How an 1888 Cigarette Card Set Shaped Pirates in Pop Culture

1888 lithographed trading card showing Blackbeard forcing a captive to walk the plank, a scene historians consider largely mythical.

In 1888, decades before a single pirate film existed, a Richmond, Virginia tobacco company slipped fifty small lithographed cards into packs of cigarettes, one pirate captain per card, each shown mid-crime in vivid color. The “Pirates of the Spanish Main” series, issued by Allen & Ginter, is one of the earliest instances of mass-produced pirate imagery in American popular culture, and its fifty little scenes did more to fix the modern idea of a pirate in the public mind than most people realize.

A Tobacco Company’s Sideline in Trading Cards

Allen & Ginter, founded around 1880 by John F. Allen and Lewis Ginter, employed over a thousand workers, mostly women, hand-rolling cigarettes in an era before automated manufacturing. To keep packs rigid in transit, the company began inserting stiff cards inside them, and quickly realized the cards themselves could sell cigarettes on their own merits. Allen & Ginter is credited with issuing America’s first nationally distributed baseball cards, and their card sets eventually covered subjects from flags of the world to prizefighters to wild animals. The pirate series, printed by the Philadelphia lithography firm George S. Harris & Sons, was one card shy of fifty of that broader catalog, each card measuring a little over an inch and a half by not quite three.

One Pirate, One Crime, One Card

Each card paired a captain’s name with a single dramatic caption: “Bart Roberts, Trying Deserters.” “Jack Avery, Capturing Ship of the Great Mogul.” “Captain Kidd, Burying Treasure.” The choices were not neutral. Card collectors of the 1880s were being handed a curated, simplified version of piracy, one scene each, designed to be memorable and lurid rather than accurate. A century before cinema settled on its own visual pirate shorthand, these cards had already made an editorial choice about which moment of a pirate’s career belonged on a collectible.

The Plank Problem

One card in the set shows Edward Teach, Blackbeard, forcing a captive to walk the plank. It is a vivid image, and almost certainly not a real historical practice; contemporary trial records and firsthand accounts from the Golden Age of Piracy describe pirates killing captives by more direct means when they killed them at all, not by a ritualized march off a board. The plank appears to be a later literary invention, popularized in the nineteenth century and cemented well before Hollywood ever touched it. This card is a reminder that the myth was already circulating, and already being sold to children with their fathers’ cigarettes, years before any pirate film existed to blame.

Why Cards Mattered Before Film

It is easy to assume pirate imagery is a twentieth-century, cinematic invention, but cigarette cards functioned as genuine mass media in their own right during the decades before movies and television existed. A set of fifty cards, distributed nationally inside a habitual daily purchase, reached an audience no book or engraving could match, and did it in full color at a time when most printed material was still black and white. Historians now treat surviving sets like this one as legitimate windows into late-Victorian popular taste, evidence of which stories and which visual details had already entered the culture before mass entertainment as we now know it existed.

What the Cards Got Right, and Wrong

The set was not pure invention. Its captains were real historical figures, its captions tied to episodes that, however dramatized, were drawn from published accounts circulating since Charles Johnson’s 1724 A General History of the Pyrates. But the format demanded a single frozen, sensational moment for each man, stripped of context and often of nuance, and it is exactly that kind of compression, repeated across thousands of trading cards, magazine illustrations, and eventually film posters, that hardened the popular pirate into the stock character recognizable today, long before any studio built a soundstage galleon.

Sources consulted: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, “Pirates of the Spanish Main” series (N19) object records, Jefferson R. Burdick Collection; Wikipedia, “Allen & Ginter” and “Cigarette card.”

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