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A diminutive man with a shock of white hair sat comfortably at a papering wheel. He wore a faded blue work jacket, powdered with briar dust, as he made pass after pass against the wheel, rotating the pipe in his hand. He was, if not a natural, at least so accustomed to the work through long experience that every movement seemed almost mechanical.
I was somewhat less at ease. I had been in my new role as managing director of Kapp & Peterson for about three weeks, and I was pretty desperate to figure out how to run a pipe factory. So when Jonathan Fields, also about three weeks into his stint as factory manager, said to me, "I want to introduce you to Tony Whelan," I leapt at the chance. I knew Tony by reputation, but this was our first chance to talk. We shook hands, and I began asking questions.
Tony Whelan (who was styled Tony Whelan, Jr. to distinguish him from the "other" Tony Whelan who preceded him at Peterson) came to work at the factory in 1966 when he was just 15 years old. He knew Liam Larrigan through their mutual membership in the Legion of Mary, and Liam helped find a place for Tony at the Stephen's Green factory, where he himself was a fixture. As Tony told it, he had some initial doubts about the job, but his father made him stay. Whatever misgivings he harbored early on faded as Tony was trained in various aspects of pipe production at Peterson. He learned to paper, spent time in bowl turning, and learned to drill mortises and airways. Throughout the 1970s, Tony mastered the craft of pipemaking. He also became an integral member of the Peterson family, even playing on the company's football team. These years were the most prolific in Peterson's history. The factory had a staff of over 100 and produced approximately 500,000 pipes per year.
In 1983, after 17 years with the company, Tony began to wonder what else was out there beyond pipe manufacturing. He was, after all, only 32 years old after more than a decade and a half of service. And so, in what we might call a youthful indiscretion, Tony bade farewell to Peterson and began an 11-year period of working in other industries. But he never found a home like Peterson and returned in 1994. Tony picked up where he left off and began mastering new skills, including bowl grading. In 2000, he assumed the role of factory manager, a position he held until his retirement in 2017.
But Tony was never quite able to say goodbye to Peterson. Shortly after his retirement, he returned on a part-time basis. At first, he just dropped by to help give us what Jonathan Fields referred to as a "dig out." Before long, Tony was back in the factory two to three days per week. Tony retired again in 2021. Or at least he tried to. But he returned to help with quarterly inventory, and before I knew it, Tony was back in the factory at least one day per week.
"Tony's retiring!" became a familiar refrain at Peterson. My response: "Again?" I once joked with him that he wasn't getting any more watches. He took a special interest in training new employees — the "young lads" as he called them. This was, I think, an act of gratitude for the kindnesses that Tony had been shown by the staff in his youth, and a conscious investment in Peterson's future. When the factory moved from Sallynoggin to Deansgrange in 2022, Tony helped with the move. It was a point of pride for him that he became the only Peterson employee to have worked in three different factories.
He, likewise, always had time for me. Upon our first meeting, I started asking Tony questions. I kept it up for five years. I asked him about machinery and processes, suppliers and raw materials. I asked him how to make more pipes; I asked him how to make better pipes. Tony was endlessly patient with me and enthusiastic about Peterson joining the Laudisi family — to the point that we even dragged him on a couple of wider company adventures.
We have a great Laudisi tradition of having babies when we're supposed to be at the Dortmund Intertabac show. In 2019, it was Glen's turn: his wife, April, was about to give birth to their son Cillian. Somewhere in the weeks leading up to Dortmund, Sykes and I realized that, with Glen's absence, we would have exactly no one in the Peterson booth who sounded Irish. And, rather than risk having Peterson represented exclusively by a couple of Americans, we pressed Glen's dad into service, both because we knew and trusted him and because, since it was his grandson preventing Glen's attendance, we figured he couldn't really turn us down.
The afternoon and evening before the show opens are devoted to setting up the booth. This activity can be a bit strenuous, and you're entirely at the mercy of the show staff to deliver the contents of your booth. They do this on their schedule, not yours, and the exhibition hall closes at 11.00 pm.
It was well into the evening when our crates were delivered, and we hurriedly set about assembling the booth. By the time we completed the setup, we were all pretty exhausted, disheveled, and sweaty from working in the unairconditioned hall. The three of us stood back to evaluate our work. Tony — who seemed particularly ready to call it a night — was quite satisfied with what we had done. But Sykes and I (ever the over-thinkers) thought the booth would benefit from the addition of a single coffee table. Tony must have thought we were quite mad as we made a 45-minute drive to a nearby Ikea to purchase this essential fixture. We then returned to the booth to assemble our lovely new table. We entrusted Tony with the assembly instructions as he directed Sykes and me to insert leg B into slot A, well past the hour he'd have preferred to have been in bed.
Tony Whelan died of cancer on Saturday, July 19. He could never quite say goodbye to Peterson, but now, we must say goodbye to him. He leaves behind an important legacy. In recent years, I noticed more and more that Tony referred to himself less frequently as the former factory manager and more frequently as simply "Glen's dad." Today, Glen serves as managing director of Kapp & Peterson, stewarding the institution that his father served for so long. A new class of Peterson employees had the opportunity to learn from Tony as he continued to give generously of his time and talents. All of us who knew him are the beneficiaries of his deep experience, kindness, and wisdom.
"The unique thing about Peterson," Tony told Mark Irwin in 2013, "is the long service. When you go back 150 years, there's only a few people involved in passing along the skills.... [T]here's only a link of about four or five people back to the beginning." In reflection, Tony observed, "That's the key to it, to make sure you don't walk out the door with all of those skills. You've got to leave them with somebody when you're gone." We at Peterson owe Tony an unrequitable debt for his lifetime of service and friendship. May he rest in peace.
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Comments
Although I never met him, I've had the pleasure of reading about Tony and hearing firsthand accounts of his great personality and talents. Fans of Peterson owe a great deal of gratitude for his immeasurable contribution to Peterson and the pipe community. Tony will be missed and remembered fondly. Rest easy, and thank you Tony.
A nicely written essay.
What a hero, this man was. Sad to hear of it.
Fair winds and following seas Tony. You will be missed, but your legacy lives on in the Peterson pipes I smoke.
"Go raibh suaimhneas síoraí dá n-anam." Everlasting peace upon your soul, Tony☘️🙏🏻
Lovely tribute to a man who helped to create and preserve important traditions. Wishing his family peace and comfort in his memory.
What a wonderful story of a man who dedicated his life to something he truly loved and a company that respected him for that. Truly hard too find anymore today. A truly giving man is a Blessed man. I will remember him every time I smoke a Peterson. And I will buy a New Peterson and call it "Tony's" pipe in remembrance of him. May God Bless him in his time of rest and His family with his memory.