Illustration by Danny Elchert

Missouri is a state of confusion.

Our ancestors were pretty much on both sides of the Civil War, as residents of one of two states claimed by both the Union and Confederacy. The most famous compromise in history was named for us. Other states have mottos that boast of their attributes, airing self-confidence. Ours is “Show Me.”

Maybe that explains Missouri’s ongoing love affair with tobacco.

Yes, tobacco.

Based on public policy, one might assume that the tobacco industry was one of the great foundations of Missouri’s economy. Consider some of the following facts that reflect the high esteem granted tobacco in this state:

• Missouri has the second-lowest state tax rate on cigarettes (17 cents per pack), lower only than tobacco-producing giant South Carolina. In 2006, voters rejected an 80-cent-per-pack increase that still would have left the state well below the national median in taxes.
• Missouri spends a shocking 3.7 percent of the amount recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for antismoking efforts, ranking the state 49th in the nation (on a list including Washington, D.C.), according to the Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids.
• Missouri’s clean indoor air law is riddled with loopholes, and consequently, “smoking is permitted in many more workplaces than in other states,” according to a report prepared for the Missouri Foundation for Health.
• Missouri is one of just six states failing to provide Medicaid funding of smoking-cessation programs, even though an estimated one-third of its Medicaid recipients smoke.
• Missouri ranks fourth in the nation for smoking among adults (at 24.5 percent, versus the national average of 19.7 percent), according to the Missouri Department of Health and Senior Services (DHSS).

The list goes on, but the point is clear: Missouri’s loyalty to tobacco seems to know no bounds. We’re the Carolina of the Midwest. We’re another old Kentucky home.

There’s one small detail that makes all this tobacco love a bit puzzling. It turns out that Missouri has virtually no tobacco industry.
Officially, we’re one of 21 states in which tobacco is grown, but that designation doesn’t do justice to the infinitesimal nature of the industry in Missouri. According to state agriculture department statistics, Missouri tobacco growers represent a whopping $5 million in sales from 1,500 acres of land.

Put another way, the tobacco industry represents about seven-hundredths of a percent of the state’s $7.5 billion agricultural industry, and a percentage of the national tobacco industry that’s too small to be expressed in the English language. Collectively, our tobacco “industry” consumes the acreage of one large family farm.

It is possible, with Palinesque analysis, to observe that one can see tobacco farms from Missouri’s tiny border with Kentucky (which happens to rank second to North Carolina in U.S. tobacco production). Maybe the state has tobacco envy.

Callously, it might be expected that those states heavily dependent upon tobacco as a financial lifeline would have governmental policy dominated by the influence that their hometown companies wield. It’s hardly a coincidence that the major tobacco states average less than a third of the national average in cigarette excise taxes (38.5 cents per pack versus $1.23 nationally).

Missouri doesn’t possess even that lame excuse, and its taxes are less than half the average of the Big Tobacco states. So what possible explanation could there be for this case of wannabe tobacco economics?

Could it be economic development?

Consider this testimonial from Bill Hoban, general manager of 15 Discount Tobacco stores in central Illinois. Hoban is understandably concerned about a proposal by Gov. Pat Quinn to raise taxes by $1 per pack over its current 98 cents–per–pack rate (in comparison to Missouri’s 17-cent bargain).

“It is the worst thing the state of Illinois could do, and the state will lose in the long run,” Hoban told an Illinois newspaper. “Missouri is going to sit over there and smile ear to ear. All we’re doing is funding Missouri and giving Illinois residents more reason to drive.”

How about that? Missouri will be smiling ear to ear. Indeed, given the fact that Missouri’s cigarette taxes are also far lower than any of its other bordering states, perhaps this could be a new statewide tourism hook that will really brighten our countenance.

“The Smoke-Me State: We sell cigarettes cheap.” Or, if you prefer, “Missouri is for smokers: We won’t be undersold.”
Currently, tobacco companies already spend $108 to market products in Missouri for every $1 the state spends on smoking prevention, according to the state DHSS. A little tourism funding to promote cigarette sales can’t hurt anything.

Can it?

State health officials look at the matter a little differently: “During 2000–2004, almost ten thousand (9,607) Missourians died annually from tobacco-related diseases, primarily cancer, cardiovascular and respiratory diseases,” reports the Missouri DHSS. “This includes 29 infants who died due to maternal smoking during pregnancy. Secondhand smoke causes an average of 1,180 deaths in Missouri annually.”

Throw in the cost to the state of $2.24 billion annually to treat smoking-related illness, according to the DHSS, and perhaps ear-to-ear frowns are in order.

Still, good luck with the secondhand smoke argument in tobacco-loving Missouri. Almost everywhere smoking bans have been proposed in Missouri, restaurants, bars, and casinos have successfully argued that bans would simply drive their smokers—and their business—to the next county.

Ah, the joy of living in a right-to-spread-secondhand-smoke state. As you might expect, Missouri is one of 15 states with no statewide smoking ban in enclosed public places. Not only that, but the loopholes in the state’s inaptly named “clean air” laws will likely lead local efforts to be tied up—and at least partially restricted—in the courts.

There’s movement afoot for restaurant smoking bans in Clayton, Town & Country, University City, Creve Coeur, Olivette, and Overland, among other municipalities. In the city, Alderman Lyda Krewson is reportedly introducing a smoking ban that would only go into effect if St. Louis County passed a similar ban. (The County Council voted just 4-3 against a ban in 1995.)

But the problem in Missouri isn’t simply garnering support for local smoking bans in restaurants or anywhere else. That support is probably there, even among some smokers (given that the DHSS says 63.8 percent of Missouri adult smokers say they want to quit in the next six months).

No, the problem is that Missouri has a long-standing love affair with our tobacco.

For the record, that’s with some other state’s tobacco.

We’re just confused.

A co-owner of St. Louis Magazine, Ray Hartmann is a panelist on KETC Channel 9’s Donnybrook, which airs Thursdays at 7 p.m.