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Published Monday, Aug. 31, 2009

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W. Richland smoker beats rising prices, grows his own

By Drew Foster, Herald staff writer

WEST RICHLAND -- As J.D. Stanfield waded into the sea of 6-foot tall plants, only the top of his worn and stained cowboy hat poked above the elephant ear-sized leaves dangling from broomstick-thick stalks.

Those leaves will soon fill the corncob pipe that often juts from his lips. Stanfield's a smoker and, at 81 years old, he's decided to grow his own.

"This is my little plantation," he said as he opened the gate to the 130 towering tobacco plants on his West Richland property.

Started as seedlings in May, the plants now are between 5 and 6 feet tall. The large, airy leaves bounce in the light wind and are almost sticky to the touch. Stanfield plans to harvest and cure them in the coming weeks, but a few pockmarked leaves show he's not the only one smitten with the crop.

"The grasshoppers think they've found some chewing tobacco," he said, as two pudgy insects munched on nearby leaves.

He ordered the seeds of Kentucky burley tobacco over the Internet and printed an online farming guide. Stanfield started the seeds in a hot bed -- a raised boxlike contraption that heats a bed of soil and waters the dirt from underneath, so the fragile tobacco buds don't break.

From there, he transferred the seedlings into small, individual pots. Once they reached 4 to 5 inches in height, they were moved to his plantation.

About 90 days later, he's just weeks away from his first harvest.

"I'm never going to buy tobacco again after this crop," he said.

Inside his workshop -- an eclectic building where eight-tracks of classic country play over loud speakers, and boxes of animal horns and bone-handled Bowie knives are mixed with leather-working tools and cow jaw artwork -- Stanfield keeps a case for hanging and drying the leaves and a homemade kiln for rapidly curing them.

The entire process will take six weeks -- three weeks hanging, three weeks in the kiln. From there, the former cattle rancher and cabinet-maker will form the tobacco into bricks and spray vanilla and rum flavoring on the brittle leaves before grinding them into smokable flakes.

He can't wait.

"I'm overwhelmed," he said. "I had no idea I'd get this big of a crop."

Stanfield grew up in Kansas during the Great Depression -- a time when families found a way to stretch their money. He decided to grow his own tobacco after watching store prices climb in recent years.

Stanfield said he pays about $26 for a 12 ounce bag at the store. "No more $30 a pound," he declared.

A 12-ounce bag lasts him about two weeks, so growing his tobacco has the potential to save hundreds of dollars a year.

Although tobacco, of all plants, may seem unusual to grow, it fits in well on Stanfield's six acres. With one look at the miniature water mill, the arching bridge, the brown Styrofoam bear or the dilapidated wagon he brought to his property from Oregon, it's easy to tell Stanfield's not only an artist, but a connoisseur of the curious. His back porch is flanked by larger-then-life carved Indians and a homemade cannon is perched near his home's entrance.

"I made that because my neighbor up there threatened to shoot me," Stanfield said. "So I set it up there and aimed it at his front door. He figured he was outgunned so there were no more threats."

He's built a grandfather clock, has a house full of cast bronze artwork and said he won West Richland's Unboat Rally three years in a row. Tobacco, it seems, is just Stanfield's latest endeavor.

"He's pretty talented," said Ann Stanfield, J.D.'s wife of 53 years.

Of his tobacco garden, she said, "You know it's fascinating. When he first mentioned it, I thought, 'Oh no, it's another thing he's getting into.' But it's been very educational."

Although Stanfield's just week's away from his first harvest, he's already got his mind on the second. Tucked behind his workshop and hidden by rows of tomato plants sits another tobacco patch. Between the 130 in his plantation and the 150 he plans to begin in February sit about 24 near the tomatoes.

Stanfield eyed the small crop approvingly.

"They're in the process of maturing into a big plant," he said. "... What amazes me is that little seed is planted in the dirt and can make a huge plant like that. It's unbelievable."

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