
Imagine being an 8-year-old, finishing an egg-and-spoon race just moments after the winner. A bystander taps your shoulder and remarks, 'Close, but no cigar.' Confused, you might think the winner is off to enjoy a celebratory smoke.
Given that cigars aren’t typically handed out to kids as prizes, the phrase was clearly meant to highlight how close you were to winning without actually succeeding. Back in the early 1900s, however, the cigar was a real prize.
Before plush toys became the ultimate carnival prize, cigars were often the top reward for hitting targets at shooting ranges or other skill-based games. As Barry Popik explains on his blog The Big Apple, carnival workers would yell 'Close, but no cigar!' to those who narrowly missed winning the prized item.
Participants attempt to topple coconuts in a 'coconut shy' game at a London fair in 1922. | Hulton Archive/Getty ImagesIn his 1902 book The Night Side of London, Robert Machray wrote, 'You start by spending a penny on three rings, aiming to toss them around the handle of a knife fixed to the wall. But—you fail. ... Another penny—and this time, you admit defeat and move to the next stall, where another penny lets you try rolling three balls into numbered holes. If you score twenty, you win a cigar. But you only manage nine.'
By the late 1920s, the phrase 'Close, but no cigar' began appearing beyond fairs and carnivals. A May 1929 article in the Long Island Daily Press titled 'Close; But No Cigar' highlighted Hugo Straub, a New Yorker who 'set a world record for losing presidential races,' having come in second place in two such contests within a single week.
Perhaps Straub consoled himself with a premium cigar—or even two, one for each defeat.
