract system of «coolie» labour that would generate opposition from workers themselves.82

  • 83 See Lim Kim Liat, «The Deli Tobacco Industry: Its History and Outlook,» in Prospects for East Sumat (...)

76It was the island of Java that had seen early tobacco growing, yielding in the main a lower-grade leaf. However, in 1863, a delegation of Dutch entrepreneurs went from Java to East Sumatra, believing the region’s climate and soils could produce a leaf of higher quality. The delegation’s report was unfavorable, yet in that delegation was Jacobus Nienhuys, who had been growing tobacco in Java. Nienhuys stayed; arranged land concessions; and, in 1867, with his partner P. W. Janssen, secured financial backing, half of which came from the Nederlandsche Handel-Maatschappiji. In 1869, they established the Deli Maatschappij, with a concession to produce cigar tobacco along Sumatra’s Deli River.83

  • 84 For general Indonesian economic history, see P. Creutzberg (Ed.), Changing Economy in Indonesia: A (...)

77Within twenty years, the Deli had increased cultivation tenfold on twenty-one estates. When Nienhuys himself returned to the Netherlands in 1871, Jacob Theodore Cremer took his place; and, though other companies followed the Deli - such as Deli Batavia (1875), Tobacco Company Arendsburg (1877) and Senembah Company (1889) - by 1883, the year Cremer himself returned to the Netherlands, the Deli’s exports had soared. By 1900, the company had bought up most other plantations, and the Deli reigned supreme, controlling not only the Sumatra tobacco industry, with a monopoly on tobacco exports and acting as broker for tobacco growers, but also the East Sumatra rubber and palm oil plantation belt, all worked with Javanese, Chinese, and other migrant labour.84 It was the Deli that accounted in large part for Sumatra exports soaring tenfold between the late 1860s and the First World War. The Deli was by then producing one-third of the Sumatra crop, and Sumatra had Indonesia’s greatest concentration of agricultural estates, with tobacco dominating the area around the capital Medan.

78Thus it was that in the latter part of the century, with the ending of the Dutch East Indies state-controlled Cultivation System, that Dutch Indonesia broke out of its colonial segmentation and emerged as a strong global competitor. By the outbreak of the First World War, the Dutch East Indies was the world’s second-largest exporter of leaf, accounting for 18 percent of the world market. Sumatra and Java supplied the international market via Amsterdam and Rotterdam in the Netherlands and Bremen in Germany, in strong competition with other producer countries. Conversely, the breakup of the colonial system and opening of new regions to the international market - especially the Dutch East Indies, Brazil, and Cuba - saw the U.S. share of the world’s leaf market drop from 87 percent in 1840 to 30 percent by 1884 (and it would be only 13 percent a century later).

79Sumatra leaf gained particular fame as cigar wrapper, since, grown under natural cloud cover, it proved more elastic and thinner than sun-grown tobacco. This made it easier to handle and also lighter and thereby cheaper by weight in transportation costs and duties in international trade, such that Sumatra came to supply more than 90 percent of all U.S.-imported wrapper. This led growers in the United States to lobby hard for protectionist high duties to keep Sumatra imports down, and U.S. companies to establish plantations in Sumatra for their own supply.

  • 85 See Gately…p. 30.
  • 86 Gately, 2001, pp. 35–38.

80U.S. cigar history had itself taken off through the Cuban connection. Within a generation of Colonel Putnam returning to New England from the British occupation of Havana with plundered cigars, there was a reported swing in the taste of Connecticut smokers. A first advertisement offering «segars» from Cuba appeared in the Connecticut Courant in 1791, and the first advertisement for «segars» of domestic manufacture in 1799. It was later recounted that, in 1810, «Samuel Viets had by chance come upon a wandering Cuban who understood the art of cigar rolling. He engaged him to teach his craft to a dozen or more women in a newly opened factory at Suffield.»85 Havana filler with a Connecticut wrapper began to be used. Then, in the early 1870s, experiments conducted with carefully selected Havana seeds under the supervision of state and federal soil and plant specialists produced a hybrid binder and wrapper. In the first three years these were known as «Spanish» or «Havana», then «Havana Seed» and eventually «American» as distinct from «Spanish».86 In the words of an agronomist at the Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station, writing a century later:

  • 87 P. J. Anderson, «Growing Tobacco in Connecticut,» Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station Bulle (...)

Although the seed evidently came from Cuba, today there is no district in that island which grows tobacco like it… By generations of selection and acclimatization here, the size and shape of the leaf have so changed that we fail to recognise the Cuban ancestor.87

81After the Civil War, competition from Pennsylvania and Wisconsin’s dark leaf halted New England expansion, but the development of the new Havana seed tobacco and a return to lighter cigars restored the competitive advantage of Connecticut over other U.S. growers. However, in Sumatra they faced a strong new foreign competitor.

82Other European manufacturers had, since the 1860s, been using Sumatra wrapper. A sample shipment reached New York manufacturers in 1876, and by the 1880s, it was being imported there. In 1883, alarmed farmers formed the New England Tobacco Growers Association, which lobbied for high tariff restrictions. These enabled Connecticut growers to survive economically in the short term, but they saw their only long-term solution was to develop a leaf that could compete in price and quality with Sumatra.

83Experiments in 1898, supervised by the US Bureau of Plant Industry, resulted in a hybrid leaf developed from Cuban and Sumatra seed. Again, as recounted later:

  • 88 Connecticut and Tobacco: A Chapter in America’s Industrial Growth, Washington, D.C.: Tobacco Histor (...)

From one field a superior crop developed from Cuban seeds… The seeds of numerous varieties continued to be planted… Of the many specimens that finally evolved, four types were found to have merit. Among these were Uncle Sam Sumatra and Hazlewood Cuban.
It was the latter that received approval as best for growing under shade in Connecticut soil, and potentially the most profitable… Seed selection among Connecticut Valley farmers became so expert and so precise that experienced Cuban farmers turned to buy tobacco seeds from the Yankees.
88

  • 89 See Randall R. Kincaid, «Shade Tobacco Growing in Florida,» Quincy North Florida Experimental Stati (...)

84In 1899, the USDA first experimented with nets, to simulate the natural cloud coverage of Sumatra; and, by 1911, growing tobacco under cloth was gaining momentum, thus creating what would become the famed Connecticut Shade.89

  • 90 From the 1890s, the Connecticut Tobacco Valley Experiment Company in Poquonock carried out fertiliz (...)

85After additional experiments with seed, curing, and fertilizer,90 shade tobacco grown under cloth tents dramatically changed the Connecticut landscape. Whereas thousands of small, independent farmers had sun-grown Broadleaf and Havana seed tobacco in combination with other crops, Shade required intensive farming with substantial investment in poles, wires, and netting beyond the resources of the average farmer. Because of the high initial investment required, increased production costs, and greater financial risks, Shade was dominated by a small number of large companies, some owned outside the state with investments in other cigar leaf areas, cigar manufacture, or tobacco trading. The largest of all was the Connecticut Tobacco Company, formed in 1901, which, in 1910, merged with the American Sumatra Tobacco Corporation, itself created out of the merger of seven of the larger growers and packers in the southern Florida-Georgia tobacco belt, to grow tobacco under tents, or nets. The Company’s largest plantation, named Amsterdam, claimed at the time to be the largest tobacco plantation in the world under single ownership, would become infamous for its tied sharecropping system with child and family labour. Time, however, would also claim its demise.

  • 91 The net was originally a form of cheesecloth, similar to that used as mosquito netting. Today other (...)

86Tents, or nets, would be introduced in Cuba;91 other parts of the Americas, notably Brazil; and back on the island of Java, which didn’t have the same cloud cover as Sumatra. Of significance here, however, is the raw competitive edge of companies like Connecticut Tobacco, American Sumatra and the Deli. This was owed in large part to their reconfigured plantation system and forms of coercive labour. In this, the Indonesian industry would win out. By the 1920s Sumatra leaf was used almost exclusively by U.S. corporations. It proved more suited for machine-made cigars, which by then dominated the U.S. industry, and thus had a longer lease of life than others. The Deli would ultimately take over American Sumatra, of which nothing remains today. Many hundreds of cigar-rolling shops in Indonesia were forced to close down, leaving the only substantial manufacturing industry centred around modern cigarette factories, competing – and by no means altogether successfully – with local kretek production and consumption.

Origins and perceived origins

87The lowly Indonesian kretek couldn’t be further removed from the proud Havana cigar. Yet the history of the two have in common that each in its own way found a way to fight back. Kretek history is well beyond our scope here, but in our reflections on Havana cigar history we might end by reflecting on origins and perceived origins.

  • 92 Gilman and XUN, 2004, p. 17.

88In the words of Gilman and Xun, «The cigar is a prime example of how tobacco continued to re-invent itself.»92 In what became the «age of the cigar», the Havana, more than any other, became the hallmark of status, privilege, and wealth. The First World War and its aftermath cemented a smoker’s paradise in which the cigarette not the cigar rode supreme. The cigarette, however, with its monopolies, global corporations and immense profits, would also be tobacco’s ultimate downfall. Its addictive dangers ushered in health prohibitions throughout the western world, while fostering new booms in the non-western world, where there were no such prohibitions. The cigar, especially the hand-rolled Havana cigar and its contenders, claimed to be less toxic to health and experienced a latter-day revival. The explanation for how this was engineered lies in what was achieved and fought over during its long nineteenth century.

89A die had been cast. Much of mainland South America, especially after the break with Spain and Portugal, was turned into a raw-material-producing area for primarily Britain and then the United States. As a prime producer of sugar and tobacco, Cuba, while still a Spanish colony and then as a U.S. neo-colony, was caught up in this maelstrom. The buck didn’t stop there, however. Cuba’s very primacy would also be a shackle for its people and a source of political and economic interests around which many actors would spin their intricate web of history.

90With the advent of the «British cycle» of «liberal free trade», the relationship between manufacturing centres and primary producers was largely mercantile, tariff barriers playing a major part in protecting home industry. When capital accumulation and concentration of production morphed into a new age of monopoly corporations, these began to play a decisive role in economic and political life. In country after country, especially smaller ones, the strength of the monopolies and the protectionism and adverse terms of trade that accompanied them produced an imbalance toward the export of leaf and away from manufacturing. Any increase in manufacturing was largely in the area of inferior tobacco products for the home market, often considered of such secondary importance as to be left to smaller local concerns. The shift to mild cigarettes, moreover, began to produce a falling back of world demand for, and drop in the price of, their leaf. The new, cheaper, machine-made cigars, blended with cheaper tobaccos, commandeered much of what was left of the market.

  • 93 An excellent «pocket» analysis of terroir can be found in Becky Sue Epstein, Champagne: A Global Hi (...)
  • 94 Père et Fils Gerard, Cigars: The Art of Cigars, The World’s Finest Cigars, 2 vols., Paris: Flammari (...)

91In this, the hand-rolled Havana cigar was something of an exception. Its markets might have been down, yet fame it retained as a niche luxury product. What had made it so unique? The French, in protecting their champagne, coined the term terroir.93 Similarly, Cubans would claim terroir for their cigar, its special quality being that it was wholly Cuban: made in Cuba with Cuban expertise and with leaf grown in Cuba, especially Vuelta Abajo. In the words of Vahé Gérard as late as 2002: «Cuba is still the promised land for the cigar lover.»94 Seeds, people, skills and know-how can all be transferred, but grounded terroir cannot. This Cuba would capitalise on, fashioning around it an aura that others would try to capture.

  • 95 See Zoila Lapique Becali, La memoria en las piedras, Havana, Editorial Boloña, 2003, and «Los suces (...)
  • 96 Martínez Rius, Habano el rey…p.24.

92The age of the cigar was also the age of the lithographic industry, invented in the late-eighteen century in Germany and subsequently developed in France as chromolithography. In 1822 a first French shop opened in Havana for printing music sheets, and a further two opened in 1840, one French and the other Spanish, initially to reproduce engravings of Cuba. Used by manufacturers, French lithography soon replaced Spanish Royal Seals as signs of distinction on richly embossed cigar bands and labels for crafted cedar cigar boxes. New lithographic shops opened involving Cubans and other Europeans,95 and the sumptuous iconography assured an international clientele they were buying an authentic Cuban product, not an imitation. This was an early form of brand advertising, which, in the words of Martínez Rius, «further empowered and consolidated the universal grandeur of the Habano. From that moment on, the Habano had a presentation in accordance with its lineage.»96

  • 97 Jarrett Rudy, The Freedom to Smoke: Tobacco Consumption and Identity, Montreal, Quebec and Kingston (...)

93Documenting the history of the Montreal firm Granda Hermanos y Cía, Rudy likewise emphasised the importance of their brand advertising, in which they used their «Spanish» name to lay claim to making «authentic» Cuban cigars in Canada. He observed: «the suggestion of tobacco being Cuban was more important than the actual quality of the tobacco… Through advertising, they evoked a sense of ‘Cubanicity’ that could be attached to any cigar to raise its value.»97 What was important was not origins but perceived origins.

94This would hold for the «offshore» advertising in Jamaica, and in the United States, with its «Spanish» and half «Spanish» cigar. Similar considerations were also behind Jamaica and the United States seeking to replicate the leaf, which Sumatra would then undercut, ushering in innovations such as the tents, or nets, and hybrids that Connecticut, Florida-Georgia, Cuba and Java would in return introduce.

95These are just some of the many angles to the diverse trans-imperial and trans-territorial entanglements that characterise Havana cigar history beyond Iberian Atlantic confines. When studied in tandem, as they are here, they raise questions broader than the scope of this one luxury commodity in our long nineteenth-century «age of the cigar». They signal, no less, the need to revisit, empirically and conceptually, the interconnectedness of imperial and national histories.

Notes

1 Cf. Eliga H. Gould, «Entangled Histories, Entangled Worlds: The English-Speaking Atlantic as a Spanish Periphery», American Historical Review 112, no. 3, June 2007, pp. 764-99. Since writing this chapter, I have been alerted to such entanglements having more recently been conceptualised by Richard DRAYTON as «masked condominia», referring to connectedness and collaboration, rather than competition and rivalry, at various levels from the state to the subaltern. See DRAYTON «Trans-European Collaboration in the History of Imperialism, 1500-2000» in DRAYTON (Ed.), Masks of Imperial Power (London, Palgrave, forthcoming). The extent to which Havana cigar history can be explained in this light calls for future exploration.

2 In my discussion I forefront a select range of work. My point of departure is «the long nineteenth century» of 1789-1914, as elucidated by Eric HOBSBAWM, The Age of Revolution: Europe 1789-1848, London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1962; The Age of Capital: 1848-1875, London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1975; and The Age of Empire: 1875-1914, London, Weidenfeld, 1987, and their sequel The Age of Extremes: The Shorty Twentieth Century, 1914-1991, London & New York, Penguin & Vintage, 1994. Other works referenced are: Peter STEARNS, «Rethinking the Long Nineteenth Century in World History: Assessments and Alternatives», in World History Connected, 9, 3, October, 2012. Christopher Alan Bayly, Imperial Meridian: The British Empire and the World, 1780-1830, London, Longman, 1989. Giovanni ARRIGHI, The Long Twentieth Century: Money, Power, and the Origins of Our Times, London & New York, Verso, 1994. Victor BULMER-THOMAS, The Economic History of the Caribbean since the Napoleonic Wars, New York, Cambridge University Press, 2012, and The Economic History of Latin America since Independence, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1995. Josep M. FRADERA, La nación imperial (1750-1918), Barcelona, Edhasa, 2015; Colonias para después de un Imperio, Barcelona, Bellaterra, 2005; and Gobernar colonias, Barcelona, Peninsula, 1999. Alfred W. MCCOY, Josep M. FRADERA, and Stephen JACOBSON (eds.), Endless Empire: Spain’s Retreat, Europe’s Eclipse, America’s Decline, Madison, WI, University of Wisconsin, 2012.

3 My work dates back to my early monograph: Jean STUBBS, Tobacco on the Periphery: A Case Study in Cuban Labour History, 1860-1958, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1985. I reference that monograph and work published since at relevant points in the text.

4 Cuban «classics» are Fernando ORTIZ, Contrapunteo cubano del tabaco y el azúcar, Madrid, Letras Hispánicas, 2002 [1940] and José Rivero Muñiz Tabaco: su historia en Cuba, Havana, Instituto de Historia, 1965. See also, Gaspar Jorge García Galló and Wilfredo Correa García, The Story of Havana Cigars, Havana, Editorial José Martí, 2001; Reynaldo González, El Bello Habano: Biografía íntima del tabaco, Havana, Editorial Letras Cubanas, 2004; and Guillermo Cabrera Infante, Holy Smoke: A Literary Romp Through the History of the Cigar, London, Faber and Faber, 1985.

5 More specifically for my arguments here, I draw on LUXÁN, Política y hacienda…: Santiago de LUXAN, «Introducción general», pp.9-20, and «La defensa global del imperio y la creación de los monopolios fiscales del tabaco americanos en la segunda mitad del siglo XVIII», pp. 177-229; José Manuel Rodríguez Gordillo, «El mercantilismo español en la encrucijada: el tabaco de Virginia en el estanco español en el siglo XVII (1791-1760), pp.47-89; Monserrat Gárate Ojanguren, «La quiebra del sistema imperial del tabaco hispánico. Un proceso en el largo plaza: 1717-1817», pp.231-282; Vicent SANZ ROZALEN, «Las vegas de tabaco en el occidente cubao a comienzos del siglo XIX», pp.283-309; Oscar BERGASA PERDOMO, «Soñaban los déspotas con monopolios perfectos? Una vision a la luz de la teoría económica», pp. 341-365. Also, Santiago de LUXÁN y Montserrat GÁRATE, «La segunda factoría de la Habana antes de la Guerra de la Independencia de las Trece Colonias 1760-1779. Una lectura desde el estanco español», in Studia Historica. Historia Moderna, 37, 2015, pp. 291-321. Vicent SANZ ROZALEN, «De la concesión de mercedes a los usos privados: propiedad y conflictividad agraria en Cuba (1816-1819)» in José A. PIQUERAS (ed.), Las Antillas en la era de las luces y la revolución, Madrid, Siglo XXI, 2005, pp. 247-273; «El estanco del tabaco y la expansión azucarera a comienzos del siglo XIX», in Josef OPARTNY (ed.), Nación y cultura nacional en el Caribe hispano, Praga, Universidad Carolina, 2006, pp. 249-260; and «Arango y el mundo del tabaco: estanco, reforma y abolición», in María Dolores GONZÁLEZ-RIPOLL and Izaskun ÁLVAREZ (eds.), Francisco Arango y la invención de la Cuba azucarera, Salamanca, Universidad de Salamanca, 2009, pp. 277-287. More broadly on Spain’s tobacco history, see José Pérez Vidal, España en la historia del tabaco, Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1959, and Historia del cultivo del tabaco en España, Madrid, Servicio Nacional de Cultivo y Fermentación del Tabaco, 1956; and José M. Rodríguez Gordillo, Un archivo para la historia del tabaco, Madrid: Jacaryan, 1984.

6 Relevant studies are Charlotte COSNER, The Golden Leaf: How Tobacco Shaped Cuba and the Atlantic World, Nashville, Vanderbilt University Press, 2015; and Laura NATER, «Colonial Tobacco: Key Commodity of the Spanish Empire, 1500-1800», in Steven TOPIK, Carlos MARICHAL and Zephyr FRANK (Eds.), From Silver to Cocaine: Latin American Commodity Chains and the Building of the World Economy, 1500-2000, Durham and London, Duke University Press, 2006. For tobacco more broadly, see: Iain Gately, Tobacco: A Cultural History of How an Exotic Plant Seduced Civilization, New York, Grove Press, 2002; Jordan Goodman, Tobacco in History: The Cultures of Dependence, London, Routledge, 1993; and V. G. Kiernan, Tobacco: A History, London, Hutchinson Radius, 1991. Also see tobacco in Wolfgang Schivelbusch, Tastes of Paradise: A Social History of Spices, Stimulants, and Intoxicants, New York, Vintage, 1993 [1980] and James Walvin, Fruits of Empire: Exotic Produce and Western Taste, New York, New York University Press & Palgrave Macmillan, 1997.

7 In the context of a 1990s cigar revival, Cigar Aficionado was an early 1990s successor to the 1980s Wine Spectator, and after it came a spate of coffee table books by Cuban and non-Cuban authors. These included a reprint of Antonio Nuñez Jiménez, The Journey of the Havana Cigar, Neptune City, T. F. H. Publications, 1996 [1988]; Père & Fils Gerard, Havana Cigars, Edison, Wellfleet Press 1997 [1995]; Eric Deschodt & Philippe Morane, The Cigar, Cologne, Könemann Verlagsgesellschaft mbH, 1998 [1996]; Enzo A. Infante Urivazo, Havana Cigars 1817-1960, Neptune City, T. F. H. Publications, 1997; Eumelio Espino Marrero, Cuban Cigar Tobacco: Why Cuban Cigars are the World’s Best, Neptune City, T.F.H. Publications, 1997; Charles del Todesco, The Havana Cigar: Cuba’s Finest, New York, London, and Paris, Abbeville Press Publishers, 1997; Nancy Stout, Habanos: The Story of the Havana Cigar, New York, Rizzoli, 1997; and Adriano Martínez Rius, Habano el Rey, Barcelona, Epicur Publicaciones, 1999.

8 For my initial refashioning of Cuba’s national counterpoint between tobacco and sugar, as constructed by Ortiz, into a transnational counterpoint between the island and offshore cigar, see Jean STUBBS, «Tobacco in the Contrapunteo: Ortiz and the Havana Cigar» in Mauricio A. FONT and Alfonso W. QUIROZ (Eds.), Cuban Counterpoints: The Legacy of Fernando Ortiz, Lanham, Lexington, 2004, pp. 105-123.

9 See footnote 2 for full bibliographical references of the works by Hobsbawm, Braudel, Stearns, Bayly, Arrighi, Bulmer-Thomas, and Fradera discussed here.

10 Quoted in ARRIGHI, The Long Twentieth…p. 14. The earlier history of New York symbolises this well. Having first been discovered by the French in 1524, New York was named Nieuw (New) Amsterdam, when claimed by the Dutch in 1609, and in 1624 designated capital of New Netherland, with Fort Amsterdam designed to protect the Dutch West India Company’s Hudson River fur trade. It was renamed New York when taken by the British in 1664, and, after being named New Orange during the Third Anglo-Dutch War, reverted to the English and again became New York in 1764 in exchange for Suriname becoming a Dutch possession.

11 Among other studies, see Matthew Brown (Ed.), Informal Empire in Latin America: Culture, Commerce, and Capital, Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell, 2008, and Rory Miller, «Informal Empire in Latin America», in Robert Winks (Ed.), The Oxford History of the British Empire: Vol. V: Historiography, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1999.

12 Jean STUBBS, «Política e sapere: come si e globalizzato el sigaro avana?/Política y saber: cómo se globalizó el habano» in Laura Mariottini & Alessandro Oricchio (Ed.), El Habano: Lingua, storia, societa di un prodotto transculturale. Lengua, historia, sociedad de un producto transcultural, Rome, Edizioni Efesto, 2017, pp.67-105, and «El Habano: The Global Luxury Smoke», in Jonathan Curry-Machado (Ed.), The Global History of Commodities of Empire, New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2013, pp. 248-276.

13 For broader studies of the impact of the war, see Fred ANDERSON, Crucible of War: The Seven Years’ War and the Fate of Empire in British North America, 1754-1766, New York, Knopf, 2000. Jacques A. BARBIER and Allan J. KUETHE (Eds.), The North American Role in the Spanish Imperial Economy, 1760-1819, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1984. Nikolaus BOTTCHER, «Cuba and the Thirteen Colonies during the North American War of Independence», in Horst Pietschmann (Ed.), Atlantic History: History of the Atlantic System, 1580-1830, Gottingen, Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 2002.

14 For an early argument attributing the Second British Empire as not having started after the Napoleonic Wars but rather following a pattern developed since the Seven Years’ War, in which ‘trade not dominion’ was the dominant British objective, see G.C. BOLTON, «The Founding of the Second British Empire», in The Economic History Review, New Series, 19, 1, 1966, pp. 195-200.

15 See footnote 5 for full bibliographical references of their work. For a broader analysis of the changes wrought in the late eighteenth century, see Sherry JOHNSON, The Social Transformation of Eighteenth-Century Cuba, Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2001. Also, Celia María Parcero Torre, La pérdida de la Habana y las reformas borbónicas en Cuba, 1760-1773, Madrid, Consejo de Castilla y León, 1998.

16 Santiago de LUXÁN Y MELENDEZ, La opción agrícola e industrial del tabaco en Canarias. Una perspectiva institucional. Los orígenes, 1827-1936, Las Palmas, Universidad Las Palmas, Sociedad Canaria de Fomento Económico S.A. (PROEXCA), 2006. Andrés ARNALDOS MARTINEZ and Jorge ARNALDOS DE ARMAS La Industria Tabaquera Canaria (1852-2002), Gobierno de Canarias, Cámaras de Canarias, Asociación de Industriales Tabaqueros, 2003.

17 Ortiz, Contrapunteo cubano…p. 717.

18 Manuel Moreno Fraginals, Cuba/España, España/Cuba: Historia Común, Barcelona, Grijalbo Mondadori, 1995...p. 128.

19 MORENO FRAGINALS, Cuba/España...p. 145.

20 MORENO FRAGINALS, Cuba/España...p. 146.

21 MORENO FRAGINALS, Cuba/España...p. 146.

22 I refer to these in STUBBS, «Política e sapere/Política y saber…», pp.67-105, and «El Habano…, pp. 248-276.

23 For an analysis of Cuba’s cigar heyday and subsequent mid-nineteenth-century turning point, see STUBBS, Tobacco on the periphery…pp. 15-34.

24 For in-depth studies of developments in Cuba in this period, see Doria C. González FERNANDEZ, «La manufactura tabacalera cubana en la segunda mitad del siglo XIX», in Revista de Indias, 194, pp. 292-326, and «La guerra económica y sus efectos en la economía tabacalera», in Consuelo NARANJO, Miguel angel PUIG-SAMPER and Luis Miguel GARCIA MORA (Eds.), La nación soñada: Cuba, Puerto Rico y Filipinas ante el 98, Aranjuez, Doce Calles, 1996, pp.305-316. Also, Joan Casanovas Urban Labor and Spanish Colonialism in Cuba, 1850-1898, Pittsburgh, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1998.

25 Quoted in Stubbs, Tobacco on the Periphery…p.24. The full texts of the report and government response are included in Vidal MORALES Y MORALES, Documentos relativos a la información económica de Madrid y al Comité Central de Propoganda de La Habana (1890), Colección Facticia, Vol. 18. A good source of reference for these years is Julio LE RIVEREND «Años terribles para la economía tabacalera», Habano, 3, 1 & 2, 1941.

26 Stubbs, Tobacco on the Periphery…, p. 24

27 For the dispute, see Gustavo Bock, The Truth about Havana Cigars, New York: Havana Tobacco Company, 1904, and the counter-attack on behalf of the ‘independents’ by journalist and cigar maker José González Aguirre, La verdad sobre la industria del tabaco habano, Havana, 1905. See Stubbs, Tobacco on the Periphery…pp. 31-32.

28 See Jean STUBBS «Transnationalism and the Havana Cigar: Commodity Chain Transfers, Networks, and Circuits of Knowledge», in Catherine KRULL (ed.), Cuba in a Global Context: International Relations, Internationalism, and Transnationalism, Gainesville, FL, University Press of Florida, 2014, pp.227-242. For the latter part of the period, I concur with the analysis of Leida Fernández Prieto Cuba agrícola: Mito y tradición, 1878-1920, Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto de Historia, Departamento de Historia de América: Ch. 4, «Tradición y ciencia aplicada en el cultivo tabacalero del occidente de Cuba, 1878-1913», pp. 209-254; Espacio de poder, ciencia y agricultura en Cuba: El Círculo de Hacendados, 1878–1917, Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2009; «Modernización y çambio tecnológico en la agricultura de cuba, 1878-1920» in Antonio SANTAMARIA and Consuelo NARANJO OROVIO (eds.) Más allá del azúcar: política, diversificación y practicas económicas en Cuba, 1878-1930, Madrid, Doce Calles, 2009, pp. 175-218; and «Islands of Knowledge: Science and Agriculture in the History of Latin America and the Caribbean», Isis 104, 4, 2013, pp. 788-797.

29 For a discussion of this, see Jean STUBBS, «Havana Cigars and the West’s Imagination» in Sander L. GILMAN and Zhou XUN (Eds.), Smoke: A Global History of Smoking, London, Reaktion Press, 2004, pp. 134-139.

30 Viz LUXAN Y MELENDEZ, La opción agrícola… and Arnaldos Martínez and Arnaldos de Armas, La industria tabaquera…. See also, Anelio Rodríguez Concepción Tradición insular del tabaco, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Consejería de Agricultura, Ganadería, Pesca y Alimentación, 2000; Mario Luis López Isla, La aventura del tabaco, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Centro de la Cultura Popular Canaria, 1998; Gregorio J. Cabrera Déniz Canarios en Cuba: Un capítulo en la historia del archipiélago, 1875-1931, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Ediciones del Cabildo Insular de Gran Canaria, 1996; and Manuel de Paz Wanguëmert y Cuba, 2 vols., Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Centro de la Cultura Popular Canaria, 1991.

31 Among the pioneers were Louis A. Pérez Jr., «Reminiscences of a Lector: Cuban Cigar Makers in Tampa,» in Florida Historical Quarterly 53, 1975; L. Glenn Westfall, Key West: Cigar City U.S.A., Key West, Historic Key West Preservation Board, 1984, and Don Vicente Martínez Ybor, the Man and His Empire: Development of the Clear Havana Industry in Cuba and Florida in the Nineteenth Century, New York, Garland, 1987; Gerald E. Poyo, «The Cuban Experience in the United States, 1865-1940: Migration, Community and Identity», in Cuban Studies, 21, 1991; Gary Mormino and George E. Pozetta, «’The Reader Lights the Candle’: Cuban and Florida Cigar Workers’ Oral Tradition», in Labor’s Heritage, Spring, 1993; and Winston James, «From a Class for Itself to a Race on Its Own: The Strange Case of Afro-Cuban Radicalism and Afro-Cubans in Florida, 1870–1940,» in Winston James (Ed.), Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia: Caribbean Radicalism in Early Twentieth-Century America, London, Verso, 1998, pp.232-257. More recent work includes Consuelo E. Stebbins, City of Intrigue, Nest of Revolution: A documentary history of Key West in the Nineteenth Century, Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2007. Robert P. Ingalls and Louis A. Pérez Jr., Tampa Cigar Workers: A Pictorial History, Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2003. Susan D. Greenbaum More Than Black: Afro-Cubans in Tampa, Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2002. Nancy A. Hewitt, Southern Discomfort: Women’s Activism in Tampa, Florida, 1800s–1920s, Urbana, University of Illinois Press, 2001. Evelio Grillo, Black Cuban, Black American: A Memoir, introduction by Kenya Dworkin y Méndez, Houston, Arte Público Press, 2000. Evan Matthew DANIEL, «Cuban Cigar Makers in Havana, Key West, and Ybor City, 1850s-1890s», in Geoffroy De LAFORCADE and Kirwin SHAFFER (Eds.), In Defiance of Boundaries: Anarchism in Latin American History, Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2015; Rolling for the Revolution: A Transnational History of Cuban Cigar Makers in Havana, Florida, and New York City, 1853-1895, PhD diss., New School University, 2010; and «A Single Universe: Cuban Cigar Makers in Havana and South Florida, 1853-1899,» in Florida’s Labor and Working-Class Past: Three Centuries of Work in the Sunshine State, Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2006.

32 The North Florida history is one I researched with the aid of Kyle Doherty during spring 2011 at the University of Florida. I thank Paul Losch, now Head Librarian of the University’s Latin American and Caribbean Library, alerted me to the footnote in Gerardo Castellanos, Motivos de Cayo Hueso, Havana, Ucar, García y Cía, 1935, p. 300, on the existence of Cuban cigar factories and workers in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Gainesville; and then Head Librarian Richard Phillips, who referred me to Daniel Bronstein, «La Cubana City: A Cuban Cigar Manufacturing Community Near Thomasville, Georgia, During the 1890s», Georgia Historical Quarterly, 90, 3, Fall 2006, pp. 391-417. Our research suggests an unexpectedly significant North Florida-South Georgia Cuban cigar history, which I have yet to write up in detail.

33 See Lisandro Pérez, Sugar, Cigars, and Revolution: The Making of Cuban New York, New York, New York University Press, forthcoming 2018; «Cubans in Nineteenth-Century New York: A Story of Sugar, War, and Revolution», in Edward J. SULLIVAN (Ed.), Nueva York, 1613-1945, New York, The New York Historical Society, 2010; and «Sugar, Slavery, and the Rise of Cuban New York», in John THORN (Ed.), New York at 400, New York, Running Press and the Museum of the City of New York, 2009.

34 Jean STUBBS, «Political Idealism and Commodity Production: Cuban Tobacco in Jamaica, 1870-1930», in Cuban Studies 25, 1995; abridged Spanish-language version: «Cuba y Jamaica en el camino del tabaco», in Del Caribe 26, 1997, p. 81-93.

35 Juan José Baldrich makes this point in his work on Puerto Rican tobacco: «From the Origins of Industrial Capitalism in Puerto Rico to Its Subordination to the U.S. Tobacco Trust: Rucabado and Company, 1865–1901» in Revista Mexicana del Caribe, 3, 5, 1998. See also M. Burgos Malave, «El conflicto tabacalero entre Cuba y Puerto Rico,» in Revista de Estudios Generales, 4, 4, 1989–1990.

36 There is reference to nineteenth- and twentieth-century Cuban cigar makers alongside Puerto Ricans in New York in César Andreu Iglesias (Ed.), Memoirs of Bernardo Vega, New York, Monthly Review Press, 1984.

37 See Stubbs, «Transnationalism and the Havana Cigar…» and «Beyond the Black Atlantic: Understanding Race, Gender and Labour in the Global Havana Cigar», in Comparativ 5, 21, 2012, pp.50-70. Also, Ruth Glasser, Aquí me quedo: Puerto Ricans in Connecticut, Connecticut Humanities Council, 1997.

38 See Jean STUBBS, «Reinventing Mecca: Tobacco in the Dominican Republic, 1763-2007», Commodities of Empire Working Paper No. 3, Ferguson Centre for African and Asian Studies, Open University/ Caribbean Studies Centre, London Metropolitan University (October 2007): http://www.commodityhistories.org/sites/www.commodityhistories.org/files/working-papers/WP03.pdf . Instrumental in following through the USDA recommendation with the new Institute of Tobacco in the Dominican Republic’s Cibao area was Napoleón Padilla, who had been chief tobacco agronomist in Cuba until he left after the revolution in opposition to the agrarian reform. Early issues of Cigar Aficionado ran an ad with a photo of Cifuentes, of Partagás fame - who went first to Jamaica and later the Dominican Republic, there rebirthing his own Partagás brand for the U.S. market - with a caption that conjures up shades of past exile and migration: «Fidel Castro thought I left with only the shirt on my back, but I took my knowledge with me.» For the earlier and later periods of Mexican tobacco history, see Susan Deans-Smith, Bureaucrats, planters and workers: The making of the tobacco monopoly in Bourbon Mexico, Austin: University of Texas Press, 1992, and José González Sierra, Monopolio del humo: elementos de la historia del tabaco en México y algunos conflictos de tabaqueros veracruzanos: 1915-1930, Xalapa, Mexico, Veracruz University, 1987. There has been little published to date that connects the other territories with Cuba, though there are some excellent Brazilian tobacco studies, including B.J. Barickman, A Bahian Counterpoint: Sugar, Tobacco, Cassava, and Slavery in the Recôncavo, 1780-1860, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998; Catherine Lugar, «The Portuguese Tobacco Trade and Tobacco Growers of Bahia in the Late Colonial Period», in Dauril Alden and Warren Dean, eds. Essays Concerning the Socioeconomic History of Brazil and Portuguese India, Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1977; and Jean-Baptiste Nardi, Fumo brasileiro no periodo colonial, Sao Paulo, Editora Brasiliense, 1996. See also Michiel Baud & Kees Kooning, «Germans and Tobacco in Bahia (Brazil), 1870-1940», in Jahrbuch für Geschichte Lateinamerikas, 37, 2000. See also, José Chez Checo and Mu-Kien Adriana Sang El tabaco: historia general en República Dominicana, 3 vols., Santo Domingo, Grupo León Jimenes, 2007.

39 Jean STUBBS, El Habano and the World It Has Shaped: Cuba, Connecticut and Indonesia, in Cuban Studies, 41, 2010, pp.39-67. Also STUBBS, Transnationalism and the Havana Cigar… and «Beyond the Black Atlantic…».

40 See Edilberto C. De Jesus The Tobacco Monopoly in the Philippines: Bureaucratic Enterprise and Social Change, 1776-1880, Manila, Philippines, Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1980. For an early twentieth-century comparative U.S. representational snapshot of the Philippines, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Hawaii, and Guam, see Lanny Thompson, Imperial Archipelago: Representation and Rule in the Insular Territories under U.S. Dominion after 1898, Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2010.

41 For this contemporary twist, see Gabriela Greess, «Meerapfel Tobacco Group: Excellent Wrappers from Cameroon» Cigar Journal, July 15 2013, available online, https://www.cigarjournal.com/meerapfel-tobacco-group-excellent-wrappers-from-cameroon/, last accessed 19.11.17.

42 See Stuart McCook, «The Neo-Colombian Exchange: The Second Conquest of the Greater Caribbean, 1720-1930», Latin American Research Review, Special Issue, 2011, pp. 11-31; «Global Currents in National Histories of Science: The ‘Global Turn’ and the History of Science in Latin America»Isis, 104, 4, 2013, pp. 773–76; and States of Nature: Science, Agriculture, and Environment in the Spanish Caribbean, 1760-1940, Austin: University of Texas Press, 2002. See also Stuart McCook, «‘Squares of Tropic Summer’: The Wardian Case, Victorian Horticulture, and the Logistics of Global Plant Transfers, 1770-1910», in Patrick Manning and Daniel Rood (Eds.), Global Scientific Practice in an Age of Revolutions, 1750-1850, Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2016, pp. 199–215, and «'The World Was My Garden': Tropical Botany and Cosmopolitanism in American Science, 1898-1935», in Alfred McCoy and Francisco Scarano (Eds.), Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of the Modern American State, Madison, University of Wisconsin Press, 2009, pp. 499-507.

43 See Alfred W. CROSBY, The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492. Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing, 1972, and Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900–1900, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1986.

44 MCCOOK, «The Neo-Colombian Exchange…», p. 14.

45 Similar arguments are made in the Cuban context by Leida Fernández Prieto Cuba agrícola: Mito y tradición, 1878-1920, Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto de Historia, Departamento de Historia de América: Ch. 4, «Tradición y ciencia aplicada en el cultivo tabacalero del occidente de Cuba, 1878-1913», pp. 209-254; Espacio de poder, ciencia y agricultura en Cuba: El Círculo de Hacendados, 1878–1917, Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2009; «Modernización y çambio tecnológico en la agricultura de cuba, 1878-1920» in Antonio SANTAMARIA and Consuelo NARANJO OROVIO (Eds.) Más allá del azúcar: política, diversificación y practicas económicas en Cuba, 1878-1930, Madrid, Doce Calles, 2009, pp. 175-218; and «Islands of Knowledge: Science and Agriculture in the History of Latin America and the Caribbean», Isis 104, 4, 2013, pp. 788-797.

46 Among the work highlighting the role of British policy toward its Caribbean colonies creating and disseminating science, see Lucile H. Brockway, Science and Colonial Expansion: The Role of the British Royal Botanic Garden, New York, Academic, 1979. David N. Livingstone, Putting Science in Its Place: Geographies of Scientific Knowledge, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 2003. Richard Drayton, Nature’s Government: Science, Imperial Britain, and the «Improvement» of the World, New Haven, CT, Yale University Press, 2000. Richard H. Grove, Green Imperialism: Colonial Expansion, Tropical Island Edens, and the Origins of Environmentalism, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1995.

47 I concur with McCook and Fernández Prieto in calling for further study of multiple knowledge centres and their global interactions, thus decentering analysis from the centre/periphery hierarchy.

48 Notable among them was General Antonio Maceo, who operated in and out of Jamaica after being deported there at the end of the Ten Years’ War, with other family members, including his mother Mariana Grajales. See Jean STUBBS, «Social and Political Motherhood of Cuba: Mariana Grajales Cuello» in Verene Shepherd, Bridget Brereton & Barbara Bailey (eds.), Engendering History: Caribbean, Women in Historical Perspective, London and Kingston, Ian Randle and James Currey, 1995, pp. 296-317: Spanish-language version «Mariana Grajales Cuello: madre política y social de Cuba», Historia y Sociedad, No. 11, 1999, pp. 31-56; also «En busca de Mariana: raza y género en la nación» in Damaris Amparo Torres Elers and Israel Escalona Chadez (Eds.), Mariana Grajales Cuello: Doscientos años en la historia y la memoria, Santiago de Cuba, Ediciones Santiago, 2015.

49 Guillermo de Zéndegui, Ambito de Martí, Havana, Fernández y Cía, 1954.

50 As recounted in an oral history interview the author conducted in 1993 with Dudley Soutar, Simon Soutar’s great-grandson.

51 Quoted in Hon. W. FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica», in West Indian Bulletin 8, 2, 1907, p.214.

52 FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica…», p. 215.

53 Guillermo P. GONZALEZ, Tobacco Culture: As Practiced in Cuba, Port Royal, DeCordova, McDougal, 1873.

54 FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica…, p. 215. Soutar was later recorded in the 1882 Blue Book for Jamaica serving from September 1880 as consul to Denmark and acting consul to Sweden and Norway.

55 The Machado Story: A Pioneer Industry in Jamaica, 1874–1962, Kingston, B. & J.B. Machado Co., Ltd., n.d., no page numbers.

56 The Machado Story…no page numbers.

57 These were recounted to the author in oral history interviews conducted in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1993 with Sister Eloise-Marie and Sister Imelda Palomino, daughters of Lorenzo Palomino, and Blanca Blanchet, daughter of José Blanchet and Margarita Rojas.

58 See Severo Rijo, «Máximo Gómez, veguero», in Revista Tabaco 9, 1941.

59 Veront M. SATCHELL, From Plots to Plantations: Land Transactions in Jamaica, 1866-1900, Mona, Jamaica, Institute of Social and Economic Research, University of the West Indies, 1990.

60 For further detail, see the tables in Stubbs, «Political idealism…», pp. 66-69.

61 See Stubbs, «Political idealism…», pp. 69-70.

62 Naturalisation of Cubans is mentioned in the Handbook of Jamaica 1884-5, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, p.265.

63 «Governor’s Report on Blue Book of 1881», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, p. xxv.

64 «Departmental Reports: Public Gardens and Plantations 1883-4», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, pp. 43-44.

65 «Collector-General’s Customs and Internal Revenue Report 1892-93», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, p. 143.

66 «Agricultural Society Reports for 1897», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, p. 341.

67 «Collector of Taxes 1,898-99», Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, p. 152.

68 «Public Gardens and Plantations 1898-99, Jamaica Departmental Reports, Kingston, Government Printing Establishment, p. 319.

69 Register of Incorporated Companies and Societies, no.1. Cigar entries also featured prominently in the early years of the Register of Trademarks (Tobacco 45) and Register of Letters Patent for Investors under Law 51 of 1891. See also Gisela Eisner, Jamaica, 1830-1930, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1961.

70 Alexander GRAY, «Jamaica’s Tobacco«, in Jamaica in 1907. Supplement to the African World, 9 March 1907, p. 43.

71 FAWCETT, «Tobacco in Jamaica…»p. 209.

72 The Machado Story…, n.p.

73 For examples of mortgage on livestock, see Jamaican Archives, Spanish Town, Island Record Office: Jamaica Tobacco Company, Liber 227, 107 (Marcelino Muñoz), 108, 109 (Miguel Muñoz), 112,114 (Joseph Blanchet), 385, 386 (Lorenzo Palomino). The names of the livestock are telling: Clarín, Rosado, Arogante, Chiquito, Benado, Pajarito, Marinero, Negrito, Valiente…

74 VAQUERO, Life and Adventure in the West Indies, London, Bale and Danielson, 1914.

75 Cigar manufacturing ceased entirely in 1954, when it became the Cigarette Company of Jamaica Ltd. The company did mark Jamaica’s independence from Britain in 1962 by describing itself in company publicity as «a part of Jamaica and a memorial to its founders who came seeking a home where they could live in peace and freedom and who in exchange gave Jamaica its modern tobacco industry». Until the 1940s, Temple Hall was one estate, growing tobacco for Machado’s Churchill cigars and also Virginia cigarette tobacco. Later subdivided, it no longer supported tobacco cultivation, the only hint of its past being the part still called Cuba Mount and a Cuban-Jamaican cigar brand called Temple Hall Estates resurrected in the 1990s cigar revival.

76 See Anthony Reid, «From Betel-Chewing to Tobacco-Smoking in Indonesia», Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 44, No. 3, May 1985, pp. 529-547.

77 For the history of the kretek, see Mark Hanusz, Kretek: The Culture and Heritage of Indonesia's Clove Cigarettes, Jakarta, Equinox Publishing, 2000, and «A Century of Kretek», in Gilman and Zhou (Eds.), Smoke: A…pp. 140-143.

78 Eric Deschodt & Philippe Morane, The Cigar, Cologne, Könemann Verlagsgesellschaft mbH, 1998 [1996], p. 169.

79 See Cornelius Fasseur, The Politics of Colonial Exploitation: Java, the Dutch, and the Cultivation System, trans. R.E. Elson and Ary Kraal, Ithaca, Cornell University Southeast Asia Program Publications (SEAP), 1992.

80 Viz Peter BOOMGARDE, «Maize and tobacco in Upland Indonesia», in Tania Li (ed.), Transforming the Indonesian Uplands: Marginality, Power and Production, Vol. 4: Studies in Environmental Anthropology, Oxford, Taylor & Francis, 1999, pp. 47-80.

81 This has been documented in the case of sugar by Ulbe BOSMA and Jonathan CURRY-MACHADO, «Turning Javanese: The Domination of Cuba’s Sugar Industry by Java Cane Varieties (1880-1950)», Itinerario, 37, 2, 2013, pp. 101-120, and «Two Islands, One Commodity: Cuba, Java and the Global Sugar Trade (1790-1930)», New West Indian Guide, 86, 3-4, 2012, pp. 237-262.

82 Among other studies, see Ann Laura Stoler, Capitalism and Confrontation in Sumatra's Plantation Belt, 1870-1979, Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 1995; K. L. Pelzer, Planter and Peasant: Colonial Policy and the Agrarian Struggle in East Sumatra, 1863–1947, The Hague, Martinus Nijhoff, 1978; and Jan Breman, Taming the Coolie Beast, New York, Oxford University Press, 1989. Also, Thee Kian-Wie, Plantation Agriculture and Export Growth: An Economic History of East Sumatra, 1863–1942, Jakarta, Leknas LIPI, 1977.

83 See Lim Kim Liat, «The Deli Tobacco Industry: Its History and Outlook,» in Prospects for East Sumatran Plantation Industries: A Symposium, ed. Douglas S. Paauw, South East Asian Studies Monograph Series No. 3, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1962, pp. 1-19. Also, the company history of what would later become Deli Universal N.V., available online, http://www.deli-universal.nl. For a latter-day feature on the life story of Jacobus Nienhuys’ grandson Henry, who would continue the family tobacco tradition, straddling Indonesia, the Netherlands, Connecticut and Cuba, see Linda Hirsch, «Horticulturalist’s Quest for Perfect Tobacco Spans Globe», Hartford Courant, 1988. Consulted in the Newspaper Clipping Files collection of the Connecticut State Library of Hartford.

84 For general Indonesian economic history, see P. Creutzberg (Ed.), Changing Economy in Indonesia: A Selection of Statistical Source Material from the Early 19th Century up to 1940, 15 vols., The Hague, M. Nijhoff, 1996[1975]; J. Th. Lindblad (Ed.), Historical Foundations of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1890s–1990s, North Holland: Koninkliijke Nederlands Akademie van Wetenschappen, 1996, and New Challenges in the Modern Economic History of Indonesia, Leiden, Programme of Indonesian Studies, 1993.

85 See Gately…p. 30.

86 Gately, 2001, pp. 35–38.

87 P. J. Anderson, «Growing Tobacco in Connecticut,» Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station Bulletin, 564, January 1953, p. 10.

88 Connecticut and Tobacco: A Chapter in America’s Industrial Growth, Washington, D.C.: Tobacco History, n.d., pp. 43–46.

89 See Randall R. Kincaid, «Shade Tobacco Growing in Florida,» Quincy North Florida Experimental Station Bulletin 136, May 1960, pp. 3-43. According to Kincaid, «About 1898, tests conducted at Quincy showed that leaves grown under artificial shade were of fine quality comparable to wrapper tobacco imported from Sumatra», p. 4. See also, W. B. Tisdale, «Tobacco Growing in Florida», Florida Agricultural Experimental Station Bulletin 198, 1928, pp. 379-428.

90 From the 1890s, the Connecticut Tobacco Valley Experiment Company in Poquonock carried out fertilizer experiments in tandem with experiments in curing tobacco. In the early 1920s, the Experimental Tobacco Station was the only one in New England and one of only four or five in the United States.

91 The net was originally a form of cheesecloth, similar to that used as mosquito netting. Today other materials are used - in Brazil notably a petroleum derivative, which has a bluish-grey tinge. For the introduction of the nets in Cuba, see FERNANDEZ PRIETO, Cuba agrícola…pp. 209-254; «Modernización y cambio tecnológico…pp.175-218; and «Islands of knowledge…pp.788-218. She also attributes the practice to Sumatra and the United States, prior to its introduction in Cuba in 1901-2.

92 Gilman and XUN, 2004, p. 17.

93 An excellent «pocket» analysis of terroir can be found in Becky Sue Epstein, Champagne: A Global History, London, Reaktion Books, 2011.

94 Père et Fils Gerard, Cigars: The Art of Cigars, The World’s Finest Cigars, 2 vols., Paris: Flammarion, 2002, p. 8.

95 See Zoila Lapique Becali, La memoria en las piedras, Havana, Editorial Boloña, 2003, and «Los sucesos de la historia de España y Cuba en las etiquetas de los cigarillos y habanos cubanos», in Consuelo Naranjo Orovio and Carlos Serrano (Eds.), Imágenes e Imaginarios Nacionales en el Ultramar Español, Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1999; also «La litografía en el siglo XIX», Catauro, 2005. See also, Emilio Cueto, Frédéric Mialhe, Mialhe’s Colonial Cuba: The Prints that Shaped the World’s View of Cuba, Miami, Historical Association of Southern Florida, 1994.

96 Martínez Rius, Habano el rey…p.24.

97 Jarrett Rudy, The Freedom to Smoke: Tobacco Consumption and Identity, Montreal, Quebec and Kingston, McGill-Queens University Press, 2005, pp.60-63. The Granda brothers’ advertising was extensive and they made a point of saying how they had learnt their cigar making in Cuba and acquired the special skills of «Spanish» as opposed to «German» handwork, using long filler instead of the short filler of cheaper cigars, and sorting into many more shades than the German three or four.

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