The Long-Handled, Engraved Ashtray
A staple at cocktail parties in the early 1970's at 243 Leicester Road, in Kenilworth, Illinois.
A long-forgotten household artifact from my youth was a device similar to the one pictured above, which was engraved with the initials of the law firm for which my dad toiled for forty-two years (I know it’s forty-two years because I secured his retirement memento desk clock upon his death, inscribed with his years of service: 1954-1996) - not the name of the firm, because that would have been too voluminous to fit on this useful household tool: Mayer, Friedlich, Spiess, Tierney, Brown & Platt (a solid name for, according to Wikipedia, “. . .a global, white-shoe law firm,” but not really a great name for a band) - instead, engraved into the lid of this unit was “MFSTB&P” (now, that’s a band name I can get behind, especially if the symbol “&” is pronounced out loud as “ampersand,” although concertgoers would likely shorthand the band’s name to, simply “Ampersand” - I mean, fans refer to the “Rolling Stones” as simply “The Stones,” right?). The law firm is now known simply as “Mayer, Brown” - certainly easier to remember, and a name which could easily fit on the lid of a silver, long-handled ashtray, if you could find one anymore; the closest match I received when searching “silver long-handled ashtray with lid” on Amazon was this beautiful, elephant ashtray - certainly a unique objet d’art, but hardly a realistic stand-in for the real McCoy pictured above.
Also, are you picturing, as I am, a phalanx of lawyers, in dark suits, with repp-stripe ties, toting briefcases, marching in tight, crisp rows (I think I’ve seen them marching in parades: “The Fred Hill Briefcase Drill Team,” appearing when “The Wilmore Precision Lawnmower Marching Brigade” is unavailable, due to a scheduling conflict)?
That vision never includes white shoes, however - classic black Oxfords, or Wingtips, perhaps. But, don’t go by me - my only involvement with white shoes was a pair of white patent-leather dress shoes, which, if memory serves, I only wore once, and it was 1974, for Chrissake!
My parents hosted many cocktail parties back in the early 1970’s - some, MFSTB&P-centric, but most guestlists consisted of our neighbors in Chicago’s North Shore bedroom community of Kenilworth.
My siblings and I were typically commissioned to assist as servers at these parties, our duties including passing hors d’oeuvres, gathering-up empty glasses, and carrying them to the kitchen, and, yes, emptying ashtrays into the long-handled, engraved ashtray. Now, I don’t want to leave you with the impression that the only reason my parents assembled a household full of children was to ensure an adequate supply of servers for their cocktail parties - nothing could be further from the truth - there was also the lawn to be cut, and leaves to be raked, and the driveway to be shoveled.
Still, it was interesting to gain a glimpse of the behavior of parents of our friends in a wholly different setting than was typical for us. By that I mean, seeing them a bit tipsy, and in some cases, completely snockered.
But, back to the long-handled, engraved ashtray. We’ve established that its time has come and gone. I mean, people don’t smoke at cocktail parties anymore; and, nobody hosts cocktail parties anymore, anyway. And, people are no longer allowed to smoke in the office, either. I can recall a colleague of mine hunched over the desk in my cubicle, early in my professional career - the desk was laden with hand-prepared, 13-column spreadsheets (the time before Excel, remember that?) - he had a cigarette stuck in his mouth, and I watched in fascination as the cigarette ash grew to an impossible length. Finally, the ash had grown to such a length that its attachment to the cigarette was no longer sustainable; the ash dropped onto the spreadsheets, and exploded in a cloud of smoke, much like the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, in 1980. Without skipping a beat, my colleague brushed away the ashes with one broad sweep of his hand, and proceeded to point to numbers reflected in the spreadsheets. Just another day at the office.
Fast-forward ten years, and I’m standing in an alleyway adjacent to the building housing our newspaper publishing business, with our publisher, watching as our maintenance employee is drilling holes in the brick wall. “What’s he doing, I asked?”
“This is now the only place where our smokers will be allowed to smoke,” he responded. The maintenance worker was affixing a large metal ashtray to the side of the brick building. Which was adorable, because, as we all know, outdoor smokers don’t use ashtrays, not even the long-handled, engraved kind.
For those of you who have held onto your heirloom, long-handled, engraved ashtray, the question is: How to repurpose that tool, and redirect its use into an activity that is useful in today’s society? Might I offer some suggestions:
A pooper-scooper for walks with your dog - as you can see by the picture above, the unit provides ample capacity for output from even your larger dogs on a typical walk. Once a deposit is made, you simply close the lid, and proceed with the walk. And, it would certainly class-up the disposal operation - what, you’re still gingerly clutching that zip-lock bag? Oh, that’s adorable.
An elegant tray from which to serve petit-fours or bon-bons - imagine your server (you know, one of your four children) approaching your cocktail party guests, long-handled, engraved ashtray in hand, smartly lifting the lid to reveal the tasty desserts contained within, asking if they would like to partake. Try to accomplish that with a beautiful, elephant ashtray - it cannot be done, my friend.
A place to store your weed - as the roster of states enabling the sale of recreational marijuana continues to grow, what a handy storage unit this ashtray would make to house your stash. I daresay that this piece would easily accommodate an ounce, or more.
Finally, in order to prepare for the likelihood that both “The Fred Hill Briefcase Drill Team,” and “The Wilmore Precision Lawnmower Marching Brigade” are unavailable for an upcoming parade, I believe it only prudent to begin fielding an alternative. So, it is with great pride that I announce the formation of “The Southern Children Precision Cocktail Party Server Unit,” which will stand ready to perform at a moment’s notice, featuring its dazzling displays of synchronized artistry, balancing trays of hors d’oeuvres, clutching empty glasses, and, yes, emptying ashtrays into long-handled, engraved ashtrays. I’m certain that my siblings will readily join this effort, but we welcome you into our ranks as well - we just need to know that you share our commitment to this dying art. And, don’t worry about the shoes - I’ve negotiated a group-discount rate with Florsheim for the white, patent-leather dress shoes which are an essential component of our uniform.
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Good one Bill, this brings back memories. At our house there were ashtrays scattered around the house, these were normal sized, fitting for two smokers. We also had a massive @12-14” square ashtray, similarly pictured in the attached link, that was kept under the bar and brought out for large gatherings. The depth of this tray was @2” below the rim at the center. The morning after always amazed me as the mound of butts would be 4 or five inches above the rim. This mass of an untold number of butts decided gravity.
On a side note. The Fred Hill drill team was lovely. In Topeka, Fred Hill ran a mens shop where most business men went for suits. We, over time, even got to go for a wardrobe freshen up occasionally. His customers would leave his shop looking much like the team in the video. Hmmm
https://i.etsystatic.com/26573330/r/il/4f8350/3129832215/il_300x300.3129832215_4tst.jpg