|
A blacksmith and engineer, Nørding knows his way
around pipe making machinery.
Strangely, it was not his love for
woodworking that propelled Erik Nording into the pipe making
field—it was his terrific facility with machines.
"I
started as a blacksmith at age 15," he says, sitting
comfortably in the game room of his home outside of Copenhagen,
Denmark. He looks like a blacksmith. As he smokes his pipe,
his hard, powerful hands seem to overpower the simple tasks of
lighting and tamping. "My father was a blacksmith and an
engineer," he says. "He had a razor blade and garden
tool factory and passed away when I was 16 years old. I started working as a
boy in the factory on a stamping machine, just to earn some
money." |

|
He pauses to remember, looking up toward the ceiling.
The walls are lined with hunting trophies. Thirty or 40 game animals stare
glassily from their mounts into the center of the room: Black bear,
grizzly bear, antelope, elk, moose, deer, impala, wildebeest, gnu, wild
boar, caribou—even a huge tiger shark. Nording is the Ernest Hemingway
of pipe makers, an inveterate sportsman.
It was about the time of his father's death that
Nording learned the blacksmith trade. His mother knew that to
ensure his future he needed more expertise than that. "She wanted
me to prepare to run the factory;" says Nording. "She said,
"You must learn engineering to run this company, because you must
know more than the people who work here.' So I went to school and
became an engineer."
But by the time he finished his education, Nording had
lost interest in the family factory. "That's because I had started
making pipes," he says, holding up the Nording hunting pipe he is
smoking. "And pipes are much more interesting than razor
blades."
He had been smoking pipes since he was 15 years old. "I
bought my first pipe long before ever thought of making one," he
says. That is too young an age to smoke, of course, and his mother had
thought she could dissuade him from this new activity by
providing a large enough dose to make him never smoke again. She said to
me, 'You want to smoke? OK, here, smoke this pack of cigarettes.' She
thought I would get sick. But I smoked one, then another, and as I reached
for another one she said, 'Never mind. That's enough.' And it was decided
that I could smoke one bowl of tobacco each day, but only at
home."
Nording's father. a pipe smoker himself, taught the young
novice how to properly pack, light and enjoy a pipe. "I was very
proud," says Nording. "My father taught me to relax with the
pipe. Not to inhale." It was much better than the cigarettes, and
Nording's love for pipes has since then continued and grown.
Long before he graduated from engineering school at age
25 he was a more experienced pipe smoker than most men his age. He
frequented a pipe shop in Copenhagen and often had his pipes repaired
there. "The guy who did the repairs in that shop" says
Nording. "could see that it was a good business, and he wanted to
start his own pipe making shop." That repairman's name was Skovbo.
One day he approached the young Erik Nording with a proposition. "You
are a blacksmith and an engineer," Skovbo said to Nording. "You
must know a lot about machinery. Can you make me some pipe making
machinery?"
"I told him I could make anything he
wanted," says Nording. "But I didn't have any money. So I
borrowed S200 to buy some bearings, and I scoured junkyards for old
broken machinery. I bought inexpensive housings and put in new bearings
and new shafts." It was Nording's first contract and he wanted to
get a good start, so he took great care in making the best possible tools
for the pipe maker. "I made him a little polishing machine, and a
lathe, and a sander for shaping pipes." When he had
everything put together and running perfectly, he called Skovbo and told
him his machinery was finished.
 |
"He
came out and looked it over," says Nording. "He
turned on the electricity and watched everything run. He had some
blocks of wood with him, and he tried everything out. Finally he
looked at me and said, 'It's exactly as I wanted. Perfect. How much
do I owe you?' I told him the price—I don't remember how much it
was, but it was very inexpensive."
Skovbo
thought the price was very good. "That's fantastic," he said.
"The price is right. Now I'll start out for myself, make some
pipes and when I earn some money I'll pay you."
It must
have been a terrifically discouraging moment for a young man who had
just completed what he thought was his first paying job in a new
career. As Erik Nording now remembers that moment, sitting in a
beautiful home that contains a pipe making shop large enough for 20
workers making tens of thousands of world-famous pipes, his face
exhibits amusement at that memory. But back then, as a youngster
trying to get a foothold in the world, his expression must have been
more akin to horror. |
"I
told him that was not good enough,"
says Nording. "I told him I was a poor man, I didn't have
any money, I needed to be paid for my work." But Skovbo told
Nording that he couldn't pay him.
"Then
I will keep the machinery,"
said Nording. "I'll make pipes myself."
"You
don't know how to use this machinery," said Skovbo. "You know
nothing of pipe making."
"Well,
you're not getting it. You should have told me before I did all this work
that you didn't have the money to pay for it."
Skovbo
thought it over. "Why don't we start together?" he said.
That's
how Erik Nording became a pipe maker.
There
are still a few of those early pipes around. "I saw some at a shop
I visited a while back," says Nording. "The shop
owner offered to give them to me as mementos but I refused. They may be
worth quite a bit of money to collectors. You never know"
But
they didn't sell for much when the business was first starting. Nording
still remembers the first traditionally shaped pipe he ever made. "It
was a little pipe, a classic billiard. It looked terrible. It was made
well, and I'm sure it smoked very nicely, but it didn't look so
good." It was Christmas time, and a lady wandered into the pipe
factory looking for a gift for her nephew. "I told her that we
had sold out because of the season" "But that she could have that little billiard I had just
finished for $5.10." The lady thought it looked fine, but it was
more money than she wanted to spend. "She worked at the chocolate
factory across the street," he says. "The workers
had been given a lot of chocolate for Christmas, and she offered to
trade chocolate for that pipe." Nording seemed destined never to be
paid for his work. "But it was very good chocolate."
Those
first pipes carried the name ''SON", which was an acronym for the
combination of the names Skovbo and Nording. Each of the partners borrowed
$5,500 to get the business going, to rent a space and get the electricity
turned on and to buy two bags of briar. Skovbo taught Nording how to make
pipes, "but I didn't have much time because I was still
studying," says Nording. "And I never got the chance to
learn much from him, because shortly after we started he said that I would
never be a pipe maker, he said that my hands had no skill for the craft,
that I could never learn. I never understood how he could make such a
judgment, but he did."
To
his credit, Nording shows no sign of triumph in the fact that he has
proved Skovbo wrong by becoming one of the best-known pipe makers in the
world. "He said that he would continue with SON pipes alone, that
he no longer needed me," says Nording. However, the partners had
a legal agreement that whoever wished to dissolve the partnership first
would leave the company to the remaining partner and be paid off without
interest over five years. So Nording became the one to keep the company.
It
was difficult. Nording was finishing school, paying off his partner and
trying to make pipes. "I could make a pipe that was smokable,"
he says, "but not beautiful." The ability to craft
the sculptures that Nording pipes have become was a long process. However,
he struck upon an idea. "I was a blacksmith; I could make anything
out of metal if I had a drawing to work from. Why not do the same with
pipes?"
He
began visiting pipe shops, asking if any of them had customers who wanted
pipes carved to specific designs, and he found that the need was there.
"My first customer was a shop in Copenhagen. It needed some
very big pipes for a customner—he just couldn't find them big
enough." Nording obtained drawings and made six pipes for the
client. "They looked terrible," he says, laughing.
"I couldn't get the scratches out, I couldn't get them polished
right, and I couldn't get the colors even, but the measurements were
exactly as he specified. He loved those pipes, and was a good customer of
mine for many years.
Nording
kept working and kept improving. Finally he received his engineering
degree, but was too embroiled in pipe making to pursue this career, though his knowledge in
this area has certainly been complementary
to his pipe business over the years. And of course by that time he was
having too much fun making pipes to consider going back to the family
razor blade factory— though his interest in keen edges has maintained
itself and he still does a great deal of knife making.
Nording
continued with SON pipes for only a year or two before changing the
company name to Nording in the mid-'60s. "I figured nobody could ever
take that name away from me," he says. Nording's were exclusively
freehand shapes, graded from A, B, C, D, up to its highest grade, extra.
Later an "F" grade was added—less expensive than the
"A."
Consumer
interest in Danish freehand pipes helped Nording expand throughout the
1970s and early '80´s. "They were easier for me to carve,"
he says, "because nobody in those days knew the free-hands. We
were making thousands and thousands of those." The Nording
factory at that time reached its peak production, and Nording employed 52
workers.
Things
have slowed somewhat since, and currently Nording employs 6 pipe makers,
who produce approximately 15,000 pipes a year. They work in the shop that
takes up the lower level of the Nording residence. It's spacious, more
than 800 square meters, with three main workrooms, several smaller
offices, and a large storage area for the 20,000 blocks of briar kept on
hand, which comes mainly come from Corsica and Greece. "I don't age
it," says Nording. "I allow it to dry properly, so it
ages a little during that process, but once it is dry it's fine for pipe
making. All this talk about it being necessary for briar to age 30 years
or whatever for good pipes, in my opinion, is nonsense. I've seen every
stage of harvesting. I've been out digging the briar; I've been to
sawmills; I've experienced everything. And I'm telling you, once you can
dry a piece of briar without it cracking, it is ready to work."
The
stems for Nording pipes are all hand cut, though they are made in an
assembly line style, thousands at a time, to save production costs.
Free-hands are the least expensive of the Nording line, all given their
basic shape on a fraising machine that Nording modified using government
airplane parts. After they are roughed out, freehands are given individual
shapes on sanding disks, then finished in a variety of colors and fitted
with vulcanite stems.
Handmades
are given more care and more individuality and feature acrylic
mouthpieces, though the main difference is the quality of the grain. About
300 Handmades are produced each month. "The Handmades have become
very popular, and demand has been increasing," says Nording, "especially
over the last three years."
Collectors
have also been enthusiastic about the Nording Hunting Series, which is a
specially designed pipe, different every year, with a hunting theme.
"I've not yet decided on the year 2002,"
says Nording. But the immense popularity of the series indicates that
there will certainly be one.
Even
with all this, Erik Nording keeps inventing new things. Hundreds of
unusual pipe designs, various patents, and knife designs fill his offices.
And he is currently expanding a new business in Demnark: Barbecue style
catering. "Barbecue is almost unheard of in Denmark,"
he says. "But it's going to be big."
Perhaps
the most famous of his more unusual achievements, though, is his giant
Nording pipe fashioned from hundreds of other pipes and mouthpieces. This
pipe has been on display in several public venues, including the
Copenhagen airport, and has been named the world's largest pipe by the Guinness
Book of Records.
That's
just one more example of Erik Nording's tireless creativity. In all his
pursuits, he strives to excel. "I enjoy everything I do,"
he says. "I live hard, play hard, and I work hard."
|
| Short Description | Bamboo Eric Nording Pipe |
| Description | Erik Nørding produces approximately 50,000 pipes a year, 90% of which are for the export market, and has become on of the worlds most respected pipe makers. |
| In Depth |
|
A blacksmith and engineer, Nørding knows his way
around pipe making machinery.
Strangely, it was not his love for
woodworking that propelled Erik Nording into the pipe making
field—it was his terrific facility with machines.
"I
started as a blacksmith at age 15," he says, sitting
comfortably in the game room of his home outside of Copenhagen,
Denmark. He looks like a blacksmith. As he smokes his pipe,
his hard, powerful hands seem to overpower the simple tasks of
lighting and tamping. "My father was a blacksmith and an
engineer," he says. "He had a razor blade and garden
tool factory and passed away when I was 16 years old. I started working as a
boy in the factory on a stamping machine, just to earn some
money." |

|
He pauses to remember, looking up toward the ceiling.
The walls are lined with hunting trophies. Thirty or 40 game animals stare
glassily from their mounts into the center of the room: Black bear,
grizzly bear, antelope, elk, moose, deer, impala, wildebeest, gnu, wild
boar, caribou—even a huge tiger shark. Nording is the Ernest Hemingway
of pipe makers, an inveterate sportsman.
It was about the time of his father's death that
Nording learned the blacksmith trade. His mother knew that to
ensure his future he needed more expertise than that. "She wanted
me to prepare to run the factory;" says Nording. "She said,
"You must learn engineering to run this company, because you must
know more than the people who work here.' So I went to school and
became an engineer."
But by the time he finished his education, Nording had
lost interest in the family factory. "That's because I had started
making pipes," he says, holding up the Nording hunting pipe he is
smoking. "And pipes are much more interesting than razor
blades."
He had been smoking pipes since he was 15 years old. "I
bought my first pipe long before ever thought of making one," he
says. That is too young an age to smoke, of course, and his mother had
thought she could dissuade him from this new activity by
providing a large enough dose to make him never smoke again. She said to
me, 'You want to smoke? OK, here, smoke this pack of cigarettes.' She
thought I would get sick. But I smoked one, then another, and as I reached
for another one she said, 'Never mind. That's enough.' And it was decided
that I could smoke one bowl of tobacco each day, but only at
home."
Nording's father. a pipe smoker himself, taught the young
novice how to properly pack, light and enjoy a pipe. "I was very
proud," says Nording. "My father taught me to relax with the
pipe. Not to inhale." It was much better than the cigarettes, and
Nording's love for pipes has since then continued and grown.
Long before he graduated from engineering school at age
25 he was a more experienced pipe smoker than most men his age. He
frequented a pipe shop in Copenhagen and often had his pipes repaired
there. "The guy who did the repairs in that shop" says
Nording. "could see that it was a good business, and he wanted to
start his own pipe making shop." That repairman's name was Skovbo.
One day he approached the young Erik Nording with a proposition. "You
are a blacksmith and an engineer," Skovbo said to Nording. "You
must know a lot about machinery. Can you make me some pipe making
machinery?"
"I told him I could make anything he
wanted," says Nording. "But I didn't have any money. So I
borrowed S200 to buy some bearings, and I scoured junkyards for old
broken machinery. I bought inexpensive housings and put in new bearings
and new shafts." It was Nording's first contract and he wanted to
get a good start, so he took great care in making the best possible tools
for the pipe maker. "I made him a little polishing machine, and a
lathe, and a sander for shaping pipes." When he had
everything put together and running perfectly, he called Skovbo and told
him his machinery was finished.
 |
"He
came out and looked it over," says Nording. "He
turned on the electricity and watched everything run. He had some
blocks of wood with him, and he tried everything out. Finally he
looked at me and said, 'It's exactly as I wanted. Perfect. How much
do I owe you?' I told him the price—I don't remember how much it
was, but it was very inexpensive."
Skovbo
thought the price was very good. "That's fantastic," he said.
"The price is right. Now I'll start out for myself, make some
pipes and when I earn some money I'll pay you."
It must
have been a terrifically discouraging moment for a young man who had
just completed what he thought was his first paying job in a new
career. As Erik Nording now remembers that moment, sitting in a
beautiful home that contains a pipe making shop large enough for 20
workers making tens of thousands of world-famous pipes, his face
exhibits amusement at that memory. But back then, as a youngster
trying to get a foothold in the world, his expression must have been
more akin to horror. |
"I
told him that was not good enough,"
says Nording. "I told him I was a poor man, I didn't have
any money, I needed to be paid for my work." But Skovbo told
Nording that he couldn't pay him.
"Then
I will keep the machinery,"
said Nording. "I'll make pipes myself."
"You
don't know how to use this machinery," said Skovbo. "You know
nothing of pipe making."
"Well,
you're not getting it. You should have told me before I did all this work
that you didn't have the money to pay for it."
Skovbo
thought it over. "Why don't we start together?" he said.
That's
how Erik Nording became a pipe maker.
There
are still a few of those early pipes around. "I saw some at a shop
I visited a while back," says Nording. "The shop
owner offered to give them to me as mementos but I refused. They may be
worth quite a bit of money to collectors. You never know"
But
they didn't sell for much when the business was first starting. Nording
still remembers the first traditionally shaped pipe he ever made. "It
was a little pipe, a classic billiard. It looked terrible. It was made
well, and I'm sure it smoked very nicely, but it didn't look so
good." It was Christmas time, and a lady wandered into the pipe
factory looking for a gift for her nephew. "I told her that we
had sold out because of the season" "But that she could have that little billiard I had just
finished for $5.10." The lady thought it looked fine, but it was
more money than she wanted to spend. "She worked at the chocolate
factory across the street," he says. "The workers
had been given a lot of chocolate for Christmas, and she offered to
trade chocolate for that pipe." Nording seemed destined never to be
paid for his work. "But it was very good chocolate."
Those
first pipes carried the name ''SON", which was an acronym for the
combination of the names Skovbo and Nording. Each of the partners borrowed
$5,500 to get the business going, to rent a space and get the electricity
turned on and to buy two bags of briar. Skovbo taught Nording how to make
pipes, "but I didn't have much time because I was still
studying," says Nording. "And I never got the chance to
learn much from him, because shortly after we started he said that I would
never be a pipe maker, he said that my hands had no skill for the craft,
that I could never learn. I never understood how he could make such a
judgment, but he did."
To
his credit, Nording shows no sign of triumph in the fact that he has
proved Skovbo wrong by becoming one of the best-known pipe makers in the
world. "He said that he would continue with SON pipes alone, that
he no longer needed me," says Nording. However, the partners had
a legal agreement that whoever wished to dissolve the partnership first
would leave the company to the remaining partner and be paid off without
interest over five years. So Nording became the one to keep the company.
It
was difficult. Nording was finishing school, paying off his partner and
trying to make pipes. "I could make a pipe that was smokable,"
he says, "but not beautiful." The ability to craft
the sculptures that Nording pipes have become was a long process. However,
he struck upon an idea. "I was a blacksmith; I could make anything
out of metal if I had a drawing to work from. Why not do the same with
pipes?"
He
began visiting pipe shops, asking if any of them had customers who wanted
pipes carved to specific designs, and he found that the need was there.
"My first customer was a shop in Copenhagen. It needed some
very big pipes for a customner—he just couldn't find them big
enough." Nording obtained drawings and made six pipes for the
client. "They looked terrible," he says, laughing.
"I couldn't get the scratches out, I couldn't get them polished
right, and I couldn't get the colors even, but the measurements were
exactly as he specified. He loved those pipes, and was a good customer of
mine for many years.
Nording
kept working and kept improving. Finally he received his engineering
degree, but was too embroiled in pipe making to pursue this career, though his knowledge in
this area has certainly been complementary
to his pipe business over the years. And of course by that time he was
having too much fun making pipes to consider going back to the family
razor blade factory— though his interest in keen edges has maintained
itself and he still does a great deal of knife making.
Nording
continued with SON pipes for only a year or two before changing the
company name to Nording in the mid-'60s. "I figured nobody could ever
take that name away from me," he says. Nording's were exclusively
freehand shapes, graded from A, B, C, D, up to its highest grade, extra.
Later an "F" grade was added—less expensive than the
"A."
Consumer
interest in Danish freehand pipes helped Nording expand throughout the
1970s and early '80´s. "They were easier for me to carve,"
he says, "because nobody in those days knew the free-hands. We
were making thousands and thousands of those." The Nording
factory at that time reached its peak production, and Nording employed 52
workers.
Things
have slowed somewhat since, and currently Nording employs 6 pipe makers,
who produce approximately 15,000 pipes a year. They work in the shop that
takes up the lower level of the Nording residence. It's spacious, more
than 800 square meters, with three main workrooms, several smaller
offices, and a large storage area for the 20,000 blocks of briar kept on
hand, which comes mainly come from Corsica and Greece. "I don't age
it," says Nording. "I allow it to dry properly, so it
ages a little during that process, but once it is dry it's fine for pipe
making. All this talk about it being necessary for briar to age 30 years
or whatever for good pipes, in my opinion, is nonsense. I've seen every
stage of harvesting. I've been out digging the briar; I've been to
sawmills; I've experienced everything. And I'm telling you, once you can
dry a piece of briar without it cracking, it is ready to work."
The
stems for Nording pipes are all hand cut, though they are made in an
assembly line style, thousands at a time, to save production costs.
Free-hands are the least expensive of the Nording line, all given their
basic shape on a fraising machine that Nording modified using government
airplane parts. After they are roughed out, freehands are given individual
shapes on sanding disks, then finished in a variety of colors and fitted
with vulcanite stems.
Handmades
are given more care and more individuality and feature acrylic
mouthpieces, though the main difference is the quality of the grain. About
300 Handmades are produced each month. "The Handmades have become
very popular, and demand has been increasing," says Nording, "especially
over the last three years."
Collectors
have also been enthusiastic about the Nording Hunting Series, which is a
specially designed pipe, different every year, with a hunting theme.
"I've not yet decided on the year 2002,"
says Nording. But the immense popularity of the series indicates that
there will certainly be one.
Even
with all this, Erik Nording keeps inventing new things. Hundreds of
unusual pipe designs, various patents, and knife designs fill his offices.
And he is currently expanding a new business in Demnark: Barbecue style
catering. "Barbecue is almost unheard of in Denmark,"
he says. "But it's going to be big."
Perhaps
the most famous of his more unusual achievements, though, is his giant
Nording pipe fashioned from hundreds of other pipes and mouthpieces. This
pipe has been on display in several public venues, including the
Copenhagen airport, and has been named the world's largest pipe by the Guinness
Book of Records.
That's
just one more example of Erik Nording's tireless creativity. In all his
pursuits, he strives to excel. "I enjoy everything I do,"
he says. "I live hard, play hard, and I work hard."
|
|