Maryland Turns its Back on its Tobacco heritage

Source from:  By ANDREW CHILDERS, Staff Writer January 27, 2008  01/28/2008

Fearing the quality of Maryland tobacco was flagging, the state created the Maryland Tobacco Improvement Foundation in 1950, giving away 16,000 ounces of tobacco seed and awarding prizes to 4-H Club members and Future Farmers of America for the best seedbed. Fast forward nearly half a century and the state was handing farmers checks to stop growing Maryland's once iconic crop as public health began to outweigh the sense of agricultural tradition. From 46 million pounds of tobacco grown at the end of World War II, Maryland farmers now only grow a scant 1 million pounds. And when Maryland snuffs out smoking in public places this week it will be one more example of the state's changing relationship with tobacco. Vestiges of the state's 400-year tobacco history remain - the leaf on Calvert County's flag, the Charles County Fair's Queen Nicotina - but Maryland now is more likely to be known for having one of the highest cigarette taxes in the nation and the statewide indoor smoking ban. But tobacco was once so intrinsic to Maryland's economy it was used as currency during the Colonial era. Even Anglican ministers were paid in the leaf, said Dr. Christine Arnold-Laurie, a professor of history at the College of Southern Maryland. "People paid debts with it," she said. "They paid taxes with it." For all its money-making power, Maryland's native leaf has never gone beyond a niche market, particularly in Western Europe, said Francis Keller, who has spent the past 40 years working at The Smoke Shop on Maryland Avenue. "Maryland tobacco has had a limited use because of what the tobacco is," he said. "It was mostly used as a burning agent in cigarettes." Maryland's air-cured tobacco leaves were lower in tar and nicotine than the flue-cured leaves of Virginia, making them better burning, but less flavorful, Mr. Keller said. Marylanders still puff away 10.8 million packs of cigarettes each year, according to the Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids, and the state estimates its $2 per pack tobacco tax will generate $162.2 million for the state in the upcoming fiscal year. But higher taxes often translate to plummeting sales. New Jersey has the highest per-pack tax on cigarettes at $2.58, but the last 17 percent increase only increased revenue by 2 percent. Rhode Island and Michigan both saw double-digit drops in tobacco sales following their recent tobacco tax hikes, according to an analysis by the Department of Legislative Services. Only eight other states in America have higher cigarette taxes than Maryland, while neighboring Virginia has the lowest in the nation at 30 cents per pack. Richard Fairhurst, 75, of Severna Park started smoking in the 1940s, at a time when cigarettes were seen as a fashion statement and tobacco was still a way of life. There were no anti-smoking ads then or messages about it being a health hazard. When he joined the Navy in the 1950s, a carton of cigarettes cost about 65 cents and they were common items in packages sent overseas. Though he finally quit smoking in 2004, Mr. Fairhurst is leery of the statewide smoking ban and what it says about Maryland. "I honestly don't think you can mandate that," Mr. Fairhurst said. "Soon Big Brother will be watching and making all the decisions for us." Anti-smoking activists got off to a shaky start overcoming Maryland's history with tobacco. Lobbyists looking for laws curbing tobacco in Maryland in the 1990s "had a lot of trouble at that point," said Eric Gally, a Maryland lobbyist for the American Cancer Society and American Heart Association. But the dialogue changed completely after the 1999 buyout. When Mr. Gally lobbied for the smoking ban, the arguments against were couched in terms of financial impact to businesses in Baltimore rather than appeals to Maryland's agricultural heritage. "It really has become the social norm," he said. "It's a whole different ball game now." More than 80 percent of Maryland's eligible tobacco farmers took the buyout in 1999, receiving $1 per pound of their historic yields for up to 10 years in exchange for a promise to stop growing tobacco. The move took 86 percent of Maryland tobacco off the market. But now that the first farmers to take the payments are nearing the end of their subsidies, some growers are worried about their futures. Maryland Farm Bureau President Michael Phipps still plants an acre of tobacco on his Owings farm "just to keep my hands in it," but those who took the buyout have yet to find a lucrative replacement. "I don't see a magic bullet out there," Mr. Phipps said. "I suspect some people will just sell their land for development. They've tinkered with grapes and livestock alternatives and wheat. It's not the per-acre dollars tobacco brought in." Mr. Phipps said he was "very disappointed" by the buyout offer, but the Farm Bureau took no position on the deal, letting farmers decide for themselves. A similar dairy buyout allowed farmers to return to the practice at the end of the 10-year payment period, but the tobacco deal was a "life sentence." "That should be reserved for murder and marriage," Mr. Phipps said. While farmers cast about for another cash crop, ironically, tobacco is getting a second look. Though Maryland tobacco remains a niche market, there is more demand for burley tobacco, another air-cured leaf predominantly grown in Tennessee, which has higher per-acre yields than native strains and is popular among cigarette makers. For all the stigma, some smokers still can't shake smoking's allure. "Today if there wasn't a health issue, I might still be smoking," Mr. Fairhurst said. "I enjoyed it. (But) when all the facts were considered, and I couldn't deny facts, it causes some kind of health problems that shorten lives." Enditem